The LA County coroner’s office would receive the ashes and analyze them. LAPD would also forward samples of the ashes to BioLaw, allowing my specialists to perform independent tests of all evidence regarding the case.
The SID team packed their gear into the trunk of a Crown Victoria. Hamilton signed the leader’s log, and they too motored away.
The officer with Spellman’s license returned.
“Nothing,” she said. “No outstanding warrants, not even a parking ticket.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Hamilton, Elliott, and I stood without speaking while the officers turned off the temporary lights.
I rubbed the toe of my shoe along one of the scorches on the ground, wondering what force had created them. Whatever it had been, it apparently reduced Spellman to his basic carbon elements without burning his clothes.
Elliott stared at the streaks on the wall. “What the fuck happened here?”
I turned to Hamilton. “You said somebody called this in.”
“Yeah. You’re parked in front of his house. Let’s have a talk with him.”
Chapter 14
Saturday, February 14, 3:37 a.m.
The little house with the birdbath had a tiny porch and a screen door that hung open. We could hear a television commercial blaring. Elliott and I waited as Hamilton pushed the screen aside and banged on the door.
The TV went silent. “Come on in,” shouted a male voice.
Hamilton twisted the knob and we walked inside. “Police, Mr. Connolly,” he announced.
“Yeah, right here.” As we entered the living room, a white man in his late thirties rose from the couch. He had short brown hair and was wearing only white athletic socks.
“Whoa,” Hamilton said. “Why are you naked?”
“I’m at home, aren’t I?” Connolly answered.
“Yes, well, put some clothes on. We need to ask you some questions.”
“Do I have to?” Connolly’s whanger shifted in apparent outrage. “I’m not in public. This is my house.”
Hamilton glanced at me. I did not smile.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. No, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Connolly sat back down.
“Did you see what happened across the street?” Hamilton asked.
“Not all of it. I heard a man and a woman arguing. That’s nothing new around here, so I didn’t think anything of it. Then the man started screaming. That’s not so unusual either, but it kept on for a while, so I went to the kitchen window. Should I show you?”
“No, that’s all right.”
Connolly looked angry about that. “Fine. Anyway, when I looked outside, I saw this orange glow in the alley. And there was a woman standing there.”
“What about the man? Did you see him?”
“No. There was no sign of any dude. And there was no more screaming.”
Hamilton scribbled for a bit. “You only saw a woman?”
“Yeah.”
“Then what happened?”
“The glow disappeared. I remember thinking it must have been a UFO or something.”
“What about the woman?” Elliott asked.
“Actually…you know, at first I thought there were two women.”
“Two?”
Connolly scratched strategically. “Yeah, it was like they were both right there, then the other one ran down the alley, and then I thought maybe there was only one to start with.” He giggled. “Weird, hah?”
Elliott regarded the ceiling.
Hamilton’s pen continued recording. “Can you describe the person you did see?”
“It was dark. She maybe had blonde hair.”
“This orange light,” I said. “Did you notice anything else about it? Did it have a shape?”
“I only saw it for a second. It looked round, I think.”
Hamilton put his notebook away. “Can you think of anything else?”
“Not right now.”
“Okay. We’ll need you to come to the Van Nuys station later today and make a statement.”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Put some clothes on before you come in.”
Connolly stood. “I’m not a crackpot! I know the law, damn you! I don’t walk around outside naked! What I do in my own home is none of your business!”
“You’re right, I apologize,” Hamilton said, turning for the door.
“Lots of stranger things going on around here,” the nude man continued. “Far worse things, but nobody cares about that.”
Hamilton nodded. “We’ll let you get back to your TV program.”
“Don’t I get a thank you?”
“An orange light.” Elliott gave a short laugh. “Is everybody a nutcase these days? How do people get like that?”
The three of us stood on the sidewalk outside Connolly’s house. Before the uniforms drove off, Hamilton commandeered the donut box from them and set it on the Ferrari’s hood. He and I decided the contents should not go to waste. Elliott said something about carbohydrate limitation and passed.
After polishing off an apple fritter, I leaned back against the car, brushed my fingertips against one another, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know. He seemed lucid enough to me. And something caused those black streaks on the ground.”
“Then let’s put out a call for glowing UFOs.”
“What’s your theory, then?”
“Somebody torched this guy,” Elliott said. “Maybe our mystery woman.” He gestured at the house. “Mr. Natural hears the screams, sees the final flicker of the flames as the vic expires.”
“Flames caused by what?”
He gave an elaborate shrug. “No idea. Like Mike said, something electrical maybe.”
We all stood there thinking about it.
“You have a theory, Sebastian?” Hamilton asked.
“How about Spontaneous Human Combustion?”
“You wouldn’t need a woman for that.”
“I’ll let that one go by, but you’re probably right.”
Elliott shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, leaned to his left, and spat on the grass.
“That’s all you’ve got,” Hamilton said to me.
I grabbed the last donut. “I’m not psychic. Whatever happened to this man was unusual.”
Elliott coughed. “I’m glad you’re here to explain these things to us,” he said.
Chapter 15
Saturday, February 14, 3:51 a.m.
The three of us separated after I agreed to meet them at the station at ten.
“We’ll check out the vic’s home address, then see if Tasha has anything on the ashes we recovered,” Hamilton said.
After they drove off, I sat in my car and tried to think. My worry for Aliena made it hard to concentrate. If Hamilton and Elliott had known what was in my mind, they would have had many questions.
The body reduced to dust. The clothes untouched by the heat.
The Apollo Ring.
And finally, the victim. Darius, acolyte of the Apollo Ring. The medallion of the trident within a triple-circle confirmed his identification as the vampire who had given me a USB drive. The man I had wanted to question regarding Carmen’s execution and Aliena’s amnesia.
I suddenly remembered the ring on Kristina’s hand at Bar Sinister. It had also been inlaid with a trident inside three circles. The trident was the weapon of Poseidon, god of the seas. He was also the god who had created Atlantis, placing the island nation at the center of a triple circle complex of harbors.
The crime scene appeared in my head. If this had been another execution, why the public setting? Why kill Darius? And who was the woman?
My cell buzzed.
“Montero.”
“Sebastian, it’s Marcus.”
“Thank you for calling,” I said. “Do you know where Aliena would go?”
“As a matter of fact, she’s with me now.”
“How is she?”
“Apart from h
er memory loss, she appears to be fine.”
“Where are you?”
“At 49. Please join us.” He gave me directions.
I wondered what Marcus would say when I told him of the demise of Darius Spellman.
The traffic lights stayed green as I headed south on Kester. I turned west on Vanowen, and in five minutes pulled into the dark lot of a defunct shoe factory. I cruised slowly toward the squat edifice and parked in the Vice President’s slot. Mine was the only car here.
When I climbed out, the moonlight made it easy for me to see the outlines of the objects around me. Junked desks, obsolete computers, lamps, copiers, coffee makers—all the detritus of a failed business were piled like so many forgotten tools. The entrance to the facility looked as if it had been bombed. There were black scorches along the outside of the frame and lintel, and the door hung by the center pin, twisted. It appeared to be bowing me inside.
A pulsing crimson sign above the opening read “49.”
Walking into the vampire club without an escort was not something I dared do. I dialed Marcus.
“I have sent Rachella out to collect you,” he said upon answering.
“Did you have to use her?”
“She’s sitting with us, and she, at least, remembers you.”
He disconnected just as Rachella stepped through the fire-blackened doorway, wrapped in the same curve-hugging black dress she had worn at the execution.
“Hello, handsome.” As usual, she didn’t stop until she had pressed those curves into me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and given me a kiss. Her body radiated heat, her complexion peaches-and-cream.
“Hello,” I said. I set my hands lightly on her hips, feeling the soft flesh through the thin material. Her brilliant green eyes studied me with unconcealed desire. Ignoring her overwhelming welcome taxed my instincts.
“You’re warm,” I said.
“So was he.”
At close range, Rachella’s beauty was a match for Aliena’s, her auburn hair and devil-green eyes an erotically exotic mix. Unlike the Russian women earlier tonight, Rachella would not force herself upon me. One of the oldest vampires in existence, she lived by a code of ethics. The seduction was important to her. She needed me to want her.
If she had to trap or coerce me into it, she was not averse as long as the outcome included her drinking my blood to her fill—preferably while riding me as if I were a bucking bronco.
She ran her hand through my hair. “Do you know how beautiful you are, Sebastian?”
“Beautiful?”
“Yes.” She kissed me softly on the lips, making a small sighing sound as she did so. My hand strayed to her bottom unconsciously.
“Yes,” she said. The red glint burned in her eyes. Her fangs extended.
“No.”
Sliding a hand into my hair, she hooked her arm around my waist, her strength vast.
“Please, Sebastian. A drink. Ohhhh, pleeeeaaaasse.” The vampire infused her voice with irresistible desire, dark and trembling, a sound intoxicating to humans. Tingles breezed along the surface of my skin. She stroked the nape of my neck. “Please, my beautiful man, let me have a driiiiinnnnkkkk. Oh, let me taste youuuuuuuuu.”
My eyelids fluttered. Ecstatic tremors traveled my body. I wanted to give her my blood, nearly delirious at the prospect, imagining her teeth puncturing my neck. I made a sound in the back of my throat.
“Please, darling Sebastiannnnnn, come to meeeeeeee.”
Yes. Rachella, dazzling Rachella. Her voice promised all things sensual.
I blinked. Mental backward stagger. Tottering, I stepped away from the brink.
In a husky voice, I said, “No.”
We stared into each other’s eyes. The hellish scarlet coals in her irises became brilliant green again. Releasing my hair, she gave a light laugh, stepped back.
“I almost had you that time.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “Yes you did.”
Watching her tug on a corner of her tiny dress, the intoxication of her song lingering, I wondered why I fought her. She leaned over with the pretense of straightening her stockings, every move calculated to draw attention to her curvy figure.
The quintessential vixen.
“Aliena doesn’t remember you. You know she might never?”
O, the cruelty of woman.
“If she never remembers me,” I said, “how would you like to be spanked on your ass?”
“Oh, Sebastian! Yes, sir.”
I had said the wrong thing. She glided into my arms again. “Any games you would like to play, the rougher, the better.”
I did not embrace her. “I love Aliena.”
Her auburn hair swirled in the mild breeze as she stepped to the side and took my arm. “Someday I will have you,” she said, leading me under the throbbing sign into the building. “I promise you will never forget the experience. And neither will I.”
We passed through a short hallway and emerged into a high-ceilinged room where tall portable construction-site lights had been set up. As usual, a boxing ring with a red canvas deck and white ropes sat at the center. Arranged on all four sides were stadium seats with attached stairs. Every time I saw the set-up, I wondered how the vampires moved the club’s furniture and equipment from one place to another, and did it in total secrecy.
No contestants stood in the ring. Most people had not yet sat down. Vampires bared fangs in my direction. This no longer disconcerted me. Since I was the only person who received such a greeting, I considered it a compliment.
Not.
Rachella led me to ringside where Aliena and Marcus sat in their usual seats. Air left my body in an instant when I saw they were holding hands.
I took the empty seat next to Aliena. Rachella sat on my other side. It took several moments for me to realize I was not breathing.
Aliena turned. Her gaze displayed no warmth, only mild interest. Purposely, I did not look at her hand in Marcus’s lap.
“I apologize for crushing your wrist earlier,” she said. “Marcus has confirmed you and I know each other.”
“No apology necessary. How do you feel?”
“Very well, thank you. You needn’t concern yourself over me.”
“Sweetheart, we need to—”
“Please don’t call me that,” she interrupted. “Marcus has also confirmed what you told me about the two of us dating the last few months. And that I have been living at your place.” Her tone suggested she did not believe that piece of information. “But I don’t remember it, so call me Aliena.”
I almost turned to see to whom she was speaking. Was that detached manner really directed at me? The sight of her brown eyes regarding me with indifference put hot wires in my stomach.
“Of course,” I said, forcing my mind to think. “Has anything come back to you?”
“Not many specifics.”
“Am I familiar now?”
“Only as a meal.”
Rachella laughed.
“Earlier you claimed not to know me at all.”
“I know. Now I recall the night I took you. In Paris.” The tip of her tongue touched her upper lip. Hot desire scalded me. Kings have gone to war for less. “You are very delicious.”
Rachella groaned and pressed her leg against mine.
I was trying to read Marcus, and failing. Was he enjoying this situation? Would he take advantage of Aliena’s memory loss in order to have her? If so, it was dangerous. If her head ever cleared, and she realized Marcus had tried to turn her illness into a personal windfall, she would likely never speak to him again.
My thoughts seemed unworthy when I realized they were probably sparked by jealousy. Older than Rachella, Marcus had demonstrated a restrained, gentlemanly character since I had met him.
“We must discover what happened at Bar Sinister,” I said to him.
“Since Aliena can’t recall any of it,” Marcus replied, “we will have to rely on your observations.”
Unable to stop myself,
I glanced down at their clasped hands. Aliena had removed the engagement ring. Marcus placed Aliena’s hand in her lap, let it go. I felt a surge of affection for the ancient vampire.
“Unfortunately,” I told them, “she spent part of the time upstairs in the private room, while I remained below.”
“A problem,” he said. “Still, we must begin somewhere.”
Aliena seemed uninterested in our conversation.
“Darli—, er, Aliena, aren’t you worried about what has happened to you?”
“Of course. But if we don’t discover the cause, what does it matter now? It could be like a mortal cold. I am fine.”
“Mortals don’t fall unconscious and wake up with amnesia from a cold.”
“I know. But as long as I am back to normal now, I’m not going to worry about it unless it happens again.”
“I would love that it never happened to you again, but getting your memory back matters a great deal to me.”
The line of her mouth softened. “I can see this is painful for you. I am not sure what to say. Please understand, I do not remember—us. You’re almost a stranger to me.”
I nodded. I thought back to the moment she regained consciousness. “Why were you afraid I was one of the priests?”
“It was nothing. I had a nightmare.”
“What about?”
“Monks were burning me at the stake.”
“You poor dear—” A swift disapproving look from her stopped me. “That might explain your fevered heat and the blood sweat I washed off your body.”
“You washed me?”
The incredulity with which she said that left me momentarily mute. Static electricity coursed my chest. A new hope dawned in my mind. Perhaps I was the one having a bad dream and none of this was really happening. The idea flamed out in less than a microsecond.
“You were unconscious,” I said. “Before you passed out, you were burning hot to the touch and sweating blood, and screaming as if someone was torturing you.”
Marcus’s gaze flickered to Rachella. “That is bad,” he said.
“Very scary,” Rachella agreed. She leaned over, squashing her breasts against my arm. Aliena glanced at that with no expression.
Although I was sure Marcus would not try to romance Aliena in this new situation, Rachella was not as difficult to read. Her enmity with Aliena had been obvious from the first moment I met her. Her claims that she found me sexually attractive might be true, but such considerations did not matter to her, not in this case. She wanted me for my immortal blood—and because I belonged to Aliena.
Ghosts of Atlantis (Immortal Montero Book 3) Page 8
