by Rachel Lee
“Eavesdroppers rarely hear anything good.” She sniffed as she closed the door.
“I’m glad I listened. You need to avoid making me sound like Superman.”
Chloe shrugged. “I gotta explain it somehow, boss. You keep doing these little things that make people suspicious.”
“Only when I have no choice.”
“Choice or not, that woman is observant. Scared as she was, she noticed things. So how do you want me to explain it? Oh, my boss is a vampire?”
He glared at her.
She glared back.
“Just watch it,” he said finally.
“If you watch it better, I can watch it better.” Chloe sniffed yet again, evincing worlds of disapproval. “You ought to be grateful I’m such an inventive liar.”
With that she pointed at the clock wordlessly, then walked out.
Jude stared at the closed door, and finally gave in to a grin. It was too damn bad Chloe wasn’t his type.
Then, gauging his time, he decided he could at least escort Terri and Chloe to the nearest precinct station and get the process rolling before he’d need to hurry back here.
More time with that woman and her narcotic scent. He needed to have his head examined.
Chapter 2
An hour before dawn, even police stations experienced a lull. While hospitals were in their most critical hours, the rest of the city, including the criminal element, was finally sinking into sleep.
Well, it was a relative lull, anyway. Jude accompanied Theresa, who looked singularly unhappy, and Chloe, who looked as if she were enjoying this change of pace, into the station and up to the desk sergeant. As a PI, he wasn’t entirely unknown in some of the precincts, though seldom was his arrival truly welcome.
Sgt. Davies knew him, though, and greeted him pleasantly enough, though not exactly warmly.
“Ms. Black,” Jude explained, “needs to file a report. She was attacked twice tonight down near Mason and Crick, and I witnessed the second attack.”
Davies’s eyes leapt to Terri as Jude indicated her with a wave of his hand. “Twice? Crap.” Then he looked at Jude. “And I suppose you’re in your usual rush?”
Jude frowned at him. “All I can do is confirm part of her story. And I do have an urgent case.”
“You always have an urgent case.” Davies sighed. “Well, you’re in luck. I’ll get you to Detective Matthews. She always seems to have time for you.”
Not entirely the detective’s own choice, thought Jude with grim satisfaction. He’d implanted a suggestion four years ago, and occasionally reinforced it. And he certainly found it useful to have an ally of sorts within the police.
In less than five minutes they were in the Robbery-Homicide squad room, although the case would probably be better handled by the sex crimes unit. Regardless, Matthews never refused to see Jude.
She was a tall woman of about forty with a no-nonsense air and short gray-flecked hair. Attractive, but in a subdued way. She chose not to flaunt.
The squad room was even more quiet than the rest of the station because those on shift were out on cases that had occurred tonight, and the rest were doing what mortals do at that hour: sleeping at home.
“Okay,” Matthews asked. “What happened?”
Once again Terri seemed reluctant, so Jude plunged into describing what he knew, and giving a description of the four thugs who had surrounded her. And he was starting to get impatient because the prickling on the back of his neck had begun to grow uncomfortable. He glanced at the large wall clock across the room. Forty-five minutes and he had to be home. Period.
Matthews took Terri’s personal information, then asked her, “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a forensic pathologist. I just started working at the M.E.’s office last week. And, Detective, I can’t be late for my shift.”
A forensic pathologist? Hot damn, Jude thought. A contact of that kind could be extremely useful.
Matthews smiled at Terri. “I’ll be as quick as I can, but I think the M.E. would be understanding if you’re a little late because you’re a material witness.”
“Maybe. I’m so new, though.”
Pat Matthews’s eyes softened. “Honey, I know it’s awful. All of it. But you’ve got to help us get these cruds off the street. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for it happening to someone else, would you?”
Terri shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “No, of course not. Except I don’t have any evidence to offer. Other than that I stabbed Sam with a pen. I can’t prove he attacked me. Or that those other guys wanted to.”
“I understand. We may not be able to do anything immediately, but having your statement on file could help us in the future.”
Terri nodded. “All right then.”
Jude stood and started pacing. Night was drawing to a close, and being this far away from his lair at this time always made him uncomfortable, even when he knew for a fact that he could make it back in time.
Finally as the minutes ticked by, with Terri telling her story in detail and Chloe offering the information she had gathered on the Sam guy, he could take it no longer. It wasn’t as if he absolutely had to be here, a situation which would help him overcome his growing discomfort. No, he was basically a fifth wheel, and he’d already told Matthews everything he knew.
“I’ve got to go. If you need me to sign anything or answer any more questions, I can come back tonight.”
The detective hesitated only a moment. “All right. I’ll let Chloe know if I need more.”
“Thanks. Good night. Oh, Chloe? I’ll leave you the car.” He tossed her the keys and strode out.
Twenty minutes later, back at his office, he locked his own office door, three dead bolts and a key-code entry. But his bedroom was something else. Getting it built without arousing interest or suspicion or creating talk had been quite an achievement.
It was basically an oversize vault, with a time lock that would not open until after sunset unless he opened it from the inside. The room itself had been decorated to look like an ordinary bedroom, in case someone happened on it when it was unlocked. But since he was nearly defenseless in the sleep of death, the price of this kind of protection hadn’t mattered. Not since the night forty years ago when he had been discovered in sleep by accident and had awakened in a morgue with a tag around his toe.
Once he was locked in his vault, however, the building could burn down around him, a bomb could fall, and nobody would get in. At least not before he woke up and was ready to emerge, in charge of himself and the situation.
Quite an improvement over a few hundred years ago.
He had even managed to make it a little homey, while revealing nothing about himself. Not that he spent much waking time in here.
It was, really, a crypt and he knew it. Occasionally, he fantasized about being able to share it with someone, but he knew that would never happen. He’d never turn anyone into what he was, and no human could ever endure this life for long.
Not even Chloe, who had, for a while, had a crush on him. He’d saved her, too, one dark night, and like a puppy she had followed him home. And she had noticed enough during that awful scene to figure out what he was.
Amazing. Most humans wouldn’t believe it even when they saw it, not these days. They always thought it must be some gag. Or that they were imagining things, because everyone knew vampires were myth.
Except Chloe, and a few others he trusted just enough. And most of those others…well, he would bet most thought he was just a member of a vampire cult, the way they were. He doubted many of them thought he was the real thing.
He felt the sun’s rising, though he could not see it. It prickled along the back of his neck, and told him it was time. He stripp
ed quickly and slipped between silk sheets. Not because he would be aware of anything between now and sunset, but because when he awoke he wanted to be comfortable.
His head hit the pillow. The prickling strengthened. And then with a sigh, he died.
“God, he’s weird,” Matthews said after Jude departed. “He always tears out of here like he has a rocket on his tail, especially in the early morning.”
“He can’t help it,” Chloe said. “He’s got a disease.”
Matthews arched her brows. “What disease?”
“I can’t remember what it’s called. He can’t get into bright light, especially sunlight. Blisters, burns…why can’t I ever remember what it’s called?”
“Oh, come on,” Matthews said.
“No,” Terri offered. “It’s called xeroderma pigmentosum. Rare but real.” She looked at Chloe. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine living with that.”
Chloe gave a little shrug. “He seems to have adapted pretty well.”
Matthews still looked doubtful. “That’s a real disease? How fast can he burn?”
“Probably with just a few seconds of exposure he’d have the kind of sunburn that would put most people in the hospital,” Terri said. “Most people with it don’t survive long, because even fluorescent lighting can cause burns in some cases. Given how little people know about the disease, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”
“Well, that would explain why he’s so pale,” Matthews commented. “Imagine never seeing the sun. So you learned about it in medical school?”
“Actually,” Terri said, “I learned about it during an investigation when I was a pathology resident. We had a case the police thought for sure was murder, the kid was so severely burned. The first assumption was that one of his parents must have literally boiled him alive. But there was no evidence of assault, nor were the burns anywhere near as severe where his clothes were thick, like his diaper.”
“Oh, ugh,” said Chloe.
“But the pathologist I was training with did some genetic testing, when the parents insisted all they had done was take the baby to a lakeside picnic. Anyway, he found the markers.”
“And it killed the kid?” Matthews sounded amazed.
“Every bit of exposed skin was blistered. The most exposed areas even exhibited third-degree burns. Most people have milder cases than that baby, but yes, when you’ve got an extreme case, even a tiny bit of sun can kill you.”
“Live and learn.” Matthews shook her head. “Okay, to get back to your case. I doubt we can arrest Sam Carlisle for anything, unless you have some kind of injury yourself?”
Terri shook her head. “It all happened so fast. Honestly. If I have any bruises, I’ll find out during the day. He did grab my arm awfully tight, but I don’t bruise easily.”
Matthews nodded sympathetically. “I’ll do a background on him and see if anyone else has ever had trouble with him. But without some physical evidence, it’ll be hard.”
“I know. Jude just thought I should report it.”
“He’s right. You should, and you did. I’ll type up your statement and you can sign it later, okay? In the meantime you probably need to go home, shower, sleep a little and get ready for your shift.”
Terri managed a smile. “Thank you, Detective.”
Pat Matthews shrugged. “Look at it this way—if the creep comes in to file a complaint against you for stabbing him with that pen, you’re covered. We won’t listen very hard.”
“I didn’t even think of that.”
“And as for those other creeps Jude scared off, well, if they try it on someone else, your statement will back the victim up. Can you come back after your shift to look at some mug shots?”
“Sure. It was dark, though.”
“You never know. You might recognize someone. It’s worth a shot.” She looked at Chloe. “And tell that boss of yours I want him to look at the mug shots, too.”
“I will,” Chloe answered as she stood. Then she turned to Terri. “Come by the office tomorrow when you get off work, and I’ll bring you back to look at those mug shots. Now let me drive you home. You’re not the only one who needs a shower and bed. It’s been a long night.”
Not even a cup of herbal tea helped Terri relax into sleep. Too much had happened in the hours just past, and her mind and emotions struggled to cope with them. Attempted rape, not once but twice. She’d stabbed a man. Every time she remembered that, the way it had felt, the realization of what she had done, she shuddered again.
Nor did it help that she had to get to work around ten. The idea of only a couple of hours of sleep seemed to make it harder yet to close her eyes.
And then there was Jude Messenger, private investigator. Eyes as dark as the night he had emerged from, turning an odd shade of dark gold when he stepped into the light. A man only slightly taller than average, but somehow seeming much, much larger. That voice of his when he’d told those men to go. If she hadn’t been paralyzed with fright, she probably would have obeyed that order herself.
The incredible speed with which he had approached her, so fast it had almost seemed he was there picking her up before she had seen him move. But of course that was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Her recollections must be marred by the fear that had been raging in her. The adrenaline.
The man had rescued her, yet he had left her feeling supremely uneasy, anyway. And she couldn’t really understand why. His office was normal enough. His assistant Chloe was perfectly normal. Even Garner, that handsome young man, had seemed typical, even though she got the impression Jude considered him to be some kind of plague.
So what was it about Jude Messenger?
She lay on her side, keeping the locked door in sight, making sure that even if she shut her eyes, they would open trained on the only place from which a threat could come.
Somehow she couldn’t feel safe. Was she really worried that Sam might carry out his threat to kill her? Or was it just a holdover from the earlier hours? She didn’t even want to turn off the small lamp by the bed, although sunlight had long since begun peeking around the edges of the curtained window above the bed.
And the feeling she had right now reminded her all too much of her childhood, when fear had kept her awake countless nights, fear of something she could not see, could only sense and finally, to her horror, hear. The haunting. But this was different. Surely?
Yet, in some way she felt as if she had brushed up against that evil again during the past night.
A shudder passed through her, and she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly, calming herself. That evil had been gone from her life for sixteen years now. There was absolutely no reason to think she’d ever encounter it again.
But her thoughts refused to be entirely corralled and kept returning to Jude. He, too, made her uneasy. He might be a little…different, but he had saved her from those beasts, and had brought her to a safe place where Chloe had become an instant friend. Then he had even gone so far as to accompany her to the police.
So what was it about him? She had to admit that along with the uneasiness he made her feel, she also found him undeniably attractive. Maybe thirty, she thought. Maybe a bit older. Something in his eyes, when they turned golden, made her think he was older.
He was definitely handsome. No, not exactly that. Good-looking, yes, but he was even more attractive in another way. Something visceral in her responded to him. Maybe that was what made her so uneasy.
It had been a long time, a decade or more, since simply seeing a man had been enough to make her aware of fluttery, eager femininity. Of desire. And she’d been aware of it every single second in his presence, despite everything that had been happening.
Pretty amazing, actually, but pretty unnerving, too. Even his gruffness and impatience hadn’t put an end to i
t.
She closed her eyes and gave up, hugging the unexpected, nearly forgotten feeling somewhere deep inside. No one would ever know, and it was nice to realize she could still feel that way. At twenty-nine, she had thought she would no longer feel those things. Too many other things, adult things, kept getting in the way.
But somehow the mere sight of Jude Messenger had swept away the layers of the years and made her young enough in some way to just respond to man’s appearance and voice, and get a thrill from it.
Kind of neat, actually, now that she had figured it out.
Satisfied she had identified the source of at least part of her uneasiness, she curled more comfortably on the bed and finally let sleep crawl closer.
Surely her uneasiness had nothing to do with that haunting when she was a child, no matter how it felt. How could it? It had been so long ago.
No, of course that had nothing to do with it. She was just feeling uneasy because it had been so long since she’d felt such a powerful attraction. She didn’t want that now, didn’t have time for it.
All in all, though, it had been one heck of a night. And at last her eyes fluttered closed.
The Medical Examiner, Steve Crepo, sent Terri home a little early when he heard the reason for her obvious fatigue. Her usual shift ran from ten to eight four days a week, with a brief lunch break. “You should have just called in and explained,” he told her.
“I’m the newbie. Besides, honestly, I didn’t want to spend all day thinking about last night.”
He nodded understandingly over his half-rimmed eyeglasses. A little plump and balding, he had a kindly face which belied the strict way he ran the M.E.’s office. He did have the somewhat disconcerting habit of treating the cadavers as if they might still be alive, and referring to them by name rather than number. It was almost as if he saw himself running a surgical suite rather than a morgue.
In one way Terri liked that about him. In another she found it discomfiting, because his idiosyncrasy had already begun to chip away that carefully trained distance she had been taught to place between herself and the dead. She found herself on guard, for fear she might lose objectivity.
