Embrace the Night

by Crystal Jordan

  One more ugly shock for the day.

  “Dr. Standish?”

  She jerked a bit when the door opened and Selina walked in. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for waiting.” Her brown hair swung in a layered bob around her sharply featured face, and her warm skin tone contrasted with the icy demeanor and cold, flat eyes. “I have a few questions for you.”

  “So I gathered when they asked me to come down here.” Chloe’s voice came out sounding almost normal, which surprised her. Nerves made her hands quake a bit, so she curled her fingers around the Styrofoam cup of coffee one of the officers had given her. Sitting in an interrogation room was intimidating as hell, even if she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Still, her belly looped a bit. Her heart pounded in slow, painful beats as she tried not to fidget or squirm. Damien had been murdered, but she hadn’t done anything illegal, no matter what they might think. Turning his familiar into a lampshade might not have been totally aboveboard, but she hadn’t killed anyone.

  The slender woman slid into a chair across from her, settling a file folder on the table between them. She didn’t look at Chloe for a few seconds, and while Chloe knew it was a ploy to set her more on edge—just as making her wait had been—she had to admit it worked.

  The detective tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and the barest hint of a point showed. Elf, just as Chloe had suspected. She might have allowed herself a momentary sense of victory, but the black ice of Selina’s eyes sent pinpricks down Chloe’s spine. “What can you tell me about your relationship with Dr. Raines?”

  Chloe swallowed and didn’t let her gaze waver. “We work together at Desmodus Industries. I mean . . . we worked together.” She suppressed the urge to giggle nervously, that sense of pure unreality buzzing through her mind again. “Two months ago, we broke off a two-year-long relationship.”

  “Why?” Selina’s gaze sharpened, and yet Chloe didn’t think she was startled by the information, just that she was judging every word and movement Chloe made.

  She clenched her teeth, knowing the answer to this question wasn’t going to get her out from under any suspicion. “He left me for another woman—a vampire. Last I heard, they were engaged, and she was pregnant.”

  “Do you know the woman’s name?” The detective stroked her finger over the paperwork in front of her, and Chloe resisted the urge to try to angle for a look.

  “No. I didn’t ask.” She took a breath, let it ease out, and tried to get a grip on her emotions, on the hollow feeling that opened in her belly. “I frankly didn’t want to know. He wanted out of the relationship, and when I found out why, I was more than happy to see him go. I don’t share.”

  “So you were angry.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, I was.” She was careful to keep her tone reasonable, to not get defensive. She had done nothing wrong—they were just ruling her out as a suspect. “Understandably, I think. That doesn’t mean I did anything to harm him.”

  “His fiancée, Allesia Dawes, was also murdered.”

  “Someone killed a pregnant woman?” For some reason, that stunned her even more than the idea that someone might have murdered Damien. Another level of surreal tilted her world off-axis.

  Selina gave her a look that could only be described as pitying. “It isn’t the first time, Dr. Standish.”

  “N-no, of course not.” Chloe took a gulp of her coffee, just to have a solid grip on something real, and burned the inside of her mouth. She winced.

  The detective leveled that blank, accusing stare on Chloe, and her heart skipped a beat, sweat slicking her palms. “Can you tell me where you were at five this morning?”

  Chloe sighed, closing her eyes. “I was home, sleeping. Alone.”

  “I see.”

  She opened her eyes to meet Selina’s gaze. “Am I going to be arrested?”

  Those dark eyes were unblinking, and the detective’s slim body appeared almost relaxed in her chair, but Chloe could feel the tension running through her. “Have you done anything I should arrest you for?”

  Chloe clenched her jaw, stomping down on the unwarranted guilt that rolled through her. “No, I have not.”

  “Then you’re not under arrest.”

  Yet. The word hung in the air, unspoken, but both women thought it.

  “Well, that’s a relief.” Her voice was deadpan, because she knew for damn sure she was still under suspicion, if not arrest. Then something occurred to her, and she felt stupid for not having thought of it before. She reached for her purse. “Damien called me this morning around the time you’re talking about. He left a message because, as I said, I was in bed, alone, sleeping.”

  Flipping on the speakerphone feature, she played the message for Selina, but could tell that the woman didn’t think this ruled Chloe out of anything.

  “We’re going to want a copy of that message.” The detective shifted in her seat, her gaze scanning the documents in front of her, and then she changed her line of questioning. “He mentioned a project. Can you tell me about the nature of your work with Dr. Raines?”

  “We make up two of the three team leads involved in the Desmodus Werewolf Project.” The breath eased from Chloe’s lungs. This, at least, was something she could talk about without worrying. Her love life might be in constant shambles, but her career was impeccable.

  Selina’s body went rigid, her eyes rising to meet Chloe’s, and for once her expression was unguarded. “The project to cure lycanthropy?”

  “Not to cure it, to control it.” All too eager to talk about anything but Damien’s murder, Chloe started babbling. “At this time, wolves are compelled to Change with the full moon. Their magic fluctuates wildly with the lunar cycles. The result is an astronomical number of wolf deaths per year. As far as I know, there’d be no way to cure therianthropy, the magical disease that engenders the vampire and werewolf races. It changes their bodies on a molecular level. Regulating the worst side effects of those diseases is certainly possible, which is what I’m working on with Damien. Was working on.”

  Werewolves could shift at any time, and after enough years, it became easier for them to control, but a relatively low percentage of the population survived long enough for that. Full moon was the only time they were forced to shift. It was also the only time they could turn Normals into wolves, and without the older members of a pack to control the cubs and newly Changed, they rampaged at full moon, biting as many humans as they could. Wolves and vampires who turned humans without authorization were put to death for the crime and for possibly exposing Magickals to the whole world, but only werewolves dealt with a monthly rampage. The outcome of the lycanthropy project was important to so many people, but Chloe usually managed to focus on the research in front of her. More pressure didn’t make the work go faster.

  Selina was quiet for a long moment, obviously processing what she knew against what Chloe had told her. “You said two of three team leads.”

  How this was related to Damien and his fiancée’s deaths, Chloe didn’t know, but she was ready to tell this woman whatever she wanted to know in order to get out of this police station. And away from any chance of running into Merek again. “Yes, the third team is lead by Dr. Ivan Nemov. His wife died during the full moon Change several years ago. She was my best friend. Their son, Alex, is my godson.”

  “Sounds like this project is a personal crusade for you.” The detective tapped her fingernail against the table, her brow creased in thought. Her gaze was no less cold when she looked at Chloe.

  Again, Chloe fought the urge to fidget. She took a sip of the cooling coffee, tried a warming spell, and more disquiet crawled through her as she was reminded that no magic worked in this interrogation room. “It’s very important to me, yes. It’s an obsession for Ivan. It was an intellectual pursuit for Damien.”

  The table tapping continued, and Chloe heard it like an ominous drumbeat in her head. Selina’s mouth worked for a moment before she spoke, as if this questioning had
gone so far off track of what she’d expected that she wasn’t entirely sure how to continue. “So, you all knew each other well. You’re close to the Nemovs, dated Dr. Raines. . . . Did Desmodus Industries know about your relationships with the other scientists?”

  “Yes, and before you ask, projects like this are top secret, subject to industrial espionage, and guarded like national treasures.” Chloe sat up straight, her gaze narrowing. Security was something she took seriously with her work. Everything about her job, she took seriously. “No one working on the projects ever has all the pieces. You literally can’t sell out the company if you don’t have any secrets worth buying. In this case, I have one third of the information for the research-and-development stage of the drug.”

  “What, specifically, was your role?” Selina kept tapping her finger, and the noise danced over Chloe’s ragged nerves.

  “Can you stop that, please?” She gave the detective’s hand a pointed look, and Selina froze, clenching her fingers into a fist. So, she hadn’t noticed she’d been tapping. Chloe didn’t know if that should reassure her or not. She sighed. “I’m a chemist, Detective Grayson. My specialty in the Normal world of science and medicine is biochemistry. My area of expertise in the Magickal world is potions, mixing chemicals, herbs, etcetera.”

  Selina hummed in her throat and looked like she wanted to start tapping again, but didn’t. “I can see why they hired you for this project.”

  Might as well give her everything. Chloe didn’t want to have to come back in for another round of questioning. In fact, if she never saw the inside of a police station again, it would be just fine with her. Sweat stuck her shirt to her back, and the frigid air-conditioning made an uncomfortable situation unbearable. She wanted out of here. “I came to Desmodus Industries with this project. Damien—Dr. Raines—and I both did.”

  Those dark eyes narrowed, considering. “That’s very interesting. Desmodus is controlled by the Vampire Conclave.”

  Chloe shrugged. “Dr. Nemov and his wife were the foremost experts in the field of werewolf biophysics, and they’d been pushing their pack leaders to get more funding for their research for years. Dr. Jaya Nemov and I did our residency together, and when she died, I took an interest in her research. I went to Dr. Raines, who I was dating at the time, to see if he could convince his superiors that this would be a good project for them to take on.”

  What had always angered Chloe was that she, a witch, had been the one to push the project through. The pack leaders should have done something long ago, should have been trying, no matter how unsuccessfully, to find a treatment instead of accepting the terrible side effects of their disease as inevitable and unchangeable. The older wolves had the most control, of their magic and of their packs, and they’d spent so long embroiled in the vampire wars that they were comfortable with their isolationist politics. It was true they had a lot on their plates training their pack members how to use their magic, how to stay alive, but they were leaders. They—not Chloe or Ivan or Jaya—should have lead the way by reaching out for help from the other Magickal races.

  Even if it wasn’t the All-Magickal Council as a whole, they could have gone to the Fae’s Seelie Court, or the Elven Assembly, or the Witch Coven, or even to powerful individual families like the Standishes. Politically dangerous or not, Chloe had picked the Vampire Conclave for two reasons: they had the most money, and they had the technology and experience needed to work with Magickal diseases. Desmodus Industries had patented a serum vamps drank to manage their need to feed. They still sucked blood, but it helped them in a way that Chloe hoped her formula would help werewolves.

  Selina frowned. “It seems odd that a vampire would be willing to go to bat for a werewolf project, even if he was sleeping with you.”

  Yeah, no kidding.

  Chloe fought the urge to snort. It was like being hard-core conservative and screaming liberal in the Normal world. The two sides just never met. There was no common ground between them, and any ground they’d ever shared was blood-soaked from feuding. Except for the obvious abilities instilled by a Magickal virus, the cultures that had developed for each species were diametrically opposed.

  The project Chloe had initiated was the first time, for as long as their very long records spanned, that they had set aside their differences for any reason. That someone working on the project had been murdered was bad for more than just Damien. If this project crumbled, it could put the two races at loggerheads. It would drag other races into the mix. It would just be bad for everyone. No, scratch bad, it would be catastrophic.

  A sardonic smile curved her lips. “It wasn’t the sex that convinced Damien. I appealed to his ego. Imagine not only the prestige of being on the team that broke through this formula, but the accolades afforded to someone making peacekeeping strides for the whole Magickal world.”

  The detective blinked. “Sounds too good to be true.”

  Chloe flicked dismissive fingers. “It’s the same argument Damien used to convince his superiors, to convince the Conclave. My aunt and I convinced the rest of the Council, including the werewolf pack leaders, to back the project.”

  “Your aunt.” It was obvious Selina knew who Chloe was related to. Then again, you couldn’t be Magickal in Seattle and not know the Standish name. They’d helped settle Magickals in America back in colonial days and had come West during the gold rush. There’d been a Standish on the All-Magickal Council in this city since the day the Council was founded. “Mildred Standish.”

  “Aunt Millie, yes. She’s actually my great-great aunt, but she doesn’t like to be reminded of that.” For the first time, Chloe relaxed. No matter how bad this got, Millie would always be there to help her. The Standish family stood together against outsiders, and Millie led the local coven and represented the witch race on the Council. She had more than enough clout to fix any mess. A sigh eased past Chloe’s lips, and she surreptitiously wiped her clammy palms off on her skirt.

  Selina’s gaze swept over her again, assessing and reassessing. “You’re quite the mover and shaker.”

  “Coming from the Standish family has a lot of duties and strings attached. Lots of expectation. But it also affords me influence most people my age wouldn’t dream of having. The least I can do is use it to try to help my friends, lobby for causes I believe in. So I did.” Her shoulder dipped in a shrug, a wry grin curving her mouth. She waved a hand around the interrogation room. “And here I am.”

  “Here you are,” Selina agreed.

  “Son of a bitch,” he breathed. Merek closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass of the two-way mirror in the observation room. It had to be her. Of course, it had to be. It wasn’t his memory he’d seen in Raines’s apartment, but a vision of the actual Chloe who had actually dated the vampire. She’d been there before. He was damn grateful he hadn’t “seen” her fucking the other man. His gut burned at the thought.

  “What’s up?” An FBI agent stood beside him, hands in pockets. Agent Rogers.

  Merek already didn’t like him. As soon as Selina was done, this asshole was yanking the case away from them. He was just seeing what Merek’s partner could pull from their suspect. Why the FBI was interested, Merek didn’t know. Likely, he would never know. It rankled, but he set that aside and refocused on the interrogation room.

  The expression in those wide hazel eyes kicked him in the solar plexus. It was trapped, nervous, worried. Scared. He’d never wanted to see such vulnerability on her face. He’d seen her passionate, joyful, her eyes reflecting a wicked greed that made his blood heat to remember it. He didn’t like seeing her afraid.

  He cleared his throat and glanced away from Chloe to the man beside him. “I’m afraid I can’t help in this situation.”

  “No?” The slight points to Rogers’s ears declared him an elf, but the officious tone was pure red tape bureaucrat. One of Merek’s least favorite kind of people. “Why is that, Detective Kingston?”

  “I can’t read her. It happens occasionall
y.” It wasn’t strictly true, but he’d be damned if he admitted anything to this pencil-pushing prick.

  Because the truth was enough to break him out in cold sweat. The only people Merek couldn’t read were those who would have the deepest impact on his life. Sometimes that meant a close friend or a lover . . . It had definitely included his wife and his parents. And look where that had landed all of them. In the morgue. Because when they’d been in danger, when it had really mattered, Merek hadn’t been able to do shit to help them. He hadn’t known about it, hadn’t sensed a thing. His powers were fallow when it came to them—the only time his abilities could truly rest, the only time he didn’t have to tightly leash his precognition.

  A light knock sounded on the door to the observation room. Merek didn’t even bother to look away from the scene before him. “Come on in, Cavalli.”

  “You know, having a creepy sense of who’s nearby is supposed to be the purview of howlers and bloodsuckers.” The tall vampire shut the door and settled his shoulder against the wall beside it, crossing his arms over his chest as he, too, watched Selina question Chloe.

  Merek flicked his gaze over the other man and grinned. Cavalli was tall, taller than Merek’s six foot three by at least an inch, maybe two. He was whipcord lean, dark haired, dark eyed, olive complexioned, and other than the soul patch decorating his chin, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a catalog for Armani. Or a corporate meeting for a Fortune 500 company. Family money. Vampire money. The kind of man that oozed centuries of charm, good breeding, good looks, excess income, and had women crawling all over him.

  Merek arched an eyebrow. “Should I even bother to ask what brings you down to the pedestrian side of law enforcement ?”