by Lara Nance
Her thoughts gravitated back to the mysterious stranger. The smooth, menacing way he walked and those ice blue eyes consuming her. Brrrr. In the back of her mind, Emmie’s words repeated, I’m giving you my gift. The evil she’d warned Cara about might be out there killing people by draining their Light.
A jittery fizzle grew in her stomach the longer she waited. She blew out a breath and jumped to her feet. Carrying her cell, she struggled past Dusty and out the door. The nip in the evening air became a welcome balm to her frazzled nerves. She punched in Nicki’s number again and tapped one foot as the ringing continued on and on. Still no answer. Tor and Amber pulled up and she hit the END button. Alistair was right behind them in his BMW. He stepped from his car, mouth set in a grim line.
“Alistair, Marc had another drained person show up in the ER,” Cara said.
The professor paused, then motioned them through the front door, his brow furrowed. “Let’s get everyone together. Any brandy about, Cara?”
“What’s going on?” Amber whispered, following Cara into the kitchen.
“I haven’t a clue.” Cara frowned. “Shana texted me and said Marc had another drained patient show up in the ER right before I called you.”
Amber sucked in a breath. “No.”
“Yes, and thank God, he didn’t try to save this one.”
“That poor person, but still, I’m glad Marc’s learned his lesson. Some people are just too far gone to save.” Amber rubbed her arms. “This is getting scary.”
“Why don’t you bring the wine and glasses?” Cara gestured to the bottle and glasses at the end of the bar. “I’ll get some brandy for Alistair, and we’ll see what he has to say.”
Alistair took his snifter and his lips twisted in a brief smile, but he didn’t meet her gaze. The doorbell rang, slicing through the heavy, tension-filled silence. Dusty barked while Cara hurried to let in Shana and Marc. Behind their backs, Cara gave Amber a ‘thumbs up,’ seeing the two were holding hands. Maybe they were getting back together, after all.
“Hey, guys, any more wine left? I can use it.” Marc pushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes. His face was pale and there were lines around his eyes with shadows under them. The incident with the girl had taken a lot out of him. He flopped into the comfy chair across from Tor and Amber on the sofa. Shana leaned against the arm of his chair.
“Help yourself.” Cara pointed to the glasses Amber had placed on the coffee table.
“So,” Alistair said from the wing chair. “I suppose you’re all wondering why I asked you here.”
Shana snorted at the campy phrase, and Cara put a hand over her eyes.
Alistair’s brows went up. “Sorry, I’m not trying to be funny, quite the opposite, in fact.” He pushed his glasses higher on his nose and stared at the group from beneath bushy gray eyebrows.
“Okay, dude, what do you know? We’re dying to hear.” Tor rose and took the bottle to pour more wine in everyone’s glasses.
“The description of the deaths you have discovered sparked a memory last night, and, today, when Cara talked about the man at Amber’s store, I remembered something I uncovered many years ago.” He paused and cleared his throat before taking a swallow of brandy. “At the time, there was no evidence to make me think it might be true, but now…I reviewed the information this afternoon, and my hunch was right. I believe it explains recent events.” He extracted a wad of papers from his jacket pocket and smoothed out the folds, the paper crackling beneath his bony fingers.
“You mean there are records of this type of activity in the past?” Cara pressed a hand to her chest, horrified this wasn’t just some new aberration.
“That’s exactly what I mean. I passed over this initially because these beings were known as ‘energy vampires’ or various other barmy terms. It was thought they were undead, and required the energy of others in the way traditional vampires require the blood of the living.”
Cara bit her lip as a flash of Nicki talking about vampires popped in her head. Something that sucked the life out of you.
“At first, I didn’t think there was any connection to what we are. But, given all the recent activity, I revisited those accounts. Most of these stories come from South America. Tales of beings who fed off the energy or life force of others and killed them. There are even accounts of ritualistic tortures—a sort of sacrifice to a being of great power. It seems the, uh, pain of the victims enhanced the energy-taking experience.”
“What?” Marc scooted to the edge of his seat. His face blanched to flat white and his eyes popped wide. “That’s—that’s appalling.”
Shana put a hand on his arm. She whispered in his ear and rubbed his shoulder. He nodded and sat back.
“Go on, Alistair,” Shana said, keeping her hand on Marc.
“There were also stories of battles, although this is not clear. It seems there were conflicts between people like us who use the flow of energy to heal and those who use it to kill. There were clans, what they called, ayllus. Each ayllu owed allegiance to either the healers or the takers.”
“But why is this happening all of the sudden?” Cara fidgeted with the stem of her wine glass. “If these…beings existed hundreds of years ago, haven’t they existed all along? Why have they just surfaced now?”
Alistair adjusted his tie. “I’m not certain.”
“I bet I know,” Tor said. “Think about it, guys. These types of deaths have to cause some attention and questions—people dying without obvious reasons. A few might go unnoticed. There are deaths of all kinds in large cities every day, so every unexplained death can’t be investigated to resolution. When a pattern develops, though, departments allocate more resources to investigate. More intense scrutiny might lead to discovery.”
“You’re right,” Marc said. “The same’s true about deaths in the ER.”
“My bet is these dudes go from city to city. They kill up to the point the deaths start causing more than normal attention then move on.” Tor placed his index finger against his bottom lip. “If they stick to large metro areas they stand even less chance of being discovered. If we did some research, we might find deaths of this nature in other large cities.”
“Is it all about the kicks?” Shana took her hand from Marc’s shoulder and sat forward on the arm of his chair, grasping her knees. “The thrill of sucking the life out of someone who’s in pain? That’s it?”
“I’m not sure.” Alistair rubbed his chin. “I have further facts to investigate, but it seems there is a more involved picture. A large scale battle of good against evil. Evil is constantly trying to grow and overcome good; good is always attempting to wipe out evil.”
“Really? The Bad Dealers versus the Good Dealers in a fight to control the world?” Shana’s voice rose. “Please.”
“Shana!” Cara snapped. They didn’t need Shana’s sarcasm right now.
“Well, come on, this is just crazy.” Shana stood, hands on hips. “Some evil guys from ancient South America come here to suck Light out of people?”
Marc flopped back in the chair and put a hand over his eyes. “Shan—”
“Why do you find it so hard to believe?” Alistair fingered the stem of his brandy glass, staring at her over the rim of his glasses, unmoved by Shana’s outburst. “You have a power few people have and you accept it. Why is it such a stretch to believe bad people might turn such power to evil?”
Shana whirled, directing an appealing gaze at each person, braids flipping about. “I’m not some superhero. I’m just a normal person with a gift for healing. That’s how I see it. Don’t you?”
Marc took her hand and pulled her back to the arm of the chair. “Calm down.”
“Shan, we’re all in this together,” Tor said. “We don’t know how we ended up with this gift, but hey, you can’t deny what’s happened. Whether these dudes are ancient or not, someone’s sucking the Light out of people and killing them.”
“I think we need to keep all options open,” Cara added. �
�We can’t ignore this information Alistair’s uncovered.” She gave Shana a meaningful stare, and her friend’s shoulders slumped.
“All right, all right.” Shana waved her hands over her head. “But I’m not buying this ancient evil business. I think modern evil’s bad enough.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Cara swirled her wine. All this speculating about origins was fine, but it didn’t solve the problem. “And who was the man Amber and I saw?”
“Obviously, a powerful Light-dealer. Whether good or evil is impossible to tell at this point.” Alistair drained his snifter. Cara stood and carried the brandy bottle from the coffee table to him. The amber liquid sloshed into the glass, and Alistair gave her a wink.
“You know, he seemed like he came from another era.” Cara handed the full glass back to Alistair. “His mannerisms, like bowing to us, the way he spoke, were all very formal.”
“It’s true.” Amber nodded. “Could he be one of these ancients you’re talking about?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Our group has stayed isolated here so I don’t know about other areas.” Alistair sipped his brandy and crossed one leg over the other. “We have to assume there are Light-dealers in other cities.”
“Wait, he told us his name, Rolf something.” Amber put a hand to her chin. She gazed at Cara for help.
“Van...Rolf Van...” Cara searched her memory. Why hadn’t she remembered? This was vital.
“Not Van Helsing, please.” Shana rolled her eyes.
“No, Van Harding. That’s it: Van Harding.” Cara snapped her fingers.
“How can we find out about him?” Amber turned to Alistair.
“Yeah, it’s not like there’s a national organization for Light-dealers, or anything,” Shana said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “How would you go about finding a BD unless it was by chance?”
“BD?” Cara blinked.
Shana shrugged. “Bad Dealer.”
“Well, I’ll just Google Mr. Van Harding and see what we find.” Cara went to her desk in the corner behind Marc and slipped into a chair before it. She flipped up the laptop lid and hit a key to wake it. “Okay, Rolf. Van. Harding.” Her nails clicked on the keys.
Tor cleared his throat. “Thinking as a cop, we should investigate all the questionable deaths and see if there are any similarities. Like where those people worked, lived, exercised, whatever. If we come up with a pattern, we head in that direction.”
“Do you really think we should get so involved, sweetie?” Amber placed a hand on his arm.
“We have to, babe. That’s how we roll.” Tor patted her hand. “To the police they’re all unrelated deaths. Only us Dealers know the truth.”
“It might be dangerous,” Marc said.
“It’s creepy, there’s absolutely nothing on anyone named Rolf Van Harding.” Cara turned in her chair and faced the group. “We need more information. Alistair, keep at it. We need to know more about these beings if they’re real.” Everyone nodded. “Tor, Marc and Shana can get information about the people who died, then we can get back together and see if any pieces fall into place.”
Cara knew her friends were committed to this plan, but it didn’t lessen her fear. Where would all this lead?
For her part, she had no trouble believing some ancient evil could appear in modern day. Too many unexplained paranormal events existed in the world to completely rule it out. They were about to walk into dangerous secrets of the past, and, she had to admit, Rolf Van Harding might be one of them.
That made his allure all the more disturbing.
Chapter Seven
Cara’s car hit a deep pothole on Virginia Beach Blvd., jarring her teeth and her car’s frame. She glanced over her shoulder at Dusty, but he was fine lounging on the back seat.
“Damn.” In the older section of Norfolk, the road was narrow and riddled with broken pavement. She gritted her teeth and gripped the wheel tighter.
A flash of red and blue off to the right caught her eye. She slowed and scanned the five police cars in the parking lot of a small strip mall. The place was full of abandoned stores with sad, peeling paint and boarded up windows. The main attraction seemed to be a fried chicken fast food restaurant on the far corner.
Making a quick decision, she turned down the street beside the parking lot and pulled to the curb. An ambulance accompanied the variety of law enforcement vehicles, and emergency personnel scurried around one of the boarded up stores. Tor stood talking to a taller, lanky policeman in the parking lot.
“Stay. Good boy,” she told Dusty after rolling down the windows part way. She climbed out of the car and walked toward Tor, raising a hand. A sense of dread crawled over her skin like icy spiders. He saw her and pointed a finger at her, signaling for her to wait. He patted the other cop on the shoulder and headed toward Cara.
“Hey,” Tor called, expression grim. The knot in the pit of her stomach tightened with each step he took.
“Sorry, I don’t want to bother you when you’re busy, but I just had to know if it’s another one.” Her hands tightened into fists.
Tor glanced over his shoulder at the ambulance and nodded. “It is. Found a dude in that deserted store, wrapped in a sheet. Body would have been there for months if the owner hadn’t come by to show the store to a prospective buyer today. The body must have been hidden there last night.” He removed his hat and ran a hand over his short black hair. As he placed his hat back, his face looked a shade paler than normal. “It’s freakin’ weird, Cara.” He visibly shivered and wrapped his arms across his chest.
“The guy was drained?” Cara’s heart flipped. She’d rarely seen Tor so unsettled, and it frightened her more than anything. He was always strong and calm, the tough street kid from Brooklyn.
“He was beaten, but it didn’t kill him. Man, this sucks.” Tor grimaced and shook his head. “Cara, this is the worst thing I’ve ever been involved in. And I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I wanna throttle somebody, but this is something you can’t get a grip on.” He held his hands up, fingers curled around an imaginary object.
“I know what you mean.” Suddenly, she wanted to be home in her snug little cottage with her dog beside her on the couch. Maybe she should get a gun, or a taser.
“Is Amber coming over tonight?” Tor asked.
Cara hugged her midsection. “In an hour.”
“Good. Tell her I’ll drive by when I get off and follow her home. I don’t want some schmuck gettin’ his hands on my babe.”
“You really think that’s necessary?” A creak of gurney wheels echoed across the parking lot. Cara shivered when a body in a black bag was carted out of the abandoned store by the EMT squad. A lump rose in her throat.
“Something bad’s happening. Something evil.” Tor pressed his lips together and his right hand rested on the hilt of his gun. “We need to be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”
She flinched away from the sight of the body. “I have to go.”
He nodded and went to join the other policemen. It had to be hard for him, knowing what happened, but not who did it. He was unable to share his information with the other policemen because they wouldn’t believe him. Energy vampires, ha! Or, what did Shana call them? BD’s? Yeah, Bad Dealers that suck the life out of you. Yeah, the police force would really take supernatural beings seriously.
And where did Rolf Van Harding, enigmatic mystery Dealer, fit into all this? Sadistic killer or strange coincidence?
She didn’t know, but she would find out.
###
Desmond stared at the two men before him, standing with their gazes directed at the rich carpet of his study. Carlton waited at his side, arms crossed over his chest, a frown marring his boyish features.
Fury, barely contained, flamed in Desmond’s gut. “I believe my orders were to place the body somewhere it would not be found for a while.”
One of the men raised his head an inch. “We’d been watching the store and no one had been in it in month
s. It was a freak coincidence. I swear, Master.”
“At least he was dead when they found him,” Carlton said.
“True,” Desmond said. “But I want to be sure next time there is no chance of the body being found for at least a month. No more slip ups. The police are not fools and neither are the doctors in the ER. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Master,” the two men said in unison.
He stalked toward them, slow, even steps like a lion approaching his prey. Inhaling the sweet scent of fear sent a jolt of desire coursing through him. Ah, how he loved to inflict pain. He thrilled to their quaking, the beads of sweat forming on their foreheads, their white-rimmed eyes wide with horror.
One man stepped back, but Carlton grabbed his arm and dragged him forward. Desmond licked his lips and jabbed his spread fingertips against the center of their chests. Both gasped and one whimpered. The delectable Light sparked hot and heavy with the contact until the men flinched and groaned. Glorious terror-soaked Light poured like molten gold through Desmond’s fingertips. Hot tingling pleasure spread up his arms and flushed into his chest, the sensations so intense his head snapped back at the impact.
Euphoria pulsed in every inch of his body. How easy it would be to drain it all and luxuriate in the excess of pleasure. But he was the master and able to control his desire, unlike these young ones. He still needed these worthless wretches to complete his plan. With only a flicker of regret, he cut off the flow and dropped his arms to his sides. He sucked in a breath and made an abrupt gesture of dismissal. The men staggered from the room, groping the walls to stay vertical on weakened legs.
Desmond pointed at Carlton. “Lock them in a room to suffer until tomorrow so they don’t do anything else stupid. Then you may take them a snack to regain their Light.”
Carlton bowed and grabbed the two men by their arms, jerking them from the study.
