She needed to trace the journey of the book to her desk, sooner rather than later. The answer was there. That equated to time at her computer digging into all her resources to find the trail leading to her desk. But was she doing that? No. Instead, here she was, back in the gardens by the same statue, sitting on the same bench, and staring into the darkness. Hoping for what? Answers? God’s voice?
Or was it something else she sought?
The wisest thing would have been to head to the office, do a little research, and wait for Sunny. As usual, she couldn’t do the wise thing. As usual, she tended toward the crazy, like hanging out in the gardens where security guards would be patrolling and see her lurking. Oh, if only she could have inherited some of her mother’s grace. Life would be so much easier.
Just as last night, Tory had smelled her before she was close enough to see. The nearby traffic and the pounding in her ears had muffled the sound of her footsteps. Though she’d deny it if asked, the church wasn’t the only thing that drew her to the gardens now. She told herself she was just looking for a sympathetic ear, someone who could relate. That’s all.
Tonight, Naomi Rand was dressed casually in blue jeans, a white button-down shirt, and black boots. Her long black hair spilled over her shoulders in a way that softened her broad shoulders. Her skin was smooth and unadorned, her features striking with full lips and strong cheekbones. Last night in her formal attire, Tory hadn’t noticed how attractive she was, but now it struck her in a rush of awareness. She pushed aside the emotional response to a lovely woman. Not interested.
“Hello,” Naomi said as she leaned against a tree, arms crossed over her chest. “What brings you out here yet again?”
“What brings you out?” Tory countered, not quite sure how to answer the question anyway. A hint of vanilla made her want to press her face into the beautiful black hair.
Naomi shrugged. “I work here.”
“In the middle of the night?” There wasn’t a service tonight. She’d checked. She should have been blissfully alone.
“Let’s just say my hours aren’t exactly nine to five. I’m a bit more flexible than your average pastor.”
“Back at ya.”
Even in the darkness, Tory could see the raised eyebrows. Still, Naomi’s voice was even as she replied, “You never said what it is you do or, for that matter, what your name is. Feel like sharing now that we’re on our second date?”
Her words were soft, as though she was talking with a child. Not condescending—more patient and kind, with a touch of humor. Tory studied her face, the light of the moon bathing the gardens with a warm illumination that chased away all but the deepest shadows. Under different circumstances it would be romantic. If only…
“Tory—” she offered, “and I’m a rare-books expert over at the Library of Congress.”
The small smile that pulled up the corners of Naomi’s mouth softened her features in a wonderful way. No longer was she simply attractive. That little smile turned her into beautiful. God, what on earth was the matter with her? She had far more important things to think about right now. Of course, it had been a very long time. Top that off with the emotional turmoil shaking up her life and it sort of made sense. Even an old bat vampire could succumb to stress.
“That’s why you had the old Bible with you last night?”
Tory nodded and focused again on what had brought her here in the first place: trying to find a place where the essence of Roland’s spirit might exist. She needed to understand the path of the Bible since that long-ago night, and this was as close as she could get to a place where she might feel him. “New Testament, actually.”
Naomi’s gaze never wavered. “Doesn’t the Library of Congress frown on their books leaving the building, or is it your SOP to bring rare books to church with you?”
Not in about a hundred years. “No,” she said. “No standard operating procedure with that one. Let’s just say last night was, well, unique.” A bit of an understatement, but Naomi was on a need-to-know program.
Naomi studied her before uncrossing her arms. “May I sit?” She motioned toward the empty space on the bench next to Tory.
Her first inclination was to say no. She didn’t need the woman up close and in her personal space. The attraction was hard to deny, though she fully intended to do just that. She didn’t trust what she was feeling. The arrival of the book had turned her quiet existence upside down. Everything was in turmoil, including her perceptions. She couldn’t afford to misinterpret a single thing, especially something like attraction.
“Yes” finally passed her lips. At times her brain and her mouth lacked simple coordination, and once that single word was out, she sure as hell couldn’t unsay it.
Naomi came close, lowering herself to the bench very close beside Tory. After a minute or so of silence, she asked her, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It?” She wasn’t trying to be obtuse; she just wasn’t putting it all together. God, she was way too messed up.
“Whatever brings you here in the middle of the night.” Naomi prompted her in that same patient voice.
“I work nights.” Simple explanations always seemed to work the best. Most people didn’t need details. The majority of the time, they didn’t want them anyway.
“I didn’t know the library was open at night.”
Well, so much for keeping it simple. Didn’t seem to be what Naomi wanted. She found that intriguing, even in the midst of turmoil. “It’s not. I requested special hours, they agreed. Suffice it to say, I’m very good at what I do and the library is willing to accommodate me for the most part.”
Naomi shifted and Tory could feel her gaze. “You’re a vampire. I’m usually pretty good at knowing, even though I see very few vampires these days.”
Tory ran a hand over her eyes. “Yes,” she said slowly, debating how much to tell a relative stranger. With Naomi’s body only inches away, the heat of her washed over Tory. It was like a warm blanket surrounding her entirely, and the strength of its sensual heat nearly took her breath away. The attraction was strong. The fear was even stronger. Something about that woman sent a whisper of caution through her.
“But I’m different.” That was the best she could offer. No way to put her backstory into a sentence or two. Not that she really wanted to try. The less Naomi knew about her, the better for her and everyone else.
“Okay…” Naomi drew out the word. “Different how?”
Tory stood and looked out into the distance. “It’s a long story that I don’t have the time to get into right now.”
“I won’t judge, you have my word.”
Her laugh was far from amused. “Judgment is the least of my worries but if you want to hear the ugly truth, here it—” Tory turned her gaze to meet the other woman’s eyes and saw truth in them. She checked the bitter words ready to tumble from her lips. In a softer voice she said simply, “I’m a vampire and that pretty much says it all.” She took one step away from where Naomi still sat on the bench.
She expected to see repulsion or disgust in Naomi’s eyes. She didn’t. Instead, the other woman stood and stopped her retreat by putting a hand gently on her arm. The touch was like a shot of electricity that almost made her jump. She managed, with effort, to stay in one place.
“Don’t go. You didn’t just happen here. Something brought you to my church, so please don’t go.”
“I have to.” She started to walk swiftly toward the shadows. Distance was very appealing at the moment. Everything was messed up and this woman was complicating things even more. She couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to feel. Just knew she had to get away.
“Tory?”
Against her better judgment, she stopped but didn’t give in to the strong urge to look back.
“I’m here when you need me.”
Chapter Six
If she could have done something for Tory, Naomi would have felt better. Obviously it wasn’t the right time. Distrust and stress seemed to
pour from the other woman’s body like water spilling over open dam gates. Naomi longed to reach out and hug her, if nothing else, to just offer her the solace of another woman—someone with empathy and understanding for what she was going through.
Hell, that was a lie and she knew it. Oh, distrust and stress where there all right. Who could blame her? Hadn’t she all but accused Tory of stealing from the church just last night? Offering comfort was the only decent thing to do for someone in her position. But it wasn’t just comfort foremost on her mind; it was something a little more self-serving. Naomi was one hundred percent attracted to the petite beauty with her lovely curves and long, shiny hair—too bad it wasn’t the right time, place, or person, for that matter.
Cold storage was a strange beast. Here she’d been, minding her own business for years and finally feeling like her world was on the level again. Then a strange woman, a strange beautiful woman, walked into her church and bam, all her carefully constructed serenity flew out the window! All of a sudden she was thinking about things better left in that cold storage.
The inappropriateness of her feelings wasn’t the only issue. She simply didn’t have time for this. She’d promised Nathan she’d ask around about a murderous vampire, see if any of her regulars might know something helpful to his investigation. His needs were far more important at the moment than her awakening libido. He was trying to save lives while she was thinking about getting into Tory’s pants. With a quick prayer for guidance, she turned her attention back to the moment.
Thoughts of this particular vampire had to go on the back burner. She wasn’t the one Nathan sought, even if Naomi had nothing to base her conviction on other than gut feeling. She’d been around the preternatural community long enough to know the good from the bad. This vampire was very much in the good column.
Though there were no services tonight, the weres always sensed when she was here, kindred souls even if some of them were human and some of them were not. Focusing on gathering information for her brother was a much safer road, despite that road being populated by weres. She didn’t need to let herself get sidetracked by a beautiful woman…ah, vampire.
She was in the courtyard listening to the water spill over the sides of the fountain and sipping a cup of tea when she heard the first footsteps. He was a shadow in the open doorway, a shadow she recognized.
“Good evening, Darin.”
Darin Reed, a tall, handsome man, looked like he couldn’t possibly be older than about twenty, twenty-five tops. His curly brown hair framed a strong face, and his dark eyes were sensual and mysterious. Naomi always found his hands fascinating. A ceramics artist, he had hands that were broad and strong, with long fingers made for an art. At first glance, Darin appeared to be a talented young artist living in a vibrant city. Always paid to look deeper than just the pretty face.
He was indeed an artist—in this life. Forty years ago, he’d been a milkman in a working-class neighborhood in London. Early one morning while making his rounds, he’d been attacked by what he’d thought at the time was a dog. Turned out to be a werewolf.
Darin came to her like so many others. The whispers on the street about her services reached him at a time when he needed support and understanding. He wanted to find a place of peace where his secret didn’t have to stay buried and where it didn’t matter if he was no longer completely human. She offered him what she did to all who walked through the doors, unconditional acceptance.
“Pastor.” He greeted her, his voice low and serious.
“Darin, I’ve told you a hundred times, it’s Naomi.”
She took particular notice of his unsmiling face, mainly because it was so unlike him. These days, Darin was always cheerful. Despite having his life forever changed, he’d found inner peace and created an existence that not only worked for him but seemed to flourish. That he was deathly serious tonight sent an uncomfortable flutter through her body. She’d give anything to see his normal boyish smile right now.
He folded his hands and his head dropped. “Naomi,” he said quietly. “Trouble is coming, I feel it here.” He tapped his chest.
Naomi sat up a little straighter. “What have you heard?”
He brought his gaze up to meet hers and his eyes, usually so full of mirth, were almost black. “Nothing. It’s something I feel. Someone or something is out there and it’s bringing death.”
The chill that washed over her skin had little to do with their surroundings. This was a beautiful place with paved walkways, lush bushes, and trees with boughs hanging full and green. The sky was filled with stars that blinked and shone like thousands of candles flickering above. The air carried the scent of the flowers that bloomed in the many tended beds. Any other night, she’d be filled with peace and contentment as she chatted with parishioners.
The way he talked, Naomi thought he had to know something. “Two men were killed by a vampire last night. Do you have any idea who it might be?”
He shook his head. “No, though I’m aware of the murders—we all are. I’m telling you, whoever it was, it was none of us.”
She knew what and who he referred to by “us.” She considered them hers as well. She’d been a lay minister at the midnight services since they began. Every face was familiar to her, as were most of their stories. There were witches, werewolves, even a couple of vampires, and many others who made their homes in the shadows. Her congregation of preternaturals was small in comparison to the total population of the District of Columbia. That minority status was part of what made them such a tight-knit and very protective group. They watched over each other as though their differences didn’t exist. In other times, they would have been bitter enemies, but in this life they were allies. Far too often, it was the humans against the preternaturals. Preservation forced them into an alliance that, in this day and age, worked. No, if it were one of them, they’d know it.
A second voice joined in from the arched doorway, echoing Naomi’s thoughts. “It’s not one of us.” Dressed in her police uniform, with a gun and handcuffs at her belt, Karen Carter leaned against the stone wall studying Naomi and Darin. She so often saw Karen in casual cycling attire that it stopped her every time she saw her in full-out cop mode.
“I know, I know.” Naomi muttered more to herself than her late-night companions. “It worries me.”
“Yeah,” Karen said. “Worries the shit outta me too. It’s definitely fucked up and it’s gonna cause some serious issues for all of us if we’re not careful. I’m not the only one who can’t afford to have my secret out in the daylight.”
Enlightenment as to what Karen meant by “issues” wasn’t necessary. Naomi was all too aware of the delicate balance existing between the human population and the preternaturals and those, like Karen, who possessed powers few understood. Uneasy was an understatement. Something like murder by a vampire could throw uneasy right out the window and usher in something akin to the villagers storming the castle. She didn’t want to see that happen, again.
*
Colin Jamison picked up his ringing cell phone and studied the display. Area code 202? That was Washington DC and he didn’t recognize the number. He looked up at the clock. Midnight, meaning it was three in DC. Who the hell would be calling him and at this time of night? Once upon a time there were several from that area who would think nothing of calling him any time of the day or night. Not anymore. Bridges had been burned and phone numbers right along with them.
He shot a glance at Ivy, who was busy working on a book she was writing on the connection between folklore and medical anomalies. Once a brainiac, always a braniac…alive or undead. Some things just didn’t vary despite the impossible changes that now defined each of them.
On a stormy night a year ago when both of their lives were forever altered and while they were still finding their way, Ivy had been the coroner in the town of Moses Lake, Washington. He’d been a vampire hunter. Not a likely coupling in any universe.
Everything had changed that strange night.
Ivy literally died in the battle to destroy a vindictive five-hundred-year-old vampire and her violent minions. Though he’d never have believed it before that moment, he’d been the one to beg another vampire to turn Ivy—to make her into the very thing he’d sworn his life to destroy. Riah Preston, herself a medical examiner in Spokane, Washington, and also a vampire, had saved his beautiful, intelligent Ivy by giving her immortality.
He’d never been happier.
The phone in his hand continued to ring. They weren’t giving up whoever they were, and he had an uneasy feeling about the incoming call. Nothing good ever came at this time of night. Not in his line of work anyway or, rather, his former line of work. Somehow living with and loving a vampire kind of undermined the motivation he possessed in his other life to walk dark streets and turn creatures of the night into dust. Not that he didn’t still smoke the occasional vamp, but only when it was a very, very bad vamp.
Before the phone went to voice mail, Colin finally gave in. Bad news or not, he couldn’t in good conscience just ignore it. “Yeah,” he said, not able to keep the snap out of his voice. If that didn’t warn someone off, nothing would. He’d been called a bastard more than once. He could live with that.
“Colin?”
A voice he hadn’t heard in at least five years and really never expected to again made him straighten up. Shock took all the bite out of his question, and the annoyance of only a moment before evaporated. “Naomi?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
He ran a hand through his brown hair that was in dire need of a trim and closed his eyes. He could see her in his head, tall and dark-haired with a kick that could send a preternatural into next week. She’d always been beautiful, powerful, and focused on her job as a hunter totally in tune with the church’s goal of eliminating every vampire on the planet. He’d liked Naomi and, at the time, was shocked when she’d left the hunters. He’d never known why, though the rumor mill posited all sorts of stories. He figured the truth was buried in the rumors somewhere but liked Naomi enough not to try to guess. He’d figured if she ever wanted him to know, she’d tell him.
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