Blood Law

by Jeannie Holmes

  She nodded. “It was kind of him to come.”

  Varik snorted and joined her beside the small dining table. “You didn’t give him much option to refuse.” He picked up a lukewarm hash-brown patty and bit into it. “‘Get down here and find my son or so help me, I’ll rip your fangs out myself and shove them up your ass,’” he quoted with a smile.

  Emily’s status as the widow of Bernard Sabian gave her a great deal of political clout with the upper echelons of vampire society, including FBPI brass. She didn’t use it often, preferring to remain in relative obscurity, a fact Varik had always admired.

  Emily blushed as she continued to pull food from the bag. “I may have been a bit abrupt.”

  “Abrupt?” Varik laughed. “You were brilliant. I only wish I could’ve actually seen Damian’s face.”

  “I’m just worried about Stephen.” She looked at a closed bedroom door. “And Alex.”

  Varik sat down and plucked one of the coffee cups from the cardboard tray. “Is she still asleep?”

  Emily sat across from him with a sigh. “You’re blood-bound to her. You tell me.”

  It was Varik’s turn to blush. He could sense Alex’s mind within his own and knew from the steady humming, like the sound of a distant beehive, that she was sleeping. When awake, the humming would rise and fall in pitch, depending on her mood and what she was thinking, but he could hear her thoughts or see her memories only if they both lowered their mental guards. After last night, he didn’t think she would be eager for that anytime soon.

  “For the record,” Emily began, as she poured creamer into her coffee, “I just want you to know that I tried to convince Alex to stay in Louisville, to work things out with you.”

  “I know.”

  “She refused to listen to me.”

  “She refuses to listen to most people.”

  Emily smiled. “She’s a lot like her father in that regard.” Her gaze darted to Alex’s door and back. “She still doesn’t know about you and—”

  “No,” Varik answered quickly, “and I want to keep it that way. It’ll be difficult because of the bond, but you thought it best that she not know her father was a Hunter.”

  She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I may have been wrong about that. Stephen told me Alex was having visions.”

  Varik nodded.

  “What if the Special Operations unit wants her?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Being in Special Ops nearly killed Bernard.”

  “No, Emily, it did kill him.” He reached across the table and gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. “But I’m not going to let that happen to Alex. As long as I can maintain an inner shield in my mind, Alex won’t know about Bernard. I can do it. I had plenty of practice working with him.”

  Emily’s lips thinned, and she stared out the window, her blue eyes growing distant.

  Varik finished his hash-brown patty and reached for a sausage-and-egg muffin. He’d been young when he first met Bernard Sabian. He and Damian were selected for a new Hunter program utilizing vampires with strong psychic abilities referred to as Talents. Varik, Damian, and several others with virtually no psychic abilities were called Nils, and served as protectors for the Talents and hunted down the vampires that the Talents determined had violated vampiric law.

  Varik had proven himself especially adept at tracking other Hunters. He rose through the ranks and was eventually paired with Bernard Sabian, the strongest of the Talents, as a specialized team tracking corrupt Hunters. Bernard would enter into a trance, sometimes for hours, and when he awoke he would have one or two names for Varik. While Bernard remained safely in Louisville, Varik would then track down the designated Hunters, determine if they’d turned rogue and jeopardized the vampire community’s veil of secrecy. If so, he eliminated them.

  This part Alex knew, that Varik had hunted other Hunters. However, she didn’t know that it had been her beloved father who’d sealed the fate of so many during the near century they worked together. It was a secret Varik bore and would give his life to keep her from learning, for with that knowledge came an awareness of other secrets, darker and more deadly. Secrets Bernard had died protecting. Secrets he would now work to keep from Alex.

  Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony played in the distance, muffled by the closed door of Alex’s room.

  “Shit.” Varik leapt from his chair. He could already feel her mind stirring within his own. “I forgot to take away her cell phone.”

  He reached the door as the music died. Hand on the knob, he debated opening it. He didn’t have to debate long.

  The knob jerked from his hand, and Alex barreled into him, cell phone glued to her ear. They stumbled over and around each other.

  “Damn it to hell, Varik!” Alex swore and staggered away. “Watch where you’re fucking going.”

  “Alexandra!” Emily exclaimed. “That is no way—”

  “Save it, Mom,” Alex grumbled, as she grabbed the last coffee from the cardboard tray. “I’m not in the mood.”

  Emily crossed her arms in front of her and returned to staring out the window.

  Varik tried to pluck the cell phone from her hand, and she growled at him. He propped his foot against the wall between the two bedrooms and leaned back. If she wanted to talk on the phone, he wasn’t going to argue with her. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but judging from the scowl on Alex’s face and the intensity of the blood-bond’s hum in his mind, the news wasn’t pleasant.

  Alex gulped down several mouthfuls of steaming coffee. “Yeah, I got it,” she said hoarsely into her phone. “Tell them not to touch anything. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” She closed the phone and tossed it onto the couch among the plastic bags filled with clothing.

  “That didn’t sound good,” Varik said, eyeing her warily. The right side of her face was swollen, and the area under her eye was a mixture of vibrant blues and greens. More bruises and scrapes covered her arms, which were still a bright pink from the heat of the fire. It would take days for all of her injuries to heal and the bruises to fade.

  Alex drained the large coffee cup in three more gulps. “Jefferson police found a body at the high school.”

  Emily gasped. Her eyes were a swirling mix of sky blue and darkest amber. “Is it—” Her question trailed away.

  Alex toyed with her cup. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly. “We won’t know until we get there.”

  “What’s this ‘we’ business?” Varik asked. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Like hell I’m staying here.”

  “Look at yourself, Alex. You can barely stand up straight. There is no way I’m letting you anywhere near a crime scene.”

  Alex glanced at her mother and then crossed the room to him. She grabbed his arm and shoved him toward her bedroom. “Inside,” she hissed.

  He allowed himself to be forced into the room before turning to face her.

  “Someone has to stay with Mom,” she said tersely, as she shut the door behind her. “She can’t be left alone, not with Stephen missing.”

  “Agreed. You’ll stay.”

  “I’m going.”

  “How do you plan to do that? Your Jeep is still sitting in the impound yard, and you’re not riding with me.”

  “I’ll take Mom’s rental.”

  “Not if I take the keys with me.”

  “Damn it, Varik! This is still my investigation.”

  “Not anymore,” he retorted. “Damian’s in town, and as of this morning, he’s assumed command of all open Bureau cases, including the arson, the murders, Stephen, and the diner shooting.”

  “The diner isn’t even a federal case!”

  He shrugged. “Damian seems to think it’s related in some way. He’s taken it from the sheriff and brought in a bunch of Enforcers from the Jackson office.”

  “That’s just great!” Alex threw her arms up in frustration. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”

  “Enjoy some quality time w
ith your mother and get some rest.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. Damian has removed you from active duty.”

  “He did what!”

  “You and Emily are to stay here, while—”

  “This is bullshit!” Her eyes had bled to amber, and she paced the floor like a caged animal. “I am not going to just sit here while Stephen is out there!”

  “Alex—”

  “I saw them, Varik!” She pounded her chest, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Don’t you understand? I saw them take Stephen! I tried—I wanted to save him, but the fire—” She sobbed and doubled over, clutching her stomach.

  Varik pulled her into his arms, cradling her as she wept and clung to him.

  “I couldn’t save him.” She forced the words out. “I wasn’t fast enough. I couldn’t—”

  A new round of sobs racked her frame, and he held her tightly, stroked her hair, and wished he did have psychic talents so he could steal away her pain.

  thirteen

  EIGHT LIFELESS EYES WATCHED HIM PREPARE FOR HIS latest triumph.

  The smell of wood stain failed to cover the darker smell of blood. He’d cleaned the floor after each kill, but nothing got rid of the smell completely. The cross in his gloved hands was almost finished. Once the stain was set, he could start working on his new addition. Glancing at the crumpled form wrapped in plastic and hidden beneath a faded blue tarp, he couldn’t suppress a grin.

  His gaze flicked to the photo of Claire from their wedding anniversary, the one he carried with him everywhere. He’d propped it up against the large jars lining the overhead shelf before starting his work on the cross. Claire’s eyes shone brightly with her approval. Surrounded by the trophies of his kills, she smiled at him. He blew her a kiss and returned to his work and memories of the previous night.

  The vamp bar had ignited like a house of cards and burned as brightly as the sun. He could feel the town being cleansed of the bloodsucking infection. Everything was going as he’d hoped. He had only to see that Enforcer bitch suffer a little longer and then his anger, his need for vengeance, would be satiated.

  He hadn’t always been angry. He’d been happy once. With Claire. She’d been his rock, the stabilizing force in his life. He thought they’d always be together.

  Then she was taken from him.

  It was late, and she’d been leaving The Stakehouse, the blood bar in Natchez where she worked as a waitress. Jefferson was located about an hour or so east of the Mississippi River town. He didn’t like her driving home that far late at night, even though she worked there only on the weekends. She’d laugh and tell him that he worried too much.

  But his worrying had proven correct.

  Claire left The Stakehouse at about midnight on October 1, 2005, and never made it home. Four days later her body was found dumped on the side of Highway 84, halfway between Natchez and Jefferson. She was naked, bruised, battered, and bloodless. Dozens of bite marks and puncture wounds had marred her once beautiful form.

  The case was kicked over to Alexandra Sabian because of the obvious vampire involvement. She’d promised him for months that she would find Claire’s killers. She was committed to seeing justice served. She wouldn’t rest until Claire’s killers had answered for their crimes.

  He should’ve known it was all a lie. He should’ve known better than to trust a fucking vamp to hunt down one of its own.

  Sabian’s phone calls became less frequent until they simply stopped altogether. When he called her, she said she was sorry but there wasn’t enough evidence to charge anyone, wasn’t even enough to provide viable suspects.

  The case had grown cold. Sabian moved on to other investigations. He’d been left in the darkness with only Claire’s memory.

  His anger simmered beneath the surface. He started investigating Claire’s murder for himself. He traveled to Natchez on his days off and weekends, asking if anyone remembered seeing her.

  No one talked at first. He hadn’t expected them to. They were vampires, and vampires looked after their own kind.

  That’s when he met Tubby Jordan, and the reverend had introduced him to someone who remembered Claire, remembered the vamps who followed her when she left work. He’d been given a name—Trent Thibodaux, who supplied him with the names of his accomplices through the aid of torture before he killed the vampire. He’d tracked them all down, but he saved Alexandra Sabian for last. He wanted to see her writhe and suffer the way he’d suffered. Her unwillingness to pursue Claire’s killers was the ultimate betrayal, and now, with the help of Tubby and HSM, he was going to see it happen.

  After all, it was the Human Separatist Movement, an organization in which Tubby proudly proclaimed membership, that showed him the true nature of the vampire—evil Hell-spawned demons bent on ruling over humans. They were Satan’s army in the flesh, and HSM would be both the hand and the sword of God that sent them back to the abysmal fires.

  He dipped a rag into the pot of stain on the workbench before him and smoothed it over the carved stake. He used a second rag to wipe away the excess, wiped it away in the same manner he’d see the vamps wiped out of Jefferson.

  He checked his watch and smiled. The present he’d left at the high school would’ve been found by now. He could almost smell the terror rippling through the vamps as word spread that another corpse had been found.

  The cross in his hands was nearly complete. Once it was finished, he’d be able to start working on the body of the vamp he’d killed yesterday. It would be his greatest work yet and would serve as the killing blow to Alexandra Sabian.

  Eight lifeless eyes and Claire stared at him with pride as he hummed and continued to stain the wooden cross.

  “What are we going to do?” Bill Jenkins asked, his fingers drumming the Holy Word Church’s kitchen tabletop. “The cops are bound to—”

  “We’re not doing anything,” Martin interrupted, glancing at Harvey. “Right?”

  Harvey looked around at the faces gathered at the table and wished he could light a cigarette. “As far as metro police and the vamps know, none of us are involved in the fire.”

  “That’s great, but what about the vamp we shoved in the van?” Bill asked.

  “What about him?” Martin retorted.

  “We don’t know where he is,” Bill hissed. “The plan was to bring him back here, hold him until the vampires left town, and then let him go.” He threw his arms wide. “But he’s not here! No sign of him or the van! It’s like they fucking disappeared.”

  “Do not curse in the house of the Lord,” Tubby Jordan said, twisting in his chair to settle his bulk in a more comfortable position and kicking up the stench of his cologne in the process.

  “Sorry, Reverend,” Bill muttered. “I’m just worried, that’s all. Seems like nothing is going the way we planned it.”

  Tubby nodded. “What do you propose we do? Do you want us to go to the Enforcers and tell them that the vampire we kidnapped has been kidnapped from us?”

  Bill sighed and chewed on an already ragged thumbnail.

  “Think of the situation this way,” Tubby said. “We now have what the politicians call ‘plausible deniability.’ Even if the vamps do figure out we set fire to the bar, we can honestly say we don’t know the whereabouts of Stephen Sabian.”

  “He’s got a point, Bill,” Martin said, nodding. “As long as none of us confess to arson, Harvey can run interference with the JPD and the vamps. Right?” He looked to Harvey for confirmation.

  Harvey sighed. “I’ll do what I can, but there’s still the not-so-small matter of someone threatening Lockwood last night.”

  “It wasn’t any of us,” Tubby said defensively.

  “I know that, but someone did it, someone who knew about Judgment Day.”

  “Maybe Darryl—” Martin began.

  Harvey waved away his argument. “I talked to him. He says he didn’t do it. I also talked to the others, and none of them claim to know anything about it.”
>
  The mood in the room turned from somber to suspicious. Each of them sent cautious glances at the others and looked away quickly when caught.

  “What if—” Bill started, paused, and then began again. “What if we have a spy in HSM?”

  A ripple of shock followed by unease shook Harvey. He hadn’t considered that possibility, but it actually made sense, given the strange turn of events with the missing van. But who?

  A dozen men had been involved in Judgment Day, most of whom Harvey had known his entire life. They’d all lived in Jefferson, and he found it hard to believe that any of them would betray their mutual cause, or threaten a woman, for that matter. Destroying the heart of the vampire community was one thing, but there were lines even they wouldn’t cross.

  He didn’t believe anyone he’d known for so long or who upheld the same beliefs as he did would betray their group. The only exceptions were Tubby and Darryl Black. Tubby was a newcomer to the town, but aside from having an unnatural love of cheap cologne and sweets, the reverend’s background was spotless. He’d checked.

  Darryl, on the other hand, had moved to Jefferson from somewhere in southern Louisiana about ten years ago, met and married a local woman, and joined the JPD. Despite Darryl’s history in Jefferson, he and Harvey hadn’t run in the same circles until recently.

  Thinking of Darryl, Harvey frowned. Something niggled at his brain.

  Darryl was working the night shift again last night. He’d arrived late, an unusual occurrence for him, and had been pale and withdrawn. Deputy Case had noticed a few spots that appeared to be blood along the hem of Darryl’s khaki uniform pants. When asked about it, Darryl had said he’d hit a deer on the way in to work and had moved the carcass off the road. Harvey hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but when he’d left the department after clocking out for the evening, he’d seen no damage to Darryl’s pickup. If Darryl had hit a deer as he claimed, there should have been at least a dent in the front fender or a busted headlight.

  Uneasiness filled him, and Harvey checked his watch and stood. It was already well past mid-morning, and he had his own damage control to perform at the impound yard. As he’d expected, the vamps had taken over the Maggie’s Place shooting. He’d lodged a good argument for show, but in the end, he’d turned everything over. He wanted the vamps to investigate the shooting and find the present he’d left for Sabian in her Jeep. What he didn’t want them to find was his missing handkerchief. “I’ve got to get back to the office.”