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Claim the Night
Rachel Lee
His hunger knew no bounds… Jude felt the Hunger deep inside him.From the moment he’d rescued Theresa from a late-night attack, he’d ached for things he could never have. The touch of her skin. The taste of her blood. But if the vampire claimed her, one of them might not survive.So Jude did everything he could to make Terri stay away. Yet a demon stalked the sexy spitfire and Jude was the only protection she had. So he had no choice but to protect a woman he hungered for and fight cravings that could never be sated.
Jude was a predator, and right now she believed it to her very bones.
Theresa froze, instinct taking over.
Then he leaned toward her, slowly, as if he didn’t want to frighten her. “Don’t move,” he whispered.
She didn’t think she could have, at least not at that moment. Was he about to drink from her?
His hands cupped her cheeks. His skin was cool and smooth, smoother than human flesh. Jude touched her mouth with his. A light touch. His lips were parted, and he inhaled, taking her breath into him. He sighed, and she felt the coolness of his breath like an autumn breeze.
Then he kissed her.
Dear Reader,
What would a vampire fear more than dying permanently? Like most of you, I’ve read Bram Stoker and Anne Rice, and some other tales about vampires. The myth continues to evolve.
But I got to wondering: This change to being undead and surviving on blood, what would it do to a person if it really happened? Would need kill conscience? And what in the world would cause a vampire more fear than the thought of dying permanently?
Out of that came Jude Messenger, vampire private investigator and demon slayer. Jude not only fights the evil of the night, but he battles himself as well. Then he meets Terri, a rather independent medical examiner who drives him nearly insane with needs he has long battled, and worse, she puts him in danger of the thing vampires fear more than permanent death: The Claiming.
Hugs,
Rachel
About the Author
RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve, and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.
Claim the Night
Rachel Lee
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Chapter 1
He smelled her long before he saw her. A sweet, luscious smell wafted to him on the breeze, the kind of scent that raised his hunger to dangerous levels. He paused for a moment, invisible in the dark shadow of a building on a nighttime street dotted only infrequently with the yellow of street lamps.
He gave himself some time to drink in the intoxicating scent, a few moments of masochistic torture because he knew he wouldn’t heed the siren call to feed. He’d stopped heeding that call a long time ago, except for an occasional, harmless but necessary half-pint.
Besides, he had found those willing to share, a few trustworthy humans who would allow him to feed in exchange for the sexual thrill.
But this scent called to him, as only a few had over the centuries. He lifted his head, drinking it in, forgetting for a few seconds that he had work to do, a job to complete. For just a few seconds he allowed himself to remember how it had once been when he’d hunted freely, merely to satisfy himself.
Then he shook himself out of the hunger, and closed off his needs. He had changed, times had changed, and practice made control easier, though no less painful.
The job, he reminded himself. The address was only two blocks away. He moved freely, shadow to shadow, with a speed that would make him nearly invisible to all but the most perceptive. In this part of town there were no crowds to mingle with and thus hide among. The warehouse district was almost deserted and at night, only those with evil in mind dared to emerge after darkness claimed the street.
Evil had brought him here.
He was still half a block away from his target when he smelled the intoxicating scent again. But this time it was even more compelling because now it definitely held an overtone of fear.
And fear was another siren call for his kind, a part he had come to loathe.
He paused, torn. The evil he had come to deal with or the evil he sensed about to happen?
A woman’s cry pierced the night, making his decision for him. Forgetting the shadows for speed, he dashed toward the sound, the scent, moving now at a speed that rendered him invisible to human eyes.
Three blocks to the east he found her. She stood surrounded by four punks, one of them holding a knife, every single one of them looking as if they enjoyed frightening her as much as one of his kind might. He could smell their evil intentions. And something else. Something he couldn’t identify, but it disturbed him.
“Don’t touch me,” she demanded, taking an aggressive posture, as if she was willing to attack them. Little good it would do when she was outnumbered. “Don’t. Take my money. Take my credit cards.”
“Hey, sweetie,” said the guy with the knife, “what makes you think we want your money?”
The others laughed. “Naw,” one said, “she’s got a better treasure than that.”
He could have, in less than a minute, killed all four of the thugs. Once he might have. But the sight of the frightened but feisty woman prevented him. While those four didn’t deserve to live, neither did the woman they threatened deserve the nightmares he would leave her with if he savaged those men.
He stepped forward so they could see him. “You don’t want to do that.” The Voice.
They all hesitated, looking at him as if suddenly confused. The woman herself looked at him as if he were a savior. He knew better. She had no idea the kind of danger she might be in from him.
“Go,” he said. “Go home now.”
Slowly, almost like zombies, the four men turned away from the woman and began to disperse.
“Go home now,” he repeated with more force, and they began to run.
The woman stood there, frozen, even though she should have responded to the Voice as well. Perplexing, but not the first time someone had been immune.
She was dark-haired, petite. Even with his extraordinary night vision, however, he could not see the color of her eyes. Probably too dilated from adrenaline.
“How did you do that?” she asked, barely whispering. His acute hearing picked that up, too.
“Cowards are easy to intimidate,” he answered, a half-truth.
He walked toward her and she took a quick, stumbling step back. “Stay away.”
He stopped. “I’m not going to leave you here alone. Where do you live?”
“I’m not telling you that!”
He almost sighed, but he could hardly blame her. “I am not leaving you here alone,” he said again. He didn’t want to use the Voice on her, didn’t want to try it again even though it might not work. He avoided manipulating humans unless it was the only way.
“I’ll get a cab.”
“Where?” A faint amusement curled his thin mouth. “Don’t even suggest calling one. They won’t come here at night.”
He saw her shoulders sag a bit. “How did you get here?” he asked, feeling his curiosity stir.
“None of your business!”
Now he did sigh. “I have a car. I can take you home.”
“If you think I’m going to get into a car with you …”
Not even centuries of practice could give him perfect patience. He had to get this piece of bait away from the predators that lurked for blocks around, and he couldn’t go back to his investigation unless he made sure she was safe. Time was passing, dawn approaching steadily and inevitably. Limited time, limited patience, now two tasks instead of one for the short hours he had.
He reached her so fast she gasped when he stood right in front of her. Then, utterly without compunction, he picked her up, hardly noticing her weight, certainly not slowed by it.
“I’m not leaving you here,” he said yet again and began to stride toward his car, not as fast as he could because he didn’t want to scare her any more, but fast enough.
“Let me go!”
He should have just put her to sleep. “I can take you to your home, or take you to my office, but I am not leaving you here.”
Just a touch of the Voice. Just a hint, but it stilled her until they reached his car. So she wasn’t completely impervious. Perhaps. Impossible to tell exactly what she was responding to.
He had chosen his vehicle because it wouldn’t attract attention in this neighborhood: a few years too old, dented, even rusted. Not a hood ornament or hubcap to steal.
“You can’t do this,” she said as he put her on her feet beside the car.
“I am doing it. My office or your home.”
“I don’t want you to know where I live!”
“My office then. You’ll like my assistant.” He opened the passenger door for her.
Still, she hesitated. “Your assistant?”
“Chloe Crandall,” he said, seeking to create a sense of normalcy for her. “A bit strange for my taste, but a nice young lady all the same. Then you can argue with her about how you’ll get safely home.”
Still stubborn, she glared at him. “Who are you?”
He reached into his breast pocket, inside his long leather coat, and passed her his business card.
Jude Messenger, Licensed Private Investigator, Messenger Investigations, Inc. Phone numbers, email, fax, but no website.
She looked up from the card at him. “A private investigator?”
“Yes.” Would she ever get into the car? At this rate he’d never get back here to check into his case.
“Can I keep this?”
“Not only can you keep it, you can have a whole stack of them if you want. Leave them everywhere you go like breadcrumbs.”
At that, one corner of her mouth twitched up ward. Some Rubicon had been crossed in her mind. At last she slid into the car. He closed the door behind her and forced himself to walk at human speed around to the driver’s side.
When he got behind the wheel, however, he gave her no further quarter. The tires squealed as he peeled away. As good as she smelled, he had to get her out of the confines of the car as quickly as possible. He couldn’t afford a slip, even a minor one.
“Could you slow down, please?”
“No.”
“You’ll get us killed!”
He laughed. How could he not? “You’re safer with me at any speed than you were back there with those guys. How did you get there?”
Silence. Well, he had more important concerns. Let her keep her secrets.
But then, hesitantly, she answered. “I was with a friend. She wanted to go to some clubs. I … ordinarily don’t enjoy that, but she didn’t want to go alone.”
“Wise.”
“Who was wise?” she asked. It almost sounded like a challenge.
“Both of you. Clubbing can be a bad scene. Going alone even worse. So let me guess. She met someone and there you were all alone.”
A sigh reached him in the darkness and with it the truly enticing scent of her breath. His hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yes,” she said presently. “She met someone, and I decided to go home. This guy she introduced me to earlier seemed safe enough. She knew him.”
“I understand.”
“So when he offered to drive me, I said yes. But he came this way, and tried to … tried to …”
He didn’t need her to finish. “You ran.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a clear picture.” He wondered if he should ask her who this guy was who tried to take advantage of her, then decided she’d probably get angry at him for interfering. People rarely appreciated offers of help they hadn’t asked for.
His hyperacute senses detected no heartbeats nearby at street level, at least none that weren’t in the slow rhythm of sleep, so he ran a couple of red lights, certain no cops were near enough to see. He heard his passenger gasp, but he ignored it.
“Do you obey any laws?” she demanded.
“Not when they get in the way of saving lives.”
“My life isn’t in danger anymore.”
“I’m not talking about you. I don’t stroll that part of town without a reason.”
“Oh.”
He listened to her silence with some satisfaction. Humans tended to have such a narrow view of the world, with little real appreciation for the evils that truly existed.
A block later she asked, “I interfered?”
So she cared beyond herself. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that. I’m just … I’d hate to think someone else might suffer because you saved me.”
“Your danger seemed the most immediate.”
“Thank you. I was terrified.” And she sounded reluctant to admit it. “I’d have fought, but with four of them …” She let it trail off.
“I know.” He could still smell the fear on her, though it had faded considerably. Making it easier for him to maintain control. But the scent of her blood—there was a time he would have followed that scent around the globe.
With another squeal he took a sharp corner, then zipped into a parking space in front of his off ice.
“We’re here,” he said. “I’ll take you to Chloe.”
It didn’t look as if anything was alive or awake on the street, but one little light burned redly next to a doorbell a half dozen steps below street level. He guided her down, swiped his key in the security lock, and heard the bolt slide open.
He shoved the heavy steel door open and urged her in ahead of him. She seemed reluctant now, afraid again. Of course, the hallway was unlit out of deference to his night vision.
“Chloe?” he called out to reassure his companion.
A moment later a doorway opened in the dark hallway, and yellow light spilled forth. Chloe emerged from her office, dressed in some weird version of not-quite-punk, not-quite-stripper black leather and lace. She dyed her hair black and wore it in spikes. The whole getup was topped with an amazing amount of black eyeliner and dark shadow.
“Jude,” she said, her light, youthful voice sounding surprised. “I didn’t expect you for a couple of hours.”
“A little hitch,” he explained, motioning to the woman beside him. “She was about to be assaulted by some thugs.”
Chloe, for all she was weird—and to deal with him she had to be weird—at once surged forward. “Oh, my gosh! Are you all right?”
His rescued human relaxed at last. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
“Take care of her,” Jude said to Chloe. “Get her home. I’ve got to go back.”
Chloe’s eyes leapt to him even as she wrapped a supporting arm around the woman. “You mean you didn’t …?”
“Not yet. I have to get back.”
Chloe started to shake her head. “It’s late, Jude. Way late. Let it go until tomorrow.”
He’d been dealing with the threat of sunrise for nearly two hundred years. He didn’t need anyone to remind him, or warn him. But when he checked internally, he reached a conclusion that displeased him.
“You’re right. It’ll have to wait.” The passage of the night hours somehow had engraved themselves inside. Hours before dawn he could feel the sun’s approach, and while he needn’t fear the light until the sun fully rose, he had learned to measure his nights by an internal clock.
His clock said there wasn’t enough time to retrace his steps and approach the man he’d been seeking. Not at the height of summer when the days were so long, the dawn so early.
He hated to let this matter wait. It had taken him a whole month to track down this one man. What if he moved again?
But truthfully, he would probably be able to follow the guy’s trail even if he moved all the way across the city. Because he had scented it, caught it, memorized it.
Much like he’d memorized the scent of the woman he’d saved. In some corner of his brain, she was catalogued, and he could follow her anywhere. Or recognize her again even if decades or centuries passed.
Hell. He swore under his breath, watching as Chloe settled the woman with a cup of tea and plenty of youthful mothering. Himself he took into the back office, a room without windows, one where he could work even during the day if it was absolutely necessary.
It seldom was a good thing, because the sleep of death was hard to resist. And when he did resist it, sooner or later he had to make up for it, usually during night hours that were rightfully his.
He pulled some blood out of the refrigerator by his desk, and drained the bag without bothering to use a glass. Cold, and not completely alive, tainted with anticoagulants, it never quite satisfied the craving, but it kept him healthy. One of these days soon he needed to call on one of his acquaintances, one of those who would let him feed. No substitute quite made up for the warm, pumping blood of a living donor.
When he finished draining the bag, he sealed it away in an airtight container marked Biohazard. Soon the drops that were left would begin to rot, and the smell of rotting blood was even more repulsive to him than it was to humans. At all costs, that sickly odor had to be concealed.
He’d made the right decision, he told himself. By dawn that nameless woman out there would probably have been a brutalized corpse. While he couldn’t read minds, he could smell intentions and emotions, and those thugs had been full of evil intent and a determination to leave no witness behind.
And something more. Something not quite right in their scents. Not drugs, which he could identify almost as accurately by scent as by a lab test. No, some other odor that left him feeling deeply disturbed.
He would have to deal with them eventually. Of that he had no doubt. But right now he was concerned about his more immediate target. The killer he sought was demonically oppressed, if not possessed, which meant the cops would never find him. Never. At least not until the demon was removed from the picture.
He drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk, and looked at the clock. It told him what his body already knew: not enough time, not tonight. For an ordinary killer, maybe he could squeak it in, but not a possessed one.
A knock on the door called for his attention. “Come in, Chloe.” He knew it was her because her scent wafted more strongly under the door.
She pushed the door open and stuck her head in. “Our lady friend doesn’t want to go home just yet, and Garner just arrived.”
“Garner?” Just what he needed: a visit from an inept hunter who was trying to win his spurs while making a complete nuisance of himself. And a rescued woman who now didn’t want to go home. A damn three-ring circus in his outer office.
“Sorry,” Chloe whispered. “I told him you were busy but he seems to know something about the, um, target.”
Things really couldn’t get any better, could they? he thought sarcastically as he pushed back from his desk. Garner mixing in with a dangerous case and that woman ….
Realizing he hadn’t yet shucked his leather coat, he tugged it off and tossed it over his chair. It was the kind of oversight a human might notice, and he didn’t want the woman to notice any more than she already had. Though he was fairly impervious to the ambient temperature, he kept the office comfortable enough for humans, like Chloe. That coat would appear out of place, and with Garner adding to the chaos of the night, he didn’t want one more damn thing to seem out of place.
He stepped into the front office, his gaze first going to the woman. Not only was her scent absolutely intoxicating, but she was far prettier than he’d noticed in the earlier chaos. Long inky hair, wide blue eyes and lips that seemed to beg for a kiss. She sat in one of the client chairs near Chloe’s desk, her legs crossed in a way that revealed surprising length in a woman so small. Her arms were folded tightly, but they failed to conceal the mounds of her breasts, not too small, not too large. She was as much a visual delight as an olfactory delight. Eminently desirable, eminently drinkable. A dangerous combination.
He dragged his gaze away and looked at Garner, who was leaning casually against the wall. Blond, barely twenty-four, Garner suffered from delusions of grandeur brought about by a Gift. The young man looked elegant, in a rough sort of way, and appeared composed, although Jude could smell that he was far from as calm as he appeared. “What do you want?”
“I know something about the, ah, target you’re after.”
“And how would you know that?”
Garner actually flushed a little. Since he wasn’t undead, he still had blood pressure that responded to his emotions.
“Get in my office,” Jude said impatiently. “And close the door.”
Garner didn’t argue, for once. He did exactly what he was told.
Then Jude returned his attention to beautiful and problematic woman. “Why don’t you want to go home?”
She bit her lower lip, revealing a glimpse of perfect, white teeth. “Because that guy who offered me a ride? He knows where I live.”
Chloe spread her hands as if to say, How can you argue with that?
Easy. “Chloe will take you to the police. File a complaint against him for sexual assault. They’ll run him down.”
“But I don’t have any proof he did anything. And if I go to the police …” Again she stopped, as if unwilling to say more. “I don’t want to make him madder,” she said finally.
“More likely he’ll cool down and decide he made a big mistake. Maybe he just had too much to drink.”
The woman shook her head, biting her lip harder.
Jude smothered a sigh. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The woman hesitated, then the words came out of her in a rush. “I kicked him in the groin. And he got so mad he started to swing at me and that’s when I stabbed him.”
“Stabbed him?” Had Jude been mortal he was sure that by this point he’d be looking for a double whiskey and a chair.
“With a pen,” she said quickly. “It’s not like I had a knife or anything.”
Jude decided on the chair after all. And maybe a whiskey later, though it would have little effect on him. He sat.
“How badly did you stab him?”
“Not too badly. I got him in the shoulder and I’m pretty sure the pen couldn’t have gone in more than two inches, max. I’m fairly certain I didn’t hit anything but muscle. Then I got out of the car and started running, and he chased me for maybe half a block screaming he was going to kill me.”
“Oh.” He wondered how he had missed that part of the night’s activity. Probably too focused on what he was there to do, or maybe he’d arrived shortly after this altercation. Either way … So the guy had threatened to kill her. Even on his most sanguine day he couldn’t dismiss such a threat out of hand.
He looked at Chloe, then looked at the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Terri. Theresa Black.”
“Okay, Theresa Black, are you absolutely certain you’re telling me the truth?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because there could have been other reasons to stab this guy.”
He smelled the indignation as much as he saw it. All right, she was telling the truth. She’d defended herself from an attacker.
Chloe spoke. “You don’t have time.”
“You’re always worried about my time,” he grumped at her.
“Maybe because I don’t want to look for another job? You don’t have time tonight. There’s Garner. And other things.”
Like he needed her to remind him.
“Don’t have time for what?” Theresa asked.
“Never mind,” he answered shortly. His inner clock was starting to tick more loudly, warning of dawn’s approach. He glanced at the clock on Chloe’s desk and saw he had less than two hours. Not enough to hunt down a man he knew nothing about.
He looked at Chloe. “I want all the information on the guy who attacked her. Every detail. Right away.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Then you and I are taking her to the cops.”
“Maybe Garner could …”
He interrupted her with a look. “Garner? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Well, it was a thought. He’s got to learn sometime.”
“Not today. Garner can turn the smallest task into an earth-shattering catastrophe. I don’t have time to clean up after him. No Garner.”
“I don’t want to go to the cops,” Theresa said firmly. “That’ll just make things worse with Sam. And if they keep me too long, I’ll be late to work. I can’t afford that.”
“Call in sick.” Jude had had enough. Another minute in the same room with this woman and he might revert. He rose. “If you don’t go to the police, if you go home or go to work instead, then I take no responsibility for anything that happens to you.”
Turning, he walked into his office. Before he closed the door he heard Theresa say, “Is he always so harsh?”
“Only when his night gets messed up.”
Then he closed the door, leaving the problem of Theresa in the capable hands of Chloe, so he could face the much less capable hands of Garner.
Garner lounged in the client chair facing Jude’s desk, one leg thrown over the arm. The instant Jude entered, however, he straightened up, putting both feet on the floor.
Jude said nothing as he rounded the desk and took his own seat. Only then did he speak. “What the hell are you doing here, Garner?”
The younger man shrugged. “I smelled the, ah, target.”
“And?”
“I smelled that same odor somewhere else, earlier today. On someone else.”
At that Jude straightened a bit. “Victim?”
Garner shook his head. He might still be new at all this, but he was sure of his innate instincts. “The oppression involves more than the one guy you found.”
“Hell.”
Garner leaned forward, a little too eagerly. “Look, I know you think I’m too untrained to help at all. I still haven’t figured out how you think I’m going to get trained if you keep me out of all the action. But even you know how good my gift is. And I’m telling you, this is no minor infestation. I bet if I keep moving around town, I’ll find others.”
It was possible, entirely too possible. Such things had happened before, and when they did they invariably signaled a huge problem right around the corner.
“We need to stop it before there are five of them,” Garner said. As if Jude didn’t already know. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I followed the guy home. We can find him here.”
Jude caved, just a little. Reaching into his desk he pulled out a container of pushpins. “Put it on the map.” The map of the city that was tacked to one wall. The red pin already there indicated the target he’d been after tonight.
Garner seemed pleased to be allowed to do even this much. Jude, remembering other times when Garner’s attempts to help had proved more problematic than anything, wondered once again what he was going to do with this young man before the kid got himself into serious trouble. The dead kind of trouble.
Garner marked the spot with a blue pin and returned to his seat. “I can help,” he said again.
Jude leaned forward resting on his elbows. “Here’s how it’s going to be, Garner.”
The kid’s face brightened hopefully.
“You’re going to do a sweep. Start at dawn. Cover as much of the city as you can and report back here at sunset. I need to know how many cases we have.”
Garner nodded. “Absolutely.”
“The more there are of them, the faster I need to work. Clear? And you’re not going to get in the way, and you’re not going to do anything stupid. You’re just going to report back.”
Garner’s hope appeared to be tempered with a touch of disappointment, but he nodded again. “I can do that.”
Jude tapped the desk with a fingertip to emphasize his point. “You are not ready to deal with these guys. Are we clear on that? If they catch on to you, you run the risk of infestation or possession yourself. So you’re going to prove to me that you know how to be very cautious, understood?”
“And if I do?”
Jude sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. If the infestation was spreading, he might not be able to keep up without help from someone who could hunt during daylight hours. “If you prove that you can follow orders exactly, I’ll think about the next step in your training.”
“Thanks, Jude!” Garner leapt up, having won at last. Or so he thought.
Jude knew better. Garner had no idea of the realities of the world he was trying to enter. No idea at all.
But when Garner opened the door of Jude’s office, the scent of Theresa Black wafted in. God. Jude almost banged his head on his desk. A screwed-up night, and now the most enticing morsel he’d encountered in at least fifty years was out there in his extra room, close enough to …
No.
He forced himself to look at the wall map, but two pins did not a pattern make, and he knew he was fooling himself, thinking he could gain a thing by pondering two locations.
Sometimes he hated his belated development of a conscience. Sometimes he hated his self-imposed exile.
It was several centuries too late to start thinking that he could use a hobby of some kind to fill hours.
Damn, he hated it when a night got messed up.
A couple of minutes later, Jude stood just inside his office, the door ajar, listening. He knew he was being a damn fool, maybe a double-damned fool, but that woman’s scent kept drawing him.
“Your boss is a strange man.”
Jude smelled Chloe bristle, heard it in her voice. Despite all the instincts that were urging him to walk in there and take what he wanted, he had to smile faintly. Chloe couldn’t have been more protective of him if she’d been his own mother. In fact, come to think of it, his own mother hadn’t cared that much.
Chloe said, “That’s a nice thing to say about a guy who just saved your life.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. Just that he’s … different.”
“We’re all different in some way. Jude gets pretty intense when he’s working a tough case.”
“Okay.” Theresa sighed. “Sorry. But Jude is a little, well, overwhelming. It was kind of weird the way he made those guys leave. And then he moved so fast!”
Chloe responded easily, even as her fingers typed rapidly at the keyboard, no doubt researching Terri’s assailant. “He’s a sprinter. Or was.”
Good lie, Chloe. Sometimes he thought Chloe would lie under oath to protect him. He hoped they never had to find out.
“I guess that would explain it.”
“You need to talk?”
“I’m just trying to absorb it all.” Theresa laughed uneasily. “I moved from one near rape to another in a matter of a few minutes, then your avenger boss came out of nowhere and cowed those guys as if … as if by magic.”
“It’s his confidence,” Chloe said. “Most cowards won’t take on a man who knows he can take them out.”
“Really? There were four of them.” And she sounded awfully dubious. He couldn’t blame her.
“And Jude knows all the martial arts. He’d have had them all flat on their faces before you could blink.”
“Oh.” Theresa didn’t sound as if she quite believed it.
Well, not all the martial arts, Jude thought, mildly amused. His inhuman speed had a lot to do with it.
“Look,” Chloe said after a minute, “you don’t have to worry about Jude. I’ve worked with him for four years now, and I can promise you he’s one of the good guys.”
“That’s good to know.”
“Yeah, he has his moods. He can get impatient. He hates it when his night gets messed up. He even gets crabby and short-tempered at times. You know, like the rest of us.”
At that Theresa gave a small laugh. “Okay. It’s just … I’m sorry. He’s your boss and you like him.”
“Just what?”
“Well, somehow he feels different. I can’t explain it.”
“He is different,” Chloe said. “If this were a comic book, he’d probably be one of the super-heroes.”
He really needed to tell Chloe not to go over the top like that. That was downright embarrassing.
Theresa spoke again. “What’s he going to do with the information about the guy who tried to attack me in his car?”
“Well, if the cops don’t have enough to arrest him, I suspect Jude will pay him a visit and convince him to forget he ever met you.”
Too close to the truth, Chloe. Watch it.
“How is that going to help? It’ll probably just make the guy madder.”
“Trust me,” Chloe said, “when Jude puts the fear of God into someone, it sticks.”
Terri asked for the restroom and Chloe offered to show the way.
Jude had fully opened the door of his office when Chloe emerged from the hallway to the rest room. She saw him and glared at him, obviously annoyed that he’d been eavesdropping.
Not that he cared. He jerked his head toward his office, then went inside to wait. And Chloe, of course, made him wait. She must have filled the teakettle and put it on the stove before she meandered his way. Chloe drank tea as if it were the staff of life.
“Close the door,” he said.
“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 stripped 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 it.
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.
Although there were inevitably cases where objectivity went out the window, terrible cases, mostly those involving small children. Then anger and horror often overrode all self-protective mechanisms.
“I understand,” he told her now. “But remember, if you’re overtired, you can make mistakes. We can’t have that.”
“No, sir.”
He smiled. “So go home and rest up. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
She showered and changed back into street clothes before leaving, washing the smell of death out of her very pores. That odor clung and sometimes she wasn’t sure that even three shampooings got it all out of her hair.
Outside the sun hadn’t quite yet set, and that for some reason made her think of Jude Messenger. A man confined to the hours of darkness, who had nevertheless managed to cobble together a useful life, and even, apparently, some very loyal friends, to judge by Chloe.
Remembering Chloe’s promise to accompany her to look at mug shots, and feeling an oddly strong compulsion to follow through even though she was exhausted, she got off the bus near Jude’s office and rang the bell.
Chloe’s voice greeted her. “Messenger Investigations.”
“Hi, Chloe, it’s Terri Black.”
“Hey, Terri. Come on in.”
She walked down the now-familiar dark hallway as Chloe opened the door and leaned out.
“How are you doing?” Chloe asked.
“I’m tired but fine. I guess we should go to the precinct and look at mug shots, but I can barely see straight.”
Chloe laughed, inviting her in, then closing the door behind them. “I slept most of the day,” she volunteered. “Jude’s not going with us. Says he’ll get to it later. Did you want to see him, too?”
Terri hesitated. “I guess. I never really thanked him.”
“He’s not real big on the gratitude thing. Sort of like the Lone Ranger, you know? �Who was that masked man?’”
Terri laughed. “You make him sound like a superhero.”
Chloe started to giggle again, but at that moment her eyes widened a shade. “Hi, Jude. Sleep well?”
Theresa turned to find Jude Messenger standing in the doorway of his office, a study in chiaroscuro, all black and white from his hair to his boots. His eyes were dark again, and she realized the last of the daylight had vanished, leaving only the low light of a couple of small lamps. Her heart thumped, and she felt that magnetic pull once more. How could she have forgotten how good a man could look? Especially in black slacks and a very nicely tailored black shirt.
“Like the dead,” he answered, sounding almost sarcastic. “Didn’t I tell you to stop trying to turn me into Superman?”
Chloe sniffed. “I’m just saying I like the kinds of things you do. They make me feel good about our business.”
He gave a little shake of his head, as if he knew he wasn’t going to win this argument with Chloe. “Did Garner show up?”
“Not yet. Was he supposed to?”
“Around sunset.”
“Well, he’s not that late then.”
Jude crossed the room, pulled a wooden chair away from the wall and straddled it, facing the two women from a few feet away. He folded his arms across its back. “I need to take care of that guy so Dr. Black here doesn’t have to worry about him. And I have that other case. I was hoping Garner would show up first.”
“He’ll probably be here any minute. Why? Is he working for us now? You usually groan when you hear his name.”
“I may groan again before too long.”
Those dark eyes settled on Theresa, and she felt her skin prickle. Awareness? Or something else? She couldn’t tell.
“How are you feeling, Dr. Black?”
“Just call me Terri. I’m fine, thank you. And I doubt you need to do anything about Sam.” Although she had to admit she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that, given that she had stabbed him. He might well be the kind to want to get even. How would she know? She’d certainly looked at enough women on the autopsy table who had misjudged a man’s thirst for vengeance.
“Yes, I do.” His tone brooked no argument. “What’s his full name again?”
“Samuel Carlisle,” Chloe answered promptly. She pulled out a drawer in her desk and retrieved a file. “Everything I could find on him from what Terri told me.”
Theresa was amazed. She hadn’t expected Chloe to go to all that trouble. After all, even the police had only wanted the basics.
But Jude opened the file and began reading, and apparently it was more than just name and address. “Hmm,” he said finally.
“Hmm?” Theresa asked.
Those dark eyes lifted to her again. Hunter’s eyes, she thought, wondering why she almost felt like a mouse staring down a hawk.
“Hmm,” he repeated.
“That means �not good,’” Chloe interpreted.
“Not good how?”
Jude tossed the file and it landed on Chloe’s desk. “I’m going to have a very interesting talk with Samuel Carlisle.”
“Why?” Her heart fluttered a little, because she didn’t like the dark tone in his voice.
“Because he needs one.”
Theresa looked at Chloe, begging with her eyes for an explanation.
Chloe glanced at Jude. Jude shrugged, as if he didn’t care. Chloe turned back to her. “Because your friend Sam has been investigated for date rape before. He’s on the street only because the woman withdrew her complaint.”
“Oh, my God!” Terri’s hand clapped to her mouth, and for an instant she wondered if the remains of her lunch were going to come up. “Oh, my God.”
“God has nothing to do with it,” Jude said grimly. His eyes seemed to have grown even darker. He pushed himself out of the chair and looked down at Theresa. “You were lucky. Last time the woman claimed he used Rohypnol.”
The date rape drug. Theresa sat frozen, her stomach churning, remembering last night. He’d bought her a drink. A drink she hadn’t wanted. One he kept insisting she enjoy until finally, when he was distracted, she’d dumped most of it on the floor behind her chair. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “I didn’t drink it. I dumped it.”
Chloe jumped up from her chair and came around her desk to put a hand on Theresa’s shoulder. “Jude will take care of him. He’ll never dare come near you again.”
“But … the cops will find out the same thing you did. Won’t they take care of it?”
Chloe answered, “Not the way Jude will.”
The words hardly registered, because another feeling washed over her, one of sheer fury. “I wish I’d stabbed that pen into his heart!”
Surprisingly, a laugh issued from Jude. She looked at him, unable to understand what was so funny. “I mean it!”
“I know.” The brief laugh disappeared from his face. “Hell.” He sighed.
“Jude,” Chloe said warningly.
He glared at her, an expression that Terri was sure would have made her sink to the floor in a quivering puddle. The man looked capable of mur der.
“I’ll deal with him.”
“But how?” Terri demanded. “How can you?”
His dark gaze returned to her, nearly pinning her. “First,” he said slowly, very quietly, “I am going to ensure he never so much as thinks about coming near you again. Unlike the police, I can use threats. Okay?”
Terri managed a jerky nod.
Jude’s attention returned to Chloe. “She doesn’t leave here until I get back or call and say it’s okay. Got it?”
Chloe nodded. “You can count on me.”
“And if Master Garner ever drags his behind in here, nail his feet to the floor until I say otherwise. I mean it, Chloe. Don’t let him go running out. I swear that kid has a death wish.”
On that grumpy statement, Jude disappeared into his office only to return a moment later wearing his long leather coat.
He paused just long enough to pick up Sam’s photo, then look at Terri and say, “Stay. I mean it. This guy is bigger trouble than I originally suspected.”
She didn’t think she could have moved to save her life.
And only when he left the room did she feel she could breathe again.
Once he was in his battered car, Jude took a moment to clear his head, nose and lungs of Terri’s scent. God in heaven, that woman’s scent was like a drug. Being in the same room with her was enough to drive him nuts. In no time flat she pushed him to the edges of self-control in a way he hadn’t experienced in at least fifty or so years.
The Hunger raged in him, but that alone wouldn’t have put him so much on edge. No, it was the desire he felt for her, pounding and strong, stronger than any he had ever felt as a man, stronger than any he had ever felt as an immortal. The feeling was so powerful that it could have turned him into the kind of creep he was about to go see.
Breathing deeply, he battered the insanity back into the buried, darkest places of his being. The places he had vowed never to visit again.
Madness was no longer welcome in his world.
But certain forms of vengeance were.
Chapter 3
As Jude had suspected, Samuel Carlisle was in no mood to paint the town that night, not after having been stabbed just the night before. Whether or not he had been visited by the cops, and Jude strongly suspected he hadn’t, he undoubtedly thought by now that he was safe. Little did he know.
So there he was, opening his own door, looking sour and saying before Jude could speak, “I don’t want any.”
“You’re going to get it, anyway,” Jude replied, his smile glacial. With a shove, one that required very little effort for him, he pushed the door hard enough to make it slam all the way open. At once Sam started backing up. Fear entered his gaze. “I’ll call the cops, man. You better get out.”
Jude’s smile widened. “No, you won’t call any one.” The Voice.
It froze Sam in his tracks as Jude entered the apartment and closed the door. “We need to have a talk.”
“About what?” Sam’s defiance was rising again, and he started edging toward a phone on the coffee table.
“Stop.”
Sam froze again. Jude closed the distance between them, caught Sam under his chin with one hand and lifted him off the floor. Sam stared wildly at him, but didn’t try to fight.
“Look into my eyes,” Jude ordered.
Sam obeyed, not really having any choice at the moment. Jude shoved him up against a wall so he wouldn’t strangle the guy. Although he was tempted. So very tempted.
“Listen to me.”
Sam stared in hypnotic horror.
“You will not ever go anywhere near Theresa Black again. Do I make myself clear?”
A small nod.
“You will not ever attempt to rape another woman.”
“No.” A squeak.
“Because if you ever again attempt to use Rohypnol on anyone, if you ever again attempt to take a woman without her express and freely given permission, I will hunt you to the ends of the earth and rip out your throat. Are we clear?”
“Yeah.”
“In fact, let me take this one step further. If you ever, ever even so much as think of using Rohypnol or force again, you are going to walk yourself to the nearest police station and turn yourself in. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Failing that, you’re going to jump off the highest building you can find. Because if I have to come after you, you will wish you had never been born. Understood?”
A croaky yes answered him.
Jude held the man’s gaze, making sure the suggestions had taken solid root. Then for good measure he added, “You will forget Theresa Black. You never met her. You never talked to her. You never knew her and you will head the other way if you ever see her.”
“I … don’t … know her.”
Jude let go and watched the man collapse to the floor. Then he squatted and lifted Sam’s chin with one finger until the man had to look at him again.
“I am your worst nightmare,” Jude said. “Forget last night. Remember my directions.”
“Yesss …”
“Remember me.”
Sam’s eyes closed.
Satisfied, Jude stood and walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Well, not one hundred percent satisfied. He would have cheerfully drained the guy dry, to ensure he would never threaten anyone again, but in these days of modern forensics and advanced detection, he couldn’t leave a blood trail behind him. Ever.
And he was fairly certain his suggestions about never doing this again would wear off eventually. Yes, the guy would avoid Theresa, because she was specific. But the more general threat, well, his compulsions would eventually start to win out against it.
And eventually Jude would have to come for him again.
In some ways, life had been easier a century or two ago. In others, less so. Frankly, sometimes he wasn’t sure which was better.
But one thing was constant, and that was evil. True evil.
Outside, after he was in his car, he flipped open his phone and called Chloe. She answered on the first ring, knowing it was him because she insisted on having caller ID.
“Hi,” she said. And for once she didn’t sound cheerful.
His instincts kicked into high gear, but first things first. “Tell Terri it’s safe to go home. Did Garner get there?”
“Uh … boss?”
“What?”
“I think you’d better come back.”
“I have another job, remember?”
“I think,” Chloe repeated evenly, “that you’d better get back here now.”
“Is anyone bleeding?”
“Not yet. But Garner may be soon.”
“What did he do?”
“Jude,” she said, this time almost shrieking, “just get back here now!”
That did it. His tires barely hit the pavement on the way back.
He burst into his business suite to find Chloe standing in front of the closed door of his inner office and Garner trying to vanish into the far corner.
“I just went to the bathroom,” Chloe said at the same time Garner protested, “I thought she knew!”
And in an instant, he guessed what had happened. “Where’s Terri?”
“Locked in your office,” Chloe said, staring daggers at Garner. “That damn fool told her. Told her!”
“I thought she knew!”
Jude shook his head as if to loosen something. Astonishment nearly overwhelmed him. “She believed it?”
“She not only believed it, she locked herself in your office. I had to cut the phones off in there.”
He reflected for a bare instant that he was glad he’d insisted on that feature so he couldn’t be disturbed when he wanted total privacy.
“She’s threatening to call the cops,” Chloe said.
“They won’t believe her.”
“Who cares?” Chloe threw up her hand. “Who cares if they believe her. She believes it, she won’t come out, she’s terrified and hysterical and who knows what she’ll find in your desk or … Tell me you locked the fridge.”
She was almost pleading.
“I put all that stuff in my bedroom. It’s locked.”
A puff of breath escaped Chloe and she sagged. “Thank goodness.” Then she turned on Garner. “I swear I’m going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to my fish, you idiot!”
Garner’s eyes were huge. “I’ll tell her I was making it up.”
“She’s obviously not going to believe that now, you turkey! She saw some things last night. I had it all explained, and then you, you …”
“Calm down,” Jude said. “Just calm the hell down and let me think.”
He knew he could get into his office, locked or not. He had the code, after all, and the key card. But he wasn’t sure that would be wise, at least not yet.
He looked at Chloe again. “She really believed it?”
“Well, I don’t think she locked herself in your office because she thought Garner was telling a tall tale. And she certainly didn’t try to call the cops because she thought she was hearing the new and updated version of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”
Garner dared to clear his throat. “You can make her forget.”
Jude merely looked at him. “She didn’t exactly respond to the Voice last night.”
“Oh.”
No, when he’d told those guys to leave, there was no reason Terri shouldn’t have attempted to follow the order. He’d expected to have to go after her. Instead she had just stood there. Which meant … Well, it might well mean he couldn’t vamp her at all. He didn’t know, and frankly he didn’t want to try. It was a kind of violation he preferred not to inflict on innocent people.
However … He sighed and sat beside Chloe’s desk, drumming his fingers and looking at Garner. The young man seemed to shrink.
“I have to get in there by dawn,” he remarked.
Garner nodded violently, as if by emphasizing his agreement he could salvage something.
“And then there’s the job I’m not getting done.”
Garner gulped.
“And of course the matter of a needlessly terrified woman.”
Chloe spoke. “Like I said, he’s an idiot!”
Jude frowned at her. Not that he disagreed, it was just that such statements were pointless. That was one of the things he’d managed to learn in over two hundred years.
Although occasionally he indulged in them himself.
“Garner?”
“Yes, sir?”
Oh, now he was sir. “You give me a headache. I haven’t had a headache since I died, but you’ve man aged to give me a headache.”
“Sorry.”
Chloe glared at Garner. “Fish food,” she said.
“I thought she knew.”
Chloe folded her arms. “Blabbing confidential information just because you think someone knows makes you untrustworthy, you dweeb. And you want to work with us? Hah!”
“I’ll find a way to make it up, I swear.”
“Too little too late, you dummy.”
“Enough,” Jude said. “Grinding him under your heel isn’t going to fix this.”
“I’ll try to talk to her,” Garner said. “I think I can convince her I was making up a story.”
Chloe sniffed. “Oh, yeah, you’re so persuasive.”
“Well, she believed me before!”
“When you were telling her the truth.”
“Stop it,” Jude said again. “Just stop it. I’ll have to deal with this somehow, but I think a whole lot better when people aren’t arguing.”
The two of them fell silent at last. He gave an impatient huff of his own and started drumming his fingers again. “How long has she been in there?”
“Almost half an hour,” Chloe said. “I tried to talk her out.”
“Okay. Give her a little longer. At some point she’s going to start wearing down and then I’ll go in.”
“Maybe I should go in with you,” Chloe said.
“At this point I don’t think she’ll trust you too much, either. You’re such an inventive liar, remember?”
Chloe scowled at him.
He sat motionless, waiting for time to pass, ignoring Chloe and Garner who were tossing glares at each other like ping-pong balls.
Finally, he stood. He had to go in there, and as near as he could determine, there was only one way to handle it.
After swiping his key card, he punched in his code and listened to the dead bolts snap back. Then he walked into his office.
He faced a woman holding a sword in both hands. The hysteria had obviously passed to be replaced by determination and desperation. A lot easier to deal with.
She backed away from him until she could back up no farther. He left the door open, walked to the opposite side of the room and leaned back against the credenza, folding his arms.
“That’s a good sword,” he remarked. “I wore it on parade, even had to use it a few times at Waterloo.”
“Stay away from me.” Her voice trembled with intensity. And she still smelled so tempting.
“I have no intention of getting any closer. I just want to know one thing.”
“What?”
“Why you ran in here instead of running out of the building.”
She froze, biting her lip, then glared at him again. “I was frightened.”
“Well, I can understand that. The door’s open. Run any time you want. No one will stop you. Just, please, leave my sword behind. It’s one of my few keepsakes.”
But she stood there, anyway, legs braced, still waving the sword although her arms must be getting weary. “Is it true?” she demanded.
“Is what true?”
“That you’re a … a …” She apparently couldn’t bring herself to say the word.
“I’m a vampire,” he said, keeping his voice calm, even pleasant. “Yes, it’s true.”
“And you kill people?”
“I haven’t killed anyone in a very long time who didn’t deserve it. I don’t kill just to feed.”
A disbelieving sound escaped her.
He shrugged. “I don’t need much, you know. A blood bank will take more from you than I will.”
Something in her face was changing. Her mouth opened a little. Was he seeing the dawn of curiosity? He hoped so.
“Mostly,” he said, “I buy blood. But I never dine without permission.”
With that her jaw did drop open, and with it the sword lowered. “You’re lying,” she whispered.
“Why would I lie? I just told you I’m a vampire. And you don’t have anything to fear from me. If you did, I’d have fed on you last night. Because let me tell you, Terri, you smell that good to me.”
The sword tip touched the floor, but she still looked ready to bolt. More important, he could see questions starting to swirl behind her eyes. Maybe they could get through this. If not, oh, well. No one would believe she’d met a real vampire, and if she grew too insistent, she might even get herself committed. He hoped she didn’t go that route.
“Why …” Her whisper broke.
“Why what?”
She shook her head, still staring at him.
“You ought to sit,” he suggested gently. “You’ve had a shock. I’ll just stay over here and you can take that chair right by the door.”
But she still didn’t move. She just kept staring at him, and he could almost see mental furniture being rearranged behind her eyes.
“You’re a ruthless killer,” she finally said.
“Only when I have to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? What kind of excuse is that?”
“Would you kill to save your own life? Isn’t that what you were thinking about doing with that sword? Isn’t that what happened last night with Sam?”
She gasped, and a spark of something flared in her eyes. “Did you kill him?”
“Sam? No. I’ll admit I would have liked to, but no. I warned him away. I threatened him. But I didn’t even hit him.”
A shudder passed through her. Dragging the sword, she eased her way to the chair and sat. He managed to suppress a wince at the way she treated that beautiful piece of steel.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered.
“It would be nice if that were true,” he agreed. “Unfortunately, you already believe it or you wouldn’t have reacted the way you did. So here we are. You know my secret. You can leave. Or you can stay.”
Her head shot up. “Why would I want to stay?”
“Apparently, you didn’t want to leave. I don’t know why. Maybe you don’t, either. And maybe you’d stay because you have more questions. It’s entirely up to you.”
Her eyes narrowed dubiously. “You’re just saying that. You can’t let me go now that I know.”
He couldn’t quite suppress a smile, recognizing that she was still having trouble coping with the fact that he was a vampire, and equally so with the notion that he intended her no harm. People often got repetitious as they struggled to accept a truth that violated their notions of reality. “Just who is going to believe you? A hundred years ago you might have been able to assemble a mob to come get me, but these days …” He shrugged.
“So nothing can hurt you?”
“Plenty can.”
“Like what?”
He shook his head slowly and this time he did smile. “We’re not intimate enough to share those secrets.”
She leaned forward, putting weight on the sword point and finally he couldn’t keep silent. “Don’t lean on it that way. Please. You’ll damage it.”
At once she straightened. “Why is it so important to you?”
“Because I carried it through an entire war. It saved me from serious trouble a time or two.”
“How is that possible? You’re immortal!”
“No one is immortal. I’ll even die of old age. Eventually. If I survive long enough. Unlike you, I can die more than once.”
“This is too much.” She shook her head several times, as if she wanted to deny what she was thinking, or what he was saying.
He remained still and silent. His primary concern was to get her past this shock. Then she could leave, try to pick up her life, and one of these days she’d probably even convince herself she had imagined all of this because it simply wouldn’t fit in her world.
Eventually, she spoke again. “If I struck you with this sword, what would happen?”
“You’d hurt me. You’d cut through flesh and maybe bone, depending on how hard you swing.”
“And then?”
“And then I’d heal, the way I’ve been healing for nearly two hundred years, and by tomorrow night you wouldn’t even be able to tell you’d done it.”
She lowered the sword then, laying it on the rug. The eyes she raised to him looked pained. “I can’t protect myself from you, can I?”
“Yes, you can. You can walk out. At any time.”
“But why?” she asked plaintively. “Why would you let me go?”
Damn the movies, damn the myths and damn Bram Stoker. He invariably had an uphill battle against those deeply ingrained stories, on the rare occasions he acknowledged the truth of his mere existence.
“Because—” and this time his voice held a note of steel, mainly because her scent was getting to him again, and self-control, long nurtured, was fraying a bit “—I have absolutely no desire to harm you in any way.”
“But that’s what vampires do!”
“Not this one.” He turned his head toward the door and barked, “Chloe. Garner. Get in here.”
The two appeared instantly as if they had been listening.
He glowered at them. “Are you undead?”
“Cripes,” said Garner. “Do I look like it?”
Chloe loosed a huge sigh. “No.”
“Not vampires?”
“Ugh,” said Garner. “I practically faint at the sight of blood.” He almost looked shamefaced.
“I’m certainly not,” said Chloe.
“Have I ever harmed either of you? Stolen your blood?”
A chorus of nos.
“What would you say if I asked if I could feed?”
Garner paled. “Oh, jeez, Jude, you know I like you, man, but that? I don’t think so.”
“Chloe?”
“I’d say yes, but nobody’s asking.” She tossed her head.
Jude looked at Theresa. “There you go. And now I’ve got a job to do, one that’s already been put on hold, so I’m leaving now.”
Garner brightened. “Can I come, too?”
“After what you pulled tonight, I’m thinking about getting you a gag and a leash. Did you find out anything today?”
Garner shook his head. “Still only the two cases we know about. But I still have the other half of the city to do.”
“Okay. Now, I’m going to give you some instructions and you’re going to follow them to the letter.”
Garner nodded eagerly.
“Stay here. Apologize to Terri for scaring her half to death. Apologize to Chloe for upsetting her. And then sit here and think about what possible earthly use you can be if all you do is give me headaches.”
Jude crossed the room swiftly, not bothering to conceal his speed, picked up the sword and restored it to its place of honor on the wall.
“See you by dawn,” he said, and was gone.
Theresa didn’t move for a long time. She sat on the chair, staring blankly at the back of Jude’s office. Chloe spoke to her a few times, even offered her a cup of tea, but she didn’t answer.
A vampire.
Everything inside her rebelled at the thought now that the earlier terror had passed, now that she’d had that oddly calm conversation with Jude who had actually admitted, admitted, that he was a vampire.
But there weren’t any vampires. Except … Except … He moved too fast. He had made those guys leave simply by telling them to go. His eyes changed color. And clearly both Garner and Chloe believed it was true.
She had either stumbled into a group of lunatics or … Her mind balked again. He moved too fast. She had seen it just a little while ago, when he had taken the sword and put it back on the wall. He had moved so fast that she hadn’t seen him at all until he stopped to replace the sword. All she had felt was the breeze of his passage.
And no matter how she tried to reconstruct it, she couldn’t see Jude where her mind had not seen him.
“Terri? Terri.”
At long last she blinked and looked at Chloe.
“We need to get to the station and look at the mug shots. We promised Detective Matthews, remember?”
Feeling stiff, and not at all like herself, Terri followed Chloe to her car, a considerably nicer model than what Jude drove.
“You look like you’re still in shock,” Chloe remarked as they pulled away from the curb.
“Maybe I am.”
“Believing in vampires is hard at first.”
“That’s just it. I don’t.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped and she hit the brake, pulling over to the curb. Once she parked, she turned to face Terri. “Girl, you were threatening to kill the man. You were terrified. What do you mean, you don’t believe it?”
“I don’t know what came over me,” Terri said, still feeling wooden and numb. “It was like I was possessed or something.”
“Hey, we at Messenger Investigations don’t joke about that.” A pause, then “What do you mean? I don’t get it.”
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