by Jenna Black
“You’re uncommonly cranky tonight,” Eli commented as he moved to the fireplace to put on another log. The fire blazed and crackled, casting a red glow on the dimly lit room.
“Cranky? What am I, a baby?”
Eli chuckled. “Compared to some. But let me see if I can guess the source of your discontent.” He tapped a finger against his lips and made a great show of thinking hard.
“Glad to be a source of such entertainment. Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?”
Eli returned to his seat, lowering himself gingerly as if his joints troubled him. But of course, vampires didn’t have joint trouble. Sometimes, Jules suspected Eli used his physical age as a prop, a way to emphasize that he was older and wiser than the rest of them. Outwardly, he looked to be about sixty, but no one knew how old he really was. Hell, no one was really sure what he was. That he was some form of vampire was clear—his psychic footprint gave that away. But so many things about him didn’t add up.
His power was undeniable—no vampire Jules had ever met could manage the massive glamour that surrounded this house. But he clearly wasn’t a Killer. He made too much of a public figure of himself amongst the Guardians. If he were a Killer, his people would know. Besides, he had founded the Guardians to destroy the Killers—hardly the act of a soulless murderer.
“So,” Eli said when he had comfortably settled himself, “what has Gray James done to get under your skin tonight?”
“Remember I told you he was stalking his ex-fiancée?”
Eli nodded.
“He showed himself tonight. Some mugger was trying to attack the woman, and Gray came out of hiding. If you’d seen the way he went after that mugger …”
“That he’s protective of the woman he once loved is hardly evidence that he’s gone rogue.”
Jules acknowledged that with a shrug. “I know, but he’s on the edge, Eli. I can feel it. I can see it in his eyes. Isn’t it better for us to put down a Killer before he kills?” An idea struck him with a chill. “Or what if he’s already killed? The Broad Street killer started hunting not so long after you called a halt to the surveillance on Gray James.”
“You think Gray is the Broad Street Banger?” To Jules’s annoyance, Eli sounded amused by the idea.
“Why not? He’s killed before. You know that for some it only takes one taste for the addiction to take hold.”
Eli sighed. “I know you’re not going to like this, Jules, but I seriously doubt he’s the Broad Street killer. I agree that he’s in danger of giving in to the addiction, but if he does, I suspect he’ll take Drake’s route.”
Jules couldn’t help his grimace of disgust. “Oh yeah, if he only kills ‘bad’ people, then it’s all right.”
“That’s not my point. My point is he wouldn’t be attacking innocent women.” Eli leaned forward in his chair. “If he goes rogue, he will be destroyed. One Drake is quite enough. But you are not to act against him on the suspicion that he might kill. Understand?”
Jules held up his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. “I hear you loud and clear, Eli.” And in truth, no matter how much he disliked and distrusted Gray, Jules couldn’t see himself killing the bastard on nothing more than a hunch. “Do you agree with me that we need to put a watch on him again?”
Eli thought about it a moment, then sighed. “I suppose it’s best if we do. Your instincts about him might be a tad questionable, but I’ll agree his behavior lately has been cause for concern. Do you think you can watch over him without being overly antagonistic?”
Jules grinned. “Probably not, but hey, he’s used to me by now.”
Eli didn’t look terribly amused. “Now that Drake is working the Broad Street case, I suppose I can spare Deirdre for a little surveillance here and there. Gray seems to like her.”
“Any man with a drop of testosterone in his system likes Dee.” Jules rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “We can play good-Guardian, bad-Guardian with him.”
Eli looked even less amused. “This is hardly a cause for humor, Jules! We’re supposed to be dedicated to saving men like him from the blood addiction. Not rooting for them to succumb to it.”
Jules hung his head, properly abashed. It wasn’t that he wanted Gray to fall victim to the addiction. It’s just that his gut told him Gray would fall, that he walked the razor’s edge with uncertain balance. “Sorry, Eli. I’ll behave myself, I promise.”
“I’m sure you will,” Eli agreed with an enigmatic smile.
Jules knew better than to ask him what that smile meant.
3
IF HANNAH WAS ANNOYED to be called from her home at eleven o’clock on a weeknight, she hid it well. When Carolyn opened the door, her best friend and business partner flashed her a merry smile. Carolyn returned the smile and let Hannah in.
She hadn’t told Hannah what she wanted to talk about—just that she needed a friend tonight. And Hannah had dropped everything to come over with no questions asked. Now, she demonstrated the uncanny powers of observation that made her such a wonderful detective. Her gaze fixed on the chipped plaster beside the door and her eyes widened.
“Jesus, Carolyn! What happened here?” She fingered the small hole, peering closely at it and no doubt seeing the squashed bullet that nestled inside. Hannah cut a look toward Carolyn. “Are you all right?”
A loaded question, and one Carolyn couldn’t answer with a simple yes or no. “Come on in. This is going to take some explaining.”
Despite what must have been rampant curiosity, Hannah held her questions as they retired to the living room. Carolyn made them each a drink without asking, then sat and faced her best and oldest friend. Hannah, bless her, didn’t prod or nudge, waiting for Carolyn to take the first step.
“I saw a ghost tonight.”
Hannah’s face registered no surprise. “Oh?”
Carolyn swallowed hard. “I saw Gray.”
Hannah sucked in a quick breath, her hazel eyes going wide. “No way! Oh, please, tell me you called me over to help you dispose of the body!” She sat forward on the couch, her face all eager anticipation.
Carolyn laughed at her friend’s loyalty. Hannah would have been her maid of honor if Gray hadn’t pulled his disappearing act. When Carolyn had finally forced herself to consider that Gray might have left voluntarily—though she had never quite been able to force herself to believe it—Hannah had been there to help plot revenge fantasies. And to be a shoulder to cry on, though Carolyn had stoutly refused to use her in that capacity. Raised by a single father who despised tears as a sign of weakness, Carolyn had learned never to let anyone see her cry.
“Come on, Carolyn. Stop laughing and tell me what happened! I’m dying here.”
Carolyn swallowed the last of her giggles. “Some punk tried to mug me in the parking lot,” she started. She was quite sure the kid had more than mugging in mind, but there was no reason to go into that much detail. “Gray came out of nowhere and chased the kid away. Then we came back here.”
“And he told you how he was kidnapped by white slavers who carried him off to deepest darkest Africa to work in a diamond mine. It wasn’t until this year that he was able to escape his captors and make his way back to America to find you again. How romantic!”
Carolyn shook her head ruefully. Sometimes, Hannah raised sarcasm to an art form. “Not quite.”
“Well, what did he have to say for himself?”
“Nothing.”
Hannah’s mouth dropped open. “Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?”
“Just that. He said he couldn’t explain what had happened to him and I should just forget about him. Then he left.”
“My God! What an asshole!” Hannah’s forehead crinkled. “So what’s with the bullet hole in the wall?”
Carolyn managed a sheepish smile. “I tried to get him to stay and talk, but he called my bluff. Apparently, he didn’t believe I would shoot him, even after my little demonstration.”
“Well, he’s got balls, I’l
l give him that. Of course, if I could get him alone in a dark room, with a rusty, dull knife, I’d be happy to remedy that.”
Carolyn snickered. In truth, Hannah had never really liked Gray. She’d always said he was too conservative and stuffy for a free spirit like Carolyn. There might have been an element of truth to the accusation. For one thing, he had absolutely hated her job. They’d had more than one bitter fight in the days leading up to their wedding. Somehow, Gray had assumed she’d quit the force once she married him. Where he’d gotten that impression, she didn’t know, but a gun-wielding, risk-taking homicide detective wife didn’t fit in with his cozy image of domestic bliss. No doubt he would have been thrilled if she’d been a nurse or a school teacher, or—but no, it was unfair of her to think of it as sexism on his part. All he’d really wanted was for her to be safe.
She rubbed her eyes, suddenly tired. In the end, she had quit the force for him, just not in the way he’d meant.
“There’s more,” she said. Hannah quirked an eyebrow, and Carolyn pointed to the black leather jacket that still lay draped over the chair where Gray had left it.
Hannah’s mouth dropped open again. “He left his coat?”
Carolyn nodded.
“It’s like minus fifty degrees out!”
“More like ten.”
“Don’t forget wind chill.”
Carolyn smiled. “We both agree it’s way too cold to leave your coat behind.”
“So you think it’s a subliminal message? If you leave something at someone’s house, it’s supposed to mean you want to go back.”
Carolyn figured Gray might want to come back, but she knew he wouldn’t. He’d made that very clear. “I think it’s a clue to where to find him.”
Hannah clucked her tongue. “Why, Carolyn Mathers, have you been snooping?”
Carolyn reached into her blazer pocket and pulled out the handful of receipts she’d found in Gray’s jacket. “We have here five receipts from a Zip Mart on Thirty-Second and Walnut.” She held the receipts out.
Hannah took them and examined them, her brow puckering more and more deeply as she flipped through them. She looked up again when she’d seen the last of them. “He appears to have become a creature of habit.”
“And very monotonous diet,” Carolyn agreed. According to those receipts, Gray had visited that Zip Mart every Monday night at around six o’clock and bought a quart of milk. Nothing else, just milk.
“Weird,” Hannah said.
“Hmm.” Carolyn retrieved the receipts and put them back in her pocket. “What do you want to bet that next Monday at around six o’clock he’ll be at that Zip Mart?”
Hannah sighed and seemed to consider her words carefully before speaking. “Honey, you need to think long and hard before you do anything … rash. You talked to him tonight and he wouldn’t tell you anything. Chances are if you confront him again, you’ll get the same answer. Why torture yourself?”
Carolyn fought a flush of undeserved anger toward her friend. Hannah was just trying to help. “The man made the last three years a living hell for me. I deserve an explanation. At least it would give me some closure, free me to go on with my life.” Despite her best efforts, Carolyn was pretty sure her voice held a hint of tightness.
Though Hannah must have heard the undercurrent of anger, she responded mildly. “I understand all that. But I have a feeling you’re not going to like the explanation, whatever it is. You know I was never Gray’s biggest fan, but I bet if he thought telling you what happened would help you out he would have done it. There’s a reason he’s not telling.”
Carolyn clamped her teeth shut to keep herself from saying something she might regret later. Breathe, she reminded herself. She sucked in a lung-full of air, holding it and then releasing it slowly, trying to let the tension flow from her body. When she spoke again, her voice was much more controlled.
“Gray doesn’t get to decide what to tell me and what not to tell me. There’s no way I can just let this go.”
Hannah nodded gravely. “I wish you would. But, if you’re not going to, then count me in.”
Carolyn tried to suppress her amused smile, but didn’t quite manage it. “Thanks, partner. If I find myself over my head, I promise I’ll call you in. But let me try this on my own first.”
Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Hey, if you weren’t going to accept my help, why’d you ask me here in the first place?”
Despite the grumpy tone, Carolyn figured Hannah understood better than she let on. “I just needed to talk it out. But honestly, Hannah, if things don’t go right you’ll be the first one I call.”
“So, what’s your plan?”
She patted her pocket. “I think I’ll have a desperate need to visit the Zip Mart next Monday evening.”
Hannah’s dimples made an appearance. “That would be the Zip Mart about a dozen blocks away from your house, right? Not the one just down the street?”
“Hey, maybe the other one has more selection. It’s right near Penn, so it’s got to have all kinds of special college kid … stuff. Right?”
“Yeah, sure. Can I make a suggestion, even though you don’t want my help?”
Carolyn nodded.
“Don’t confront him at the Zip Mart. See if you can tail him to where he lives. That way if he blows you off, you can still get to him.”
“Good idea,” Carolyn agreed. If Gray did another disappearing act, she could be sure he’d break his Zip Mart pattern and she might never find him again.
She felt a single twinge of guilt over the idea of following Gray like he was one of the philandering husbands her firm had to investigate. But she couldn’t help wondering if leaving his coat here—with this evidence of where to find him—weren’t a subconscious invitation for her to come looking. And with that admittedly flimsy rationalization, she laid her conscience to rest.
GRAY YAWNED AS HE headed toward his front door. Usually, he was up the moment the sun set, but ever since last Wednesday when he’d spoken to Carolyn, his daytime sleep had been restless and unsatisfying, and he found himself sleeping into the early evening hours. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was already nearly seven.
Opening the door, he stepped out into the brisk winter night. It was another cold one, with just enough wind to turn the air from frigid to downright arctic. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his new leather jacket and suppressed a shiver.
Living so near the university, he was used to the sidewalks being crowded with pedestrians—young, boisterous, and too often drunk. The cold tonight discouraged many from venturing out, and the quiet made it feel more like midnight than seven. It also made it painfully easy for Gray to spot his tail for the evening, sitting on a stoop across the street.
A surge of righteous anger warmed him as he glared at the Guardian. Jules must have convinced that sanctimonious Founder of his that Gray was a danger to humanity—ever since Wednesday, whenever he looked out his window he saw at least one Guardian watching his house.
This particular Guardian wasn’t quite as unwelcome as many of the others. She smiled at him from across the street, then seemed to decide it wasn’t necessary to keep her distance. He waited as she crossed to him, but he still felt an ungentlemanly urge to wring her pretty little neck.
Deirdre MacPherson was hands-down the prettiest of the handful of female Guardians. She wasn’t a classic beauty like Carolyn, but her features were so striking she was hard to miss. Large eyes, with ridiculously long lashes, gave her a look of perpetual innocence, although from some of her descriptions of her mortal life, he gathered she’d been a bit of a party girl. Unfortunately, one night she’d chosen the wrong man to party with. The Guardians had rescued her before she’d been forced to kill, and destroyed her maker in the process.
Deirdre looped her hand through Gray’s arm, smiling up at him coquettishly. “Lovely night for a walk,” she said. “Mind if I join you?”
Gray started walking. “What would you do if I said yes?”
“Silly question.”
He grunted an acknowledgment, then shook his head. “You don’t really believe I’m a rogue killer in the making, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. Eli gave the order. I’m just doing my job.”
Gray had met the Founder once, when the Guardians had still been actively trying to recruit him. Despite any suspicions they might have about his self-control, the recruitment effort had been intense. Eli couldn’t understand how someone could not want to be part of the effort to rid the world—or at least Philadelphia—of Killers. Especially when said someone had so much to thank the Guardians for. Of course, maybe it had all been an effort to keep more careful tabs on a potentially dangerous fledgling vampire.
“Is it so terrible to have company every once in a while?” Deirdre asked. She had subtly closed what little distance lay between them, and now her side brushed against his as she clung more tightly to his arm.
A stirring in his southern regions made him grit his teeth. “Stop that.”
She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent stare, but he avoided meeting her eyes, knowing that would just make it worse. She laughed lightly, and the stirring subsided.
“You’re such a prude,” she said as she loosened her grip on his arm.
He snorted. “I’m just not that kind of guy, Dee.”
She pouted. “Not the kind of guy who has sex with girls?”
Gray halted and disengaged her arm from his. “Knock it off.” He’d never been inclined to give in to her persistent flirting, and he didn’t appreciate her attempts to stoke his lust with glamour. “You’re a lovely woman, and if I weren’t still in love with someone else, I’d probably jump into your bed in a heartbeat.” Actually, he doubted that, but there was no reason to hurt her feelings any more than necessary.
Deirdre shook her head. “It’s been three years, Gray. Don’t you think it’s time you let go?”
His heart constricted predictably at her words. “I’m sure you’re right,” he told her. “But the heart doesn’t follow orders. I can’t just order it to heal.”