“What made them look here?”
Flynn jerked his head toward where a tall, skinny young man stood, a dog the size of a pony at his side.
“The dog found the bodies. The kid called nine-one-one.”
Regan nodded.
Flynn swore, something he rarely did in Regan’s presence. “We’ve got big trouble.”
“More than this?” Regan stared at the girl’s body, her stomach roiling. It was bad enough when this kind of thing happened to adults, but children…Regan crossed her arms over her stomach. The girl should be home with her parents, arguing about doing her homework or gossiping on the phone with her best friend. She shouldn’t be a crime statistic.
“Think about it,” Flynn said. “These killings didn’t take place inside the park like the others…”
“Which means we’ve got a vampire that can cross the force field,” Regan said, finishing his thought for him.
“Right.”
Regan nodded. If this was, indeed, a vampire killing, then there were at least two vampires who could cross the force field: the killer and Joaquin Santiago. Unless they were one and the same…She thrust the thought from her mind.
“Maybe it isn’t a vampire,” Regan said, thinking aloud.
Flynn looked at her, his brow furrowed. “What else could it be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a copycat killer,” she suggested, while a little voice inside her mind whispered werewolf. Legend said werewolves ate flesh. They didn’t drink blood. Santiago had to be wrong. This had to be the work of a rogue vampire, one who drained his victims and then mutilated the bodies, perhaps to make the police think they had a serial killer on their hands instead of a vampire who was able to cross the force field. Either that, or the killer really was a madman, one who liked to collect blood and body parts. Or maybe the killer was some kind of Satanist who used the blood and internal organs in rituals of dark magic.
“Listen, I’ll talk to you later,” Flynn said. “I told the captain I’d call him and bring him up to speed.”
“All right.”
Regan was still contemplating who or what besides a vampire might have killed the teenagers when a warm tingle suffused her. She didn’t have to turn around to know that Santiago was standing behind her.
“They’re so young,” she murmured. “So young to die such a terrible death.”
She glanced up at Santiago, surprised by the sorrow she saw in the depths of his eyes. She had always believed vampires were past feeling human emotions, that the capacity for love and compassion and grief died along with their mortality.
“Is this the work of the werewolf?” she asked as he came to stand beside her.
“Is this between you and me?” he asked quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“I do not wish you to repeat what I tell you to anyone else.”
“If you have information on who the murderer is, it needs to be reported,” she said adamantly. “We’ve got to stop this maniac before he kills again.”
“Then I cannot help you.”
“It was a vampire, wasn’t it? And you don’t want anyone to know.”
“I know who did this and I will deal with him in my own way.”
“So, it is a vampire.” It wasn’t a question this time. She studied the two bodies, focusing on the wounds and not the horror reflected on the faces of the victims. “How can you tell? They look the same as the others.”
“If you tell the police I told you a vampire did this, I will deny it,” he said curtly.
“So now we have two killers running around,” Regan muttered. “That’s great, just great.” She turned away as the M.E. shook out a body bag.
“This one will not be running around for long.”
Regan stared at Santiago. He was the only vampire she knew of who could cross the force field. For the second time that night, she wondered if he was the one responsible for the horrendous killings.
He met her gaze, his eyes narrowing ominously. “You think I did this?”
“Did you?”
“Would I be here if I had?”
“But it was a vampire, wasn’t it? What about the other murders?” she asked, frowning. “Were they the work of the werewolf or the vampire?”
“The three I told you about were killed by a vampire. I knew he was powerful. I did not realize he was powerful enough to ignore the force field.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before.”
“He was not killing children before.”
Regan massaged her temple with her fingertips. She could feel a headache coming on. “How do you know it was a vampire who did this and not the werewolf? Did you smell the vampire’s scent, too?”
“I cannot tell you all my secrets, Regan Delaney,” he replied with a wry grin, “but after tonight, the one who did this will no longer be a threat to your kind, or mine.”
Chapter 4
The vampire paused at the edge of the lake, his preternatural senses testing the night air. He had fed earlier, and fed well, but lately the hunger would not be appeased.
He glanced at the burlap bag in his hand, then flung the bag and its contents into the center of the lake, watching impassively as the blood-crusted organs floated on the water before slowly sinking out of sight.
He didn’t know who was killing the people inside You Bet Your Life Park, and he didn’t care. It provided the perfect cover for his own crimes, although he found ripping out hearts and livers a rather nasty business.
He grunted softly. He didn’t know why he found it so odious. He had done far worse things without a qualm.
Turning away from the lake, he walked down the narrow, twisting path that led to the street and the park beyond. It amused him to know that the foolish mortals believed the vampires were confined to the park. Of course, it was true that most of the Undead couldn’t cross the force field—but he wasn’t one of them.
He was almost to the park when he paused. It was hours until dawn, plenty of time to make another kill.
He was stalking a voluptuous young woman wearing a silver spandex tank top and a black leather miniskirt when he sensed the presence of another of his kind.
The vampire stopped, all thoughts of the woman forgotten. He had not felt fear in over two hundred years, but he felt it now. It was a sudden chill snaking down his spine, a clammy hand clawing at his vitals.
“Karl.”
The voice came out of the shadows, as cold and unforgiving as death itself.
The vampire peered into the darkness. “Leave me alone, Santiago. You hear? Go away and leave me alone!”
“You have broken my law. You have killed on my turf.”
“You’re not the master of the city anymore,” Karl said, his voice rising. “You’re no better than the rest of us!”
“Am I not?”
Karl muttered a vile oath as Santiago materialized in front of him, his appearance so fast and unexpected that it came as a complete, and unwelcome, surprise.
Karl gasped as Santiago’s hand curled around his throat.
“You have violated my law,” Santiago repeated. “The tenuous peace we have achieved is at risk because you cannot control your thirst.”
Karl stared into merciless blue eyes, his fear increasing as Santiago’s voice grew softer and more deadly.
“I might have forgiven you for the others,” the master of the city said. “But tonight you killed children. It is the one sin I will not forgive.”
“I…I didn’t…mean…to kill them,” Karl said.
The other vampire snorted derisively. “One kill might be an accident. But two?” He shook his head.
Karl watched in horror as the master of the city lifted his free hand, the long fingers flexing, then curving into claws. He tried to scream as that hand moved slowly, resolutely, toward his chest, but terror trapped the sound in his throat. He thrashed wildly, his fear rising as he stared certain death in the face.
There was a blinding hot pain in his che
st as his heart was torn from his body.
And then nothing at all.
Chapter 5
Regan stared at the clock on her bedside table. It was after two in the morning, and she couldn’t sleep. Santiago’s last words repeated in her mind, over and over again.
After tonight, the one who did this will no longer be a threat to your kind, or mine.
The words had been quietly spoken, but she had heard the ominous undertone. There was no doubt in her mind that Santiago would exact the ultimate price from the vampire that had killed the two teenagers. The very thought sent a chill down her spine. There were only a few ways to destroy a vampire. None of them were easy, or pleasant.
With a sigh of exasperation, Regan threw the covers aside and got out of bed. Going into the living room, she turned on the Satellite Screen, then went into the kitchen for a cup of hot chocolate. She punched in the code and then hit the marshmallow key three times. A moment later, the computer served up a cup of hot chocolate at exactly the temperature she preferred. Cup in hand, she returned to the living room and curled up on the sofa.
She had no doubt that Santiago had destroyed the killer. She should be glad, but she was so tired of all the killing, all the death. The image of the slain teenagers rose in her mind again. She was glad she wasn’t the one who had to notify the parents, that she didn’t have to see the looks of horror and disbelief on their faces, and that she didn’t have to accompany them to the morgue to identify the bodies. Regan shook her head sadly. No parent should have to bury a child.
It was obvious that Santiago had a soft spot for children. Did he ever lament the fact that he would never be a father, never hold a child of his own in his arms? Never see that child grow and have children of its own?
She pounded her fist on the table. She had to stop thinking about him! He consumed far too many of her thoughts, walked in far too many of her dreams.
Where was he now?
Did he feel remorse for the vampire he had killed? Were vampires even capable of feeling human emotions like remorse or grief?
He felt passion, there was no doubt of that, or of the fact that his very nearness aroused her more than it should have.
She shook her head. She wouldn’t go there. No matter how appealing he might be, he was still a vampire. There could be no future for the two of them. No sane woman would even consider such a thing.
“So maybe I’m crazy,” she muttered, because in spite of everything she knew about Joaquin Santiago, in spite of what she knew he had done tonight, heaven help her, she wanted to see him again.
Feeling restless, Regan threw on her robe and stepped out onto the balcony of her condo. A bright yellow moon played hide-and-seek with a scattering of wispy gray clouds. She heard the faint wail of a siren, the barking of a dog, a baby’s cry. Just the ordinary, everyday sounds of the city.
There was nothing ordinary or mundane about Santiago. What was he doing now? Was he standing on the balcony of his condo, looking at the same moon, hearing the same sounds? Or was he prowling the dark streets in search of sustenance? She lifted a hand to her throat. Did he prefer to prey on women, or was anyone who crossed his path fair game?
Folding her arms on the wooden railing, she stared out at the lights of the city. “Where are you, Joaquin Santiago?”
“Behind you.”
Merciful heavens! Regan’s heart plummeted to her toes as she whirled around, one hand pressed over her thundering heart. As usual, he was a study in black from head to foot.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded furiously. “You scared the crap out of me!” She jabbed her finger into his chest. In spite of her anger, she noticed his body was rock solid. “Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again!”
He grinned down at her as he captured her hand in his. “I thought you wanted me here.”
Regan stared up at him. How was it possible for the slightest touch of his hand to make her insides turn to mush?
“How do you do that?” she demanded, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.
His thumb made slow, lazy circles on the back of her hand. “Do what?” he asked in that sinfully rich, melodious voice that made her toes curl.
“You know what.” She bit down on her lower lip, hating the breathy sound of her own voice. It was aggravating to think that he could probably hear the frantic beat of her heart, sense that his very nearness aroused her.
“I am not doing anything,” he said, though the heat in his eyes belied his words. He gazed down at her, slowly drawing her closer, closer, until her body was a breath away from his. He looked down at her, waiting for her to make the decision.
Heart pounding, she pressed herself against him, her head falling back, her eyelids fluttering down in anticipation of his kiss.
It was earth-shattering, even more erotic than the phantom kiss they had shared in her dream. His mouth was warm and firm, his tongue like fire as it stroked her own, arousing her, making her think of hot bodies writhing on cool satin sheets. Black sheets. She knew somehow that his sheets would be black…
She opened her eyes and stared up at him. Did he sleep in a bed, or a…?
He looked down at her, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, his arms still holding her close. “Something troubles you?”
“Where do you sleep?”
“Would you like me to show you?” he asked, his tone suddenly soft and seductive.
“No. I mean…do you sleep, that is…”
“Ah. You are not wondering where I sleep but what I sleep on, or in.”
She nodded, her gaze trapped by his.
“What do you think?” he queried. “And why do you ask?”
“I…I…never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
“No?”
“I…” She blew out a breath of exasperation. “I just had this mental image of black sheets…”
“Not blood red?” he asked with a wry grin, and then he laughed softly. “You were right. The sheets on my bed are black.”
“Satin?” The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it.
“Yes. Perhaps I will show them to you one evening.”
“So, you don’t sleep in a coffin?”
“I did not say that.”
The image of Santiago stretched out inside a satin-lined casket cooled her ardor and she backed away from him. Vampire. He was a vampire. She had to remember that. “Did you find the one who killed those kids?”
He nodded.
“How did he get out of the park?”
“The barrier has no power over the ancient ones.”
Regan filed that knowledge away. As soon as she got a chance, she would call the Department of Vampire Control and let them know that not all the vamps in the park were repelled by the barrier.
“Did you destroy him?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The look in his eyes said it all.
Feeling suddenly cold, Regan wrapped her arms around her body.
“I think I should go now and let you get some sleep,” Santiago said. He bowed from the waist in a courtly old-world gesture. “Good night, Regan Delaney.”
“Good night,” she murmured, but he was already gone.
Chapter 6
In spite of her resolve to put Joaquin Santiago out of her mind once and for all, Regan couldn’t stop thinking about him in the days that followed.
When she shopped for food, she found herself remembering that his last meal had been ash cakes and venison stew.
When she changed the blue cotton sheets on her bed, she recalled that his were black satin.
When she drank a cup of hot chocolate, she pictured him sipping a glass of Synthetic A Negative.
When she watched Dracula 2000, she imagined Santiago in the Gerard Butler role. It wasn’t hard. He already had thick black hair and a long black coat.
When he called and asked her to meet him at Sardino’s for a drink, she agreed before her better judgment got the upper hand.
/> Santiago was waiting at the restaurant when she arrived. Tonight, dressed in a white T-shirt and black jeans, he looked like a teenage rebel from the fifties. All he needed was a pack of cigarettes tucked into his shirt pocket and a pompadour.
A smile curved his lips when he saw her. Taking her hand, he kissed her palm, sending frissons of sensual delight coursing through her. “I did not think you would say yes.”
“Neither did I.”
Still holding her hand, he led her to a booth in a far corner and slid in beside her, his thigh brushing intimately against her own. “Yet here you are.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “What made you say yes? Were you missing me as much as I was missing you?”
“Were you?” she asked. “Missing me?”
“Every night.”
“Then why did you wait so long to call?”
“I was trying to be noble.”
“Noble?” she asked, laughing.
He nodded, his expression somber. “Vampires and mortals do not mix well, as you know. And while I think you would be good for me, I know I would be bad for you.”
“Would you?” she asked, her voice hardly more than a whisper. “Be bad for me?”
His gaze caressed her. “Very bad.”
Regan licked her lips, her whole body tingling with need, burning with desire and the kind of curiosity that the Pandora of legend had been unable to resist. According to myth, Pandora had unleashed all the ills of the world on mankind by opening the forbidden box that had piqued her curiosity.
Santiago slid his arm around Regan’s shoulders, drawing her close to his side. Excitement and a thrill of danger unfurled deep in Regan’s belly. What perils awaited her if she gave in to her curiosity? Would she live to regret it? Would she live at all if she surrendered to the unholy craving she saw in the smoldering depths of his eyes? Play with fire and you’ll get burned. It was a cliché, but ever so true. How much more dangerous would it be to play with a vampire?
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