Distant Light: An Urban Fantasy Reverse Harem (Tales From the Edge Book 1)

by Chloe Adler

  I wait until she’s swallowed before raising my eyebrows at her.

  “There are a great many hormones and chemicals that we can inject into our prey.”

  I gasp, covering my mouth a beat too late.

  She drops the bread on her plate. “Sorry, Iph. It’s how vamps often refer to humans when they’re not in earshot. No need to take offense.” She offers me an enigmatic smile. “Think of it as a compliment that it slipped out with you.”

  “Go on.” I lean back as the waiter places my omelet in front of me. In front of Burgundy, he places french toast, piled high with whipped cream and strawberries. Her second breakfast of the morning, by the looks of it.

  “Gotta keep up my figure.” She winks at me. “Gives my lovers more of me to fight over. Tiyah enjoys my boobs and Elijah fancies himself an ass man.”

  I roll my eyes and giggle. “You were saying . . .”

  “We do have a compound in our venom that makes our prey forget. Most vampires never use it because we don’t have to. And well, as you know, especially in the Edge, such chemicals are illegal to inject.”

  “But it’s there for a reason.”

  “It is, like so many other archaic practices.” She cuts a piece of her candy toast and pushes it into her mouth.

  “It was used when there were no willing victims?”

  “Back in the day,” she says around her food.

  “Wouldn’t evolution have removed that need then?”

  Swallowing, Burgundy reaches for her coffee and takes a sip. “From what I understand, evolution takes a very long time to catch up. Truth be told, I’ve used it on occasion as well, not for that reason, but for others.”

  “So it’s still accessible because it’s still used.” A statement, not a question.

  She shrugs. “Did you tell Sheldon about this?”

  I shake my head before she’s finished the question, though unable to say why exactly.

  “Well you need to report it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Iphi, no question. Hey.” She lifts my chin with a finger. “I know you’re a bleeding heart and I love you for that, but we don’t know what we’re dealing with here. This guy could be totally dangerous and hurt more innocent people. Maybe even kill someone accidentally. I know you don’t want that on your conscience.”

  “You’re right,” I sigh and look away, blinking rapidly to hide the tears.

  “Can you describe him to the cops?”

  Oh, yes, that face haunted me all night. “Maybe it was just a one-time thing or he was passing through on his way elsewhere.”

  “Regardless, you’re reporting this.” She dabs at her lips with a napkin. “I’ll come with.”

  It’s a lovely walk to the police station at the center of town and if Rex could talk, he’d thank us for it. When the breeze billows off the water, it sets my hair adrift, tickling my neck and ears. Rex turns his face into it and opens his mouth, a pink tongue lolling out.

  The architecture downtown is a historic throwback to the times of the Californian gold rush mixed with a Southwestern flavor, some neoclassical flair, and all of it giving off a distinctly beachy vibe. But instead of looking like a rowdy mishmash, each building flows harmoniously into the next. Next to the neoclassical city hall, the police station is an orange-yellow adobe building with a terra cotta roof.

  The police chief’s office is to the right of the great lobby and we wait outside for an officer on duty to announce our arrival.

  “Burgundy, Iphigenia,” the chief says, ushering us in.

  Chief Sheldon is a large, intimidating man and if I hadn’t known him for years, I’d be shaking in my flip-flops. His salt-and-pepper hair is thinning, but it only makes his thick mustache look darker. Why do so many cops have mustaches? Last year he didn’t need glasses, but now he wears a pair on his nose.

  We sit down while he moves to the other side of his desk and Rex lies down at our feet. “Burgundy said you had something to tell me?” He cocks his head at me, those piercing cop eyes holding my gaze through his wire-rimmed specs.

  Wetting my lips, I quickly recount what I witnessed. He’s shaking his head during most of it.

  “Thank you for coming here,” he says when I’m done. “I do not like the sound of this, a rogue vampire that can’t heal his own wounds.”

  “I assume that’s why he can’t find a donor,” Burgundy adds.

  “Or he just likes attacking innocent people. Regardless, this is worrisome.” Sheldon looks at me. “And I’m concerned for your safety.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You got a good look at him; he knows you got a good look at him. He may come after you, if for no other reason than to wipe your memory.”

  “Which is why we’re here now,” Burgundy says. “Do you have a sketch artist or can you call one from San Diego County?”

  “We have one. He’s new.” Sheldon picks up his phone and fires off a text. Less than a minute later, there’s a knock on his door and then it opens.

  I have to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping. It’s Caspian—with a Distant Edge Police Department staff ID card hanging from his belt.

  “Iphigenia.” He’s instantly at my side. “Is everything okay?”

  “Iphi witnessed a vampire attack last night,” says the chief. “Take her to an interview room for a sketch of the perp.”

  He touches my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Well, hello there,” purrs Burgundy. She gets to her feet beside Caspian. “I’m Burgundy.” The woman can’t help flirting with every gorgeous man and woman she meets. It’s in her nature. So why do I want to claw her eyes out?

  “Ma’am.” Caspian nods toward her, his gaze never leaving mine. He takes my elbow and leads me out of the room, holding a hand up to keep her and Rex from following. I wish I could snap a pic of the look on her face.

  On our way to the back of the station, I engage my elbow holder, trying to figure out why he’s here. “So, you’re a cop?” Gold medal for lamest question of the day, Iphigenia.

  He barks out a laugh and lets go of my elbow but doesn’t respond. “Civilian, actually. But I do work here.”

  I’ve never been to this part of the station before. A whole raft of officers are working away at their desks. Are these the ones who never get to leave and make rounds? It’s a large room with the desks all set up together like in every cop movie and television show I’ve ever seen. No cubicles. No privacy. Does squishing everyone together foster camaraderie?

  I do a double take when I spot Caspian’s brothers here, too. Dominic sits behind a computer, leaning forward to focus on his screen while the imposing Thorn stands behind him with an open manila folder. Dominic has an ID card like Caspian’s hanging from a lanyard around his neck, but Thorn has an actual badge on his belt. At some point, my escort pulled ahead of me. Caspian is waiting by a far door, suppressing a bemused smile. Great. I hurry to catch up.

  “Your whole family works here?” I whisper, standing on my tiptoes.

  “Everyone but Rhys.” He opens the door for me and ushers me into a small room. I always imagined what an interrogation room would look like and this is not it. The tiny room has a wooden table in the center and two padded chairs, one on each side. My first thought is that this can’t be where they bring criminals because those chairs would make great weapons. Okay, crazy thoughts, be gone. Nerves much?

  Maybe this isn’t an interrogation room at all, or maybe our town is too small to have those two-may mirrors I’ve seen on television. Sheldon did call it an “interview” room. Is there a difference?

  Caspian motions for me to sit and moves the other chair next to mine. Crossing the room to a side table, he removes a pitcher of water and two paper cups stacked on top of each other and brings them over. He pours the water for me and then sits down.

  “Ready?” He opens up the sketchpad that’s already on the table and picks up one of those blue artist pencils Chrys uses.

  I close my
eyes and try to recall everything I can.

  “That’s good, you’re already doing what I was going to tell you to do. Try to form a snapshot in your mind of the person you saw and let’s start with the shape of his face.”

  I take a deep inhale to fill my lungs, then hold it, conjuring. Letting it out, I begin.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Caspian shows me the sketch. While I was speaking, I’d assumed he would show me what he was drawing and I would correct certain aspects, but either that’s not how he works or there was no need. The image is near perfect, akin to his photographs.

  “Have you always been an artist?” I ask.

  “Yeah. My interest in photography is more recent, though.” He ducks his head, smudging something on the page with his thumb. “There’s something that draws me to it. Plus, I equate drawing with work now.”

  His broad smile reaches his captivating eyes. I could fall into those eyes and lose myself. Now where did that come from? Aren’t I attracted to Rhys?

  “Iphigenia?” Caspian is staring at me.

  “Yes?” I peer at him, unsuccessfully trying not to blush because even though he’s hiding it, he’s attracted to me. Unlike his brothers, Caspian’s emotions are painted all over his face. Probably because he’s a sensitive artist, like Chrys. Even if I weren’t an empath, I could have figured him out easy.

  “My brothers and I are concerned about your safety.”

  “How do they know what happened?”

  Caspian’s gaze darts behind me. “I texted them. It’s our civic duty to protect the citizens of the Edge.”

  Great, that’s all I am to them, just another denizen of the Edge. What else would I be? They’re practically strangers. I stand up, turning toward the door. “I appreciate that, and I understand that as an officer it’s your job, but I relinquish you of that duty. I’ve gone my whole life without any escorts. That vampire couldn’t have attacked me last night even if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t. I’m not afraid.” It’s true. I’m not afraid. I want Caspian and his brothers to like me for me, not because they think I’m some weakling who needs their protection. As if.

  Caspian

  “Wait, please.”

  She pauses with her hand on the door handle, keeping her back to me.

  So much about this woman confuses me, but she’s hiding something. I just don’t know what. Either she’s far more intuitive than anyone I’ve ever met or she’s using a mind-reading spell or something.

  She wants to be on her own, she’s made that much clear. But the easy, relaxed performer of last night is gone. Instead, the whole time she’s been here, she’s been holding herself straight, her eyes watchful and sober, as if anticipating trouble. There’s a thread of fear underneath it all, one she’s hiding even from herself.

  “You’re not invincible.” And when I think about what could have happened last night, it’s all I can do not to throw my arms around her.

  “I know.” Her shoulders droop. Then she clears her throat. “Thank you for your concern, Caspian. I get that you’re worried about me. I really do. But I have this amulet.” She turns to face me, holding up a small silver pendant. “It protects me from harm.”

  The firm set of her jaw tells me it’s fruitless to argue with her. “Fine. But please be careful.”

  She gives me a quick nod, her eyes softening, before she heads out.

  Why does this woman intrigue the hell out of me? She’s different from any woman I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s because she’s such a dichotomy. Strong and capable, probably the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Yet so vulnerable.

  Since we moved here, it’s been mostly my job to keep an eye on her. My brothers and I have been tracking the rogue vamp across the country for a while. Almost a year now. Then a beat cop came across the vampire’s belongings during a sweep of a tent city in Seattle two months back. A photo of Iphigenia was nestled among his stuff. When all signs of the rogue disappeared afterward, the photo was our only clue to his next move. Facial recognition databases of the girl turned up nothing—not surprising after getting to know this mighty sunbeam. She may be hiding something but she’s certainly no criminal. Nor did those tools turn up any matches from social media sites. Signum rarely hang out on Facebook, after all. Why make it easy for the angry, pitchfork-wielding villagers to find your doorstep?

  No, instead, it was sheer, unmitigated luck when Rhys’s half-brother Carter sent him a photo. A photo of their Grandpa Alistair with his new girlfriend and her daughter.

  We were on the phone to the Edge’s police department the next day, offering the chief our services. The moment we hit town, surveillance began in earnest.

  Day and night, Iphigenia stops for every animal that crosses her path. Kneeling and cooing to them until she can read their tags and return them to their owners. If they’re strays, she sneaks them food and water out of her mother’s house. She’ll sit and pet the mangiest of creatures, strays other people ignore, turning their noses up into the air—or worse, kicking them in the rump.

  She’s not even afraid of a rogue vampire that obviously wants her for nefarious reasons. How can someone so tiny in stature be so large in spirit? I finger the sketch in front of me. God, this will kill Rhys.

  We’ve all taken turns surveilling her, waiting for the rogue to appear, but I’ve pulled watcher duty the most. For one, because I’m good with a camera. And for another, I have more expendable working hours. Rhys hustles from job to job, trying to save up enough money or gather enough students for his future dojo. Dom and Thorn work long shifts at the station. But Chief Sheldon rarely needs his departmental sketch artist at a moment’s notice. Except for today. But then, I was already here, dying to know why she was in with the chief.

  When I found out, I wanted to kick myself. Bad enough she ran into the rogue, but where the rogue goes, worse things follow. We should have been on her last night, but since she’d just been introduced to us, we thought it best to hang back on a night she would almost certainly be going home with family or a coworker. We are idiots. But then again, is it just a coincidence that the rogue found her on a night we weren’t there?

  A moment later, there’s a soft knock on the door. Must be the boss wanting my sketch. I rip it out of my book and start neatening up. “Come in.”

  The door clicks opens and Iphigenia stands there, biting her lip.

  My entire body tightens, ready to spring to her aid. “Is everything okay?”

  She walks into the room and perches back in the chair next to me and my body relaxes. I let out the air I was holding in my lungs.

  “I was wondering . . .” She worries her hands, looking away and then back again.

  I wait silently, giving her some space.

  “Do you have any photographs you’ve taken? On your phone?”

  I was not expecting that question. “Of what?”

  “Anything. I want to see some of your work.”

  Unexpected, but I’m so relieved she’s not in immediate distress. “Sure.” I take out my phone and click to the folder that contains some of my more innocuous work, then hand it over to her.

  She’s silent while she flips through the first couple, which are, admittedly, not that great. Then she comes to a stop on one of my favorites, a cloudscape.

  “That’s amazing. The way you captured the light in those clouds really sets a mood.” She raises her head. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  Iphigenia turns back to my phone, swiping through the next few, stopping and staring at each one before moving forward. “I’m sorry I was so short with you. I know you’re coming from a caring place,” she says without looking up.

  I want to reach out and clasp her hand but I don’t.

  After a moment she stops and lets out an “Awwwww.” I lean in to see her stopped on a photo that Dominic took of me in my large shift.

  “I love cats,” she purrs. “Even big ones.”

  Smiling, I lean in closer. Should I tell her
it’s me?

  “He’s so majestic. Obviously he’s a predator, but the light shining in those eyes denotes far too much benevolence. This must be a shifter, caught in his shift. Yes?” She meets my gaze, licking her plump-raspberry lips and I have a sudden compulsion to kiss her.

  She startles, jumping backward, the wheels of her chair scraping along the linoleum floor. “I gotta go.” She stands up and drops my phone on the table. Without another word, she rushes out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  Iphigenia

  I’m working out at home when my phone buzzes. Grabbing my cell, I blink several times and reread the text. Rhys and his brothers—er, cousins, want to take me to dinner? Mother is already cooking, and her distress over a late cancellation may very well overwhelm both her system and mine. And that’s without the added nerves from seeing Caspian again. I can’t hold it against him that he wanted to kiss me. It’s not like he was actually going to do it, and if I weren’t an empath, I’d never have known. Plus, dammit, he’s cute. That long, sandy-blond hair, those eyes that blaze under dark-blond lashes. The color reminds me of a blanket of fog hovering over a sea burning up in the early morning sunlight. Stop thinking about Caspian.

  How about dessert? I text back.

  Sounds good. I’ll pick you up. What time?

  No, thank you, I’d rather walk.

  Not with a renegade vampire on the loose. I’ll be there at 9pm.

  Great. Aurelia’s going to kill me and then he can take a corpse to dessert. Still, I don’t want to let on that I’m a twenty-year-old woman with a career and yet still living under my mother’s very heavy thumb. My choice. I’ll just have to make her understand.

  After finishing my workout I get ready for dinner. Mother always serves at seven each and every night. Like clockwork.

  I pile my corkscrew curls on top of my head with a heap of bobby pins strategically placed in order to hide them. I change into a summer dress, nothing too fancy, and throw on a pair of kitten heels.