Night Games

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Night Games Page 23

by Crystal Jordan


  His fingers continued to stroke her shoulder and down her arm. “Right. I suspect she predated the current one by quite a lot.”

  “Yeah. She was about a hundred years younger than me. She was such a little brat, too.” A reluctant smile curled her lips while moisture seared the backs of her eyes. “She was a hellion, determined to do everything her own way, and damn anyone who got in her way.”

  “Must be a family trait.”

  She laughed, and the sound was watery. “Maybe. She was ... a hippy before there were hippies. Bohemian and artistic, carefree and unwilling to live with the fetters of anyone else’s rules. She drove me batshit-crazy.” She shook her head, her hair rustling against the pillowcase. “It wasn’t until about ... I don’t know, the 1890s or so that we met again in New Orleans. We hadn’t seen each other in centuries.”

  His lips brushed the nape of her neck. “The time had changed you.”

  “Yes and no. I wasn’t a young bride chafing to get out from under my family’s heel. Even at a hundred, I was unwed and looked like a blushing girl, so that’s how society treated me, and I had to live like humans did. In my family’s home, under my uncle’s rule, until I got married and was transferred to my husband’s home and his rule. I just wanted out. And I had to deal with a hellcat baby cousin who didn’t listen to a thing I said, even though they made it my job to look after her.” Which had prepared her for her future career as a governess for spoiled, wealthy children once she’d been left a widow. It seemed like she’d been lonely most of her life.

  “Her mother was that aunt who hated you.” His voice was calm and quiet in the dark, his hand squeezing her arm in support.

  “Yeah, Aunt Agnes didn’t really foster a loving environment in her house.” Truer words had never come from her lips, but that had hardly been Bess’s fault. Selina had been miserable in that house for a lot of reasons. “To say little cousin and I didn’t get along was kind of an understatement, but the second time around, we were both adults and had been out on our own for a long time. She’d married a Normal man and he helped ground her, but didn’t try to tie her down. The guy was perfect for her, and she was devastated when he died. We’d become friends before, but that was when we got really close.” She licked her lips. “When she was killed, I just felt like ... we had lost so much time when we were apart, and then what was left was stolen from us.”

  “She was your best friend.”

  Her lips trembled and tears glutted her eyes. “Yes.”

  Gods, yes, she had been. They were as different as night and day, but they’d loved each other anyway and learned to appreciate the other’s strengths. Nothing had ever in her life hurt as much as losing Bess. Not losing her mother, her husband, or any of her lovers or friends along the way. Death was just a part of living, but with Bess? No. She’d been so alive ... far more than Selina had ever managed. A piece of her had died with her cousin, and every year that passed seemed to take a little bit more of her, until she was cold and empty and so damn tired of all of it.

  “You blame yourself.”

  “No. Yes. Maybe, I don’t know. I always feel like it should have been me. I was the oldest, I was the cop, I was the one investigating the case. It should have been me to go first, not her. That ugliness should never, ever have touched Bess.” Sweet, light, vivacious Bess. She’d been the best part of Selina. And then she was gone, leaving Selina more alone than she’d ever been in her existence.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  An echo of her words to him about his wife. “I know that.”

  “Do you?”

  Did she? Her aunt had blamed her, wished it was her that had died instead of her beloved daughter. And Selina had always felt as though she’d failed her cousin by not catching her killer. That was a lot of guilt to pile on for decades.

  “I want to hear you say it.”

  Hoisted by her own petard. Again. She pressed her lips together, trying to still their shaking enough so she could speak coherently. “It wasn’t my fault. But, gods, I miss her so fucking much.”

  And then she broke, sobbing with the terrible anguish she had never allowed herself to express in all these years. She’d set it aside to chase the killer, set it aside to stay sane, set it aside to focus on her career. She’d avoided it for so long that once it hit her, she was drowning in it, her body rocking with every ragged, hitching breath, her throat raw with the keening wails that ripped from her. There was no escaping this horrible grief, not anymore.

  Jack held her through it all, murmuring a soothing cadence of reassurances. He didn’t leave her, just let her get it all out until there was nothing left.

  He smoothed her hair back and kissed her cheek. “Get some rest, honey.”

  So she closed her eyes and let unconsciousness take her. Jack’s arms were around her, and she felt less alone than she had in a long, long time. She sighed, sliding into dreamless slumber.

  13

  Calls that came in the middle of the night were never good. Jack’s heart jolted when his phone blared and jerked him out of a sound sleep. Heart pounding, he groped for his cell before it vibrated itself off his nightstand.

  Selina bolted upright, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes wild. “Holy shit, you need to change your ring tone. The air raid siren freaks me out.”

  “I’ll do that.” After a day of languorous sex with breaks for eating and going over files again, and a night of more sex and deep sleep, this was one rude-ass awakening. He snagged the phone and unplugged the charger. Tapping the screen, he pressed it to his ear. “Laramie.”

  “Jack, it’s Luca.” The vampire’s usually smooth voice was rough with rage. “You need to come down to Harborview Medical Center.”

  A chill went down his spine, but he pushed the button to set his cell on speakerphone so Selina could hear, too. “Another victim?”

  “Yes, only this one survived. Barely, but he survived. They think if he makes it through the night, he’ll recover.”

  His heart slammed against his rib cage. A survivor. A witness. Selina threw aside the covers and leapt out of bed, throwing on clothes and thrusting her fingers through her disheveled hair.

  “Do we have a name on the vic yet?” Jack grabbed a notepad to write it down so he knew whose room to ask for when they arrived at the hospital.

  “It’s Darren Kerr. Your stepfather.” Luca’s Italian accent deepened. “I’m so damn sorry, Jack. Get down here now.”

  Everything inside him froze, slowed down until it stopped. His heart, the very breath in his lungs. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered against the floor.

  Selina snapped her fingers and his clothes were magically on. She tugged him out the door and stuffed him into her car. Hard determination molded her features as she floored it all the way to Harborview, the blue light flashing on her dashboard. He didn’t remember anything else about the drive, just the expression on her face. He didn’t know how long it took, just that it felt like forever. His hands felt as though they’d been made of ice, and he fumbled to get the door open when they arrived.

  A hand wave from his elf, and the door flew wide. He tumbled out of the car and almost face-planted in the parking garage. He shook himself out of his stupor and ran for the hospital entrance, Selina right on his heels. All he could think was, Please, God, don’t let me lose another father. Please, God. Not someone else I love.

  Sliding to a halt at the nurses’ station, he barked, “Darren Kerr. Where is he?”

  The nurse drew herself up as if he’d said something offensive. Selina leaned over the desk, her eyes slitted. “We’re with the FBI. I suggest you answer the man’s question.”

  “Level four, left off the elevator.”

  The Magickal ward. Of course. Like every other public service, hospitals had a special branch for Magickals. Darren was there. Jack spun and sprinted for the elevator. There was a crowd there, waiting. What were all these people doing here? They all seemed to be sobbing. No way could he hand
le standing there with that. To hell with waiting for the elevator. He turned for the stairs and hit them running. His arms and legs pumped as he took the steps two at a time. Sweat streaked down his face to sting his eyes, and his vision blurred.

  He burst out of the stairwell and collided with Selina as she stepped off the elevator. She went careening into the wall, and he caught her before she fell.

  “Laramie.” Luca rose from his chair down the hall, which was parked next to a room with three agents guarding it. He stepped in front of Jack before he could rush into the room. “Be ready when you go in there. He was shot with silver bullets and stabbed repeatedly with a silver implement. It’s as bad as the others, only he’s still breathing.”

  “He understands that, Cavalli,” Selina snapped, appearing at his side, a slender virago in his defense. “Get out of the way.”

  Glancing down at her, Luca sighed and moved. “He asked for Angela, but that’s the only word he’s spoken.”

  “My mother’s on a business trip in Portland. She left after the full moon lockdown ended yesterday at dawn.” It wasn’t even dawn yet now. She’d been gone less than a day. “She’s not getting back until Friday.”

  Darkness edged the corners of Jack’s vision when the bed came into view, his stepfather still as death and as pale as the sheet draped over him.

  “I called her.” Luca’s voice seemed to come from a very long distance. “I’ve sent my family’s private jet down there, and she’ll be here soon.”

  “Thank you, Luca,” Selina replied for Jack, because he couldn’t unlock his jaw enough to say a word.

  Rage pumped through his veins, and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He didn’t consider himself an angry or violent man. Those things had their time and place, but this? This was unlike anything he had ever known before.

  The motherfucker had messed with his family.

  Staring down at his stepfather—a man who had always been larger than life in his eyes, invincible—he saw a battered victim, flesh swollen with bruises, one hand broken, wounds festering down his arms and legs, his collarbone scored with the ugly black mark of dark magic. His werewolf healing abilities would kick into full gear once the silver processed out of his system, but for the moment, he looked like hell.

  Jack’s fingers were shaking when he sat down and took Darren’s hand. Tubes and wires ran in and out of his arms and chest. Bruises mottled his face, black rings formed around his eyes.

  The big wolf startled, lurching halfway up in bed before collapsing back. His eyes were wild, feral light gleaming in them.

  “I’ll get the nurse,” Selina said, and ducked out of the room.

  Jack leaned right into Darren’s face, despite the fangs that were fully extended. “You’re all right. Everyone is safe. Mom is on her way back from Oregon.”

  His stepfather’s throat worked, and a drop of blood slid down from the puncture wounds on his neck. The blistered skin had been marked by silver. Nothing else could do that to a wolf. Guilt poured like acid through Jack’s veins. If he’d caught this vampire before now, Darren wouldn’t have been tortured, wouldn’t be in the hospital now. He’d be home, safe, just as he should be. The self-recrimination tangled with the anger—at himself, at this killer.

  More than ever before, Jack understood why Selina had done whatever it took to be part of this investigation. He didn’t necessarily agree with her methods, but there was no power on earth that would hold Jack back from tracking down this bloodsucking fucker.

  He’d messed with Jack’s family.

  Selina returned, nurse in tow.

  “Huuuh,” Darren said, squeezing Jack’s fingers with a pathetically weak grip. “Huhm ... man.”

  “What?” The helplessness, the garbled speech made moisture burn at the backs of his eyes. “Don’t try to talk, Darren. Just rest up and get better.”

  The wolf shook his head, his gaze locking on Jack’s face with singular focus. His face reddened with the strain of forcing out the words, and he gurgled for a moment before it became sensible. “Hu—man. He’s ... human.”

  “The man who attacked you?” Selina came forward to lean over Jack’s shoulder. “He was Normal?”

  Darren nodded, a sigh whistling out of his throat. Relief flashed across his face, and he relaxed against the pillows. The nurse bustled over and checked his vital signs, wrote things down on his chart, gave him a shot that had him unconscious in moments. “He needs to rest. For some reason his healing abilities seem to have stopped, even though we’ve pulled all the silver out of him. We’re trying to stabilize him, so upsetting him and questioning him about what happened is a bad idea right now.”

  “I wasn’t questioning him.” But Jack’s thoughts went reeling. Human. Not a vampire. A Normal.

  Everything they’d thought, everything they’d assumed, had been wrong. They had to go back over every inch of evidence. He rose to his feet, staggered a bit, and glanced at Selina.

  Her keys were already in her hand. “You can stay with Darren if you want to; I can handle this.”

  Sit here and do nothing but stare at his wounded parent? “I can’t. I need to be doing something.”

  “There will be agents guarding this room around the clock.” Luca piped in from his position near the door. “Peyton is at your parents’ place now, overseeing things.”

  “Okay.” Selina took a breath. “Let’s check out the crime scene, then we have some work to do.”

  The crime scene. Jack couldn’t seem to absorb that. His parents’ house was a crime scene. It was unreal.

  Selina followed Jack down the hall to the elevator. She punched the call button. His throat worked for a long moment before he spoke. “He’s been my father for over twenty years.”

  “I know.” She slipped her fingers into his. It broke her work rules while all those agents guarding the door watched them. She could feel their gazes burning into her back. “He’s going to be okay.”

  She said it because it was what people say during times like this, but she hoped it was true. If a wish could become a spell, she prayed this one had. She liked his parents. They didn’t deserve this. No one did.

  “He took me to baseball games when I was a teenager. Just him and me. He was there for my high school and college graduations. He was there for me when Heather ...” Swallowing hard, he shook his head. “He didn’t try to replace my dad, he just offered me friendship. But somewhere along the way, he became as much a father to me as my biological one. I don’t ... I don’t want to lose another dad.”

  The elevator car arrived, the doors swishing open. Jack let go of her hand, and his gate was jerky when he walked in to slump against the back wall. She entered more slowly, pushed the button for the first floor, and pain filled her at witnessing his.

  When the doors closed, he bent forward and braced his hands on his knees. “Do you have any kids?”

  She arched her eyebrows at the non sequitur. “What would make you ask that?”

  Snorting, he didn’t lift his head. “I don’t know. We were talking about parents. Just talk to me so I don’t lose it.”

  That made sense. Sort of. She’d humor him, though. “No, I’ve never had any children.”

  “Did you ever want any?”

  She shrugged, tapping her fingers on the railing that ran around the middle of the car. “I might have at some point, but ... the time never seemed right. My husband died centuries ago and I never remarried. I wouldn’t want to bring an illegitimate child into the world.”

  A child like her. The stigma that came with being a bastard might not be there anymore, but it mattered to her. She couldn’t help it. She’d had to live with her mother’s shame for all of her young life.

  Jack laced his fingers over the back of his head. His knuckles went white he gripped his skull so hard. “Would you want children now?”

  She was going to die soon. Something else she hadn’t told him, and which he was going to hate her for, especially after what had happen
ed to Darren. They’d gotten too close, and now Jack was going to get hurt.

  “You wouldn’t like a little girl who looks like you?” His words were soft.

  The picture formed in her mind, unbidden, of a chubby toddler, with tiny pointed ears and brilliant blue eyes, reaching out to be picked up and held.

  Yes. Gods, yes. Something deep inside her craved that with a sharpness she hadn’t felt since she was married and hoping to have babies. Selina blinked, shoving the thought away with violent insistence.

  “I’m not going to have any children.”

  He pushed himself upright, his eyes red-rimmed and blood-shot. “Could you, if you wanted to?”

  “Magickals stop aging physically for the middle centuries of their lives, but I’m past that and I’m starting to get older.” Her face had looked like she was in her late twenties since she was that age. But whatever magic had held her in stasis had released its grip and she appeared in her late thirties, early forties. She’d have kept aging like a Normal ... if she weren’t going to kick the bucket. “If you figure where I’d be in a Normal’s reproductive lifespan, then yes. It would be feasible for me to bear offspring for another few years.”

  “Good.”

  No, it wasn’t. She didn’t want to be having this conversation with him. There were no babies in her future. There was no Jack in her future. There was nothing good in her future. Time for a topic change. “Let’s focus on the case. How sure are we that Darren’s senses were right?”

  “I’ve never had a reason to doubt them.” Jack drew in a deep breath, stepping out of the elevator to walk out to her car. “If Darren says he’s human, then the son of a bitch is a Normal.”

  She nodded. “Well, this is a lot more to go on than I had when he got away from me the first time.”

  “The one who got away,” Jack murmured to himself, his brows furrowing.

  A Normal, not a vampire. The memory of Gregor’s face filled her mind, the way he’d flinched when Delta mentioned Normals. At the time, Selina had thought it was over his shock at seeing the woman he’d illegally turned, but now she wasn’t so sure. Her precognition had always said Gregor was involved, although she hadn’t been sure how. She hadn’t been aware she was hunting a Normal, but she’d bet the bank that Gregor had. He might not have done any of the killing—this time—but he knew who had.

 

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