Born to Darkness Box Set

by Evangeline Anderson

  The thought made me want to break into a fresh round of sobbing but I knew I couldn’t afford to give in to myself like that. I had to go on—even if there was nothing to go on for. I was on duty and I’ve always had a very strict work ethic—I had to do my job. At least one more night.

  But tomorrow I’m quitting, I told myself.

  “Officer Godwin, do you copy?”

  I picked up the radio again. “Give me the location. I’m on the way.”

  * * * * *

  The crime scene was a surprisingly nice upper middle class house in Carrolwood, one of the tonier areas in the Tampa Bay area. I parked and showed my badge to the uniform standing at the door.

  “Up the stairs, second bedroom on the right,” he said with a jerk of his head.

  “Thanks.” I climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to the second bedroom. The air was heavy with the sweet, coppery smell of spilled blood. I crossed the yellow crime scene tape with a sinking feeling in my heart. I really didn’t need to see this—not tonight.

  But as soon as I looked up, there it was.

  The person on the bed—I really couldn’t tell if it had been a man or a woman, though I was betting on woman—had been torn limb from limb. I mean that literally too—one of the legs was lying in one corner. The rest of the limbs, along with the bloody, mauled remains of the torso, were still on the bed. The head…well, I didn’t see it. Maybe it had rolled under the bed or forensics had already bagged it up. There was blood spattered on the walls and sheets but not as much as you’d think considering the scene. Probably because most of it was inside the vamp who had done this. It was a gruesome sight and one I was unfortunately familiar with.

  “Pretty ugly, huh?”

  I turned to my left and saw Detective O’Meara from Homicide. I liked him—he never made the job into a pissing contest, unlike some of the other guys on the force who gave me shit because I could go after vamps and they couldn’t.

  “What have we got?” I asked him, even though the crime scene was all spread in front of me like a picnic for hungry lions.

  He sighed. “It’s a murder, all right. Looks pretty open and shut—the perp isn’t even trying to deny it.”

  “He’s still here?” I asked in surprise. Most of the time after a vamp kills someone he skips town and we have to track him down later with a specially trained squad. The PD are instructed to just let them go—there’s no sense in trying to take down a being that can bench press a semi—you’ll get ripped in half. But a vamp that actually stayed…that was new.

  “She—perp is a female name of Cynthia Torez,” O’Meara corrected me. “And yeah, she’s still here—she called it in herself.” He looked at me more closely. “Hey, you okay? You don’t mind me saying, you don’t look so good, Godwin.”

  “Long story,” I said. “Where did you say she was?”

  “She’s sobbing her fucking heart out downstairs in the living room. Swears it was an accident.” He shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for her.”

  “Great,” I muttered. Crap. Just what I needed—more crying. Like I hadn’t already done enough of it myself for one night. Still, I had a job to do. I took a deep breath and went back down the stairs in the direction he pointed me.

  I heard her sobbing, low and heartbroken, well before I found my way into the lovely, well-appointed living room. She was sitting on a dark brown leather couch with her face buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking.

  “Hey…” I touched her lightly on the arm and she jumped about a mile.

  “Oh…” When she looked at me, her cheeks were smeared with bloody tears. “Who…who are you?” she whispered.

  “I’m Officer Godwin—an Auditor,” I told her, meeting her eyes. “Want to tell me what happened here tonight, Cynthia?”

  “I…it…he…” She shook her head and I could tell she was about to start bawling again.

  “Hey.” I sat down beside her and put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. Just take some deep breaths and do the best you can. Detective O’Meara upstairs says you told him it was an accident.”

  “It was,” she burst out. “I swear I never meant to hurt him. I begged him not—I told him I couldn’t control myself but he wouldn’t listen…he wouldn’t listen.”

  “Okay, start from the beginning.” I rubbed her arm soothingly. “You begged him not to what?”

  “Not to cut himself and try to give me blood while we were…” She blushed. “You know.”

  They shouldn’t have been “you knowing” in the first place but I was willing to bet she already knew that.

  “So why did he do it, then?” I asked. Why would any human in their right mind do such a thing?

  “Because he loved me.” She hung her head.

  Oh. Well, that explained it, right there. It was the only sensible answer to a whole hell of a lot of stupid questions, it seemed to me. Still, I needed details.

  “And he thought it would be, what, more romantic to do it like that? Both at the same time?” I asked blandly.

  Cynthia shook her head. “No, he thought it would heal me.”

  “Heal you of what—are you sick?”

  “No place but here.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I suffer from depression and the drugs humans take—they don’t work on my kind.”

  Hmm, I had never heard of a depressed vampire other than Taylor. She had been plenty depressed while she was with Celeste, but there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe that was why you didn’t hear about many vamp suicides—their makers kept them from doing themselves in.

  “What made him think that would cure your depression?” I asked, still taking it all in stride.

  “Jason was doing research about it—that’s how we met. He’s a professor of Vampire Studies at Tampa U. Or…or he was, I guess.” She started crying again. “He…he said he wanted to study me and then we…we…”

  “You fell in love?” I guessed.

  She nodded. “It all happened so fast. And before I knew it, he was asking me to go farther and farther with him. I knew I shouldn’t but I’ve always had good control before and besides, Jason was so gentle and tender and kind. He just…I couldn’t say no to him.”

  “So how long have you had a sexual relationship?” I asked.

  “For almost three months.” She wiped at her eyes and her fingers came away bloody. “It was going so well. I wanted to bond him to me—to make him, you know…”

  “A little less fragile?” I asked.

  Cynthia nodded. “Exactly. Only I didn’t feel like I could ask him to stay with me forever when I have this sickness…this depression.”

  “You might have tried therapy,” I said. “There are several practices in town that specialize in vamps.”

  “I know. I wanted to do that, believe me, I did,” she assured me, her eyes wide and haunted. “But Jason had been doing his research and he said it would be better—faster—for him to pay the Crimson Debt.”

  My ears perked up at once. Here it was again—that phrase. I had been an Auditor for six years but until I had gotten serious with Corbin, I had never heard it.

  “What exactly does that mean?” I asked her, interested to hear her definition.

  “It’s what the older vampires call making love and taking blood at the same time.” Cynthia wiped at her eyes again, which were still leaking. “My maker did it all the time. He…he claimed it cured all ills—physical, mental, or emotional—as long as it is done out of love.”

  I arched an eyebrow at her. “And you knew about this? But you didn’t mention it to Jason?”

  “Of course I didn’t mention it to him! I didn’t want him to try it.” She sounded genuinely distraught. “He found out about it on his own. I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t something a vampire and human could do. A vampire and a were, yes. Or a vampire and another vampire, though we don’t often take blood from each other. Even a witch with supernatural wards would be safer than just a human.”

  “So wh
at did you tell him when he asked if he could do this—pay the Crimson Debt—for you?”

  “I told him, no, of course!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I said it was out of the question. That I was already having a hard enough time keeping control when we…you know, made love.”

  “And what did he say?” I asked.

  “He pestered me about it for a long time but when I kept saying no, he finally seemed to agree with me. He promised to let the matter drop.” She put a hand to her face. “That was just yesterday. Then tonight…”

  “When you go together…” I prompted.

  “Right. We were already, uh, in the middle and then he suddenly pulled out a knife.” She began to cry again. “I"ve always been so careful. I wouldn’t even make love with him if he had so much as an unhealed shaving cut.”

  “Oh, honey…” I squeezed her arm gently as she started to break down again.

  “I begged him not to but he was quick. Before I knew it, he had slashed his arm open. And then…then all I could see was the…the blood…” She wrapped her arms around herself, the sobs shaking her. “I loved him,” she gasped, bloody tears pouring from her eyes. “Oh God, I loved him so much. And I killed him.”

  “Cynthia…” I shook my head helplessly.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured at last, her sobs tapering off somewhat. “It’s just…I still can’t believe it. It seems like a bad dream. Like something that happened to someone else.”

  I nodded. I had heard the same thing from many bereft loved ones when I had to tell them someone they cared for was gone. It’s a bad dream…I just want to wake up…

  “I’m afraid we’ll have to take you in,” I told her gently.

  Cynthia nodded dully. “That’s okay—I want you to. I should be punished for what happened here tonight.”

  For once, I wasn’t so sure about that. If things had really gone down the way she described them, it seemed to me she was almost a victim of circumstance. Or maybe just a victim of her lover’s stupidity. I made a mental note to ask the coroner to see if one of the disembodied hands was holding a knife and if the opposite arm was slashed with it. If that was the case, I would be willing to testify in court for Cynthia, though it would be the first time I had ever testified for a vamp rather than against them.

  “You want to know something crazy?” she asked with a broken little laugh that was more than half sob.

  “No, what?” I asked, getting out my velvet-lined, silver alloy cuffs.

  “It worked—I’m not depressed anymore.” She shook her head. “I mean, I’m devastated and distraught and I feel incredibly guilty but that low level sadness that always seemed to cloud my mind…it’s gone.”

  “Really?” I said neutrally as I fitted the cuffs on her slender wrists.

  Cynthia nodded. “I used to feel like I was at the bottom of a deep, dark well—a well with glass sides so slick I couldn’t crawl out of it no matter how hard I tried. Now, for the first time in over fifty years, I’m out of the well. I’m standing on the lip of it, looking down.” She buried her face in her cuffed hands. “And all I want is to go back. To get back in the well and have Jason be alive again. I’d stay down there forever—for the rest of my life—if only it would bring him back.”

  I shook my head and murmured something I hoped was soothing before I read her her rights and led her from the house. This was definitely not the kind of case I usually saw. There was real remorse here—it was clear she would do anything to take back what she had done.

  God, did I know that feeling. If only I could go back in time, stop Corbin from using that stake. But there was no way to do that. And no way to cure the effects or reverse what had been done…

  Or was there?

  Cynthia’s words echoed in my head. “It cured all ills—physical, mental, or emotional—as long as it is done out of love.” Hadn’t Corbin said much the same thing to me when he had explained paying the Crimson Debt? So was it possible that…but no, surely not. Except…what if…

  As I put the vampire in the back of my car and drove to the PD, a plan began to form in my head. A terrible, desperate, crazy plan. Something no one in their right mind would do—especially after seeing the carnage I had witnessed tonight.

  A plan that might be my only hope.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  It was nearly dawn by the time I finished getting Cynthia Torez booked, stopped by my house, and got back to Under the Fang. That was all right with me, though. Even the really old ones, the ones who can go out in the sun for a few minutes without getting burned and require almost no rest during the day, have a moment of weakness just at dawn.

  I was counting on that moment of weakness along with the few things I had hidden in the little black overnight bag I had brought with me. I might be doing a crazy, suicidal, dangerous thing but I intended to do it as carefully as possible. If that makes any sense. Okay, I know—it really doesn’t. But still, I had my plan and I was sticking to it.

  I hoped.

  The club was already closed for the day but I banged on the door until one of the human barmaids opened it. I saw with little surprise that it was Bambie, the girl I had interviewed during my last inspection of the Fang.

  “We’re closed. Whaddaya want?” she asked rudely.

  “In,” I said, glaring at her. I remembered now how much I had disliked her at that last interview. It seemed like a thousand years ago but actually, it had been less than two weeks. God, had it really been such a short time? How had I gone from hating Corbin’s guts to being willing to do what I was about to do for him? Was I crazy?

  No, just in love, murmured a little voice in my head. I heard it and knew it was the voice of Truth.

  The voice of Reason, was a whole different matter—it was screaming that I was crazy. That I had lost my mind and I was shortly going to lose my life with this idiotic scheme I had cooked up.

  Up until I saw Bambie’s irritated face and pouting mouth in the doorway of Corbin’s club, I wasn’t sure which voice I was going to listen to. But the minute I pushed my way past her, despite her protests—the moment my foot passed over the threshold and I was inside the Fang—my mind was made up.

  I was irrevocably committed.

  You should be committed! screamed the second little voice. Are you crazy? Did you not see that crime scene? The poor guy’s head was torn off. Last time I looked, you need your head. And you need to use it now. You’re not thinking straight, Addison. You—

  I took a deep breath and shut it off. No more fear. No more doubts. No more questions. I…am…doing…this…NOW.

  Just at that moment, Corbin came into view.

  “Bambie, what is going on? I thought I told you to shut down for the day.” He frowned at her and she bowed to him reverently.

  “Sorry, Master, but she pushed her way in.” She nodded at me. “I told her we were closed but she wouldn’t listen.”

  Corbin frowned at me. “What do you want, Addison?”

  “To talk,” I said, trying to smile like nothing was wrong. “Just to talk.”

  He looked awful—even wearier than he had earlier. I wondered uneasily about the bloody runes on the stake. Was the blood still dark red or had it turned almost black? I had left it behind on Gwendolyn LaRoux’ front porch so there was no way to check. But was it possible that she had misread it? Was Corbin even closer to death than she had thought?

  “Just to talk, hmm?” he said, repeating my words back to me. “Has it occurred to you, Addison, that there is nothing left to say between us?”

  “There’s sorry,” I whispered. “That’s what I came to say, Corbin—that I’m sorry. Will you let me say it? Will you listen?”

  He sighed heavily. “I will try. But you should know that I may not have much time.”

  “All right. Can we go someplace private?” I nodded pointedly at Bambie, who was watching us with wide eyes, soaking up our conversation like a sponge.

  “Of course. This way.”

  To my relief, he le
d me down the dark staircase to his daylight resting area, which was exactly where I had been hoping to go. Once inside, he closed the heavy bank vault door and turned to face me.

  “Well? Speak your piece, darling. As I said, I don’t have much time.”

  “Time enough to get comfortable, though,” I said. “Can we at least sit down?”

  “Fine.” He started to lead me to the chair in front of the fireplace but then he stumbled heavily and would have gone down if I hadn’t caught him. He was a big guy and there was a lot to catch—for a moment the issue was in doubt. But somehow I managed to get my arm under his shoulder and half led, half dragged him to the bed.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “It’s all right. Let’s get you situated,” I said.

  This was where I had wanted him all along but I was still more frightened than triumphant as I got him settled in the center of the green and gold spread. I had never seen him clumsy before, had never seen him as anything but the most graceful and powerful of predators. Now he seemed so weak—so vulnerable. It was actually a good thing if I wanted my crazy plan to succeed but even so, I was worried that maybe I was too late. Maybe nothing I could do would save Corbin now.

  Well, I had known it was a long shot when I first thought up my crazy plan. But I had to try it anyway.

  I looked at him lying there on the bed and couldn’t help thinking how beautiful he still was. Despite his vulnerability or maybe because of it, he was an absolutely gorgeous man. From his strong jaw, which glinted with golden stubble, down to his broad chest, narrow hips and long legs—he was perfect. I had almost gotten used to him in suits but tonight he was back to his old outfit of jeans and a faded blue t-shirt. It didn’t really matter what he wore, though—he took my breath away.

  “Corbin,” I said softly. “Can you hear me?”

  His eyelids, which had been mostly closed, fluttered open and I saw that his lovely silvery-blue irises had turned a dull gray. Seeing that hurt my heart but I tried not to show it.