Department 57: Bloody Crystal

by Lynne Connolly

  She was peaking. The waves of ecstasy were growing stronger, taking over her body. This was the time he adored, when she had to give herself into his keeping, trust him absolutely, because she had lost control of her own arousal. He kept driving, increasing the depth of his strokes now, careful to remain in contact but powering into her. A cool bead of sweat ran down the furrow created by his backbone when he strained deep within her. Harder and deeper.

  She paused, that sublime second when nothing mattered, when nothing outside the two of them even existed. Then she cried out, turning her head on the pillow, her pussy clenching around his cock in spontaneous convulsions.

  There was no holding back now. Not a chance. He felt his own moment, the way his semen surged up the center of his cock before it exploded inside her, sending jets of his essence into her body.

  Afterward he had just enough sense to roll to one side, although he didn’t let go.

  They slept.

  Chapter Four

  “Know anything about this?” Dave tossed the day’s local paper at her. It came out once a week now, like most local rags, but this one at least had some news some of the time. Cerys had been too busy with Rhodri to notice. He’d seen her every day that week.

  She stared at the paper. “No,” she managed. “I never saw anything.”

  Dave grunted. “Good. I think they were the guys in here last weekend. The police think so too. Is your boyfriend coming in tonight?”

  Despite her shock, she warmed at the suggestion, but she couldn’t accept it. “Boyfriend’s putting it a bit strong. Holiday romance, maybe. I doubt we’ll see each other once he goes back home.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “New York and London.” He hadn’t told her any more than that, and she’d tried not to care. He’d never given any indication that he wanted more of her than he’d had already. Yet he hadn’t let up, hadn’t drifted off. She’d half expected him to.

  Every time they parted, she didn’t know if she’d see him again. He’d helped in the bar on Wednesday night, had taken her home afterward. Come to think of it, she hadn’t gone home alone once.

  She’d even found him inside her flat, waiting for her. That was last night, and she was still mulling over the implications of that. She didn’t think he had any special skills, so that meant another night she might find her creepy neighbor waiting for her. She’d have to look into getting stronger locks. He’d said so himself.

  She wouldn’t put it past Creepy Man to sneak in and handle her stuff. The more she thought about it, the more her skin crawled. She’d love to move, but she liked her flat and the view she had of the sea. Why should she have to be the one who moved? And the house provided her last link with her parents. She hung on to that and missed them every day.

  It just piled up, didn’t it? She took another look at the paper. Front page, no less. A tourist, it said. The photo showed a group of men at some formal occasion, their off-the-peg tuxes shiny and badly fitting. But they looked happy. Happier than when she’d left them last Saturday night. But they’d attacked her, right?

  And one of them was dead. The one she’d fed from.

  She jumped back when a pair of hands appeared on either side of hers, and she landed heavily against a powerful body she’d come to know over the course of the last week. He grunted and waited for her to regain her balance. When she had, she pushed back and turned to face him. “Did you know about this?”

  “It’s why I’m here,” he murmured. “I saw the paper about an hour ago. Did you know him?”

  She shook her head. “Other than serving him last week, no.”

  He leaned closer. To the observer, it looked as if he was nuzzling her ear. “Let that be your answer. The police will interview you. Tell them they were here, anything they want to know about him being here. Even me, if you want. After, we went to your place. Nothing else.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “But I could have—” “killed him,” she finished in her mind.

  “You didn’t, cariad. Think about it. You fed from him. He was alive then, wasn’t he? And you didn’t take enough to kill him. I’ve watched you feed every night since then, and not once did I see you lose control and take too much.”

  He sounded so calm, so sure.

  “Truly?”

  “Really and truly.”

  He bent and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “Now you’d better get to work before Dave ropes me in to work a shift.”

  “Too late.” A tea towel appeared between them, clutched in Dave’s meaty fist.

  Rhodri took it with a wry grin, but the resignation in his eyes didn’t fool her. He’d come prepared to help.

  *

  Four hours later, Rhodri stood in a sparsely populated room. This was a holiday town, so weekends were the most frantic. Even lunches were busy. Thank fuck they didn’t have to do more than stack the dishwashers with the glasses. Even those were plastic on Saturday nights, an indication that this relatively respectable place had seen trouble. The kitchen staff did the crockery, and the cleaners would take care of the rest.

  He didn’t like her situation here. He didn’t like it at all. Without a community to support her, Cerys was in danger. These days, when abducting Talents to use in the laboratories was heading for epidemic proportions, Cerys was asking for it. Her best defense was that nobody knew what she was. Except for him, and although he hadn’t told her, it had taken his special training to spot her.

  Not that he hadn’t suspected the presence of a Talent or two in the bar this week. They’d drifted in and drifted out. Unlike Cerys, he had no compunction in showing a glimpse of himself to them. They moved on. He’d never let on that he wasn’t the only Talent in this place.

  They’d worked an afternoon shift for Dave after a member of the staff let him down. Dave finally let them go at three. Rhodri grabbed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder before heading for Cerys. “There’s something I need to do. You’re off tonight, aren’t you? Can I come fetch you?”

  “You have plans?” She batted her lashes at him in a mock-seductive pose.

  Only his response wasn’t mock at all. His cock shifted, already preparing itself for action. Not right now, buddy. Just as well he didn’t go in for skintight jeans. “Oh yes, I do. I won’t be more than an hour.”

  “Good, because I need to collect a few groceries.”

  Even that concerned him. Telling himself she’d managed perfectly well before his arrival didn’t help. Because he knew to his cost that the attack could come out of the blue. He’d helped to break up so many of those fucking illegal labs they’d made him edgy. He’d seen things no Talent should ever have to witness. But somebody had to.

  He pushed away from the bar and strode out, only just remembering to smile back at her before he left. Hopefully the sun streaming in through the open doors helped obfuscate his grim expression.

  He walked up the street, almost automatically turning right and heading for the bay. He passed under the covered wrought-iron walkway, his booted feet rapping on the boards. He didn’t stop until he’d turned the corner to face the bay.

  The sea soothed him. He should have been a merman, not a vampire. He’d always loved the sea. He knew a few mermen, but he’d never asked them to take him down. They could breathe into his mouth and help him to stay down longer. A mermaid would be better. He could see a really sexy time being had by all. But the woman currently obsessing his mind wasn’t mer. She never gave him any indication that she even liked swimming, although like him, she loved looking at the sea. He crossed the road and headed for the rail that fronted the drop down to the beach.

  He’d grown up here, and coming back was always bittersweet for him. Even more now that the last of his relatives had died. He’d hardly known Gareth, but he’d miss him all the same because he’d been the last Tryfanwy in Llandudno. Clearing out his house these last few weeks had shown him the clutter most mortals collected around themselves.

  He’d employed cleaners to
clear the place and stripped it of all but essential furniture. That was why he’d been staying at the Excalibur. At least, that was the plan. But he’d ended up going home with Cerys this last week. Her place was closer than the hotel, and by the time they got there, he was usually too horny to think about going any farther.

  He’d have to rectify that. Give her a night of pure, pampered luxury before he left.

  Thinking of Cerys reminded him of something he had to do. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and hit a number on speed dial. “Can you put me through to Will Grady, please?”

  “Could I have your number, sir?”

  He rattled off his security number. That was only the first layer. He had another check and another number to get through before he could talk to Grady. He wished the man would just give him a direct line, but he guessed if he did, Grady would spend his day taking phone calls. There were full-time agents like him and part-time ones, people who made a living doing something else as well as acting for Department 57 when it needed them. Lots of them.

  It still riled him. But he was put through to Grady in four minutes. He stood facing the sea, spreading his senses to make sure nobody overheard him. “Hi. Listen, I’m edgy, and after all this time working, that accounts for something. I’ve made a—friend here in Llandudno.” He put in the pause deliberately, and he knew Grady would get it, that she was a bit more than a friend. “She’s alone, man. Completely alone.”

  “There are vampires in Llandudno,” Grady said. “Other Talents.”

  “Yeah, but she’s avoided them. Weird parents. That’s the other thing. She told me they were killed in London in one of the demos five years ago. You remember, when the government changed hands and they hoicked up the taxes. She said the Department took them in to one of the hospitals. Can you have that looked at for me?”

  “No problem. Give me their names and the date of their deaths.”

  He’d already anticipated that. He did so. He’d bet Grady was typing the names into his secure laptop as they spoke. He could hear the keys clicking just after he had the thought. “Something else. Nobody knows what she is. Not other Talents, nobody. Hear me?”

  “And you want it to stay that way.”

  He watched the little white crests on the waves. The tide was coming in. People sat on the beach, in deck chairs and on towels, watching it. The day might be bright, but Floridians would consider it cold. He preferred this. Hot places didn’t suit him. “Yeah. I do. It’s her best protection right now. I’m waiting for word about Wilkinson. It could come any day, but I don’t want to leave her unprotected.”

  “I’ll see if we have anyone in the area and let you know. I’m sure there’s someone who can keep a discreet eye on her. Just one person, if you like.”

  “Thanks.” But the idea didn’t sound so good to him. He wanted to be sure—absolutely sure—she was safe, and in his experience the only way he could do that was to do it himself. “I just feel edgy, itchy, you know?”

  Grady chuckled. “I know.” Rhodri suspected Grady knew too well, and he couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps one day when they’d caught that bastard Wilkinson, he could come back and spend more time. If she hadn’t moved on by then. He wouldn’t ask her to wait for him. He might not come back.

  But he knew in his heart that he would. Shit, this was getting too fucking deep, too fast. He couldn’t afford for this to happen. “Her situation isn’t right. She has no money, or not enough, and she’s twenty-six.”

  “How many lives?”

  “I mean she’s twenty-six for real, man. She only knows what her parents taught her. I want to bring her in. It won’t compromise her security here, but hopefully I can give her better skills. And some contacts.”

  Grady grunted. “I need to think about that. You’re right. Her anonymity is a huge advantage for her. We don’t want to compromise that. Let me do some research. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

  “Sure. There’s something else too.”

  “Shoot.”

  He grinned, a baring of teeth. If anyone bothered him, he would. “There’s a report in the local paper. Five tourists beaten up last Saturday night, late. One of them died. The thing is, Grady, we had something to do with that.”

  Grady sighed. “If you killed the man, it’s down to you. If they want to prosecute for violence, that’s yours too.”

  “I know that. I’m clean. They followed Cerys after work, hit on her, then tried to rape her. She fought them off. I joined in. We were both hungry, if you know what I mean.”

  Another sigh.

  “That’s how I know they were all alive when we left them. Feeding off a dead man means death to us. You know that. So I know they were alive when we left them, and neither of us took so much that we put their lives in danger. We didn’t beat them bad, either, not the way the paper says they were beaten. Just a short fight.” He ran his hand through his thick hair. “Nothing lethal. Knocked them out and left them to sleep it off. So somebody was there after we left. Killed the man Cerys fed from and hurt the others. I have no idea why. I might have contact with the local police because I was in the place where Cerys works earlier when they harassed her. I helped her, although she didn’t really need it.”

  “You know your problem, Tryfanwy?”

  “Tell me.” If anyone else had heard the particularly sugary tones Rhodri used, they’d have backed off. Not Will Grady.

  “You’re a knight errant. From a bygone age. People don’t want that anymore. Some consider it an insult. And from what you’ve told me, this girl is from today’s world. You come from a world where women, Talent or mortal, were considered weaker. Watch yourself, Rhodri. Just take care. And don’t forget you’re an agent. A valuable agent. Clear?”

  Grady’s equivalent of look after yourself, he guessed. He knew others like him, men who wouldn’t dream of telling him they cared but showed it all the time. He gave a tight grin. “Clear.”

  He clicked off after Grady disconnected, and shoved his phone back in his pocket. From Will Grady, that was enough. He’d make good on his promise. Grady had a lot of irons in the fire, but not once had he lost sight of any one of them. In fact, Rhodri was thinking of transferring. Not that he didn’t respect his boss in New York, Cristos, who had started the whole Department a couple of generations ago, but he felt restless, wanted a change. Perhaps switching back to the UK was a good plan.

  Staring out to sea, he watched a little rowboat heading across the bay. The red flags weren’t up, so it was a good afternoon for sailing. Not too hot, a brisk breeze. He should have hired a canoe, maybe found out if they’d had a speedboat he could borrow. Get lost for a few hours. Back to the merman thing again. Could Talents be created wrongly? He’d been a water lover in his childhood, always.

  The guy in the rowboat made good progress. If he closed his eyes, Rhodri could feel the splashes of water on his face, enjoy the sensation of his muscles flexing until he got to the burn. And then some. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he’d look into it. He’d come back determined not to get involved with the life here, to sort out Gareth’s estate and wait on events. But somehow the town had got to him again. He might as well go the whole hog and get into the life while he was here. He should have asked Grady if he was needed yet. No, knowing Grady, he’d order him back anyway. The Department always had something to do.

  Breathing in the aroma he’d never known anywhere else, he wondered if he’d made a mistake leaving this place. Sea air tinged with the tang of vinegar from the fish and chips they sold from the stalls on the front. At the time, his leaving had seemed inevitable, but he could have come back, could have returned after a generation and settled here. His family knew about him, and by then he’d have learned enough to stay hidden and live a quiet life.

  Nah, who was he kidding? He needed his life. This might seem like an idyllic place to be and to live, but he’d be bored silly in twelve months. Unless he had something to do, something to strive for. So while Talents had enem
ies, avowed and otherwise, he had something to do. A way to live.

  He stood at that rail and watched. Just watched. Let himself enter the rhythm of the place, sink down and in. A dangerous thing for Talents to do, because they could lose themselves, spend decades contemplating and wondering. Too easy to do. Not so easy to get out of. But he wasn’t exactly a Talent right now. The only Talented attribute he had currently was telepathy. He could communicate mentally with someone else. But that wasn’t something exclusive to Talents, and it could be learned. As far as they knew, every person—mortal or Talent possessed—had that gift, so it wasn’t exclusive. It didn’t define him. He was a mortal who had worked on and developed his telepathic ability. That was all.

  He’d take her on the Orme tomorrow, the funicular that ran from the cliffs to the beach. Essential for tourists. One of his ancestors had operated it once. He wondered if it was still the same. He had a hankering to see it before he left. Again. He’d spent his early life leaving and returning, and then he hadn’t come back at all. The only reason he’d been contacted about Gareth’s death was because he kept it legal. Working for the Department meant they gave him new identities every so often, new papers. He’d chosen to remain a Tryfanwy, so they’d obligingly invented fake cousins and sons to give him an identity when he “died.”

  Shit, being a Talent was complicated sometimes.

  He didn’t know how long he stood there, but the air darkened and flattened when clouds floated before the sun. He looked up, grinned. That was one reason he didn’t stay here. He didn’t like tropical climates, but rain didn’t please him much, either.

  His phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he was impressed with Grady’s efficiency.

  “Tryfanwy?”

  “Who else?”

  Grady grunted. “Just making sure. Listen, I don’t have any details for you, but I can tell you one thing.”