by Margaret Carter, Crystal Green, Erica Orloff, Patricia Rosemor
Bloodlust Bundle
Embracing Darkness
The Huntress
Urban Legend
Hot Case
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Contents
Embracing Darkness
By Margaret Carter
The Huntress
By Crystal Green
Urban Legend
By Erica Orloff
Hot Case
By Patricia Rosemoor
Embracing Darkness
By Margaret Carter
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 1
No sign of life stirred inside the building below. Maxwell Tremayne soared on silken wings, circling the three-story split-level. He didn’t worry about chance observers, since the house sat off the road in the center of a wooded lot. The vacant driveway only confirmed the emptiness his inhuman senses detected. Had the owner left temporarily or permanently? Permanently, if she has any discretion, he reflected. Not that her recent behavior suggested any.
He scanned the trees around the house. The sun had barely set, and its afterglow made his head ache and his eyes sting. He knew he shouldn’t have shape-shifted until full dark, but his patience had worn out. From this vantage point he would notice at once if his quarry, or anyone else, showed up. Amid random heat traces that he identified as small animals, a motionless patch of deeper red caught his eye. A human intruder. Max spiraled lower, shrouding himself in a psychic veil that rendered him invisible to human eyes. Through the summer-green leaves, he glimpsed a woman crouching near the edge of the woods. She was watching the front of the house with a pair of binoculars.
Not a casual hiker, then, but someone who, like him, took a particular interest in this place. Still veiled, Max glided toward her. He landed a few yards away and let his body melt into its wingless, fully human shape.
The female’s scent and the crackling of her aura conveyed fear, frustration and tightly reined anger. Any ephemeral who knew the truth about that house would be wise to fear its owner, but the other emotions puzzled him, as did her intense watchfulness. She swatted a mosquito just below the cuff of her denim shorts without shifting her eyes from the binoculars.
His nostrils flared, savoring the salty tang of her flesh. The humidity made her T-shirt cling to her breasts. Her soft curves implied a wholesome disdain for obsessive dieting. The sweetness of her natural fragrance confirmed that sign of robust health. She had pale golden hair, a color never found in his own species. Cropped to just above her shoulders, it left her neck bare. If he had time for self-indulgence—
But I don’t. He shook his head, impatient with his own woolgathering. No matter how appetizing this ephemeral might be in other circumstances, here and now she presented a threat to his mission. He had to get rid of her.
Twilight promised some relief from the June heat but meant that nightfall would soon put an end to her surveillance. Linnet Carroll wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand. So far she hadn’t accomplished anything more today than the day before. The house looked deserted. Behind her she heard an occasional car on the two-lane road that wound through this expensive neighborhood. Beyond the house, rays of sunset on the Severn River gleamed through the trees.
What do I expect to find, anyway? I’m no detective. Still, just because the police were acting like the obtuse cops in a TV mystery didn’t mean she had to give up on her prime suspect. The memory of her niece Deanna’s funeral, only two days past, haunted her too vividly for such easy surrender. Linnet clutched her bronze ankh necklace, a gift from Deanna and her boyfriend, Anthony.
After a sip from the water bottle hooked to the belt of her shorts, she again raised the binoculars that dangled around her neck and stared at the empty driveway with fresh determination. The woman had to come home eventually, didn’t she?
Leaves rustled a few feet to Linnet’s right. She cast a quick glance sideways. Nothing, not even a bird. The faint sound teased her ears again. Not quite a rustle, but a mere stirring, as if from a light breeze, though the air felt still. She shook her head. Quit spooking yourself.
Seconds later, a branch swayed at the edge of her vision. She thought she glimpsed a flash of red through the leaves. She dropped the binoculars and snapped her head around. A man stood there.
Holding the branch out of his way, he took a long stride closer.
Linnet rocked back on her heels. She had to gulp in air before she could speak. “Where did you come from?”
He responded only with a thin smile. Tilting her head back, she stared up at him. He loomed over her. For an instant the fading daylight sparked a glint of crimson in his eyes. Immediately the illusion vanished, though his gaze became no less formidable under the dark eyebrows. A mane of black hair curled from his high forehead to just below his ears. He wore black jeans and no shirt. Yet his bare chest was marble pale rather than tan.
“What do you want?” Her voice came out as an embarrassing squeak. Some intrepid avenger! She grabbed the nearest low-hanging limb to pull herself upright. The man appeared a foot taller than her own five feet five. Though lean, he surely had the strength to overpower her, in case he turned out to be a homicidal maniac. Not that he looked like one.
Well, neither did Ted Bundy, so they said.
“I want to speak with you.” Gazing directly into her eyes, he took another step toward her.
Suddenly light-headed, she backed up, slipped and stumbled. He caught her by both arms. With her pulse racing, she resisted the impulse to struggle against his grip. As she’d expected, his strength far outclassed hers. His cool fingers held her steady with no apparent effort.
“Speak about what?” To Linnet’s satisfaction, her voice sounded normal this time. Never mind that her eyes wandered to the inverted triangle of fine dark hairs descending from midchest to his waistband.
“I want to know what you’re keeping watch for. And you needn’t claim it’s local songbirds, because I won’t believe you.” His level tone gave no indication of the emotions behind it.
Linnet swallowed a growing lump of nervousness. “What makes that any of your business?”
His thumbs traced slow circles on her bare forearms. “Because I can’t have you accidentally interfering with my…business.” His eyes captured hers. “It will be dark soon, anyway. You may as well give up and go home. For your own good.” His voice caressed her as smoothly as his touch.
“I can’t do that,” she whispered. Her skin prickled as if a chill breeze had swept over her. Now he clasped her arms loosely, but she couldn’t conjure up the will to break away. Her right hand, though, groped for the ankh at her throat. The pressure of the metal in her palm dissolved the mist gathering in her brain. “I need to be here. It’s important.”
The man’s bristling eyebrows arched in apparent surprise. “Not as important as my reasons, and you’re in the
way. Go home. Resume your vigil tomorrow, if you must.”
Though his touch remained light, she felt pressure on her mind, as if his eyes pierced and impaled her. She squeezed the pendant tighter, and the pressure receded. “No. I might miss her if she comes back.”
“Nola Grant?” He let go of her arms but didn’t move otherwise.
“You know her?” If this man was a friend of Nola’s, Linnet definitely didn’t want to stay within a mile of him.
“By reputation. Enough to know you’d be wise to keep out of her path.”
The image of Deanna’s pale, blank face as she’d seen it at the medical examiner’s office crowded into Linnet’s mind. “Too late for that.”
“Why?”
The softly breathed question insinuated past her defenses. The answer leaped out before she realized she’d begun to speak. “That woman murdered my niece.”
“Indeed?” He showed no surprise at that declaration. His eyes bored into hers until she could barely keep from squirming. Finally he said, “Would your niece be named Deanna?”
Linnet jerked as if he’d slapped her. “How do you…” She gaped at the man in the fading light. She’d been too flustered at first for a close examination of the satanic brows and aquiline nose, but now she realized he looked familiar. And after a few seconds’ concentration, she guessed why. “You must be Anthony’s—what? You’re too young to be his father.”
With a sardonic smile, the man said, “You think so? No, I’m not his father. Anthony was my younger brother. His latest letters were full of that irresistible girl he met at one of Nola’s…soirees.” The remark held a tinge of bitterness.
“Orgies, you mean? Don’t bother being delicate with me.”
He acknowledged the correction with a nod. “Very well. You think Nola killed your niece and my brother—”
“I know she did! The police won’t listen to me.” Linnet tore her eyes away from his for a glance at the house. It still looked deserted. Despite the gathering twilight, its windows stayed dark.
He turned to follow the direction of her gaze. “So you’re playing detective? It won’t do you any good. Nola isn’t here.”
Linnet’s shoulders sagged. “You were spying on the place, too.”
“I suspect she has relocated permanently.”
“Then I’ll break in. She might’ve left clues.”
“I have to admire your determination, but not your judgment.” With one hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face him again and tilted her head with his other hand. Again his touch sent cool ripples down her spine. “Give up. You’re only feeding your own grief. Go away.”
She pressed her open palm to her chest, feeling the outline of Deanna’s pendant. “No.”
“Stubborn female, do I have to—” He fell silent, turning his head as if listening.
A second later Linnet heard the sound, too, a car engine. Headlights angled into the driveway of Nola Grant’s house. A dark hatchback slowed to a stop, and the lights and motor cut off. A lanky man stepped out.
Linnet raised the binoculars to peer through them. The newcomer, about Deanna’s age, wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt with the sleeves chopped off. A silver earring dangled from one ear. A tiger-striped mohawk topped off the ensemble. Though Linnet didn’t think she’d met this particular young man, she recognized the type.
“It’s one of the purple-haired people,” she said.
The man beside her gave her a perplexed frown. “His hair is orange and black.”
“That’s just what I call them, the crowd Deanna started running with last year, because the first guy she brought home had purple hair. I don’t have anything against those Goth kids in general, but some of them dragged her into Nola’s group.”
“So this boy is one of the group.”
“Looks like it.” She continued watching through the binoculars as the tiger-haired man stalked up to the front door, knocked and rattled the knob. To Linnet’s surprise, when he got no answer he extracted a key ring from his jeans and unlocked the door. “Hey, he’s got a key.” She lowered the binoculars and started working her way down the hillside, fuming at the need to watch out for roots and underbrush.
Anthony’s brother kept pace with her. “Where are you going?”
“Where does it look like?” she whispered, though she doubted that the man inside the house could hear them. “To get a closer look. If Nola gave that guy a key, maybe he knows where she went.”
“And you plan to capture him and administer the third degree, I suppose.”
“You’ve got a better idea?” Creeping toward the side of the house, clutching branches for support, she wondered why she even bothered to talk to the man. If he did have any useful ideas, it wasn’t likely he would share them. He’d done little so far except amuse himself with sarcasm at her expense.
By the time the ground leveled off, Linnet’s breath came in rapid gasps, from nervousness as much as exertion. The intruder hadn’t reappeared yet. She paused uncertainly in the side yard, scanning the windows. Light seeped between one pair of curtains, probably in the living room. “Wonder what he’s doing there?” She kept her voice low.
Her unwanted companion responded in a barely audible whisper, “Perhaps the same thing we’re doing, searching for Nola.”
They’d watched for less than a minute before the front door opened and the tiger-haired man stormed out. He got into his car, slammed the door and gunned the engine.
The man beside Linnet turned and loped through the trees toward the point where the private drive curved out of sight. Struggling in his wake, she cursed under her breath at his graceful movement over terrain that forced her to lurch and stumble. Under the trees, she could barely keep him in sight. Fortunately his unclad torso provided a light patch to follow in the thickening darkness.
When she reached the gravel-surfaced lane, the tiger-haired boy’s car roared past. A second later she heard another car door open and close, then caught sight of a pale-toned compact parked at the edge of the curve. She sprinted to it and flung open the passenger door just as Anthony’s brother switched on the ignition.
He glowered at her. “What the devil do you think you’re doing? Get out!”
“No way!” She fastened the seat belt. “Better get moving or you’ll lose him.”
“Not when he’ll have to wait for an opening in the Route 50 traffic.” He stared at her in that intense manner she had noticed several times before, as if he expected to dislodge her by sheer force of will. “Get out of this car. I am not taking you with me.”
Though his eyes felt like fingers caressing her flushed cheeks, she fought off the impulse to obey him. “What’ll you do, push me out on my rear?” On second thought, Linnet didn’t put it past him to do just that. “If you try it, I’ll write down your license plate and sic the police on you.”
With a sound remarkably like a growl, he shoved the gearshift into first and accelerated toward the highway. “Damn it, I can’t waste time on this!”
Linnet stifled a shriek when she realized he hadn’t turned on the headlights. Within a couple of minutes he slowed down, and she saw the other car’s taillights just ahead. Sure enough, it was idling at the junction with Route 50. When it pulled into traffic, Linnet’s companion turned on his lights and followed, barely missing an oncoming van. This time she did scream, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching the armrest.
“Keep quiet,” the driver snarled.
“I’m trying to catch Deanna’s killer,” she said. “Not get killed myself.”
“So you don’t trust my driving skills?” The anger had faded from his voice, replaced by an unexpected tinge of humor.
“How could I?” She ventured a peek and was relieved to see that he’d merged smoothly into the flow of traffic. Their quarry hovered two or three car lengths ahead. She removed the binoculars thumping against her chest and placed them in the back seat. “I don’t know a thing about you. Not even your name.”
“Max T
remayne.”
“I’m Linnet Carroll. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tremayne.” Now, if that doesn’t take the cake for ridiculous statements, she thought. “Uh—I’m sorry about Anthony. He seemed to be good for Deanna.” Until staying with him got her killed, anyway.
“Indeed?” The chill in his voice puzzled her. “You may as well call me Max, if you’re going to force yourself on me.”
“Look here, Mr. Max Tremayne, I have just as much right to track down that woman as you do. My niece is dead, too, remember.”
“The difference is that I have the power to deal with Nola. You’ll do nothing but get in the way.”
Reduced to silence, Linnet folded her arms and glared out the windshield. By the time the other car switched over to Route 2, also congested with evening traffic, her outrage had simmered down enough to let her speak again. “If you think I’m so useless, what’s your great plan? What are you going to do with the guy when we catch him?”
“Make him tell me all he can about Nola’s present whereabouts—and then silence him.”
Chapter 2
His words hit her like a punch to the stomach. “You don’t mean kill him?”
Max gave her a long stare before turning his attention back to the traffic-clogged highway. “Not if I can avoid it.”
For the first time since jumping into the car, Linnet wondered whether she’d been smart to grab a ride with a man she knew nothing about. “Do you think this guy had anything to do with—” She couldn’t force the words past the lump in her throat.
“The murders of my brother and your niece? If you’re plotting revenge for the act, you shouldn’t be too squeamish to mention it.”
“Not revenge. Justice.” Her chest felt so tight she had to gulp air before continuing. “And don’t talk to me about squeamishness. I had to identify both of them—Deanna and Anthony. Where were you?”