Vlad stood next to an open cabinet in the wall. A slab holding a black plastic bag jutted out in front of him. His head was bowed, dark hair hiding his expression as he unzipped the bag. Fire engulfed him from hands to shoulders as he stared at its contents. Then, very slowly, those flames extinguished as he reached inside.
Now I knew where I was. A morgue, and though I had a good idea of what was in the bag, I had to be sure. I floated over, keeping close to the ceiling, and peered down.
My first surprise was how little it contained. A skull, two femurs, and a spine comprised the pieces big enough for me to identify. After that, it was anyone’s guess as to what the other charred, smaller bits were. My next surprise was seeing Vlad stroke the bones. He traced the curve of the spine, the length of the femurs, and then the skull, all with a touch so gentle it barely disturbed them. I still couldn’t see his face, but the light piercing through his hair was so intense that I half expected it to burn the bones like twin emerald lasers.
My biggest shock was hearing him sigh, “Leila,” as he stroked the bones. He thought these were mine? But Vlad was in Romania and I’d supposedly been blown to bits in Georgia—
Wait. Vlad had spoken to the guard and the doctor in English. I looked around. The signs were in English, too. Had Vlad gone to Georgia upon hearing of my purported demise?
If so, I wished I knew what he was feeling at this moment! Satisfaction, if he really was behind the gas line bomb? Or grief, if someone else had planted it and he thought this bag’s contents was all that was left of me?
His head remained bowed, hiding his expression. Look up, Vlad! I silently roared. If he smiled as he stroked the remains, it would confirm my worst suspicions, but what if grief was etched on his face instead?
Suddenly, he did look up—and seemed to be staring right at me. It still didn’t answer my question. His gaze was so bright that his expression blurred by comparison.
“Leila.”
I jerked, but it wasn’t Vlad who said my name. It was another man’s voice, accompanied by a hard jostle. I snapped into alertness, the morgue transforming into the front seat of a car. Maximus let go of my shoulder, frowning before he returned his attention back to the road.
“Must’ve been some dream. You started trembling.”
I didn’t doubt it. My hands still shook and I kept looking around the car as if expecting Vlad to magically appear. I’d had vivid dreams before, but none had ever felt this real.
I glanced at my hands, relieved that I still had my gloves on. They not only kept my currents in, they also kept my ability to accidentally connect to someone out. Not that I’d ever linked to anyone in my sleep before. Linking took concentration, and sleep was the antithesis of concentration.
“You’re still trembling. Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “It’s nothing. I don’t even remember what the dream was about.”
His raised brow said, Bullshit, more eloquently than words, but he didn’t push and I pretended that I hadn’t lied.
“Now that you’re up, link to the bomber. We’re only an hour from Chicago. If he’s not home, I want to know where he went.”
Good idea. I pulled out the pouch I’d stuck in the drink holder and then took off my right glove. We’d returned the plastic evidence bag to the officer minus one piece of wire.
I rubbed that wire, bypassing the first images to focus on the replay of Adrian whistling as he made the bomb. His imprint was as strong as before, but when I attempted to follow it back to its source, I came up against a brick wall of . . . nothingness.
I tried again, concentrating until the traffic sounds faded into soft white noise. Though I focused with all of my might, I couldn’t find anything at the end of that essence trail.
“Is he still home?” Maximus pressed.
Frustration mingled with a sense of foreboding. “I don’t know. I can’t see him. Either I’m temporarily out of juice, or . . .”
I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Maximus’s lips thinned into a hard line. Then he stomped on the gas pedal.
The flashing lights, crime scene tape, and stench of smoke were becoming all too familiar. We’d had to park over a block away since the street Adrian lived on was cordoned off. Though I couldn’t see any house numbers at this distance, I’d bet Adrian’s was the one that the firemen were still hosing down.
“Son of a bitch,” Maximus spat.
“Whoever’s behind this must not like loose ends,” I replied, while inside, I cursed. I doubted this was a case of a bomb accidentally detonating while Adrian tinkered with it, though I was sure it had been staged to look that way.
We still had a chance to see what really happened, but we needed to hurry. Even if the killer was still in the area, he wouldn’t be for long.
“Maximus, go down there and get me a bone off the body.”
Confusion flashed across his face. Then he smiled. That was the last thing I saw before he sped away, reminding me of a large, charging lion. Less than a minute later, I heard a gunshot and the whoop of a police siren. Then he was back with a charred hunk of something in his hand.
“Let’s go,” he said at once.
I grimaced at the burnt meat smell. If I survived all this, I might become a vegetarian. The reek didn’t seem to bother Maximus. He tucked the chunk into his coat and walked me back to our car as more sirens went off. The cops probably hadn’t seen every detail of what just happened, but from the sounds, they knew enough to be alarmed.
I got into the car, forcing back a gag as the closed interior made the stench worse. Maximus quickly sped us away. After a few minutes, he took the blackened chunk out of his coat and plunked it onto my lap with a muttered “Here.”
I couldn’t help it—I shrieked. He slammed on the brakes, causing the thing to hit the windshield with a splat. I shrieked again when it smacked back onto my lap, smearing my pants with soot and thicker, grosser things.
He looked around, one hand on the wheel, another holding a large silver knife.
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” I repeated, days of pent-up grief and stress making my voice shrill. “You slapped a smoldering body part onto me without even a warning, that’s what’s wrong!”
His brows drew together. “But you asked me to get that.”
“I know I did!”
Frustrated, I swiped my hair off my face only to feel something slimy. A glance at my gloved hand was the final straw. I’d just smeared blackened bomber goo onto my cheek.
I flung the body part in Maximus’s direction and got out of the car. My slimy gloves came off next as I ran to the nearest sidewalk. Then off came my jacket, but before I threw it away, I wadded it up and scrubbed furiously at my cheek. My shirt also had revolting smears on it, so it went flying, too, leaving me in nothing but a bra, jeans, and sneakers. I dashed down the sidewalk without any real idea what I was doing or where I was going. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand to be covered in my attempted murderer’s stinking goo for another second.
“Leila!”
I ignored the shout, not that it mattered. Maximus caught me in the next heartbeat, spinning me around to face him.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, rational thought replaced by a wounded animal mentality. “You’ve got him all over you!”
His coat and shirt were on the ground before I could blink. At this hour, the stores around us were closed, but streetlights threw every inch of his upper body into stark relief. Like Vlad, Maximus had many faded marks from old scars, but unlike Vlad, his chest was smooth. No crisp dark hair, just pale, taut skin stretched over muscles that rippled when he folded me into his arms. He didn’t flinch as currents slid into him from touching my bare flesh. He drew me closer instead.
“It’s all right,” he said softly. “You’re safe now.”
I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that until he said it. All the pain, loneliness, and grief from the past two weeks reared up, seeking solace
anywhere it could be found. I don’t know if he bent his head or if I lifted mine. All I knew was he was kissing me, and for the first time since this whole terrible ordeal began, I didn’t feel alone and rejected.
When his tongue slid into my mouth, I welcomed it. He’d kissed me before, months ago, and back then, I’d felt mild enjoyment but no real emotion. This time, I was filled with such aching loneliness that I explored his mouth as thoroughly as he did mine. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the man I loved. All that mattered was he was here.
After several moments, Maximus pulled away.
“I wish I didn’t care about you so much.”
“What?” I asked breathlessly. Vampires might not need oxygen, but I couldn’t kiss like that without paying a price.
His eyes resembled the nearby traffic light with how green they were. “You’re overstressed, overtired, and emotionally vulnerable. I won’t take advantage of that, but if I cared less about you, Leila”—his voice deepened—“we’d be in the nearest alley with your legs wrapped around my waist right now.”
Heat should have swelled at that explicit image. Instead, an icy bucket of shame washed over me. What was I doing? Despite my actions, I didn’t want to start anything with Maximus. I wanted to find Marty’s killer—who hopefully wouldn’t turn out to be Vlad—murder that person, and then grieve for my best friend while putting my life back together. Getting involved with my ex’s right-hand man wasn’t anywhere on my list.
Maximus must have sensed the change because he let me go, his gaze turning from glowing emerald back to smoky gray.
“My point exactly,” he said, dryness etching each word.
I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I hadn’t thrown my coat and shirt away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to, ah—”
“Save it,” he interrupted crisply. Then his voice softened. “I understand. You needed to feel something good in the midst of everything crumbling around you, even if it was only for a moment. Humans don’t have a monopoly on that, Leila. Vampires need it sometimes, too.”
Then he picked up his discarded shirt and coat, giving me a single hard stare before he turned away.
“But right now, we need to get back to the car and then you need to find out who killed that bomb maker.”
Chapter 11
It didn’t take long to find the images I sought. Although nothing was more densely packed with memories than a person’s bones, death was a stand-out event for everyone. Pity the images only played like clips from a film reel instead of me being inside Adrian’s head when his murderer came calling.
“Who is it?” Adrian replied to the knock, as if he wasn’t looking at the other side of the door through a security feed.
“Don’t be boring, dearie” was the reply he received.
My brows went up. Adrian’s killer was a woman. She didn’t have an accent so much as a pretty lilt to her speech, but I doubted her nationality was American.
Adrian minimized the screen before he opened the door. The woman walked in, wearing dark glasses and a scarf around her head. To make matters worse, what I could see of her face seemed blurry. What a time for my psychic vision to need a tune-up.
“Make yourself at home,” Adrian drawled, shutting the door behind her. “You thirsty?”
“Of course,” she purred.
That tone would’ve screamed, Danger! to me, but Adrian didn’t seem to notice. “What’ll it be?” he asked.
“When we’re done, your blood,” she replied pleasantly.
He turned, startled, and then froze as she took her glasses off. Though her face was still blurred, the inhuman glow from her eyes came through clearly. I could almost see Adrian’s willpower being hijacked under that hypnotic gaze. If he hadn’t made a bomb that killed my best friend, I would’ve pitied him.
“You will erase all records of our dealings, from bank transactions to the camera feed at your door,” the woman stated.
No! I thought, but of course that didn’t change Adrian’s actions. He went to his computer, booted up a bunch of files, and then methodically deleted them. He even erased secondary backups and ghost files, too, much to my dismay.
“It’s done,” he said woodenly once he was finished.
The woman took off her scarf. I caught a flash of rich, dark hair before everything blurred again.
“Time for that drink now, dearie.”
Then she yanked Adrian’s head to the side and bit down on his neck. When his death ended the vision, my frustration grew.
Not once had I gotten a good look at her face.
“Five foot four, about a hundred and twenty pounds, dark hair, and a slight accent that could be Welsh, English, Scottish, or Irish.”
Maximus scowled. “That’s all you got? A female vampire that might be from the UK?”
I knew how useless that information was. “I’ll try linking to her again, see if it works better this time.”
Despite my disgust, for a second time I rubbed the burnt piece that Maximus had yanked off of Adrian’s body. Flashes of lights followed a rocking sensation, but when I concentrated harder, those images faded and I began to feel dizzy.
“Leila? Are you all right?”
“Fine. Just a little carsick,” I muttered, trying again. After a few moments, I caught a glimpse of a woman wearing the same outfit as Adrian’s killer, but that and the thick spill of walnut-colored hair was the only way I could be sure it was her. Her features were completely indistinguishable. The tiny blue room she was in rocked, which was odd. Then all my attention focused on what she was saying.
“ . . . no, it wasn’t too risky . . . I took care of it, dearie. He’s dead, ending any chance this will be traced back to us.”
From how she spoke, she must be on the phone. I stared at the blurred spot where her face would be, concentrating, but instead of getting better, it made the haziness worse.
“You’re overreacting,” she went on. “Even if there are suspicions, they won’t lead anywhere. Whatever she might have been worth to him alive, she’s less dangerous to us dead . . .”
I tried to focus on her more, but then my dizziness came back with a vengeance. My ears rang, too, and I felt something wet trickle out of them.
Maximus swore. Then the car swung so sharply that it fishtailed, adding crashing to my list of concerns. I couldn’t seem to voice a complaint, though, and now the only thing I saw were large black spots. That can’t be good, I thought, right before something hard smacked me in the forehead.
I had a few minutes of blissful nothingness until I became aware that I was choking on coppery-tasting liquid. I tried to spit it out, but a hand clamped over my mouth.
“Swallow, dammit!”
Left with no other choice, I did, grimacing as I recognized the taste. Vampire blood. Pureed pennies would’ve been less repugnant. I opened my eyes to find Maximus crouched over me. My seat belt was off and my seat was all the way reclined. At least he’d pulled over before utterly ignoring the road.
“Yuck,” I said once he finally dropped his hand.
He didn’t look offended so much as relieved. That’s when I noticed both his hands were smeared in red and so was the front of my shirt. This couldn’t all be from Maximus forcing me to drink his blood. That whole lack of a pulse meant vampires didn’t bleed much even when they were cut. Add that to the steering wheel being ripped off, and I’d missed something big.
“What happened?”
He tossed the steering wheel into the back before flopping back into the driver’s seat. “You started hemorrhaging from your eyes, ears, and nose. Then your heart stopped. I had to give you CPR and blood to bring you back.”
Hearing that I’d come so close to dying should’ve terrified me, but all I could muster up was a weary “This day sucks.”
Maximus’s incredulous expression made me want to laugh, an even more irrational response, but what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t cry because that wouldn’t fix anything and we didn’t have time for me to slo
wly rock myself while shaking, which was the only other thing that sounded appealing.
“I must be using too much power within too short a time,” I said. “Plus, I’m not fireproof anymore, but remnants of Vlad’s aura might still be messing with my system. Between the two, I should’ve guessed that my body couldn’t handle it.”
Maximus still stared at me as though he couldn’t believe my nonchalance over almost dying. I ignored that, directing my attention to more important issues.
“What happened to the steering wheel?”
“It was in my way when you needed help” was his reply.
“Well.” I forced a smile that must’ve been lopsided at best. “Thanks. Too bad we have to get another car now.”
His teeth flashed in a matching humorless grin. “That’s the least of our problems.”
Great. “What’s the worst of them?”
Maximus pulled out his cell phone and wagged it at me. It didn’t ring but the screen was lit up, showing an incoming call.
“This is the third time Vlad’s tried to reach me. I have to answer or he’ll get suspicious.”
“Don’t you—!”
Maximus held up a finger. “Don’t even breathe loud,” he muttered before answering his phone with a brief “Yes?”
I froze when I heard Vlad’s voice. That familiar, cultured cadence affected me so much that for a few moments, I didn’t breathe at all.
“Maximus,” my ex said coolly. “Am I interrupting anything?”
Smoky gray eyes bored into mine as Maximus replied, “No, why?” in a tone so casual that I blinked. Good liar, I noted for future reference.
“Because this is my third call” was Vlad’s implacable reply. Guess it was too late to keep him from being suspicious.
“I left my phone in the car while I found someone to eat,” Maximus said glibly. “Everything all right?”
Even if I wasn’t a couple feet away in a closed space, I still would’ve heard Vlad’s whiplike reply. “No, everything is not all right. When did you last see Leila?”
I couldn’t help it—I sucked in an audible breath. Maximus frowned at me before responding with “Last week, when I dropped her off at Marty’s trailer in Atlanta.”
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