Forbidden Passion

by Rita Herron

But she wouldn’t have slept with him if she’d known the truth.

  Her description of the creature she’d seen in front of her car still disturbed him~ If it had been Zion, he was closing in on him. Had found out where he lived.

  He scraped his hair back from his forehead. Dammit. He might need help, might have to contact the Valtrez brothers.

  No. not yet. He didn’t trust them.

  He was powerful in his Own right. Had never needed anyone before.

  But Zion was the leader of the underworld. He possessed powers beyond the imaginable, and had a multitude of soldiers to enforce his commands and wreak destruction.

  His cell phone vibrated, and he checked the number and saw it was the crime lab, so he connected the call.

  “Sheriff, this is CSI Evans in forensics. Sorry to report this, but that computer showed nothing.”

  Another dead end. “Thanks. I appreciate the follow-up.”

  A noise outside startled him, and he closed his phone, yanked on his jeans, strode to the den, and checked the door. But everything seemed secure.

  Outside, the howl of an otherworldly creature echoed off the mountain, the earth trembled, and rocks tumbled down the ridge like a small avalanche.

  Senses alert, he stepped outside, making sure to lock the door, although there was no way a locked door would keep demons at bay. The scent of smoke and demonic blood filled the air, swirling around him in a sensual rush.

  He glanced to the left to the top of the ridge and watched the dark clouds hovering over the mountain in an ominous gray as if waiting to unleash a mountain of rain. The earth rumbled, the echo of the underworld chanting that danger was on its way.

  Footsteps sounded near the creek, and he strode down from the porch and followed the path into the woods. His body honed for attack, heat seeped through his fingertips, his baser instincts bursting to life.

  The scent of the demon faded, drifting away in the raucous wind, although the hollow sound of the demon’s laughter boomed from below.

  And when he looked into the clear crystal water, his cold demonic reflection stared back.

  His eyes were glowing a bright hot orange, a dark aura surrounding him as if the devil had surfaced from deep within his core to remind him that he was not human. That he shouldn’t have touched Marlena.

  But the memory of her lithe body, beneath him, of the passionate, glazed look in her eyes when he’d touched her, taunted him. The beautiful sound of her soft moans and cries of ecstasy filled him with the need to take her again.

  The screams of her sister and mother from years ago followed, resurrecting the guilt he’d never overcome.

  An image of Zion tearing Marlena’s heart out ripped at his gut, and the animal in him howled his rage to the heavens.

  He would stop this killer and Zion, even if he had to die to do so.

  A sliver of morning light seeped through the dark clouds and flowed through the ceiling skylight in the bedroom. Memories of making love with Dante returned, warming Marlena and sending a fresh stab of need and desire through her.

  Hungry for him again, she rolled over and felt for Dante, but the bed was empty. For a moment, her heart ached as if she knew he’d deserted her just as everyone else in her life had.

  Then panic and fear clawed at her. What if something had happened to him?

  She threw off the covers, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it on, hastily fastening the buttons. Her pulse racing, she hurried into the den in search of him.

  Relief spilled through her when she spotted him sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him as he studied some kind of book.

  She touched his shoulder, frowning as he tensed. Obviously this was going to be an awkward morning after. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

  “Rarely,” he said matter-of-factly.

  She waited for him to look at her, but he remained focused on whatever he was reading. Irritated he was shutting her out after they’d been so intimate, she moved to the counter, rummaged through the cabinet, and found a mug, then poured herself a cup of coffee.

  Contemplating the best way to approach the topic of the night before, she blew on the steaming brew. His jaw was set firmly, his gaze focused on the book, his posture rigid and standoffish.

  “Dante, what’s going on? Why won’t you look at me?”

  His hand rolled into a fist on the table. “We have a killer to catch,” he said in a gruff voice. “I need to focus.”

  She tapped her fingernails on the table. “You don’t want to talk about last night?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “No.” For the first time since she’d entered the room, he looked up at her. His eyes were dark and unreadable, the passionate haze from the night before gone completely.

  Obviously their lovemaking had meant nothing to him.

  Fine. She was an adult. She could have casual sex. It wasn’t as if she was in love with him. But they couldn’t repeat the act or she might lose herself emotionally.

  Turning her thoughts back to the case, she warmed her hands on the coffee mug. “Did they find Gerald last night?”

  His face twisted. “I’m afraid not.”

  She gestured toward the book on the table. “What are you reading?”

  He pushed back his chair, his jaw tight. “Brenda Mulligan’s journal. You need to take a look at this.”

  She lowered herself into the chair facing him, then sipped her coffee.

  He flipped back a couple of pages, then began to read. “I think it was a mistake to trust him, to join the project, but I believed in him. But since the experiment, he’s behaved strangely.”

  Marlena scooted forward to look at the page. “What experiment?”

  “She doesn’t go into detail. But there might be something here.”

  He flipped to another entry. “I’ve been having headaches and experiencing memory lapses. Yesterday I woke up and was in the park. I have no idea what happened to me that night, but I had dirt on my clothes and blood on my hands. My medication must be causing blackouts. Still, I’m worried. We’re both different since the transfusions.”

  Marlena curled her fingers around the coffee mug. “Transfusions? Does she mention who administered these transfusions?”

  “Not that I’ve found yet?’ He flipped to another page. “She says here that he was going into rages, that she was afraid of him. She mentions her own aggressive tendencies mushrooming. That she was gaining strength and literally tore the door off the hinges in a fit of rage. She was also having violent thoughts.”

  Marlena’s grip on her cup tightened. Gerald had complained of hearing voices and having violent thoughts, and it seemed that Brenda had experienced similar thoughts.

  He flipped a few more pages. “Here, she says that she intends to confront him. Make him tell her if the others are acting on the violent impulses. And.

  “And what?” Marlena asked.

  “If they’re exhibiting signs of supernatural powers.”

  Coffee sloshed over the rim of Marlena’s mug, and she grabbed a napkin to mop it up.

  Dante stared at her, his jaw clenched. “This entry was made the day before she died.”

  Dante’s fingers stilled on the pages of the journal, “The project you were working on—it has to do with aggressive and violent tendencies?”

  She nodded. “Several of the vials were blood samples from prisoners and violent offenders. There were’ a few from people claiming to have gifts. A woman with telekinesis. A man who claims he has prophetic dreams.”

  He stewed over the possibilities. “What would happen if that blood was injected into another person?”

  Marlena shrugged. “I don’t know. That wasn’t the purpose of our research.”

  Dante considered her answer. With Daumer, he’d sensed both demonic blood and human blood. The same with that woman he’d met at the Dungeon, Prudence Puckett. What if some negative genetic marker in the blood had been transferred to the recipient?

  “About the missing blood�
��do you think one of your coworkers or employees might have taken it?”

  Marlena shook her head. “No. I talked with each one of them, and the FBI questioned and polygraphed everyone at the lab.”

  An odd look flickered in Marlena’s eyes. “Blood from the Valtrez men was in two of the missing vials. They both claimed they have supernatural powers.”

  His hands tightened into fists.

  “I asked you once if you did, Dante. Do you?”

  The temptation to spill the truth seized him, but the lie floated out easily. “No.” He suddenly stood. She was asking too many questions, getting too close. “Let’s go. That security consultant finally called and is going to meet us at your house.”

  He had to focus now. And being around Marlena made that impossible.

  He’d assign Hobbs to watch her.

  If Zion wanted to hurt her because of him, then it was better if she was nowhere near him.

  Marlena rushed to dress. A dozen questions pummeled her as Dante followed her to her house. She’d studied human behavior, and although Dante had looked her straight in the eye, she sensed he was lying.

  The notations in Brenda’s journal disturbed her as well. If her death was connected to the experiment she referred to, what kind of experiment was it and who had conducted it? Did it pertain to the blood stolen from BloodCore?

  And if so, how did that connect to Gerald Daumer?

  He hadn’t mentioned taking part in any kind of experiment when they’d talked.

  Flipping on the radio to distract herself, she listened to the weather report. “Meteorologists around Tennessee are warning that a blizzard is on its way. Reports of odd swings in the weather are coming in across the States. The Southeast has reported sudden flooding, tornadoes are ripping across Kansas, a hurricane has been spotted off the coast of Florida, and the western drought has caused major brush fires, which are spreading out of control.”

  Marlena flipped off the sound, hoping the flooding didn’t extend to Mysteria. The town had enough problems. She parked at her house, and Dante met the security consultant at the door while she showered and changed.

  The next hour passed in a tense silence as they waited for the security consultant to finish installing the alarm system. The technician showed Marlena how to activate and deactivate it.

  Dante’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number, then connected the call with a frown. “I’ll be right there.”

  He snapped his phone closed, and her stomach clenched at the grim expression on his face.

  “There was another murder?” Marlena asked.

  “Yes. A woman torched at Devil’s Canyon.”

  Marlena sighed, the gruesome image playing through her head. “Do you know the victim’s identity?”

  “Not yet.”

  Marlena ran to the front door and stepped outside to search the porch. Dante was right behind her. “He didn’t leave me a trophy this time.”

  Dante leaned one hand against the rail. “There were cops all over your place last night, and we’re here now. We could have spooked him away.”

  “I wish he’d just show himself’ Marlena whispered.

  “But that would ruin the fun for him,” Dante said. “He likes the game, likes toying with us, watching us chase after him.”

  “That’s three women so far.” Marlena’s heart ached. “And only a day apart. That means he’s escalating.”

  Dante wanted to comfort Marlena. But she was right.

  He had to find this demon before he hurt Marlena. No more babysitting her himself.

  And no more sex.

  “I have to go,” Dante said. “But stay here. I’m sending a deputy to escort you to work.”

  “I don’t need an escort,” Marlena argued.

  “Listen, Marlena, this is not up for debate. He may be waiting until you’re alone to strike.”

  Fear flickered in her eyes, and he hated himself for putting it there. But she had to realize the danger.

  “Set the alarm. I’ll phone for a deputy on my way.”

  She reluctantly agreed, and he rushed to his SUV. He phoned for a deputy as he drove out to Devil’s Canyon, and the officer said he would be at Marlena’s within minutes.

  The snowfall intensified, gathering on the boughs and branches, collecting on the mountain ridges and peaks. There were miles and miles of mountains for Daumer and demons to hide among.

  He pulled his jacket around him as he parked and climbed out, rocks skidding down the canyon as he descended the hill. Years ago, a prison had stood on this land, but a fire had erupted and the entire prison had gone up in smoke. All the prisoners, guards, and staff had died, trapped in the blaze. The scent of their disgruntled spirits wafted through the canyon, the sounds of their screams echoing in the silence.

  Deputy Hobbs was already on the scene, a crime unit searching for evidence and snapping photographs. The scent of smoke and charred flesh mingled with death and the sulfuric odor of the spirits.

  He studied the tree where the killer had left the woman, her torched body, the bite marks on her neck, the Satanic S carved into her chest and another burned into the ground. Considering the weather the night before, the rain could have extinguished the fire, meaning the killer must have stuck around and watched to make sure the woman was sufficiently torched.

  The sick son of a bitch. He was truly evil. If not a demon by birth, a demon at heart.

  But why torch the women when they were already dead?

  By now, the killer had to know the ME had discovered that the women had bled out first.

  Jebb Bates, the pesky reporter who’d splattered news of Jordie’s and Brenda’s deaths appeared, jogging down the hill.

  Deputy Hobbs cursed. “I’ll ward him off.”

  Dante’s cell phone buzzed, and he checked the number. Marlena. Shit, he hoped she was okay.

  He punched the connect button. “Marlena?”

  “Dante, I just got to the lab. The killer left the box for me here.”

  His chest tightened. “Open it and see if you recognize the trophy.”

  He heard shuffling, then Marlena gasped. “Oh, m’ God..

  “What is it?”

  “A ruby necklace.. .“ Tears laced her voice. “It belong

  to Ruthie Mae Stanton, one of the nurses at the psych hospital.”

  Dante frowned. “I’ll tell the ME and bring Stanton in for questioning.

  “I want to be there when you talk to him,” Marlena said.

  “Why?”

  “Because Ruthie Mae was my friend.”

  Her voice cracked, and he gave in. “The deputy will pick you up.”

  He didn’t wait for her to argue. He hung up and stared at the Satanic S. This damn killer had to be working for Zion.

  And he had to stop him.

  Emotions welled in Marlena’s chest. Ruthie Mae was dead. Killed in the same brutal way as Jordie and Brenda.

  Ruthie Mae, who was kind and loving and a dedicated nurse.

  If evil was here in Mysteria, if those monsters did exist as she’d thought as a child, all the more reason for her to continue her work.

  Dante might be able to stop this one.

  But her work could be used to stop more, to create a cure, to eradicate violent offenders and save more lives.

  She had to finish in honor of her sister and mother.

  But Gene Stanton was going to need her when he heard the news about his wife.

  She removed her lab coat and went to the front door of the lab to meet the deputy. They arrived at the sheriff’s office before Dante and Gene, and when they entered, Gene looked rumpled and irritated, then more confused when he saw her.

  “What’s going on, Marlena? The sheriff dragged me in here and he Won’t even tell me the reason.”

  “Let’s go sit down,” Dante said, then ushered him into a small room that Marlena realized was used for interrogations.

  Gene rolled his beefy hands into fists on the table. “What’s going on, Sher
iff?”

  “Where were you last night, Mr. Stanton?”

  “I pulled a swing shift ~tt the warehouse. Why?”

  Dante rapped his knuckles on the table. “Can anyone verify that?”

  Anger flashed in the man’s blue-gray eyes. “My boss and two other workers. Now what the hell is going on?”

  Dante glanced at Marlena, and she decided to take the lead. “Gene, I’m so sorry to tell you this, b—but Ruthie Mae was killed last night.”

  Gene vaulted up, rocking on his work boots, his face turning a pasty white. “What? No. . . No. .

  “I’m so sorry,” Marlena said softly.

  “Sit down,” Dante said. “I need to ask you some more questions.”

  Marlena glared at him. “Gene, please. .

  He collapsed with a heavy breath, then leaned his elbows on the wooden table, tunneling his fingers into his thick white hair. “God, no. . . what happened?”

  “She was murdered,” Dante said quietly.

  A hiss escaped the man’s mouth, then he lifted his face and shock widened his eyes. “What? You don’t mean like those other women?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes,” Dante said.

  “No!” He pounded the table, fat tears streaking his pocked face. “Not my Ruthie Mae. Not like that?’

  Marlena placed her arm across his shoulders to soothe him and he broke down and cried like a baby.

  Dante stood, left the room, and stayed gone for half an hour. Finally he returned with a bottle of water for Gene and propped one hip on the table.

  “Who did this?” Gene stammered. “Why haven’t you caught him yet, Sheriff? Why? What have you been doing?”

  Dante’s shoulders tensed, and Marlena patted Gene. “The sheriff has been exploring every lead, Gene. I promise you that.”

  “Then why is this maniac still out there?”

  “Because he’s smart and cunning,” Dante said, seething. “That’s why I need your help.”

  Gene sank back in the chair and scrubbed a fist over his face with a grief-stricken sigh. “All right. What do you want to know?”

  Dante crossed his arms. “How long have you two been married?”