by RK Close
Adam doesn’t miss a thing as his eyes run the length of my body, both of us momentarily distracted from the rose. His gaze returns to my face as he releases my hand almost reluctantly. Closing my robe, I attempt to slide off the table—only Adam’s not moving. I clear my throat, and he steps back slowly. My body misses his closeness.
The interruption has brought me back to my senses, creating an awkward moment for me. Adam doesn’t do “awkward.”
He seems deep in thought, with his attention on the rose.
“Where did you get this, Samantha?” he asks again.
“Well, I thought you were trying to be romantic, but obviously I have another admirer, or someone was just feeling generous.”
“Where did you get the flower?” There is a hard edge to his tone now.
So much for our moment.
“It was on my car window when I left the bar last night. Why? It’s a rose, not a bottle of poison.”
“It’s not just a rose. It’s a black rose, and in vampire culture, it represents death; a final end.”
“Are you suggesting someone is threatening me again?”
This vampire crap is getting annoying. Nonetheless, I feel nervous thinking there could be another threat, and so soon. My stomach feels queasy.
“It is possible that word of your kill has spread. You could have a fan or an enemy. Humans typically are inadequate at killing my kind. Zachariah was not well liked among vampires, but he had allies. You’ll need to take extreme care and stay vigilant. You can stay with me,” he says in all seriousness.
“No. I just got my condo back to myself. I’m not going anywhere. I have a dagger, the pendant, and one vial of Gabe’s blood left, and I know how to use them,” I say, crossing my arms and lifting my chin. “Besides, Gabe is human, and he kills naughty vampires.”
Although I don’t remember how I killed Zac, a pile of ash says I did.
“Hardly human. Gabriel is Nephilim.” An angry shadow crosses his face with the mention of Gabe. Could that look be caused by the crush I had on Gabe for six months before meeting Adam, or that Gabe is a vampire hunter by birth? There is no love lost between these two.
Gabe’s currently in hiding from the community of angelic hunters because he broke some ancient Nephilim law when he shared his blood with me. He did it to save me, and now I don’t know when I’ll see him again or if he’s safe.
Abruptly, Adam heads for the front door. “I have some things to attend to. I’ll check on you this evening, and we can discuss your latest interview then. I’ll share with you whatever information Jacob can acquire.”
“Okay, I have some work to do as well, and I’m getting a late start. I’m going to let myself into Madison’s apartment to look around. I can’t wait for her roommate to return. Time is ticking. I’ll also try to meet with the brother today. I’ll see you later?” In my mind, it sounds like “call me?” and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to pick up on my train of thought.
“Be careful. That rose may not be serious, but don’t take it for granted. Wear the pendant and carry the dagger at all times.” And without waiting for an answer, he’s gone.
If I didn’t know better, I’d never guess we were making out on the kitchen table like a couple of hormonal teens only moments ago.
Damn that stupid rose.
6
Breaking and Entering
With the sun shining brightly overhead, it’s hard to remember that it’s December. Then again, this is Arizona. Sometimes I long to live somewhere with four seasons. Can’t a girl wear a cute parka occasionally, or at least a stylish winter coat?
Instead, I’m wearing my favorite skinny jeans and a short-sleeved flowy black top with black wedge heels. The outfit is business-casual for me. When I’m not meeting a client, or required to squeeze into strange positions to take incriminating photos, I can dress how I want. Much of the time I live in workout clothing because that’s best for sleuthing or climbing into peculiar positions to spy on people. One of the many perks of being my own boss.
Turning onto Madison’s street, I notice a traffic camera at the intersection. I make a mental note to call Russell to acquire the video tape for the day Madison went missing. I haven’t spoken to Russell since Thanksgiving, which is unusual. He tends to call weekly to check on me. If I don’t call him first. I know what sort of crazy I’ve been dealing with, but what’s his excuse?
Russell has access to all sorts of information that gives me the leading edge in my job. His being a retired cop and now working as a security consultant has its perks. He’s like a father to me. Ever since my parents’ deaths five years ago, Russell has been there for me. He swooped in and saved the day by helping me handle all the sordid details related to their deaths, and made sure I was eating and never alone for long. It was Russell’s shoulder I cried on at their funeral.
I may never know how he arranged for me to make my final exams three weeks late. I’ve always heard that it would take an act of God. Nobody takes their finals late. But I did.
The man has connections.
Madison Taylor’s apartment building is more modern and trendy than the neighborhood surrounding it. Sort of what I expected this close to the college campus.
Shiny reflective glass windows make up the entire front of the five-story building. Bicycles of varying style, color, and age are locked to new bike racks on either side of the entrance. A public bus stop is visible from the front door. Several people walk past me while I get my bearings and take mental notes of the area. The apartment building is a busy place.
There’s a keypad on the right of the door for visitors to call up to the residence to buzz them in. It wouldn’t be feasible to assume anyone would have taken Madison by force from this location. Security seems spot-on. But is it vampire-proof? That’s my new measure of safety.
I spot another security camera watching me as I use the key card to gain access to the main entrance. Another camera blinks at me from the upper corner of the room, opposite the elevators and stairwell.
The overall design is clean and sophisticated, with shiny rusted metal, polished concrete, and glass walls that allow for plenty of natural light. Rows of mailboxes cover the wall to my left and elevators and a door leading to the stairwell are on the right. Comfy sofas and chairs make up two different gathering areas in the center of the first floor.
I can see the rear exit matches the front, its glass walls leading to a pool and outdoor lounging area with grass and other landscaping. After checking the back door, I see that it requires a key card to enter, same as the front. Security seems tight.
As I stand in the lobby, lost in my thoughts, I notice a guy dressed in jeans and a hoodie running to gain access to the building as two women enter. The women are engrossed in their conversation. He grabs the door before it closes behind them, walking in like he belongs.
My moment of safe tranquility is shattered. I do believe my spidey-sense is tingling.
He appears to check his phone while he waits for them to use their key card to gain access to the elevator. Making a split decision, I step into the elevator with the clueless women.
We file into the confined space, Creepy Dude taking one corner as I claim the opposite one. Barbie and Skipper haven’t stopped yapping to take notice of either of us. I glance up and catch him looking at me. When I hold his stare, he looks away. When the elevator doors open on the third floor, both girls walk off, still noisy and oblivious. I hesitate to see if he’s going to follow them. When he doesn’t make a move, I press the button for the fifth level.
Just as the elevator doors begin to close, I realize that he never selected a floor. I reach my arm out to prevent the doors from closing, and they gently bounce off my outstretched arm, while the elevator buzzes a loud warning. I glance at the guy as I’m stepping out and he grins at me. He doesn’t follow me, but he continues to smile his creepy smile, like a scary clown. His eyes tell me he knows what I’m thinking and he’s enjo
ying the game.
When the doors finally close, I relax. A shiver runs up my neck before I take the stairs to the fifth floor.
With her roommate out of town for a few days, I’m taking advantage of the opportunity to snoop around while I won’t be disturbed.
Her parents supplied me with a key, so it’s not like I’m breaking and entering, but I’m also not asking permission. It’s a fine line, but wider than if I was a cop.
When I let myself into apartment 510, a high whistle escapes my lips. It looks like a tornado went through this place. Clothing, papers, and other items litter the floor. Cushions lay strewn throughout the living room, two lamps lay on their sides, and one of the curtains is hanging by a thread.
Carefully, I wade through the mess trying not to disturb the crime scene before me. Somebody went nuts in here. This scene doesn’t strike me as a random burglary. Could Madison be hiding from someone?
I slip on a pair of disposable rubber gloves that I keep in my bag. Lifting one of the sofa cushions, I notice multiple slash marks. Turning the cushion over, I look for other damage but find none. My finger slides almost three inches into the gash. I stand back, looking at the room more carefully.
There are multiple slashes in the apartment. Several on the wall, floor, and a painting that’s lying on the sofa. This damage seems angry. The more I look at the scene, the more sure I am. “Rage” is the word that comes to mind. It doesn’t seem random. It’s more personal.
I walk around the apartment looking for the weapon used, something that might lead me to Madison, a motive or anything at this point. The scene is still fresh, having happened sometime within the last two days, while the roommate’s been away. The Taylors would have told me if they knew.
Pulling out my camera, I snap pictures in each room. Only Juliet’s room is untouched. That’s interesting. When I find Madison’s bedroom, I spend an hour just going through her items looking for anything that will help me figure out what is going on. I can’t shake the feeling that someone was looking for something. This mess wasn’t mindless vandalism or petty theft. Every drawer lays emptied on the floor. All the cushions are scattered. It just has a different feel to it. What would Madison have that someone would be this desperate to find?
The sound of the front door opening stops me in my tracks. I slip my camera back into my bag, trying to quickly and silently make my way to the closet. Getting there is no easy feat, as I’m stepping over obstacles the entire way. I hear someone making their way down the hall just as I silently pull the louvered doors closed.
I’m barely breathing as I listen to the sounds of someone moving around the room. Through the louvers in the door, I can see someone stop and stand before the closet. From the size of the shoes, I’m certain it’s a man. My heart is in my throat as I slip my hand into my bag and slide out the dagger.
Not only is it blessed by angels and capable of mortally wounding a vampire, it will also do some serious damage to any human attacker as well. Holding the blade in front of me, ready to defend myself if I need to, I wait.
Please leave without opening this door, my mind screams.
What I hear next makes my blood run cold.
“I know you’re in there. I can smell you.”
7
Cian
“I know you’re in there. I can smell you.”
He can smell me. What the…? Who says shit like that?
My hand tightens around the handle of the dagger. Indecision has me frozen in place when the door begins to open. A scream is building in my chest as I drop to a fighting stance.
The door is slowly pulled back to reveal a twenty-something guy with a grave look in his eyes. When he spots the knife he takes a quick step back, moving into his defensive posture and growls at me. For a fleeting second, something flashes in the color of his eyes.
I think I just met another werewolf.
“Who are you and why are you here?” I demand.
“I should be asking you that. Who are you and what are you doing in Madison’s apartment?”
“Did you do this?” I ask, ignoring his questions.
“Did you?”
I frown at him in annoyance. This posturing isn’t getting us anywhere. I don’t know who he is, but I have the gut feeling he doesn’t mean me harm. He’s just reacting to finding me in the closet with a knife. I hope.
I stand, relax my posture a bit, but the dagger remains up and ready. His brown hair is cut short around his ears and a little longer on top.
“My name is Samantha Chase. Let’s start with introductions,” I offer.
“I’m Cian. Do you always hide in closets and carry a nasty-looking blade with you, Samantha Chase?” His body language relaxes as he stands to his full height, which I guess to be six foot.
“Why are you here, Cian?” I ask, ignoring his snarky questions.
“I’m searching for Madison. Why are you here?” He crosses his arms over his chest.
These barbed comments are starting to feel like a pissing contest. I notice that he used the word “searching” instead of looking.
“Do you mind backing up so I can get out of the closet?”
To his credit, he moves all the way back against the wall, which helps me relax somewhat. Now I can make a run for the front door if I need to.
“Thanks. When did you last see Madison?” I question.
“The day she went missing. We had lunch together. I haven’t seen her since. Why are you here and asking questions about her? How do you know her?”
“How did you know she went missing?” I probe, watching his body language. He doesn’t seem defensive, but he’s guarded.
“Well, let me see. I guessed when Madison stopped returning my calls. She hadn’t slept in her bed, and oh yeah, Juliet told me she was supposed to meet with someone but never returned,” Cian says, continuing his smart-ass attitude. “Now it’s your turn. You’ve told me your name, but not why you’re here.” I do believe Cian is starting to get annoyed.
I make a mental note that Madison was supposed to meet with someone. Lots of details missing from the initial report I received from the Taylors.
“I’m a PI. I’ve been hired by Madison’s family to locate her. Do you know who she went to meet or any ideas who trashed this place?” I put a hand on my hip, waiting for a reply. My dagger hangs loosely at my side, but I haven’t sheathed it yet.
“No, it wasn’t like this two days ago, and Juliet said she didn’t know who Madison was meeting,” he admits, looking around and running a hand through his hair.
“Juliet, the roommate. And how do you know Madison?” I ask.
He blinks at me then sits on the uneven bed. “Madison’s my girlfriend.”
Hmm. That wasn’t in the report either. I’m dying to ask Cian if he’s a werewolf, but since others have warned me that the supernatural community does not like to “be outed,” I shelf my curiosity for now. Besides, if I’m wrong, he’ll think I’m crazy.
So, Madison’s boyfriend is a werewolf, or so I suspect. Does she know? Do werewolves date humans or eat them?
Cocking my head to the side, I give him a closer look. There is something strangely familiar about him, like when you think you’ve met someone before but can’t quite place them.
“How long have you been dating Madison?” This question seems to flip a switch in him. Cian’s face lights up like the sun just came out. His eyes are a deep dark brown, and they are incredibly endearing when he smiles.
Grinning from ear-to-ear, he says, “We’ve been together for three months.”
Wow, he is smitten. Only love can put that sort of look on a guy’s face.
I can’t help it; I catch myself smiling back too. Cian’s reaction answers the whole dating question. If he is what I think he is.
“How did you meet her?”
“She’s the TA for one of my classes. But we’d seen each other around before then. We have mutual…friends.” He stops grinning like a fool and sobers up. “You
should stay away from this case.” His boyish charm has vanished. In its place is a dangerous edge that makes him look older than what I believe him to be.
“Why would I do that, Cian?”
He gives me a hard look. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with. Just consider dropping it, okay? You seem nice, but you’re in over your head with this one. Trust me.” He pushes off the wall and starts to walk around me. I reach out and grab his arm. Cian stops and looks me in the eye.
“You’re the second person to warn me off this case. What do you know that I don’t?” I ask, still holding his arm.
“The second person, huh? Who was the first?” He looks down at my hand on his forearm. I release his arm when I realize I’m manhandling him.
“Never mind. Finding Madison is what I do. Working cases like this is how I pay my bills. Don’t you want me to find your girlfriend?”
“I’ll find her. You’ll just get hurt.” And with that, he brushes past me and out of the room.
“Hey. How can I reach you? I have more questions,” I yell after him.
“Come see me at Moonshine. I’m there most nights.” I hear the front door close.
Moonshine Whisky is a country bar in Tempe. I’ve been once or twice. He either works there, or he’s a very young alcoholic.
It’s not somewhere I go often, but maybe that’s why he seems familiar.
This case has barely started, and it already feels complicated. I’m walking into spiderwebs around every corner.
Taking my cell phone out, I put in the number I have for the brother. He’s next on my list to interview. When he doesn’t answer, I leave a brief message, asking him to call me back.
My next call is to Mr. Chavez, the Taylors’ lawyer, to let him know what I’ve found. I’ll let the family decide if they want to alert the police. That will be hours of questions and reports. The Taylors seem terribly attention-shy regarding this situation. Is it me or is everyone hiding something from me? It’s starting to piss me off.