by Judith Post
"So why here?" Danny asked.
"He followed a general."
Danny's voice rose with frustration. "But why would a general come here? Three Rivers should be about as vampire free as a city can get after Caleb's ruling."
Enoch flinched when he heard his once friend's name. "Caleb's promise," he corrected. A promise, regretfully, that Caleb couldn't retract. He and his fellow angel hadn't spoken since the last time they met. Enoch still glanced over his shoulder occasionally to make sure Caleb wasn't going to retaliate for Enoch killing Vlad.
Voronika answered. "Maybe because of Caleb's promise. Any vampire who drains a human here is marked for death. They can't feed, so if a vampire needed some place to run and hide, he'd think no other vampire would follow him here."
"But why would a general hide?" Danny shook his head, more confused than he was before. "They're the ones who kick ass."
Voronika answered that too. "He came here to save his skin." She'd know about that, Enoch realized. That's why she'd come to Three Rivers. "And if a general had to run, something big's going on."
"Big?" Danny's hands balled into fists. Big and vampires didn't make anyone happy.
"I need to warn Bart." Enoch's mind whirled with questions. Why didn't the general go straight to Bart and Claudia? Or even to Caleb's fortress? Why run to Three Rivers and try to disappear?
Danny gave a short laugh. "I can't believe it. When you first told me about good vampires, I thought you were nuts. And here I am, worried about them."
"Blood suckers can grow on you," Voronika said with a smile.
"Only a few."
Derek cleared his throat in the hallway, a warning. The elevator bell rang and voices sounded in the hall. Danny shrugged into his suit jacket. "The baggers. When they're done, I have to tell this guy's wife he's gone. I hate that part of my job."
"You'll do it with sympathy. You still care. That's what I like about you." Voronika laid a hand on his shoulder, then followed Enoch from the office. They passed the men with a stretcher on their way to the elevator. Heads turned to watch her go.
Derek followed them and asked in a small voice, "How bad is it this time?"
"Too soon to tell." But Enoch was worried. No one anything—except maybe him or Caleb—could take out six of Bart's generals. Which led him to believe that it wasn't just one vampire who'd gone berserk, but maybe a group of them. Or some kind of coalition. And they were attacking the good guys. Which meant…. He sighed. They'd struck in three cities. Things could get ugly fast.
On the drive home, neither Enoch nor Voronika talked much. When they reached their apartment, Enoch went straight to the balcony and stood facing the city. The rain had stopped. Street lights glittered up and down Main Street. The marble dome of the court house shimmered in the spotlights aimed on it. Night time. Vampires' hours. Enoch sent a message into the darkness for Bart. Then he waited. There was no answer, but the message was out there. A warning. And an invitation. If Bart came to Three Rivers, Enoch would do everything he could to help him.
Chapter 2
Voronika's alarm went off at noon the next day. She fumbled for the button to shut it off and blinked at her surroundings. Never once had she used it. She seldom woke during the day. Enoch wasn't going to like what she had planned. Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't be home. Maybe Danny came to pick him up to visit the body at the morgue. But no such luck. She stumbled into the kitchen, yawning, and there he was, frowning at her. She lifted her chin and sank onto a bar stool.
Enoch pushed a cup of coffee across the counter to her. "What's the occasion?"
He'd heard her alarm clock, she could tell, so he was suspicious. "I promised Maggie I'd look at wedding dresses with her." She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. "I wish humans kept our hours."
"This is the first I've heard about it."
She sipped her coffee, avoiding his gaze. "I must have forgotten to mention it."
"Or didn't want to." Enoch walked to the balcony doors and flipped back a heavy drape. Light flooded the living room, and Voronika jerked into the shadows. "How do you plan to be out and about in the day time?" he demanded.
"Easy." When his scowl deepened, she said, "You can pull the Land Rover under the apartment's canopy, right up to the front door. The canopy will protect me."
"And when you get to the dress salon?" His words were like bullets, drilling her. He was worried and couldn't hide it.
"I have that figured out, too. Maggie explained to the owner that I have a rare skin disease, so he's letting me pull onto the sidewalk and rush into the shop. I'm going to wear a heavy black shroud that covers me from head to toe and carry your umbrella."
Enoch still wasn't satisfied. "It's not a good idea."
"Then you come up with a better one." Her tone was clipped, a warning. If he was smart, he'd pay attention. She didn't like being told what to do. When she escaped from Vlad, she swore to herself that no one would control her, not ever again. But Enoch wasn't Vlad. This wasn't about power, so she tried to explain, "It stays light outside until almost ten. The shop closes at nine. It's the only way we can look at dresses together." When he opened his lips to argue, she said, "Not all of us are as lucky as you. You have twenty four hours a day to do as you please. The light's not my friend."
"It can kill you."
She didn’t want to argue. She glanced at the clock. "I have to get ready. Keep me company."
It was an olive branch, the best she could do. He followed her to the bedroom, his lips pressed together in a tight line. She slipped on a long, black skirt and a snug, black top with long sleeves. "See?"
He raised a dark eyebrow.
She pulled on black boots to cover her feet and legs, black gloves to protect her hands. "How do I look?"
"Like you're going to a funeral, maybe your own."
She ran a brush through her straight, white hair. Enoch loved her hair, she knew. He watched the silky strands flow past her shoulders. She pulled it into a French twist and put blue contacts in her eyes.
"It's too bad the world can't see your yellow, cat eyes."
"Not cat. Vamp." He was trying to be nice. He could tell she wasn't going to change her mind and was struggling to make the best of it. She smiled. "You have very unusual taste."
"I love your exotic coloring. I love everything about you." He came to stand behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bending to skim his lips up and down her neck. A shiver ran through her. He pressed his lips to the base of her throat. Heat flooded her limbs. She frowned. The man was too damn clever. He was switching tactics. If arguing with her didn't work, he'd try diversions.
"Quit with the kisses," she said. "You're trying to make me horny."
"Did it work?"
"It always works." She pushed him away. She'd never guess an angel could turn her on so much. She brushed mascara on her lashes and dabbed on lipstick, then studied her reflection in the glass. No mirrors for her. The silver backings disliked vampires, but glass worked fairly well. She rarely went to this much bother, but she was excited about going out, excited about Maggie and Danny's wedding.
Enoch watched her and his expression grew serious. "Would you like to do the wedding thing? Dress in white and walk down the aisle?"
Her heart lurched. Panic fluttered in her stomach. "Where did that come from? Aren't we happy living together?"
He was watching her closely. "I think we make a pretty good team."
For God's sakes, he must have given marriage some thought. She tried to laugh his suggestion away. "I already did it once, remember? Besides, we'd be together a long time if we made it till death do us part." She was careful to keep her tone flippant to hide her surprise. No, make that shock.
He turned away from her so that she couldn't see his face. "We've both been around a long time. We know what we want. I thought we had something special."
"We do." But how long would it last? How long could an immortal and an undead make things work? Something wo
uld happen. Something always did. No one was allowed to be happy for too long.
"Eric was centuries ago," he said, "when you were mortal. Would you ever think about giving it another try?"
She shook her head. He was scaring her. She always panicked when things went too well for too long. Man was put on Earth for trial by fire. You weren't meant to enjoy Life. "What we have is better. We can stay together until we're sick of each other."
His voice dropped so that she could barely hear him. "I need you. I want you to be mine."
"I'll try my best not to get staked then." It was a smart-ass answer. She regretted it the minute the words left her lips, but he was making her uncomfortable. She wasn't sure how to deal with it. She'd spent centuries on her own. She'd forgotten how to play nice with others. He was asking her for more than she could give. She pushed past him. "Gotta go. What are you doing this afternoon?"
Time to change the subject. It was an unsubtle hint, and he took it, for which she was grateful. "Writing. My magazine article's due next week." In each lifetime, Enoch chose a different name to write under. He told her that it was one thing he could do century after century. She envied him. She yearned for something to fill her time, to give her undead years some kind of meaning.
She raised a silver brow, trying to return things to a lighter tone. "You were lots better about your schedule before I came and distracted you."
"Thank God for distractions." He reached for her, but she swatted him away.
"You're stalling, avoiding the computer. Go. Get me the Land Rover, and park it in the shade of the canopy."
"Yes, ma'am." He gave a small salute.
He'd worry about her the entire day, she knew. She rarely took stupid chances, but she really wanted to be a part of Danny and Maggie's wedding. She wanted to be part of the real world, even if it was only for a few hours. She'd probably come home sick tonight. How sick, she wasn't sure. She'd make sure that she wasn't hit with direct sunlight, but she was still pushing it. She hoped she'd have so much fun, it was worth it.
When she hurried from the building, she wore a heavy, black cape draped over her head. Enoch opened the Land Rover's door for her so that she could dash behind the steering wheel. The minute she was settled, he slammed it shut, locking her behind tinted glass.
He closed his eyes as she pulled away. The chicken. She might not be the best driver, but he'd given her lessons. Okay, she wasn't a natural, she'd give him that, but when she looked in the rearview mirror, he was still watching her until she turned the corner and was out of sight. Damn him! First, he'd confused her with talk of marriage. Now this! If she had an accident and dented his car, it was his own fault for making her nervous!
She pushed him out of her mind as she drove across town to meet Maggie. Today, she was going to have a girls' day out.
Chapter 3
Enoch took a deep breath and went back to the apartment to get started on working. He wrote and rewrote the same paragraph a dozen times. He'd rattled Voronika and he didn't mean to. He'd pushed her too soon. What was he thinking? She'd run from Vlad for centuries and couldn't trust anyone, and then, with a click of his fingers, he wanted her to marry him. Why? Was he that insecure that she'd find someone better and take off? He was arguing with himself when he felt Bart calling to him. Good—something to distract himself. Enoch went to the balcony to meet his old friend.
Bart's image appeared before him—transparent, but crystal clear. A courtyard loomed behind him in the darkness. Bart must be in a different time zone. His tall, muscular frame bristled with energy, and he looked every bit the Roman general he started out as. "I can't talk long. I'm dealing with serious problems. Four of my men are dead, staked in their sleep."
"Generals?"
"You know?"
"That's why I called you." Enoch explained about finding the dead man in the bank building. He told Bart about the flash of vampire faces when he touched the man's bare skin.
Bart balled his hands into fists. "We're being hunted. Somehow, humans are finding our hiding places. That never happens."
"You're sure mortals are your killers?"
"They're staked during daylight hours. No vampire would be out then."
Enoch nodded. "Mortals are being staked at night when they're on high floors. What do you make of that?"
"A vamp on a diet?" At Enoch's look, Bart ran a hand through his wavy, black hair. "Sorry. A little dark humor. Wrong time for it, but I'm in a black mood. Why stake a human? It doesn't make sense. If he's bad enough to kill, he's good enough to eat."
"They were both plenty bad, but neither was drained. The only thing I can think of is that someone is trying to make a statement."
"They have my attention. I lost Victor last night."
Enoch gripped the balcony railing, feeling a tight constriction in his throat. "I liked Victor. He was a good man."
"Vampire." Bart shook his head. "You're one of the few who doesn't distinguish between the two."
"Only when I admire them."
Bart's voice thickened with emotion. "I turned him when I was new and had no control, the friend who fought beside me during campaigns. He was my first general, even before I met Claudia."
Enoch was silent a moment, thinking. "He wasn't on my list, in the flash of faces I saw. That means. . ."
"Whoever killed your businessman by mistake isn't the same person who killed my second in command. There must be more than one list."
"With more names on them."
It was Bart's turn to go silent. He finally asked, "If I bring you Victor's dust, can you touch it and tell me who'll die after him?"
"I've never done that. I don't know." Did Enoch need flesh for his gift to work? Did dust carry any memories?
"Would you try?"
"For you, yes." There wasn't much he wouldn't do to help Bart.
Bart waved at the old buildings behind him. "I'm in Europe right now. I'll catch a plane and see you as soon as I can."
"You're not going to fly?"
"There's an ocean between us. I have strong wings, but that's pushing it."
"Claudia was on the killer's list. She won't be safe in Three Rivers if he's still here."
"My generals aren't safe where they hide. If the killer wants her, she'll be by my side. He'll have to claw through me to get her." Bart's image dissolved.
Enoch returned to his desk to stare at his computer. He gazed at the words there, unseeing. He was lost in thought when someone buzzed the apartment. When he hit the button, Danny said, "I'm on my way to the morgue. Want to come?"
"Voronika's out with Maggie right now."
"I know. She's my fiancée, remember?"
"I need to be here when Voronika gets back. She's not going to feel good."
"You know how women are. They'll be gone for hours. All we have to do is watch Doc lift a sheet. You'll be home in plenty of time."
How could he pass up an invitation like that? Enoch saved his work, the little he'd done, and took the elevator to the lobby.
Danny tossed him a look. Obviously, he hadn't been fast enough. On the drive to the morgue, Danny told him about his supervisor's daughter. "She's running Tony ragged. Dropped out of college to work as a bartender."
"She's old enough to serve drinks?" Danny turned onto State Street, and Enoch glanced at the high school just over the river on their left. It was a particularly attractive building with its brick exterior and sprawling wings.
"She never took a full load of classes, ever."
Enoch shrugged. "College isn't for everyone. Our world needs all kinds."
"Tell that to a dad." Danny parked in a reserved space by the hospital doors. "Doc's waiting for us."
They made their way to the basement, and when Doc saw Enoch, he stopped what he was doing to stare. "Every time Danny brings you along, I end up with more corpses than I want. Does this mean I'll see more victims with stakes through their chests?"
"Not from this killer. When I touched him, I didn't see any m
ore bodies." Not any remains that would end up on Doc's tables anyway.
Doc knew his gift and gave a grateful nod. "So what's the deal?" He walked to the steel table and flipped back the sheet. "Why not a knife or a gun? Why a piece of pointed wood?"
"We're thinking it's a copycat murder," Danny said, "like the crime lords we read about who got whacked in L.A. and Chicago."
"Of course." Doc followed his curt remark with a raised eyebrow. "I stay awake nights worrying about crime lords in Three Rivers."
"I didn't say this guy was a big wig. I said we have a copycat killer."
Doc's sarcasm told Enoch what he thought of Danny's explanation. Enoch tried again. "We think it's a one shot deal. When I touched the body, I sensed that the killer was surprised. We think he got the wrong victim."
"So our killer's inept, as well as a copycat. And he might go after the right person the next time."
"I didn't see another body." Which was true. If the killer followed his list and went after vampires, there'd only be dust if he succeeded.
Doc shook his head and sighed. "The last time I saw you, I had bodies without one drop of blood in them. Now, I have a victim who was staked. And you two give me tap dances. Glad you came."
Enoch felt bad, evading Doc's questions, but Doc would be better off not knowing the truth.
"So what have you got for us this time?" Danny asked, bringing them back to the case at hand.
Doc shrugged. "You're not going to tell me, are you? But if I get too many more corpses with fang marks or pointed sticks, I want some answers."
Enoch nodded. If vampires killed more people in Three Rivers, Doc deserved to know what he was up against.
"We have an understanding then." Doc looked at his notes. "Death occurred between seven and eight at night."
"Still daylight," Danny said.
Doc gave him an odd look. "Why? Do stake hunters only come out at night?"
"Just thinking out loud."
"Right." Doc pulled the sheet back farther and showed them the hole in the man's chest. "The stake wasn't pounded in. Everything's too clean and smooth. It entered hard and fast."