The Truth about Vampires

by Theresa Meyers

  So if an investigative report on the Bloodless Murders was what Hollander wanted, he was going to get it in spades, whatever it took.

  Hollander dismissed them and Kristin got in line to file out the door.

  “Hold up a moment, Reed.” Her boss was going to give her the I’m-giving-you-a-golden-opportunity pep talk after he’d torn her down in front of the all-male staff.

  “Yes?”

  “What I said about the pink slip? That’s not bull. They’re asking me to cut the staff by a quarter by the end of the month. I need you to prove to me you can pull your weight.”

  Her body temperature spiked a few degrees higher. Kristin tried to keep her voice firm and even, so her anger wouldn’t show. “So you’re thinking it would be me and skater boy who get cut first?”

  “No. You. We don’t pay skater boy. He’s an intern.”

  Oh, for cripe’s sake.

  “And what about Peters or Calloway? I’ve got seniority over both of them.”

  “You know my hands are tied with Peters. And Calloway got us that piece that won the award last year. You’re good, Reed, but you don’t take any risks. You turn in solid stories that are all small potatoes. This is your chance to prove you’re out to play with the big dogs.”

  Kristin dragged in a long slow pull of air to stave off the pounding starting in her temples and wished for an instant she smoked. So much happened out on the rooftop where the smokers met that she often felt completely out of the loop. Calloway getting that assignment on the immigrant adoption scam was likely a result of being out there, while she was inside.

  “Got it. Anything else, Chief?”

  Hollander eyed her for a moment, then shook his head. “Go hit me a home run with this Bloodless thing. Remember, a good reporter uses every advantage they can. Don’t just rely on that melon of yours.”

  “You mean the melon on top of my shoulders, as opposed to the two on my chest?” She clenched her hands as tightly as she could. He winked at her. “That’s a girl. Go get ‘em.” Kristin spun around on her heel and strode out of the office resisting the urge to swear. How in the world chauvinism could be so alive and well in this day and age completely stunned her. But there it was. And everyone knew it. That’s why she was the only woman on the news staff. Other women only lasted a year or two before they were so annoyed, they left. It wasn’t as if Hollander was sexually harassing anyone. He just thought men were smarter. Period. Just like her dad.

  She swung into her cubicle and grabbed her BlackBerry out of her pocket. Who did she still have decent contacts with downtown?

  Bradley leaned over the four-foot partition that separated their cubicles. “So, Hollander give you any last-minute tips?”

  “Buzz off, Peters. I’m working here.”

  He gave her an orthodontically perfect grin that looked too white in his fake-and-bake tan. “You know, if it’s too much pressure for you, you don’t have to work here. You’re pretty enough. I’m sure you’d make great tips down at the Toys bar down on Second.”

  Kristin tipped her head to the side. “I’d hate to have to compete with your mother.”

  Brad’s brow bent with irritation.

  From the cubicle behind her, skater-boy intern laughed. “Burn, dude. She got ya with a ‘your mama.’”

  “Shut up, Thomas,” both she and Bradley said in unison.

  “Look, Brad, if I wanted your help, I’d ask for it. I’ve been doing this since before you graduated college, so how about you let me do my job and get out of my face?”

  He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. Just don’t come crying when Hollander hands you a pink slip and you end up working at Toys anyway. I’ll even be a good sport and stop by with a nice tip for you now and again.”

  Late that night Kristin found herself in the dicey section of Pioneer Square in Seattle’s downtown just a block away from Toys, dressed in a tight, short red leather skirt, low-cut black silk blouse and screaming-red peep-toe FM heels. But she wasn’t there for a job interview.

  She’d cruised by the cop shop only to get told what she already knew. The police had no leads and no suspects. Weird murders. Victims drained of blood and vital organs removed. It was like some twisted version of the Operation game. She’d put her money on some surgeon or a medical researcher with a sideline … or a strange fetish. Someone with a taste for blood, literally.

  Overhead, the red neon sign reading Sangria strobed on and off, with a heartbeat-like rhythm. Vampires. What the hell was she thinking when she pitched the idea to Hollander? She sighed.

  It was the best lead she had. Hell, it was the only lead she had. She took a deep breath and pushed through the door.

  Unlike earlier, the place was packed. The deep bass of the music rumbled in her chest and competed with the hum of countless conversations. Kristin threaded her way through the crush, heading for the familiar face at the bar.

  “Back already?” the bartender asked, her diamond stud winking red in the lights overhead.

  “Guess I got a taste for Vampires.” She paused for a moment trying to recall the young woman’s name. People seemed more comfortable if you called them by name. “Hey, Anastasia, is Dmitri around?”

  “Not that I’ve seen. He’s usually pretty busy until 3:00 a.m. Anything I can help you with?”

  For a moment Kristin was sorely tempted to ask the bartender what she knew about the vampires Dmitri had alluded to. But her gut told her the woman wasn’t likely to be much help. “Just the drink for now.”

  The leather-clad bartender mixed and poured, then slid the hurricane glass in Kristin’s direction. She picked it up. At least with the drink in her hand, no one could slip something into it. Sure, it was suspicious of her, but given what she was investigating, being extra careful couldn’t hurt. She peered over the rim of the glass, watching the people that filled Sangria.

  They all seemed young. Some sported contacts that gave them colored pupils of red, violet, bluish-white, even yellow cat’s eyes. There were people dressed in everything from high-end fashion to denim to Goth black. Even the flash of a cloak or two straight out of the Halloween Dracula costume.

  Taking her glass with her, Kristin slowly and deliberately made her way toward the tasting room Dmitri had showed her earlier that day, mingling with people here and there. Asking questions. Was this their first time to the club? How did they find out about it? Did they believe in vampires? She managed to get enough quotes and material to flesh out an article about blood lust in Seattle and how seemingly normal people considered themselves donors for the real vampires of the city.

  What a racket. Chances were they were donating their blood and somebody was selling it, getting rich in the process.

  Glancing around, she inched back the curtain to discover a broad back. Jet-black hair and odd topaz eyes greeted her as the bouncer turned around to glare at her.

  “Sorry, private party. Tasting rooms four and five are open for guests this evening.”

  Over his shoulder, Kristin thought she caught a glimpse of the mayor laughing, holding a glass of distinctly red liquid that clung in dark rivulets to the sides as he finished taking a sip. It might not be the inside scoop on the murders Hollander wanted, but coverage of the mayor would at least give her story some credibility.

  Kristin widened her eyes slightly, tilted her head to the side and smiled at the oversize bouncer in front of her in her best imitation of a brainless bimbo.

  “Dmitri invited me.” She pulled his card out of her itty-bitty black clutch and flashed it in the bouncer’s face. “Said I should show this card and it would be fine.”

  He took the card and for the instant that he looked at it, Kristin skimmed the list attached to the clipboard in his beefy hand. The thick brows drew together in a definite point. “What’s your name?”

  “Tessa Hartman.”

  His gaze darted down the list as he put a check next to the name. “Have a nice evening, Miss Hartman.”

  She flashe
d him another vapid smile and sauntered into the salon as if she belonged. No guts, no glory. Of course, given the nature of the murders, that thought made her stomach clench tighter.

  In addition to the mayor, the room boasted the city’s premier heart surgeon, a well-known hospital administrator and one of the local guys from the Centers for Disease Control.

  Her mind started creating puzzle pieces to the story and swirling them around to see what fit where. What if there was someone in this room who really was out to take blood and organs, and not just for some ramped-up vamp fantasy? What if they were selling it off for transplants and transfusions through some front organization? Certainly there was the potential.

  “It’s absolutely amazing,” the surgeon said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “True, but there’s no supporting evidence this effect will last. You need to think about that, Stan,” answered the guy from the CDC.

  “All I know is that without it you’d be—” The hospital administrator clamped his mouth in a firm tight line the instant he spotted Kristin.

  “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  The bouncer stepped up to her side. “This is Miss Tessa Hartman. Mayor Stan McCallum, Dr. Eric Chung, Mr. Adam Paulson and Mr. Mathew Balor.” Mayor McCallum’s face broke into a wide inviting smile. Dr. Chung inclined his head in a bowlike nod and Paulson and Balor just stared, Paulson with boredom and Balor with avid interest.

  Fixing her best party-girl look in place, Kristin nodded, waved her fingers in a shy little hello and batted her eyelashes for an added confirmation that she was no threat. She noticed right off that bouncer boy hadn’t bothered to introduce any of the ladies in the room, a couple of whom gave her a nasty glare. Guess they were window dressing too.

  Mayor McCallum patted the sofa by him.

  “Have a seat, Tessa. We’ll have someone get you a drink.”

  Kristin was instantly grateful she’d brought her own and knew precisely what was in it. She lifted it in her hand and gave a little shrug. “Oh, I brought one from the bar, thanks.” She sat down and made a show of sipping at her straw. Not two seconds later Mayor McCallum’s hand was brushing up against her shoulder in slow circles. Kristin fought off the urge to pull away and instead focused herself on listening to as much of the conversation as she could.

  “Until you’ve taken a few more tests, I wouldn’t place too much faith in it,” Balor, the CDC guy, said. “It might have worked for you, but we don’t know what the side effects might be. There have been issues with others.”

  “Besides, there are a lot bigger problems at the moment,” hospital administrator Paulson added. “We’ve got to prevent any cross-contamination from happening so only the people who want it, and are willing to pay for it, can get it.”

  Kristin didn’t even realize she’d leaned forward until she caught a glimpse of Balor’s tongue nearly hanging out and his gaze firmly glued to her cleavage. She sat back and noticed an odd scent coming from the mayor’s glass. It was metallic and sickly sweet. Whatever it was, she’d bet it wasn’t alcoholic, and it wasn’t thick or pasty enough to look like tomato juice either.

  “What’s the latest news on the murder investigations?” Dr. Chung asked.

  “Nothing yet,” the mayor said flatly.

  “Are you talking about the Bloodless Murders?” Kristin asked, making sure her voice was high pitched with just enough singsong quality to make her question seem utterly innocent. She gave a small shiver. “They’re just so scary. What if it’s some psycho like the Green River Killer?” Given her current state of dress and the serial killer’s profile for picking out prostitutes, nobody even batted an eyelash at her comment.

  One of the other women entered the group, bringing Dr. Chung a martini and draping herself over his shoulder.

  “If it is, then he’s going to slip up eventually,” Balor said.

  “Don’t the murders concern you, Mr. Mayor?”

  He placed a hand on her knee and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “You can call me Stan. Of course they do, sweetheart, but this is a big city. Every big city has problems with crime. You can’t stop all of it. Our police force does its best and they’ve got top people investigating it.”

  Kristin resisted the urge to snort. Detectives McNally and Babcock were leading the investigation and neither of them had been much help beyond identifying the victims. She’d done her own research to find anything that might be connecting them. All the victims had visited Sangria in the past year. Two were regulars, the others just the occasional visitor. But it was a solid connection.

  Dmitri’s comment about vampires played back in her head. “Do you think vampires are real?” She looked intently first at Dr. Chung and then at Mayor McCallum.

  The mayor’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. Kristin could see his pulse beating faster against the collar of his white shirt. He chuckled. “There are plenty of strange things out there, why not vampires?”

  “But could they be causing the Bloodless Murders?”

  Balor coughed so hard he sounded as if he was choking, and Dr. Chung began to beat on his back. As soon as he could breathe normally again, Balor started laughing. “You’ve got one seriously active imagination to go with that hot body.”

  “Too bad Miss Hartman already has a date.” The familiar Italian lilt and dark tone curled over her skin, making Kristin flinch. She knew she’d been taking a chance that Dmitri might find her here, uninvited. But even if he threw her out now, she’d still have enough for a good story to hand in to Hollander.

  She swiveled her head around and gazed directly into Dmitri’s eyes. The deep brown had gone so dark it was espresso black. “Hi, Dmitri.”

  He smiled. Her stomach did a backflip in response.

  “I was wondering where you were hiding.” He extended a hand in invitation. Beside her, the mayor stiffened just enough that she could feel the friction in the air and nearly smell the testosterone.

  Kristin slid her hand into Dmitri’s. It closed firmly around hers, sending a zing of electricity up her arm. She would have been a fool to challenge him and stay longer, but her unusual response to him surprised her. Without missing a beat, she turned around, smiled at the quartet and lifted her glass. “It was nice to have met you.”

  They nodded their goodbyes, but Dmitri was already full steam ahead pulling her past bouncer boy, who he gave an I’ll-deal-with-you-later glance, and through the curtain.

  She barely had time to register that the curtain led not back out into the noisy, busy club, as it should have, but instead to a dark, empty hallway.

  Dmitri moved quickly, pinning her against the wall with his hard body, his muscular arms locked in on either side of her. She gasped, dropping her drink, the glass shattering on the painted concrete floor.

  “I told you if you wanted to talk about vampires, to come and see me.” This wasn’t a reminder, or a threat. This was an order. Kristin bristled.

  “Perhaps I wanted to find out things you wouldn’t tell me.”

  “My invitation did not imply that you could lie to my staff or accost my very best customers.”

  “Did they look like they were bothered?”

  “Would you have noticed? Because you certainly bother me.”

  His face was so close, she was certain if she stuck her tongue out she’d be able to graze it on the dark shadow of stubble along his jaw or bite him. She wasn’t sure which would be better. The scent of dark chocolate and brandy swamped her senses. Her heart was pumping hard enough that it vibrated in her ears and between her thighs at the same time. Kristin placed the flat of her hands against his chest and shoved hard.

  Nothing. Nada. She might as well have pushed against the side of a mountain.

  For the first time in her life, she realized that this was the kind of guy her father had warned her about. A man no woman could match. There was no going head to head with a guy like this. Power radiated off him like a shimmering wave of heat she could almost see but definitely f
eel. He was too much. Too much of everything.

  Underneath her fingers his chest flexed, the muscles bunching. Her mind automatically filled in the gaps of what he probably looked like under that proper starched white shirt. “Either way, I got what I wanted.”

  His eyes burned with a hungry intensity that stole her ability to breathe. “Maybe you think that only because you weren’t aware of your other options.” Skilled fingers threaded through the hair at her nape, sending shivers skittering down her spine.

  She’d had guys look at her. She’d had plenty of kisses, but this was different. Far different. The world didn’t exist outside the two of them, and his focus on her was pure, undiluted and intoxicating. His eyes said that in that moment nothing else but her mattered. She couldn’t hear anything above the roaring rush of her pulse.

  “Maybe you should enlighten me.” The words came out far more needy and raw than she’d intended. Her lips suddenly felt too dry and she sucked in her bottom lip.

  He stiffened against her, one hand cupping her shoulder, then caressing down the length of her arm to come to rest at the flair of her hip. She could sense he was holding back and it made her wonder why. Was he just caught up in the moment? Was his anger mixing with attraction? Was he second-guessing?

  His other hand glided along her neck, his fingertips resting on her pulse point. The pad of his thumb seemed rough as it skimmed her damp bottom lip, causing a throbbing ache to build at her core and radiate outward so that each finger and toe felt the demanding beat of her pulse. Kristin realized that she wanted him to kiss her. Needed it.

  She sucked in a breath. “Or p-perhaps—” she stammered. She realized that he seemed totally cool, nearly unaffected, while she couldn’t seem to stop herself from talking. His pulse wasn’t raging like hers. His breathing was slow and rhythmic. Only his eyes betrayed him, telling her he was just as hungry as she was for something more between them.