The Truth about Vampires

by Theresa Meyers

Using the small flashlight she kept in her car’s glove compartment, she completed a quick scan of the warehouse building, confirming she had the right address. “This looks like the place, but I don’t see anything.” She crumpled the slip of paper in her hand. She hated leads that didn’t pan out. “What a waste of time,” she muttered.

  She glanced at Dmitri. His gaze was fixated on a dark corner of the building facing the narrow gap between two warehouses. Kristin threw a beam of light in that direction.

  That’s when she saw the foot.

  A pair of scuffed business shoes peeked out from the alley, the toes pointed toward the sky. Kristin swallowed the hot acidic spurt of bile in the back of her throat. She seriously doubted that they were attached to a homeless person sleeping it off, but she hoped anyway.

  “Excuse me? Hello?” No answer.

  “He’s dead,” Dmitri said flatly.

  “Thanks, Sherlock. I think I figured that out.” She crept closer, her flashlight in front of her, her gaze darting around and scrutinizing every shadow.

  Trailing the orb of light from his feet up to his face, Kristin gave a sharp squeak of recognition. Mathew Balor, the man from the CDC, the one who’d been in the mayor’s little quartet, stared blankly at nothing, his mouth slightly open in a rictus of pain, his skin a bloodless waxy white.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. What do I do?

  “You recognize him.”

  “Yes. From the club. He was with the mayor.” Dmitri stiffened.

  The man’s button-down shirt lay loosely closed, but sank inward. Kristin could tell without even checking that his body had been opened and now sat like an empty husk, drained of blood and missing his organs just like the other victims of the Bloodless Murders. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stem the gag reflex kicking in hard.

  “What is that?” Dmitri pointed at Balor’s face. An odd flash of white in his mouth drew her attention.

  Dmitri carefully sidestepped closer to Balor’s body.

  “Don’t touch it!” Kristin demanded. “You’re messing with a crime scene.”

  He threw her a wry glance, then plucked the piece of folded paper out of Balor’s mouth. “Trust me, Balor isn’t going to mind. If someone went to the trouble of inviting you here, you might as well know why.”

  He handed her the paper. With shaking fingers she opened it.

  Chapter 5

  WANT TO KNOW WHAT STARTED THIS SPREE? ASK YOUR BOYFRIEND, KRISTIN.

  The salty tang in the air seemed sharper, more sinister, as she sucked in a startled breath. She pressed a fist to the icy chill lodged in her lungs. “Holy crap—” The murderer knew her.

  “Wait. What boyfriend?” Clearly they didn’t know her that well.

  Dmitri cleared his throat. “I believe the note is referring to me.”

  “You’re neither a boy nor a friend,” she pointed out with asperity. If someone had been spying on them, though, he or she might have taken the relationship as a given.

  Whatever had flared up between them in the club last night couldn’t be relied on to protect her against the personal well-wishes of the psycho responsible for the Bloodless Murders. The police wouldn’t be happy if they knew the crime scene had been tampered with. Still, she was grateful that it was Dmitri, and not the police, who’d found and read the note, which clearly involved her in the murder.

  “We need to call the police. But before we do, I want some photos of the crime scene.” There was no telling if she was missing an important detail because this entire scene had her on edge. Kristin stuffed the note into her pocket, trying very hard not to think about where it had just been. She flipped open her phone and started snapping pictures.

  Dmitri didn’t need pictures to tell him precisely what had happened. He tasted the air. Three, possibly four, unfamiliar vampires had been present in the alley in the last hour. Border reivers. There was no sign they lay in waiting. Had they been, Kristin would’ve been dead before she’d ever read the note.

  The image of her bloodless body, ripped apart, left him feeling hollow. If he’d been mortal he’d be in a cold sweat. As it was, he had to force himself to continue to appear as though he were breathing. He would not, could not, allow harm to come to her. Especially from his own kind.

  Looking down the long narrow slice of darkness, he telescoped his vision so that he could see tiny details invisible to the human eye. He easily read yesterday’s date on a crumpled newspaper a hundred feet away, and observed the slide of a rat’s tail in the stygian darkness beside a Dumpster. The dark was no barrier to his vision, in fact it made it easier to see. Objects appeared refined and clearer.

  He focused his thoughts on Roman. There’s been another slaying, my laird. Not one of ours. Three, possibly four, unknown assailants.

  Have you contacted the mortal authorities?

  Not yet.

  Good. Bring the body to us. That’s a little more complicated. I have a mortal with me. Alive?

  Yes. The reporter. By all means, bring her with you. Dmitri glanced at her. She’d have to change that damn sexy red come-eat-me sweater that barely clung to her shoulders and breasts. There was no way he’d take her to their clan, let alone the council, with so much of her exposed. It would be like bringing in a platter of desserts to a party and refusing to let anyone have a bite.

  Are you certain that it’s wise?

  Come now, Dmitri, we ‘re civilized enough not to pounce on her.

  Dmitri bristled. He’d seen the look in Roman’s eye that night in Kristin’s room. By all the saints, he’d felt his own fangs slip through the folds of his soft gum tissue, extending with aching thirst. He could barely resist the radiant, sweet cinnamon confection under her delicately pinked skin. How could he expect the others not to want to feed? Saints, he needed a drink.

  The difference was, in their clan, intellect reigned over instinct. By the look of the corpse, the killer had held no such illusions about the symbiotic relationship between mortal and vampire. They were the kind who saw mortals as foil juice pouches to pierce, drain and toss away.

  “Earth to Dmitri?” There was an edge of irritation to her tone.

  His gaze snapped to meet her eyes. He put up his hand to silence her. She froze in place, her brows pressing together at the center. All his instincts were balanced on a razor’s edge. Listening. Tracking a scent. One of the reiver vampires had returned.

  She sighed, fisting a hand on her hip, annoyance scenting the air with a kick of pepper. “You can’t avoid my question by ignoring it. Look, you’re the local vampire expert here. Is this something a vampire wannabe could have done?”

  Her voice sounded far away as he concentrated on the subtle movements of the vampire crouched against the dark roofline of the neighboring warehouse.

  “No. Not an impostor. The real thing. Get down. Now.” He shoved her to the pavement behind him none too gently.

  With an inhuman shriek, the vampire sprang from the shadows. His red eyes glowed in the night like a wild creature spat out of hell, fangs bared, dark hair flying.

  Dmitri tore the large silver dagger from the sheath on his thigh, its tip dripping sluggish brown-red liquid, and lunged at his attacker. Behind him Kristin muffled a scream.

  The attacker dodged the knife, and landed with a deft tuck and roll on the pavement before bouncing up to the balls of his feet. “I see we’ve gotten your attention,” the vampire said. The deep graveled voice of a three-hundred-year-old chain-smoker seemed at odds with his twenty-something appearance. He circled, his red gaze darting from Dmitri to Kristin.

  “You’re trespassing.” Dmitri growled low, shifted his blade to the other hand, making sure he stayed between the vamp and Kristin.

  “Perhaps. Perhaps we’ve come to challenge you for rights to the territory.”

  “With four of you? That’s hardly a force to be reckoned with,” Dmitri taunted.

  “Four?” The man laughed. Caustic. Haughty. “We’ve many more than that. With more arriving every day. More b
eing created every day. Maybe I’ll turn your girlfriend next—and you can watch.”

  Flick. Dmitri’s fangs descended instantly. Almond-flavored venom swirled heavy and thick over his tongue.

  He lunged for the reiver.

  The vampire grabbed Dmitri’s wrist with one hand, stopping the blade an inch from his eye. The liquid on the blade dripped on his alabas ter skin, burning a red tearlike streak down the vamp’s cheek that made the skin bubble and blister.

  “That’s dead man’s blood on my blade,” Dmitri growled through his fangs, his own eyes blazing as he forced his blade a millimeter closer to the man’s eye. “One nick is all I need to take you down.”

  The vampire hissed, venom dripping clear and thick from his fangs as they grappled with each other. “I’d like to see you try,” he spat as he twisted Dmitri’s wrist, making the bones crackle.

  Dmitri pulled back hard and snapped a kick at the vampire’s chin, sending his dark head flying back with a sharp crack. His body crashed into the warehouse, leaving a dent the size of a small truck in the metal sheeting. Flipping the blade to his undamaged hand, Dmitri dove forward, but the attacker leaped to the top of the warehouse in one fluid movement.

  “You’ve grown slow and weak,” the man taunted. “A product of your clan’s deviant ways. You’ve forgotten who’s at the head of the food chain. Now it’s going to cost you.”

  With a roar, Dmitri leaped to the roof. A fist, sledgehammer solid, caught him in the side of the head. His vision blurred, doubling for an instant.

  He tucked his chin down and plowed forward, head butting the vampire and sending him staggering backward. The fiend skittered down the angle of the roof, jumping off the edge to land neatly on the pavement below.

  He glanced upward at Dmitri and grinned, his fangs flashing too white in the darkness. “Shall I take her now or later?” he called up, becoming a blur as he made a dash for Kristin.

  Dmitri took a flying leap and landed, feet solid, in the vampire’s path before he could reach her. He slashed hard at the reiver’s chest. The other vampire cursed, then glanced down at his gaping shirt and the dark line splitting his pale skin. Vampire ichor, black and thin as ink, dribbled from the cut. The skin around the wound began to pucker, blackening and curling away from the slice like burning paper.

  Outraged, the vampire gasped before he fell to his knees. Dead man’s blood acted as a swift-moving poison and would immobilize a vampire for hours, but one had to pierce the skin to activate it. The silver of the dagger only sealed the deal.

  “Valuing human choice is not weakness,” Dmitri said, sheathing his dagger. “Denying it is not strength.”

  The vampire glared up at him, his eyes red maliciousness. “Make no mistake, vampire. Your clan will fall to us.” The last word turned to a hiss as he passed out at Dmitri’s feet.

  Kristin emerged from behind a stack of wooden crates against the building and stared at the reiver, her face pale and hands shaking. “How’d you jum—” Her face puckered as she glanced at the fangs retracting on the unconscious man. “They’re real. Holy crap. Vampires are real.” Her words came out as a rasping breath. When she looked up at him her eyes were glassy and unfocused. “And you’re one of them.”

  Her eyes widened a moment before they rolled back and her knees gave way. He caught her as she began to crumple and gently lowered her to the pavement, her head relaxed against his chest.

  The smooth white column of her neck and curve of her collarbone lay exposed by her slouching sweater. It took everything within him, every shred of mortal mentality that remained locked inside his agile brain, not to give in. The primitive urge to taste the hot vanilla-cinnamon mixture rushing through those delicate little blue veins pounded in him like a heartbeat.

  Dmitri forced his fangs to retract, then swallowed hard against the demanding dust-dry sensation in the back of his throat. He would feed later, but not from her.

  Her eyes fluttered, as did her light, sweet heartbeat. He pushed her upright with a gentle hand. “Tuck your head between your knees. Now breathe.”

  “Maybe I should go home now.”

  That was humorous. Was any place safe if these reivers were intent on preying on a frail, all-too-mortal human? Especially if they were already leading her on a game of cat and mouse, where she would be the especially tender mouse.

  “I think it would be best if you came with me.”

  “Back to the club?” “No. To the clan.”

  She scrambled to her feet. “Oh, my God. I mean, I thought that you might have a vampire fetish when I saw you drinking that stuff tonight, but I never dreamed you really were one. Why haven’t I seen your fangs before? Would you show me? You’re going to take me to a bunch of real vampires?”

  Saints preserve him. Did she always tend to prattle when she was nervous? “First, fangs aren’t something we normally just whip out in public for display. It would be better if you didn’t ask any of the others to do so, unless you’re inviting them to taste you. Second, the clan is the safest place you can be at the moment.”

  “Surrounded by bloodsuckers?”

  He arched a dark brow. Clearly she didn’t know just how offensive that sounded. “The vampires who did this wouldn’t dare try to hunt you there. This one—” he nudged the unconscious vampire with his toe “—and the others who did this, are not from my clan. They’re reivers hunting uninvited in our territory.”

  “They’re hunting me?” she squeaked. “Why? I haven’t done anything!”

  “You know about them. You’re investigating the murders. That’s enough. And they may not be hunting you. You just may be the bait for something larger they have planned.”

  “Vampires are real. Who would’ve believed it?” She sounded a bit breathless. Likely shock, he thought.

  “Well, now that you are aware of the truth, it would be foolish of you not to investigate it thoroughly.”

  She nodded vigorously. “I’m ready.”

  Dmitri eyed the red sweater. “Not quite.” He snapped his fingers and her racy sweater phased away, replaced by a black cashmere turtleneck. “Much better. And safer. Best not to make an offer you don’t intend.”

  Kristin held a hand to her throat. “Oh. I guess you’re right. Hey, how did you do that, and the jumping thing?”

  “Ask me later.” Dmitri held out his hand and Kristin slipped her much smaller one into his. Her show of trust humbled him. For a moment he was shocked by how fragile she seemed. So breakable, so mortal. He could hear the shushing of her blood in her veins and feel the fast throb of her heartbeat in her fingertips. Heat and need flared in him. “You may want to hold on tight. And close your eyes.”

  As difficult as it was, he focused his thoughts away from her and instead on the clan headquarters, transporting them to his suite of rooms, the unconscious vampire directly to the clan detention center, and Balor’s body to the clan medical facilities. The familiar suck and pull at his midsection took over.

  Her entire body became rigid and tight against him as they transported. She peeked through a slit in her tightly clenched eyes the second they arrived, then opened them both wide. “How’d you do that?”

  He smiled at the wonder that lit her eyes from the inside, then stepped away from her and edged toward the bar. An invisible fist squeezed his chest. It had been a long time since anyone had gazed at him with anything close to admiration.

  “Vampires have a lot of skills. Phasing and transporting seem instantaneous to you because we move so quickly and can materialize physical objects by calling them into being.”

  “Like magic.”

  Too bad her admiration was misplaced. “Hardly. If it were magic we wouldn’t get so damn thirsty.”

  Kristin pulled the edge of her turtleneck up a little higher. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No, but you aren’t even on the menu.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it,” she muttered, looking around. For all she knew they could have been at any high-rent co
ndo downtown. Only one major difference stood out. There were no windows.

  Adorning the rich burgundy walls were beautiful landscapes lush with color, and stunning black-and-white photography of Notre Dame and some nameless cathedral or abbey in what looked like the wilds of Scotland. Even an enormous flat-screen television. But no windows.

  Dmitri poured himself a glass of thick dark crimson liquid. He glanced at her. “Did you want something to drink?”

  She stared at his glass and shuddered, her stomach swishing uncomfortably. “No. Not unless you’ve got some diet cola around somewhere.”

  He held out his hand and a can of her favorite drink materialized along with a glass. She gasped a little breath. The corner of his sexy mouth tipped upward in amusement.

  “Did you want ice with that?”

  She nodded as her feet moved of their own accord toward the bar. Cubes of ice clinked into the glass from out of thin air as if dispensed from some invisible machine overhead.

  “Wow. I guess being a vampire comes with some serious perks.”

  “And serious costs.” The cola fizzed and foamed as he poured it over the ice cubes and handed her the glass.

  Kristin took a sip. It was perfect. Of course it was perfect, everything around her seemed almost too perfect, which made it seem … weird. Like someone was trying too hard.

  There wasn’t a speck of dust to be found on the solid wooden mission-style furniture or a hint of dusty-bunny action on the dark wood floors. Even the stained-glass shades on the lamps seemed dustproof.

  “Where are we? Still in the city?”

  “Not in the city. Under it.”

  “Under Seattle?”

  He gave her a lazy smile. “Tourists aren’t the only ones who use the abandoned parts of the city beneath your feet.”

  “But I’ve taken the Underground Tour of Seattle. There’s nothing down there but a bunch of old storefronts, dusty cobwebs and rusted-out antiques.”

  “And doors.”

  “Yeah, a bunch of—Wait, you’re telling me that one of those doors leads to your lair?” “Clan.”