“The investigators will probably spend today trying to verify Eva’s statement. Just in case someone challenges her story, we should have a plan of action ready.”
Tux studied him critically, his eyes like precision instruments weighing every word Ric said. “I totally agree. What do you have in mind?”
“We should move her out of her house and have her stay with one of the others. If the authorities should come looking for her again, it’ll give us more time to react if they can’t find her.”
Tux raised his brows and nodded. “A good idea. But she can’t stay with me. I’m already being looked upon with suspicion myself.”
“And I don’t want her here. She can’t stay in a small trailer with Lyle and Zada, even if they got along. What about Ormie? Eva appears to be on friendly terms with him.”
Tux nodded again, even more emphatically. “Ormie’s our only choice. I’m sure he’ll agree to it, but we’ll have to wait until dark to move her. Let’s hope she’s safe from the sheriff until then.”
“I’ll make sure she is.”
Tux’s eyes slitted. “Yeah, you do that. What about Eva’s job?”
“I think it would be best if she called in sick for a few days. Do you agree?”
“Agreed.”
Ric stood. “That should do it, then. I’ll take care of everything tonight and keep you posted.”
Tux stood and stepped toward Ric, crossing the invisible boundary that defined a vamp’s private space. “Just two more things, Boss. First, I don’t like being called a jackal. Secondly, the sheriff’s scent is all over you like pollen. But I don’t smell her blood. Are you really using her, or are you using me?”
He was right up in Ric’s face, so close that Ric could see the dark flecks in the glowing green eyes. It was a challenge too blatant to ignore. He grabbed Tux by the neck and sank his nails deep into the thick muscle. “I’ll exploit her as I wish, and it’s none of your business how. I’ll utilize you, too, my friend, any way I see fit. You’re mine. But if you cease to be useful, I can dispose of you in any number of ways.”
Tux didn’t flinch. “You don’t scare me. You can’t hurt me, and you know it. The way I hear it, you have even fewer friends in the Directorate than you used to, now that your buddy Alek Dragovich is dead. There isn’t an enforcer around who would back you if you did anything to me.”
Maybe it was his own lust, or maybe it was the delight that Tux had taken in mentioning Drago’s death that irritated Ric, but Ric wasted no time in tightening his grip. “Don’t you know? Le docteur la mort has his own enforcer, and he’s called the Hand of Death. Let me introduce you to him.” Ric summoned his power, gratified that his aggression finally had an outlet. He felt the killing energy begin to flow down his arm to the hand that squeezed Tux’s neck, and in a release that satisfied even his demanding bloodlust, he discharged the energy from his fingertips. He immediately felt Tux’s body go lax. The span of power of the Hand of Death ranged from bringing calm to sapping strength to leaching all life from whatever it touched. He dare not send Tuxbridge to the True Death, of course, but a few moments of feeling all his strength desert him might make him think twice about challenging Doctor Death again.
His adjutant’s body became a dead weight in his grip, but Ric didn’t care. He held up the more than two hundred pounds easily. He closed his eyes and allowed his beast to revel not only in the pure pleasure of besting a challenger, but in the almost carnal release of feeling the killing current flow through him. He opened his eyes reluctantly. Enough was enough.
“If you still have the power of speech, tell me you’ve had enough. If not, any sign of submission will do.”
Tux’s mouth opened, but no words dribbled out. His now-dull eyes cast their gaze to the floor.
Ric dropped the body where it had stood, and the muscular six-foot mass crumpled like a fallen warrior on the field of battle. Ric felt a pang of regret at the sight of such a strong vampire, one he had hoped to be an ally, brought so low, but Tuxbridge had been the one to bring the challenge. All Ric had done was answer it.
He drew a deep breath, bringing his passions under control, but his voice remained low with warning. “Your strength should return in a few minutes. You said you don’t forget anything, but you obviously forgot what I said to you a few days ago. I told you I don’t like to be disappointed by those around me. In the future, feel free to give me your ideas and opinions, but don’t ever threaten me or challenge me again. Understand?”
After a moment, Tux’s head lolled to the side in what Ric took as a nod of assent.
“Good. As soon as you can stand, get out of my house.”
Twenty minutes later Tuxbridge staggered to his feet and shuffled out the door without a word.
Ric let out a long, ragged sigh. He sorely missed the boredom of Eidolon Lake.
RIC MANAGED A few hours of sleep blissfully uninterrupted by phone calls or visitors. He woke, and when he ascended from his cellar lair, all the problems from last night came flooding back to him. Eva. Tux. And Shelby.
One predicament at a time. He resisted calling Shelby, not wanting to wake her in case she was sleeping late. So after he showered and dressed, he drove his SUV past Eva’s house. Everything looked as it should, and there were no squad cars, unmarked or otherwise, sitting on her street. He then drove to his office and saw a couple of patients before closing the office at five. He went past Eva’s again on the way home. Everything was quiet.
Glad as he was for the uneventful afternoon, a strange feeling prevented him from relaxing. The quiet seemed almost unnatural—like the calm before a storm. Once home, he stood in the tower room with both the window and his senses wide open. He listened, filtering the sounds that came to him on the warm afternoon wind. The buzzing and chirping of birds and insects. The howl of a neighbor’s dog. The engine and wheel noise of the occasional passing auto. He closed his eyes and reached out with senses that stretched beyond the realm of human awareness. He tasted the breeze on his skin, feeling for energies and vibrations that were foreign or abnormal. His nostrils flared, like an animal testing the wind, but nothing out of the ordinary came to him. There was only the fragrance of nearby flowers and the sickening smell of barbecue from a yard down the road. His own human taste buds long forgotten, he found it hard to understand how mortals could find scorched, dead meat so appetizing.
Perhaps his unease was merely apprehension. He called Shelby’s house and was glad when she answered on the second ring. For once it seemed there was no police emergency calling her away. She sounded happy to hear from him, and when he asked about the case, her tone was upbeat even though she had no progress to report. He told her he had a few evening errands to run and would call her around ten o’clock about getting together to stroll the lakefront for the Moonlight Madness event.
He hung up, then called Eva and Ormie and left messages on their machines. After the sun went down, each called him back. Ormie was glad to put up Eva for a few days, and Eva made no objection to either staying with Ormie or missing a few days of work. He then called Tux to report on the events of the evening, but got no answer. He left a message. It was just as well. After last night, he had no desire to cross verbal swords with Tux.
At ten, as promised, he called Shelby back. “How about if I pick you up at ten thirty? Nothing fancy. I’ll bring the bike.”
“And what if I want to buy something big and bulky at the sale? A lot of the local artists are going to be set up. What if I want to buy some artwork? Your little saddlebags leave a lot to be desired.”
“Buy whatever catches your fancy. I’m sure the vendor will be only too happy to hold your purchase for you until you can pick it up tomorrow.”
A cheerful laugh floated over the phone line.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Most men wouldn’t have answered lik
e that. They would have said something like . . .” She lowered her voice. “Uh, that’s just incentive for you to keep your money in your purse, little lady.’”
He laughed with her. “I don’t think I’d ever say that.”
“Thank heaven for that!” There was a pause. “Hold on a minute. There’s somebody at my door.”
“Shelby . . .” But she was gone. Ten at night was a strange time for visitors. He had a bad feeling that another emergency was about to pounce. He strained to hear but could only make out faint female voices in the background.
She came back on the line a couple minutes later. “Listen, Ric, that was my neighbor, and I’ll have to call you back. She says she sees strange lights in the woods behind her house and wants me to check it out. I’m sure it’s just kids, but she’s elderly and she’d feel better if I could reassure her.”
Strange lights in the woods? The feu follet. Judson Tuxbridge’s game of long ago to lure humans deep into the woods to meet their doom. “Shelby, no! Don’t go into the woods!”
“I’ll call you right back. Don’t worry—I’ll be careful.”
“Shelby, listen to me!” Only a dial tone answered him. He hit redial on his phone immediately, but he only got her answering machine. “Shelby, if you can hear me, don’t go into the woods. It’s dangerous. Just wait ’til I get there.” A long string of French profanities followed the silence on her end of the line.
He slammed the phone down, grabbed his keys, and ran out the door. He took the SUV, since it was much faster than the old Peugeot. Even the newer SUV, though, responded sluggishly to his inhuman reflexes.
Tires screeched and pebbles flew, but his mind was on Tux and what had happened last night. He should have stuck with his initial instinct—to control his temper and not get into a horn-locking battle with his adjutant. But what was done was done, and it was clear that Tux saw his opportunity not only to eliminate a perceived threat, but to strike back at Ric through someone he suspected Ric was involved with. It wasn’t unusual for vampires to play against each other using human pawns, but it wasn’t something Ric was used to.
Five minutes later he was at Shelby’s house. He gunned the vehicle to the top of the driveway and jumped out, running to the back of the house where the black seam of the night woods met the paler stretch of yard. He ran into the woods but came to a quick halt as the ground fell away from him into a steep ravine. He scanned the darkness that lay ahead, but there were no lights that he could see, not even pinpricks or faint glows. The woods were most likely filled with numerous such embankments and twisting ravines. Even with his extraordinary eyesight, a light at the bottom of a ravine could be hidden from view by the hilly topography.
He’d have to rely on his hearing and sense of smell. The unmistakable scent of the Undead, as well as Shelby’s fragrance of life—if she was still alive—would lead him, as well as any sounds of a struggle. But it had been more than five minutes. They could be anywhere. A creature with inhuman speed could cover a tremendous amount of ground in five minutes.
“Shelby!” He called out as loudly as he could and opened his senses to their maximum. If she was nearby and made any sound at all, he’d hear her. Only the night’s black stillness answered. He ran hunched over, knees bent, low to the ground, hurtling fallen trees with the ease of a beast born of the forest. He had no trouble seeing in the dark, and he wasn’t bothered by the thin limbs of new growth that whipped at him incessantly.
“Shelby! Answer me!” The thick carpet of fallen leaves muffled his steps, but he didn’t care if someone heard him. He wanted to be heard. He wanted to confront Tuxbridge once and for all. He stopped again to listen.
There. To his right. A rustle. The snap of a branch. He turned toward the sounds and ran. The musty spoor of the Undead hung in the air, but it was hard to track among the ever-present decay in the woods. Rotted logs, dead leaves, and the occasional animal carcass all sent teasing odors into the air to confuse his senses.
A thin scream tore the great stillness. A human scream. It was followed by a small cry, then silence. But he had a fix on the sounds now, and he sprinted on noiselessly. He could smell Shelby now, but it wasn’t the familiar fragrance of her skin or hair. It was the scent of her blood that stung his nostrils—sharp, sweet, and exposed to the night air. He increased his speed, able to see them, the tiny outline of a predator and its quarry that quickly grew larger in his sight. A vampire crouched over a slim figure, feeding on his prey.
Ric didn’t slow, but slammed into the beast, dislodging him from his victim. Both vampires reeled to the ground, twisting and sliding on the slick, rotted leaves. He grabbed his opponent from behind and cinched one arm around his neck in a chokehold. With his other hand he pressed his palm flat against the man’s forehead.
“The Hand of Death, Tux. You’re going to feel its full power this time.”
But the vampire was tall, strong, and full of the energy of fresh blood. He bent forward, pulled Ric off balance, and flipped Ric over his head. By the time Ric rolled to his feet, the vampire had a broken branch in hand, its pointed end sharp and jagged. Dark hair curtained his features in shadow, allowing Ric to see nothing of the man’s face but blazing eyes that mimicked the glowing orbs of the mysterious feu follet. Tux was no fool. He knew that the sturdy branch would not only keep Ric and his deadly hand at bay, but provide a killing weapon in itself. A wooden stake through the heart was a time-honored and very effective way to kill a vampire.
Tux flew at him with the branch leveled like a lance, and Ric barely had time to spin his body, grab the branch, and deflect the blow off to the side. Both men clutched the branch, but Tux, with his nourished vigor, had the advantage of strength. Tux rotated his body and swung the branch, slamming Ric into the trunk of a huge tree. Ric lost his grip and lurched to the ground, and the point of the branch speared his left arm, just missing his chest. Ric cried out, scrambling to regain his feet.
Tux yanked the wood from Ric’s flesh and aimed again. Ric grabbed the branch and pulled, and Tux’s momentum carried him right into Ric’s arms. This time he wasted no time on proclamations but hung onto Tux and pressed the hand of his uninjured arm over Tux’s heart, letting the killing power flow. Ric didn’t try to regulate the current but allowed it to surge unchecked. A gurgle rattled in the throat of the doomed vampire, but the sound died at the same time the body slumped in his arms. Ric didn’t let go but held the body and lowered it to the ground. He stared into the open eyes that no longer glowed.
It wasn’t Judson Tuxbridge.
Ten
IT WAS THE ROGUE, Joel Branduff. The tall, sturdy body and dark wavy hair had fooled Ric in the dark. Ric rifled through the vampire’s pockets quickly, stuffing the sparse contents into his own pockets. Sunlight would burn the body tomorrow, igniting the clothing as well, but Ric wanted to take no chances.
He hurried back to Shelby. A thin line of blood trickled down her neck, but when he placed a hand on her chest, he detected a rapid rise and fall. He checked her pulse. It, too, was quickened, but not racing. The blood loss wasn’t life threatening. Ric estimated that Branduff had only started feeding just before Ric had caught sight of them. Another moment longer, though, and Shelby would have needed a transfusion. Any longer than that, and he would have killed her. As it was, she would recover, but she still needed replacement body fluids, and fast.
He tapped her cheek with the back of his hand. “Shelby. Can you hear me?”
She groaned, and her eyelids fluttered as she tried to focus her eyes in the dark.
Good. She wasn’t unconscious. “Everything’s going to be all right. Rest now. Sleep.” He made it a compelling command. What he had to do right now would be easier if she wasn’t awake.
He gently picked her up and carried her through the woods as swiftly as was safe, then loaded her into the SUV and drove her to his office. He hooked her up to an in
travenous saline solution and cleaned the wound. He also looked at his own arm injury, but it was already starting to heal. When he finished, he took her to his house, where he made her as comfortable as he could on his sofa. He’d allow her to rest for a couple more hours. The time was not so much for her benefit, but because he needed time to think. And there was a lot to think about.
He had just committed the worst sin an Undead creature could. He had killed another of his kind. He hadn’t hesitated, and he hadn’t thought about it—he had just done it. He didn’t feel remorse for his actions for one moment, nor did he have a conscience to wash him in guilt, but he had to consider the possible consequences. According to hierarchy law, there was no justification for what he had done, no defense that wouldn’t crumble before the justice of even the most lenient enforcer. It hadn’t been self-defense. Ric had pursued and attacked Branduff. And deadly force in defense of a human was only justified under vampiric law if the human involved was a blood-bound servant. Shelby held no such position.
Ric was part of the infrastructure that was in place specifically to prevent such acts of violence from happening. For him, a ranking member of the hierarchy, to commit such an act was worse than if a rogue or an ordinary council member had done it. Ric was in a position of both authority and responsibility. It was like a cop going bad and killing those he had sworn to protect. It was unthinkable. It was the ultimate betrayal of trust.
If his crime should come to light, he would be forced to submit to the judgment of an enforcer. Because he was an Overlord, someone with high standing in the hierarchy would probably be sent—perhaps the head of the Midwest Region. Ric was a minor Overlord, true, but because of his elevated past position as Coterie Paramount, maybe even the Directorate would get involved. He would certainly be sanctioned. He would lose his title as Overlord and most likely be banned from ever holding any future position in the hierarchy.
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