Duncan

by D. B. Reynolds

  She sent the directions to Slayton’s house to her cell phone, then started her car and pulled away only seconds ahead of the parking meter guy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Violet Slayton was as nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as Emma’s Grandmama had been known to say. Slayton was pale and too thin, but Emma had the impression these were both recent developments. Her clothes were too big, and her skin had that parched look of someone who wasn’t eating or hydrating properly. But none of that, not the clothes and not her pallor, could conceal the fact that she was beautiful. Her eyes were deep brown and luminous, surrounded by long, black lashes, and her dirty hair was thick and wavy. Violet reminded Emma of the women she’d met while doing an internship at a rape crisis center during law school. The thought of what could have made Violet react that way had Emma’s blood running cold, and she knew she’d done the right thing by coming out here.

  “I was sorry to hear about Lacey,” Violet said, settling into the corner of a large, overstuffed couch. She spoke so quietly Emma had to lean closer to hear. It was as if Violet was afraid someone would overhear, even though Emma knew there was no one in the house but the two of them. Slayton hugged herself, wrapping her too big sweater nearly double around her body. “Lacey was a good person. Brave. I felt I had to go to the service, had to pay my respects, even though—” She stopped abruptly, and her beautiful eyes were filled with fear when they flashed up to stare at Emma.

  “Even though what, Violet?” Emma asked gently.

  Violet looked away. “I haven’t seen anyone since I left the firm. I left kind of suddenly. I didn’t give them proper notice, and they weren’t happy with me. I didn’t know if I’d see anyone I knew at the funeral. I didn’t want to see anyone, but . . . Lacey was kind. I couldn’t let them . . .” Her mouth tightened, her lips rolling under until they disappeared entirely.

  “You said Lacey was brave,” Emma said quietly. “Why would you say that?”

  Violet stared down at her fingers, which played with a leather button on her sweater, rolling it first one way, then the next. “She wasn’t afraid of anyone,” she whispered. “It was as if she didn’t believe the world could hurt her.” Violet looked up suddenly, meeting Emma’s gaze. “But she was wrong, wasn’t she?”

  Emma nodded, letting her own sorrow show. “Lacey was the only family I had,” she said, without knowing why. “There’s a place inside of me, right next to my heart, that hurts all the time since she’s been gone. I don’t think it will ever stop hurting, but I know it won’t until I find out what really happened to Lacey.”

  Violet gave her a startled glance. “But I thought—” Realization bloomed in her eyes, and she lost what little color she had. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “You went to the parties with Lacey, didn’t you, Violet?” Emma asked softly.

  “I can’t talk about this. I won’t.” Violet shook her head, once again refusing to look at Emma. “I don’t remember anything anyway.”

  Emma watched the other woman, hating herself for being here, for forcing Violet Slayton to relive even the smallest part of whatever had happened to her. But those men were still out there. And they deserved to pay for what they’d done, to Lacey certainly, but to Violet and the others as well. And to some other woman in the future if they weren’t stopped.

  “Lacey was murdered,” she told Violet bluntly, taking a huge chance. “I let everyone think it was a car accident because I don’t trust the police to handle it. The men who killed her have too much money and power, and those things talk in this town.”

  Violet was staring at her again, shaking her head. “I can’t help you. He did something so I wouldn’t remember. It’s the one decent . . .” She laughed bitterly and ran a hand back through her dirty hair. “As bad as this looks, it’s better than the alternative.”

  “Are you having flashbacks?” Emma asked, remembering the rape victims she’d talked to back in college. “Nightmares? Bits and pieces of things that make no sense, but terrify you anyway?”

  “Worse,” Violet whispered. “It’s worse because they make no sense. Sometimes I think if I could only put the pieces together and make sense of it all, it would finally go away. But then I’m afraid of what I’ll discover if I ever get that far.”

  “Let me help you,” Emma said. “Let my friends help you.”

  “Friends? What friends?” Violet said, suddenly suspicious. “Not one of them?”

  “Them?”

  Violet’s breathing shallowed until she was almost panting. “Vampires,” she breathed. “They exist, you know,” she said defiantly, as if assuming Emma wouldn’t believe her.

  Emma nodded. “I know.”

  Violet blinked. “You believe me?”

  “Of course. I’ve been to the vampires’ residence, the embassy. I know about Victor, and I know what he did.” Emma leaned forward earnestly. “Victor is dead, Violet. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Dead?” Violet whispered in disbelief. Her eyes filled with tears and she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. “Dead,” she repeated. Her gaze flashed up to meet Emma’s. “Then you don’t need me.”

  “But I do,” Emma said softly. “I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know who the men were, so I can make them pay.”

  Violet closed her eyes, as if in pain. She sat that way a long time, and Emma thought she’d failed. But then Violet spoke in a surprisingly strong voice. “I don’t want my family to know. They’ve suffered enough with this.”

  Emma thought quickly. She needed someplace to meet with Violet, someplace where she’d feel safe. Duncan’s estate was probably the most secure, but it was clearly out of the question. Even if Violet had never been to the house, there were too many vampires. And Duncan would never agree to do it at Emma’s house, not after the other night. Damn. Well, they’d work something out. Duncan and his vampires probably had houses all over the place. They’d simply have to be sure the one they chose wasn’t someplace Victor had used for his perverted games.

  “If you agree to help me, I’ll pick you up myself,” Emma assured Violet. “You can tell your parents I’m a friend. They’ll be glad you’re getting out,” she said, knowing it was true.

  Violet nodded tiredly. “Fine. I just want this over with. I want my life back.”

  “I’ll do my best,” Emma said and meant it. She’d started this to find justice for Lacey, but they couldn’t hurt Lacey anymore. They were still hurting Violet Slayton, though, and Emma was going to make them stop.

  She traded phone numbers with Violet, promising to get back in touch with her first thing in the morning to set up something. She was nervous about leaving Violet alone, afraid something would happen. Afraid, frankly, that she’d change her mind and run. But Violet flatly refused to go with her, so there was nothing Emma could do. She’d just have to trust.

  It wasn’t until she was in her car and heading back to the District that she realized how late it had gotten. In retrospect, she was kind of surprised that Duncan or one of his guys hadn’t called to find out where she was. It actually concerned her a little. Had something else happened? Something that had them all so busy, they didn’t have time to worry about her whereabouts?

  At the next red light, she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through to Duncan’s number. It was the first time she’d called him since he’d given her his business card a little over a week ago. She was startled to realize it hadn’t been any longer than that. So much had happened, it didn’t seem possible so little time had passed.

  The light turned green and she tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder as Duncan’s number went straight to voice mail. Maybe it was too early to call. After all, the sun was barely down, the sky still light on the horizon. Maybe vampires weren’t early risers or whatever you called someone who woke with the sunset.

  Duncan’s voice mail beeped, inviting her to leave a message. She dropped the phone into her hand and held it to her fa
ce.

  “Hi, Duncan, Emma here, calling to let you know I’m on my way, and I’ve got news. I’ll tell you when I get there.”

  She paused, suddenly unsure how to sign off. The usual okay, bye didn’t really cut it, and the mwaah of a phone kiss seemed trite, given the heat between them. She took the coward’s way out and simply disconnected, tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.

  She and the too sexy Duncan were going to have a heart-to-heart very soon. Maybe tonight after he heard about how she’d found Violet Slayton. This was good news for their investigation, really good news. A little celebration wouldn’t be out of order. And what better way to celebrate than finally getting naked together?

  Her stomach tightened as the image of a half-naked Duncan flashed in her mind. She zipped up the ramp onto 95 and hit the gas. It was going to be a very good night.

  Chapter Twenty

  Duncan stared at his prisoner, the unfortunate who’d attacked Emma and nearly killed Baldwin, as difficult as it was to kill a vampire. It was just good fortune that Duncan and Miguel had been so close, and that Baldwin had been alert enough to get Emma to call them. A few more minutes and he’d have bled out, despite their best efforts. And apart from the threat to Emma—which Duncan wasn’t likely to forget—the attack on one of his own was something he couldn’t forgive.

  Except that this man truly was an unfortunate who, if he could be believed, had chosen the wrong house to burgle. And Duncan had no reason not to believe him. As far as he could determine, the man was telling the truth. And there were damn few vampires more skilled at detecting lies among humans than Duncan was, especially once he’d slipped into the human’s mind and made him all comfy and relaxed. At that point, there was no deception left in the man.

  “I’m telling you the truth, man,” the prisoner whined for the umpteenth time. “I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’.”

  “So you say,” Miguel snarled.

  “’Cuz it’s the truth, man. I saw the funeral notice and checked out the house.”

  “So, you steal from the dead, is that it?”

  “I ain’t ashamed of it. A body’s dead, what does it matter who gets their stuff? Might as well be me. Nice place like that, I figured there’d be something worthwhile, so I kept an eye on it, and when nobody comes home, I made my play. Two minutes later, this bitch shows up and all hell breaks loose.”

  “And you shot my man,” Duncan said tightly.

  “Yeah, well, shit happens. He startled me is all. Shouldn’t startle a man like that.”

  “I see. So it’s his fault he got shot.”

  “Well, yeah, sort of.”

  Duncan studied the man, wondering if he shouldn’t return a good dose of fear to the human, if for no other reason than to punish him for being such a worm.

  “Is it possible someone got to him, Sire?” Miguel asked softly.

  Duncan had already considered, and rejected, the possibility that another vampire had manipulated this pitiful excuse for a man and sent him to kill Emma.

  “There’s no sign of tampering. The problem is,” he admitted, “that this creature really does prey on the dead. If someone knew that, it would be simplicity itself to direct him to Emma’s and let him do what he does best. The necessary suggestion would be so mild that unless the vampire was a total idiot, the result would be all but undetectable, even to me. Especially since the human honestly believes what he’s telling us.”

  Miguel frowned. “So what do we do with him? He nearly killed Baldwin.”

  Duncan agreed. He couldn’t simply let the man go. He hadn’t killed anyone last night, not that Duncan knew of anyway, but it was probably only a matter of time before he did. On the other hand, it wasn’t Duncan’s responsibility to protect the human race from itself, either.

  “I don’t believe our friend here fully appreciates the dangers of his chosen profession. I think a small lesson is in order, after which you can send him back into the wild and let nature take its course.”

  Duncan released the human from the hold he had on his brain, and watched fear reassert itself as all the appropriate chemicals filtered back into the man’s bloodstream.

  “What the fuck?” the human said, staring around with wide, terrified eyes as he took in his predicament. “Who are you people?”

  Miguel bared his fangs and grinned at the struggling human. The man was still screaming when Duncan left the basement and headed for his office, wondering idly where Emma was. It was well past the one hour after sunset time they’d agreed upon. He could always call the guard he’d assigned to her and find out what she was doing. But if anything significant had happened the guard would have called him by now. Perhaps she’d had to work late or perhaps . . . His phone rang as he sat behind his desk. Glancing at the caller ID, he saw that it was Jackson Hissong, the human in charge of his daytime guards. Duncan frowned. It wasn’t usual for Jackson to be around this late.

  “Jackson,” he said, answering. “You’re here late.”

  “Yes, my lord. I’m about to head out, but the guard assigned to follow Emma Duquet today just reported in.”

  “Emma?” Duncan said, alert but not yet alarmed, since there was no tension in Jackson’s voice. “Did something happen?”

  “She was never in danger, my lord, but she didn’t exactly sit in her office all day, so I thought you’d want to know where she went.”

  “Why, yes,” Duncan agreed. “I’d be very interested in knowing that, Jackson.”

  * * * *

  Emma waved at the guard as the gate opened and she drove onto the estate. She parked in her usual spot to the right side of the front door and got out of the car, slinging her purse and laptop over her shoulder. Still riding the high of having found Violet, she practically skipped up the stairs.

  She opened the front door and stepped inside, blinking in surprise. The big house was even noisier tonight. It sounded as if they were tearing the place down from the inside out, and not trying to be neat about it, either. Ducking her head against the possibility of flying debris, she skirted a pile of . . . what was that anyway? Walls, maybe. Walls that had been torn apart and—

  “Look out below!” the warning shout sounded from above, and Emma quick-stepped into the former library barely evading the new layer of debris which plummeted down the open stairwell and landed on the growing pile.

  “Good God,” she muttered, and peered back into the entryway.

  “Emma! There you are.”

  Emma did a double take as Baldwin joined her in the small room. “Baldwin,” she said, examining him up and down. “You look . . . healthy.”

  He laughed at her surprise. “Vampire, sweet thing. We heal like crazy, especially when someone like Duncan does the honors.”

  Emma remembered Duncan opening his wrist for Baldwin to drink. “Duncan’s blood did that?”

  Baldwin nodded, suddenly serious. “Duncan’s über powerful, you know.”

  She nodded slowly. Baldwin had been dying on her floor last night. This was beyond powerful. This was fucking incredible. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she managed.

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  “I, um . . .” Emma searched for something to say. “I parked out front. Should I move around back?”

  “Nah. Give me your keys. I’ll do it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sure thing. You’re working with Louis, right? I’ll bring the keys up, but the big man wants to see you first. He put out the word and didn’t seem too happy about it either”

  “He didn’t?” Emma asked, more curious than worried.

  Baldwin gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. He likes you, so it won’t be too bad. You got those keys?”

  She dug out her keys and handed them over. “Thanks,” she said faintly.

  He took the keys, giving her a wink before disappearing outside. Emma stood in the relative safety of the former library for a moment, mulling over Baldwin’s warning. So, Duncan was unhappy w
ith her? Okay, so she hadn’t gone to work and rushed right back here, like a good little worker bee. And maybe she was a little late, and maybe he’d been worried, but she had called. And she’d found Violet Slayton, which was huge, if only anyone would listen. Wasn’t this what she was supposed to be doing? Wasn’t that what this was all about?

  Mentally squaring her shoulders, and kind of pissed that her good news was being trampled on by Duncan’s ego, she took a single step out of the former library, looked up carefully, then dashed up the stairs.

  Duncan was on the phone when she stuck her head around the half-open door of his office. She had already started to step back into the hallway, when he caught her eye and pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Not that she had to obey him, but it would have been too cowardly to pretend that she hadn’t seen nor understood his gesture. And what was she worried about anyway? She sat on the designated chair and wished she’d changed clothes before coming here. At least then she could have slumped casually instead of sitting up straight in her pencil skirt and heels like little Miss Priss.

  Duncan ignored her once she was in the chair. He was sitting sideways to the desk and speaking to someone about what sounded like the house renovations. Something about the basement and a vault and the water table. She yawned pointedly. A point which Duncan obviously got and didn’t appreciate, if the look he gave her was any indication. Gee. Too bad.

  Emma was feeling more belligerent with every moment she waited for Duncan to get off the phone. Who did he think he was anyway? She didn’t work for him. Here she’d managed to find their biggest break yet, and she was being made to feel like a misbehaving school girl. And all because she’d taken the initiative instead of waiting hours for Duncan’s permission. Like she needed that? She’d built up a fine, righteous anger by the time Duncan disconnected and tossed the phone to his desk. He stood and strolled over to the door, closing it quietly.