When Blood Calls

by J. K. Beck

  Sara raced through the halls of Division, part of her wondering what the hell she was doing, and another part fearing she was going to be too damn late.

  "No," she yelled into the phone at the Security Section desk drone. "Constantine. With a C, dammit, and I'm prosecuting this case with Nostramo Bosch. You engage that security device and I will have your ass in a sling."

  "A termination request has been input," the drone said.

  "And I'm overriding it, dammit." She didn't have a clue whether she had authority to do that, but she damn well intended to make the argument. She hurried onto the elevator and pressed the button for sublevel nine. "Just wait for me. Don't do anything until I get there."

  No answer.

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Call failed. No signal. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

  She jammed her thumb on the elevator button, as if that would make the thing move faster, but she couldn't simply stand and do nothing. Dear God, what if they did it?

  What if they killed Luke?

  She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe, remembering the way his voice had sounded when she'd answered the phone in her apartment only minutes earlier. She'd already dismissed the Shade--claiming a nightmare and a foolish impulse to push the panic button--and she'd been sitting on the floor, her back to the glass, trying to figure out what had come over her. Why she'd let Luke stay.

  Why she'd let him touch her like that.

  "Sara," he'd said. "I need help."

  She'd remembered the way his face had hardened, the way he'd bared his fangs, and she'd almost hung up.

  "Wait," he'd demanded, and so help her, she had.

  "What is it, Luke? What could possibly make you think you have the right to call me now?"

  "No right," he'd said. "No expectation. Just hope, Sara." He needed intervention, he'd said. The fall to her pool deck had injured him, and there was no way he could return to where he'd left his advocate before Security Section activated the stake around his heart.

  "I'm going back to Division," he'd said, "but even that's no guarantee. I need help, Sara. Will you speak for me?"

  She hadn't answered, her mind too filled with the remnants of both fear and longing, but after she'd hung up, she'd dialed Division.

  She told herself that she was stepping in because she wouldn't see a man condemned without a trial, but she knew it was a lie. He'd touched something within her and she had to know why. Had to understand more fully this burning within her. A burning for him. This vampire. This murderer.

  110

  The elevator doors slid open and she raced through, pounding the redial button even as her eyes scoured the hall for someone with authority. But down here, where Security and Detention were accessed through long concrete halls, there was no one but her. "Is he there?" she demanded the moment the drone answered the call. "Is Dragos there?"

  "He arrived," the drone said.

  "Then you damn well better make sure he's not ash by the time I get there," she said, and when she finally burst through the door, there he was. Standing right in front of her, dark and dangerous and smolderingly sexy. She gasped, in both surprise and pleasure. Not only because of the heat she saw in his eyes, but because he was looking at her with a combination of gratitude and longing so intense it weakened her knees.

  "Ms. Constantine," he said, his voice a caress. "You came."

  "I--" She swallowed, the sensual maelstrom building within her almost overwhelming her. She turned away, afraid he'd see too much on her face, and focused on her nemesis the security drone, a tiny creature with bulbous eyes and a high-tech headset.

  "Ms. Constantine," the drone said with a small nod.

  "Call Leviathin if you have to, but if Dragos is here, termination serves no purpose."

  His lips pursed as he tapped something onto his computer, then leaned in close to a monitor. "Director Leviathin concurs," he said, and Sara had to grab onto the table to not sag in relief. "Termination denied."

  She allowed herself one deep breath, then squared her shoulders and looked at the officer standing with Luke, Officer Quai according to his name tag. "Get him out of that contraption," she said. "And then give us a minute. I need to talk to him before you take him back to his cell."

  As she watched, Quai went about his work, unfastening the clasp between the two binder cuffs at Luke's wrists and securing one to the wall before instructing Luke to pull his now-free arm out of his coat. Then he had Luke shift and repeated the process with the second arm.

  Quai laid the long black coat on a nearby metal desk, and the sight of Luke without his coat caught her attention in ways that had her feeling decidedly unprosecutorial.

  In her apartment, he had not taken it off, though she'd been stripped almost bare. The memory teased her, and she watched with unabashed fascination as Luke now stood in shirtsleeves, his biceps straining under black cotton.

  He was powerful.

  He was dangerous.

  And tonight, he'd held her close, comforting her, protecting her even in her dreams.

  "Keep looking," he said, making her jump. "Perhaps you'll see something in me you didn't see before."

  "I was thinking," she said. "Not looking."

  "About me?" That generous mouth barely moved, but even so, she had the impression that he was smiling at her. Once again, she had to push back a wave of surprise at the utter incongruity of it all. He was in prison, for Christ's sake. His shirt pulled up to reveal an achingly familiar torso, over which was strapped a device that 111

  could have killed him only moments prior. Yet he was standing tall and commanding, the room filled with the essence, the power, of Lucius Dragos.

  "Ah, then," he said, knowingly. "It was about me." To her utter mortification, Quai took that moment to swivel his slightly orange head around. His large eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she transferred to him the glare she'd earlier aimed at Luke. He immediately turned back and concentrated on removing the metal band from Luke's chest.

  "As a matter of fact, I was thinking about you," she said, delighted to see surprise flicker in his eyes. Well, why not? Two could play the one-upmanship game. "I was thinking that I should avoid talking to you."

  "Is that so? Any particular reason?"

  "Me prosecutor. You defendant. And a defendant with an advocate." She upped the sugar value of her smile. "I'm afraid I can't talk to you without your advocate present."

  "So far, I'd say you're failing miserably at that task." She had the impression that his lips quivered, but his expression hadn't changed.

  She wanted to laugh, but bit back the urge. "I guess I'll have to put more effort into it. Probably easier once you're gone. Out of sight, out of mind."

  "I sincerely hope that is not the case," he said, with such heat in his voice it made her knees go weak.

  Quai stepped back, having released Luke from his binds, though one ankle was now bound to the thick concrete by a short length of heavy metal chain. "Give us a moment," she said, in a voice that broached no argument. Quai nodded, then stepped out, the security drone following behind.

  "Sara," Luke said the moment the door closed behind them. "Thank you."

  "No problem," she said, keeping her face bland and hoping he couldn't see beneath the mask. "I wasn't going to have my first big trial at Division ripped away from me just because the defendant went and got himself staked."

  "I can see how that would be an inconvenience to you." She stifled a smile, then almost immediately turned serious. "Luke, you jumped from the thirty-sixth floor. I've read up, and there's no way you could just walk away from a fall like that. Not when you couldn't transform." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "Do you have a question for me, Counselor, or are you merely stating facts?"

  "I want to know how you survived. Look at you." Lord knew she was looking hard enough at him. "You're perfect. Not a scrape, not a bruise." She moved closer.

  "How, Luke? How can that be?"

  "You know
what I am, Sara."

  "You fed." She closed her eyes. "Oh, God ..."

  "Sara." His hand clutched her around the wrist.

  "Tell me." She looked up, saw the pain and regret on his face. "Tell me now before I find out some other way."

  "I fell to your pool deck," he said. "And, yes, I was injured." He looked hard at her. "The damage could have healed with time. But I did not have time."

  "The furlough," she said, and he nodded.

  "Do you know what heals a vampire, Sara?"

  112

  "Blood," she said, then closed her eyes.

  "There was a girl."

  "Oh, God."

  "Sara."

  She shook her head. "Give me a second. Give me a second to get my head around this." She forced herself not to close her eyes. Not to imagine him, mangled and broken beside the pool. And, God help her, she forced herself not to wish that it had been her at his side to help him heal. "Is she alive? This girl?"

  "Yes. She will be fine."

  Something in his voice caught her attention. "Tell me."

  "The hunger was upon me," he said, and she recalled the raw need she'd seen on his face before she'd punched the panic button. "I had ... lost control, was still in the throes of that need, that hunger, when I drank from the girl. Annie." He drew in a breath.

  "I took too much," he said. "Took her to death's door."

  "What did you do?"

  "A vampire's blood heals," he said. "I gave. She drank." He closed his eyes, and for one single, shame-filled moment, Sara despised the woman, this girl who had shared something so horribly intimate with Luke. Disturbed and embarrassed, she looked away, not wanting to picture him cradling the girl, helping her, keeping death at bay. She tried to focus on his file, on all the people he was suspected of killing. The list was long and colorful, yet it was this girl who filled her thoughts.

  "You were almost out of time," she said. "Why save her?" Why save one girl when he'd so boldly killed so many others?

  "Because she was innocent," Luke said, and for a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, Sara had a glimpse into the heart of the man.

  "Will she ..." She tried to imagine the horror of being thrust into that world, feeling the daemon rise. Of becoming the very thing that had killed her father. "I mean, will she be a vampire, too?"

  "No." The word was quick and sharp and said with such force that she took a step back. "I gave her only enough to keep her safe until help arrived. I would not turn her. I--" He broke off, and though his voice remained steady she saw the pain on his face, and she wondered.

  "Luke," she said, stepping forward, wanting to comfort even though she didn't understand. Her fingers brushed his, the contact enough to fire her senses, and then the door burst open.

  She jumped back, guilty, as the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen in her life got right in her face.

  "What the fuck are you doing with my client?"

  "Nicholas ..." Sara didn't miss the warning in Luke's voice. Neither, apparently, did his advocate.

  "Dammit, Luke--"

  "No," Luke said. "I chose to speak to her on my own. I'll not have my judgment questioned."

  The advocate stood stock-still, clearly not liking the situation. "We'll talk about this later."

  113

  "I have no doubt," Luke said. To Sara, he added, "My advocate, Nicholas Montegue."

  "So I gathered."

  Nicholas turned his attention to her. "Whatever you talked about--whatever he told you--it was said without his advocate, and it's out of bounds. Are we clear on that?" She stiffened, her arms crossed across her chest. "Thank you for the lesson, Mr. Montegue. But I assure you I know the law."

  "In that case, you know that I'm entitled to a moment alone with my client." She nodded, agreeing with Montegue's words, but her eyes were on Luke.

  "We will speak again," Luke said to her. She nodded, then stepped from the room, and realized her lips were curved with anticipation.

  114

  Chapter 20

  "Are you not afraid of the dark?"

  Xavier shivered, the Dark Angel's breath on the back of his neck like the whisper of a goddess.

  "My Angel," he said, bending his head low to show his submission. "The dark gives me strength."

  She laughed, as if delighted with his answer, then moved around the swing set to face him. Her beauty stunned him, her eyes compelling. Radiant eyes that he would follow forever.

  But it was her fangs that he desired. He would become as she was--she'd promised him so. He had only to prove himself worthy, and then he would be able to take their light with a kiss. A special kiss to the neck, and their light would be his. He shuddered in anticipation.

  She lifted her wrist to her mouth then tore her flesh. "Drink," she said, thrusting her arm toward him.

  "My Angel," he said, his heart leaping. "You would change me?"

  "I would make you strong," she said. "The change you must earn. Now drink." She didn't have to ask again. His mouth closed over her wrist and he drew in the sweet, tangy taste of her blood. He drew it in, and felt the power thrum through him. So much power in her, and soon, when he'd proved his worth, that power would be his, too. His to control. To wield.

  He would be invincible. A true creature of the night.

  And they could never again stop him from taking what he desired.

  "If the dark is your strength," she asked, swaying slightly as he drank from her,

  "then why do you hunt during the day?"

  He drew away, his mouth tingling, his head bowed deferentially. "The females," he said, trying to explain. "The ones who fill me up. They don't come out at night." He laughed, suddenly amused by his words and the situation. "There are monsters at night, you know."

  She smiled, showing her fangs as she laughed. "Where do they live? The young ones. The ones afraid of the scary, scary dark?"

  "All around," he said, his finger pointing to the darkened houses. "There is a ripe one lives there," he added, pointing to a pretty house on the corner. A pretty house for a pretty girl.

  "Then watch," she said. "Watch and see." Before his eyes, she dissolved, her body fading into a pale white mist that matched the color of her gown. It moved over the park as fog then disappeared into the house, creeping through cracks and crevices. Only moments later, it returned, riding low over the ground, then rising as a whirlwind in front of him. The whirlwind slowed, the mist took form, and Xavier found himself looking again at his Dark Angel, a sleeping girl clutched tight in her arms. 115

  "She's for you, Xavier."

  He couldn't speak, so deep was his craving, and she laughed, understanding.

  "Wait, wait. So hungry. So desperate."

  She bent her head to the child's neck, and the girl's eyes opened in terror, her gaze fixed right on him. Seeing him. Knowing him.

  He pressed his hand over her mouth as she began to scream, but with that moment of clarity, reason abandoned him. He knew only the craving. The hunger. The need.

  "Mine," he said like a thing possessed, and he took her and fell to the ground with her, closing his mouth over the wound the Angel had made for him, then drawing in the life. The light.

  116

  Chapter 21

  "I came here planning to punch you in the face," Nick said, his perfect face twisted in anger. "Although I was considering postponing my assault, however much you may deserve it, as I've got something more pressing to talk with you about."

  "My relief knows no bounds," Luke said.

  "Oh, what the hell." And then, before Luke could anticipate it, Nick's fist shot out and slammed into his nose. Bone and cartilage shattered. Blood oozed down the back of his throat.

  And somewhere deep within Luke, the beast reared its head and growled. Luke forced himself to be calm. Forcing the anger back down where it belonged, taking hold of the chains and twisting, trying to choke the life from the beast. And only when he was certain that he could control it did he look up at his friend. Nick took a s
tep forward. "You locked me in a coffin. And I had to wake up to Ryan Doyle's ugly face."

  "About that, I truly am sorry. No one should have to suffer that way."

  "Dammit, Luke, after everything we've been through, and you pull this shit? Play anyone else you like, line up your pieces however they make sense to you. But you do not play me. Not me. Not ever. We clear?"

  "We are." Luke understood Nick perfectly, which wasn't the same as acquiescing, but he didn't feel compelled to point that out. "Now tell me what's gotten under your skin." He needed to speak to Nick about the escaped serial killer and the vampire who had helped him, but that conversation would have to wait. Something was up, and Luke quelled a growing sense of unease as he waited for his friend to speak.

  "Ryback called," Nick said, as dread latched its claws into Luke. "Tasha wasn't in the apartment."

  "There's more," Luke said, a slow, boiling fury replacing the dread. "Tell me."

  "He found goblin blood."

  Dear gods, Tasha. "You tried her cell?"

  "I did. No answer."

  "You go there," Luke said, his voice tight with fury. "Use my jet so you can travel by day, but go there, find Serge, and find out what the fuck has happened to my ward. And get my bail hearing moved up. I cannot be in here with Tasha lost in the world. She's a child, Nick, trapped in the body of a woman. She needs protection. She needs me." He looked hard at his friend. "Do whatever you must to make it so."

  "I will," Nick said, "though your actions tonight might make that more difficult." Luke lifted his brow in question. "Constantine's pool deck," he continued. "Caught the news as I was coming here. The human cops have swarmed the place. Apparently some girl had the blood sucked out of her."

  "Terrible thing," Luke said.

  "Dammit, Luke, you had to go and feed?"

  "As a matter of fact, I did."

  117

  "It's a crime to suck the life from a human," Nick said mildly. "Or hadn't you heard?"

  Luke shot him a look that had his friend recoiling.

  "If the prosecution connects the dots, that's not going to help your case on bail."

  "The prosecution already knows," Luke said, then waited for Nick to connect those dots.

  It didn't take long. "Dammit, Luke. You told her? A gung ho prosecutor with something to prove? She might make a fine asset, Luke, but don't let the game turn into something more." He cocked his head, as if rearranging a puzzle in his mind. "Oh, no. No. Don't go there. She's the prosecutor. Your prosecutor. Whatever fantasy you're clinging to, you need to let it go."