Beneath a Blood Red Moon
Page 53
Page 53
He saw Carter move—and yet he didn’t. He was fast, but before he could pull the trigger, Carter was on top of him, and they were struggling for the gun. Carter’s strength was uncanny. Sean could imagine his fingers breaking one by one. Before the first bone could crack, he pulled the trigger, not at all certain where he was aiming.
He hit Carter; for a moment, the man paused. Sean figured he had struck him somewhere in the gut.
Maybe it was all a hoax; maybe Carter would fall, screaming, his insides pouring from him.
But then, Carter started to laugh. He jerked the gun from Sean’s hands, sent it flying. His hands were around Sean’s throat, squeezing. Sean found himself lifted from the floor. Desperately, he grabbed at Carter’s hands, trying to wrench them from his neck.
His oxygen was nearly gone. Carter was smiling. He smacked his lips. In his dazed view, Sean expected to see yellow, fetid teeth, reeking of death . . .
Carter’s teeth were white, the fangs now approaching Sean’s throat were shining and perfectly snow-colored. He could have been an advertisement for the wisdom of good dentistry.
And yet the man’s breath, now circling around what little consciousness Sean had left, had a scent of . . .
decay. Distant decay. Not so terrible; oddly enough, almost inviting.
He was dying, Sean realized.
With his last ounce of strength, he banked on a feeble effort, drawing all his effort into his legs. He struck out, managing to land a staggering blow with exacting precision on Carter’s groin.
Carter howled, dropped Sean, doubled over. When he started to rise, his eyes now glittering like those of a snake, his pupils appearing horizontal, he was in a rage. “Lieutenant, I’m going to remove your sex organs with a bone saw and stuff them down your throat while you die in a pool of your own blood!” And it might have happened.
Except that Sean caught Carter’s chin with a sturdy right just as he threatened him, sending him staggering back several feet. Sean used those few moments to grab a broom from the corner, slam it against the steel drawers, and turn it into a pike with a jagged end. Not exactly a well-honed weapon, but the raw splintering of the wood might be just as effective.
Carter made a lunge toward him; Sean raised his weapon, aimed at the vampire’s heart.
Carter paused, staring at Sean. And at that moment, the double doors to the room burst open and Jack Delaney came through. “Hold it!” he called sharply to Carter.
Carter swung around. He looked from Sean to Jack. He smiled, and started toward Jack. “Want to fire a few warning shots, Doc?”
“Stop now, or I’ll shoot to kill!” Jack warned.
Laughing, Carter took another step forward.
Jack started to fire.
Carter paused, backing away. He stared at Sean again, then at Jack. Filled with bullets, he bowed politely.
“We’ll meet again, gentlemen!”
He started out toward Jack again. Jack reached for another clip.
Carter slammed past him.
Sean chased after him as he started down the hall. Carter rounded a corner. Sean did the same.
Carter was gone. A faint trace of mist remained.
“I didn’t see that,” Jack said.
Sean didn’t reply.
“Maybe I did just see that. Shit, what did I just see?” Jack asked. “Why do I hate that man so much?”
“He’s a vicious, cold-blooded murderer,” Sean said.
“Yes, but . . . ” Jack’s voice trailed.
“Good timing, by the way, partner,” Sean murmured, still staring down the hall as if Aaron Carter might suddenly reemerge. “What brought you?”
“They said you were at the morgue. And I think I have some interesting information for you. ”
“Yeah?”
“I found your historical Aaron Carter. ”
Maggie had tried calling Sean all day.
Gyn at his office had politely fielded her every call, whether she had ranted or cajoled. Sean was out; he was busy. He’d see her that evening.
She was terrified, afraid he might not live to see the evening. If only he believed her, he might stand a chance, but he didn’t believe her. He wouldn’t protect himself, he wouldn’t be prepared. He’d think himself a crack shot, and that he could stop the killer with a bullet.
She sat in her office, her head bowed over her desk, when she felt a stirring in the air. Before she could lift her head, she felt fingers moving lightly through her hair. “Bad day? I’ve warned you against mortals.
Of course, you can save your beloved Canady. You know that. ” She looked up at Lucian. He wasn’t mocking her. In his typical black silk shirt and chino pants, he appeared the handsomely dressed man about town, arrogant, assured, earnestly sympathetic.
“Aaron is a monster!” she told Lucian. “Why can’t we kill him?”
“We’re all monsters,” Lucian told her. “Remember? How do we condemn him for being a predator, when it is what we are?”
“No, we’re not all predators like he is—”
“Ah, Maggie, Maggie, my sweet Magdalena! Don’t you remember what it was like? Before the advent of blood banks? Don’t you remember the pain, the agony of the hunger when it went deep? I know that you remember the kill, as much as you wish you did not. ”
“Yes, but men go to war, people do kill, there is anger, there is passion . . . but there isn’t such ruthless cruelty in men or beasts that exists in Aaron! Lucian, please . . . ” He sat on the corner of her desk, smoothed her hair back again, smiled sadly. “What is it about you? I should snap my fingers and say be damned with it all! You’re not even my lover anymore, and yet . . . but I’m sorry. You know that I can’t kill him. Nor can you. And yet . . . ”
“And yet what?” Maggie asked, inhaling sharply.
“Part of our code has to do with the lines between life and death, Maggie. Vampires are found and killed by men, and that is why we are not to destroy our own kind. ”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, that, of course, though we may not kill him, Aaron can be destroyed. Some things are myth, and some are not. All creatures have their weaknesses. We all know too well, we can be killed. A stake through the heart will do it. Cremation. Decapitation. Aaron was not my creation; I never knew who made him, because I believe his benefactor was killed soon after Aaron was made. I had not come to the States often when I followed you here, and I knew little about him. But think, Maggie, you come back here, because here is home. When you travel to Europe, you must bring native soil. I believe that Aaron’s roots are here as well. He is comfortable here, he walks freely here—you met him here. And though it’s a fallacy that we burn to ash with simple daylight, he must rest somewhere. We must all rest somewhere.
If he can be found while sleeping . . . ”
She felt as if her heart quickened. That was it. Do some research on Aaron Carter. She closed her eyes.
Yes. He had claimed that he was “distant kin” to the Wynns. They had accepted him. He had been welcomed as a suitor for Lilly Wynn, all those years ago. Then Lilly Wynn had died . . . and been reborn.
She hadn’t heard anything about Lilly Wynn since that long-ago time. Since Colonel Elijah Wynn had gone mad and begun to kill his own soldiers, looking for the lover who had cost him his daughter . . .
“Lucian—”
“You mustn’t kill him. Remember that. ”
She shook her head. “Lucian, he is a thing of evil beyond any of us. I will rid the world of Aaron, one way or another. And if you must condemn me for the act, Lucian, then so be it!”
“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie . . . you must not be a martyr to the world!” She had so seldom seen Lucian tender. Passionate, yes. Arrogant, demanding. Not tender. He very gently held her, kissed her forehead, released her. “This thing I do for you!” he said softly.
And then he was gone.
Pierre went from the morgue to the hospital, protesting all the while. He was fine, he was embarrassed that he’d been knocked out so easily. He ruefully joked that most people went from the hospital to the morgue, and not the other way around.
“How did that bastard get into my morgue?” he wanted to know. Sean opened his mouth to explain.
Closed his mouth, having given up. There was no rational explanation.
When Pierre was gone, he returned to headquarters, telling Jack, who remained behind with some of the uniformed officers to retrace the events, to meet at the office as soon as he could.
Sean walked into his office and slammed the door, totally unnerved and glad to see that Gyn had left coffee on for him, with a note not to stay in his office too late. He sipped his coffee, running his free hand through his hair.
He turned around . . . and saw that Lucian DeVeau was sitting in one of the chairs before his desk.
“Good evening,” DeVeau said.
Sean sank into his swivel chair behind the desk. “You startled me. ” Lucian shrugged. He was a good-looking man with patrician features, strange, hypnotic, yellow eyes, and a casual elegance to his movements. “Sorry. ”
“Well, I’m glad to see you. We’ve been looking for you, you know. ” Lucian smiled and leaned forward, folding his hands on Sean’s desk.
“Has she told you yet?”
“Told me what?”
“What she is. ”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. ”
“You’re lying,” Lucian said. “But that’s all right. We seldom let the truth be known—self-preservation, of course. And people don’t handle the information at all well. ”
“Well, can you beat that?” Sean murmured sarcastically.
“If you don’t want my help—” Lucian began.
“On the contrary. I’m anxious to hear anything you have to say. ” Lucian’s smile broadened. “I’m sure there’s a whole lot you want to know. Well, I’m not going to tell you too much about the past. It doesn’t matter. ”
“Because it’s over?”