Natalie held out her hand to Lucien. “Can I have my gloves, please?”
Lucien stepped closer to her and held out the journal. Natalie pulled her hand back sharply and Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you afraid of a book, Natalie?”
“I’m not,” she said through gritted teeth, tugging the gloves out of his hand. She could already see the ghost. That horse had bolted. She slid the gloves on, jamming her fingers into them.
“I know you can see me, hear me,” the woman said, her hands clenching into fists as she turned to Natalie. “I don’t want a vampire reading my journal. If you don’t do something, I will.”
Natalie sighed. Why did ghosts think they could actually do something? Rupert was the only one she knew who could marshal some control, but it was something he’d had to practice for decades. His aim was improving, though. She finally met the woman’s gaze with a slight shake of her head.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. Her lips tightened and her hand flashed out toward the journal in a vicious jab upward.
Lucien’s hand jerked and the book hit him in the face. He swore as he clutched his nose.
Natalie gaped then turned to the woman. “How did you do that?” she gasped. She’d never seen a ghost manifest so much physical, corporeal power. She’d practically punched Lucien in the face. Rupert had only recently learned to move some objects, but he still had to concentrate on grasping the object and moving it, just as he had when he’d been living. This woman—ghost—had managed to do so without coming into contact with either the book or Lucien, almost as though she’d used power as an object.
“What the hell is going on?” Lucien bellowed, pulling his hand away from his face to stare at the blood on his palm. “Damn it.” He glanced in disbelief at the book he still held in his hand.
The woman sagged a little, her face drawn, and she stared at the journal Lucien now gripped tightly as he tilted his head back in an effort to stop his nose bleed. Already, though, Natalie could see his self-healing abilities were coming into effect and the bleeding was slowing, if not stopping completely.
“I don’t want a bloodsucker sticking his nose in my diary,” she murmured, and she swayed a little on her feet.
Natalie eyed the ghost closely. Interesting. Using that much force seemed to have depleted her, just a little. Who was this woman? And how could she present with such force? She’d lost count of the ghosts she’d encountered, and only Rupert had displayed any ability to actually move things successfully. Others just fumbled around, causing ‘accidents’—like Terry at the bistro. But this particular ghost had real strength and power. She had to read this journal, find out more about the ghost who guarded it.
“Let me see the book,” Natalie said, holding her hand out for the tome.
“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on,” Lucien said through gritted teeth. He pulled a handkerchief out of his suit jacket pocket and wiped the blood off his face.
Natalie arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one holding the book, you tell me.” She may know, she just couldn’t say it. A ghost doesn’t want you to read her diary, and is prepared to maim you in order to defend it. Yeah, it was highly unlikely he’d believe her if she did tell him, although why that should matter to her, she had no idea. Okay, so maybe she didn’t want Lucien to think she was a complete nutter.
He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “Uh-uh. How did who do what?”
Oh, so he’d heard her. The ghost’s expression hardened and she took a shaky step toward Lucien again. Natalie sighed. “Just give me the damn book—otherwise I can’t help you on this cockamamy quest and I’m walking out. Going home. Might treat myself to a nice hot bath, a glass of red and a good book.” She shrugged. “Your choice.”
Lucien’s lips tightened and he stared at her for a long moment, then his gaze shifted to look around the otherwise empty atrium. He cocked his head, listening, before his gaze returned to hers. “I don’t think I trust you.”
After what he’d pulled with Ned, his words made her smile. “Right back at you, babe.” He still hesitated. She sighed. “Fine. Bath it is. See ya.” She turned away and took a step toward the door, only to bump into his chest. Damn, the man could move fast. She stepped back from the warm, solid contact. That broad, sexy chest...
He reluctantly handed over the book, holding on to it as she grasped it. “You will tell me. Eventually.”
“Tell you what?” she asked, her eyes wide with pseudo-innocence.
“Your secrets.”
She tugged the book out of his hand. “Dream on.”
She gently opened the journal and squinted at the faded ink on the inside cover page. “‘This diary belongs to...’” She leaned closer. “‘Grace...’” She squinted. “‘Pumkins’?”
“Perkins,” the woman corrected.
“Perkins,” Natalie repeated. “Grace Perkins.”
“Who is Grace Pumpkins?” Lucien asked tiredly.
“Perkins,” the ghost grumbled, glaring at him.
Natalie eyed the woman in uniform before gently turning some pages. “Looks like she was a police officer, maybe...?”
“Chief of Police, Devil’s Leap Police Department,” Grace proclaimed, folding her arms as she stared between Natalie and Lucien. “Not that it’s any of his business.”
“Why did Deputy Do-Little’s diary hit me?” Lucien asked succinctly. “Twice. And what does it have to do with our search?”
Natalie surreptitiously eyed Rupert, who winced. “You need to read it,” he said. “Particularly the entries about several, uh—” he cleared his throat “—disappearances.” He smiled at the police chief. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Grace shrugged. “Not at all. Sometimes I think people should be reminded of what happened.”
“Natalie?” Lucien prompted.
She blinked, bringing her attention back to him. “Oh, uh, well, it appears Grace Perkins was a cop at Devil’s Leap.”
“Police chief,” Grace corrected.
“Police chief,” Natalie stated then snapped the book close. She couldn’t keep doing this, having multiple conversations at once. “I can’t say why it just jumped out at you like that,” she said. She wasn’t lying, per se. “There may be a draft in the library. It may be be-spelled,” she prevaricated. She shrugged. “I’m going back to my office to read this.”
She started walking back down the hall and Rupert trotted alongside her. Lucien followed. Natalie halted then turned. She grasped the book with both hands.
“I want to read this. Alone. It’ll be quicker.” Quieter. Easier. Whatever. “Please.”
Rupert sighed. Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “Does this really have anything to do with helping my sister?”
Natalie’s shoulders dropped. “I don’t know, Lucien,” she replied honestly. “It’s probably got as much bearing on finding a cure for lycanthropulism as any of those fairy tales back in my office. I just need a chance to sit down and—” she glanced briefly at Grace, who arched any eyebrow “—assess the information.”
“Fine, I’ll sit quietly while you ‘assess the information,’” Lucien muttered.
Natalie winced. She couldn’t very well talk with Grace if Lucien was sitting in the same room as her. “Maybe...not. If this book is be-spelled, obviously it’s warded against you. It’ll be much faster if I do this on my own. Take a break. Go have something to eat.” She held up a hand and glared at him. “Something not someone. Don’t kill anyone. You promised.”
“That promise extended only to your friends and colleagues,” he reminded her.
Her lips firmed. “Then consider everyone in Westamoor my friend. This town hasn’t seen any vampire activity for one hundred and nine years. They’re a peaceful lot.” A flash of inspiration hit her. “That may be why this book targeted you. You’re a vampire, the first
in over a century to come anywhere near it.”
Lucien eyed the book warily and finally nodded. “Fine. I’ll check in on you, later.”
Natalie nodded. “Great. If everyone leaves me alone for a while, I might get some results.” She turned and headed toward her office, mentally preparing a list of questions she couldn’t wait to ask Grace.
Chapter 7
Lucien lifted his lips from the young woman’s throat, Natalie’s words ringing in his ears. Don’t kill anyone.
Well, don’t kill anyone in Westamoor, he clarified. He’d driven to the next town, so, technically, he could kill this victim. Despite what he’d threatened with Natalie—and he was both satisfied and offended she’d fallen for it—he didn’t normally hunt to kill. Not since his younger, wilder days. He’d learned the value of life through the painful lesson of his mother’s death, and then Nina’s. These days, he preferred to feed, not kill. He let the woman lie back on the sofa. He’d found her in a bar off the highway. He hadn’t even needed to compel her, she’d been eager to jump into his car and invite him into her home.
He shook his head. Was it any wonder these humans were viewed as easy pickings by his kind—by most of the shadow breeds? He leaned back on the sofa and gently touched his nose. It was healed, thankfully. Not so much as a bruise. He still couldn’t believe it. How could books attack him? He couldn’t help but notice it had happened when he was close to Natalie. Was this the cosmos looking out for her? Or something more sinister? Was this Natalie’s doing, defending herself against him? Was she somehow capable of teleporting objects across distances and with such force it could break bones?
He scoffed. Now he was losing it. Telepathy? No. Perhaps a witch’s spell, like she’d hinted? Would she request that kind of protection from a witch? Could he blame her if she did? He still didn’t know what had truly happened to her all those years ago, but if just a fraction of what he’d heard was true... Her comments about trying to end her life haunted him. All the news reports had told of a bizarre murdering duo, a vampire and a werewolf—something that was so damned unheard of, no wonder they’d gotten away with their crimes for as long as they had. It made sense if she’d bought some sort of ward against the vampires and lycans.
His mouth turned down at the corners. Did she need protection from him? She’d trusted him. Hell, she’d fed him. He would never hurt her.
He’d kissed her, though. Should he be ashamed? Proud? Hell. He’d met Natalie when she was nine years old and, despite the fact she’d pretty much grown up before his very eyes, he’d never thought of her as anything more than that sweet, precocious little kid.
He swallowed as images from the library flooded his mind. She’d been so hot and responsive, so willing in his arms. And now she couldn’t even stand him being in the same room as her. She’d looked at him with such heat, such desire, in his arms and then she’d bolted. She’d kissed him. She’d pushed him away. She’d been so hot in his arms and so cold in her conversation. Now she’d asked him to leave—because she wanted to concentrate. So, was that because she found him unpleasant to be around or more of a...happy distraction? He rolled his eyes. God, he felt like some crush-fevered teen.
Stop obsessing over her. Think of something else.
He reached forward to pick up the book on the coffee table in an effort to distract himself and winced at the title. Dating in the New Age—Navigating Inter-Breed Relationships. He eyed the unconscious woman next to him on the sofa.
“Really? Really?” He frowned as he realized that as a perpetually single vampire, he couldn’t really scoff. He didn’t have problems dating, as such. It was more the committing part, the sustaining of those relationships. He wasn’t ugly, he didn’t have any disfigurements, and he kept himself in shape, so attracting women hadn’t been a problem for him. Until now.
He glanced at his watch. Two hours. Surely that was enough time for her to flick through Officer Pumpkin’s doodles...?
The woman on the sofa stirred next to him and he leaned over to watch her slowly regain consciousness. Her eyelids flickered open and he met her brown-eyed gaze intently.
“You’re fine and you’re safe,” he said, lowering his voice as he mesmerized her before she could give in to the panic he saw in her eyes. “That sore spot on your neck is a hickey. We had a great time, but now it’s time for me to go. You’ll only remember me as a somewhat blurry, fun interlude.”
She nodded, brushing her hair off her neck. “I had a great time,” she repeated, smiling, a soft blush creeping over her cheeks. “But I think it’s time for you to go.”
He nodded, returning her smile. “I understand.” He rose and let her walk him to her front door, but hesitated when she opened it. He tilted his head. She’d been a nice lady, if a little eager to please. He met her gaze intently, instilling a quiet confidence in his words. “Don’t ever think you’re not worth it. You’re amazing, and you deserve the best kind of guy. Make him woo you and prove himself before you take him home.”
She really needed to exercise more caution.
He turned to leave but halted when Enzo walked up the steps to the porch, his expression implacable. Lucien frowned. “Why are you here?”
“Following you,” Enzo said simply.
“I told you, I don’t need your help.”
“Well, your father gives me my orders, not you, and he thinks otherwise.” He lifted his chin toward the woman at the door—Lucien realized he didn’t even know her name. “Who’s she?”
“Nobody you need to worry yourself with.”
Enzo stepped closer, his gaze steely as it flicked between Lucien and the woman. His lips curled. “A late-night snack, I see.”
Lucien realized Enzo could probably smell her blood. He shrugged, not bothering to respond.
“Who is this guy?” the woman asked softly. Her chin lifted and she’d lost that eager-to-please look.
Enzo ignored her, focusing on Lucien. “Do you have any news? Anything for me to report back to your father?”
“Nope,” Lucien said shortly. “If I did, I’d tell him myself.”
“Well, I can’t help but notice your learned friend is taking her sweet time with coming up with a solution.”
Lucien frowned. “Up until now, my father has believed this to be a wild-goose chase, and now he’s getting antsy for Nat—Professor Segova to deliver a fairy-tale ending. What gives?”
“He’s concerned for his daughter, Lucien, and he’s watching her slowly wither.”
Lucien dropped his gaze. Maybe this fruitless search was the easy option, as opposed to sitting by his sister’s glass-topped coffin and watching the lycan toxin spread like a black stain through her system, ravaging her as it went.
“Tell him I’m working on it,” Lucien said in a low tone.
Enzo nodded. “He said you’d say that. He suggested I offer you an incentive.”
The guardian prime moved like lightning, taking Lucien by surprise as he darted behind him. He heard the woman’s neck snap, felt her slide down the side of his body and heard the dull thump her corpse made as it hit the floor.
Enzo stood over her body, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Break’s over. Find the cure.” He stalked along the porch to the steps and skipped down them lightly. “Otherwise that professor of yours is next.”
Lucien watched his father’s guardian prime disappear into the darkness then glanced down at the body at his feet.
Well, damn.
* * *
“So, you covered up the disappearances?” Natalie said, shocked, as she turned the pages of the worn journal. Grace nodded as she lightly dragged her fingers across the spines of the books on the bookshelf.
“Yep.”
“But there were so many of them...how did you manage it?”
“It’s amazing what a town will do, g
iven the right incentive.”
“The whole town was in on it?”
Grace shrugged. “Eventually. Those we could trust, anyway.”
Natalie shook her head, pausing on a page. “I can’t believe a whole town conspired to kill so many people...”
Grace snorted as she turned to face her, leaning back against the bookshelf. “That’s where you’re wrong. These weren’t people. These were animals. Monsters.”
“Yeah, well, since Reformation they’ve been given equal rights.”
“They’re not equal,” Grace snapped, and Natalie raised her eyes to meet the stormy gaze of the police chief. She’d hit a sore spot, apparently. “Have you ever been hunted in the dark by a werewolf? Do you think a human is equal against that kind of threat? What about the bloodsuckers, their speed and strength, the way they use those mystical powers to control the way you think, the way you act—is that fair and equal?” Natalie dropped her gaze. Yeah. She knew what that was like. And the police chief was right. It wasn’t a fair contest.
“We were sitting ducks against them,” Grace muttered. “There was no equality, no fair and just treatment. They were stronger and faster, and without a conscience when it came to killing good, honest people. It was them or it was us. We chose us.”
Natalie tilted her head as she listened to a woman from another time. She was dealing with someone from before The Troubles, she had to remind herself. A time when the shadow breeds weren’t recognized, where the general population didn’t even know of their existence.
“What was it like?” she asked quietly. She’d always wanted to know what it was like to be completely oblivious to the threat around you.
Grace sighed as she walked over to one of the armchairs in front of Natalie’s desk. “It was wonderful, before it wasn’t.” Her lips curled in a half smile. “I moved to Devil’s Leap after working for several years in the city. Homicide,” she clarified at Natalie’s raised eyebrow. “After one too many deaths, I learned about this surprise vacancy and applied for the job.” Her chuckle was derisive. “I was so pleased that I beat the other applicants on the force. I didn’t find out until weeks after I’d made the move that I was the only person who’d applied for the job. That should have been my first clue, I guess.”
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