Midnight Breed - Book - 01

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Midnight Breed - Book - 01 Page 26

by Kiss of Midnight


  need to get moving. Let’s download those pictures off your

  computer. I want to take all of them into the lab at the

  compound.”

  Gabrielle led him over to a neat corner desk in her liv-

  ing room. She powered up the desktop workstation and as

  it cycled through its startup, she pulled a couple of flash

  memory sticks out of their store packaging and popped

  one into the computer’s USB drive.

  “You know, they said she was crazy. They called her

  delusional, a paranoid schizophrenic. They locked her

  away for believing she had been attacked by vampires.”

  Gabrielle laughed softly, but it was a sad, empty sound.

  “Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all.”

  Behind her, Lucan moved closer. “Who would that

  be?”

  “My birth mother.” After beginning the copying proce-

  dure, Gabrielle spun around in her chair to look up at

  Lucan. “She was found late one night in Boston, injured,

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  bloody, disoriented. She didn’t have a wallet or purse, or

  any kind of ID on her, and in the brief periods when she

  was lucid, she couldn’t tell anyone who she was so the po-

  lice processed her as a Jane Doe. She was just a teenager.”

  “She was bleeding, you say?”

  “Multiple throat lacerations—presumably self-inflicted,

  according to the official records. The courts deemed her

  incompetent to stand trial and locked her away in a mental

  institution once she was released from the hospital.”

  “Jesus.”

  She gave a slow shake of her head. “But what if every-

  thing she said was true? What if she wasn’t crazy at all?

  Oh, God, Lucan . . . all these years, I’ve blamed her. I think

  I’ve hated her, even, and now I can’t help but think—”

  “You said the police and the courts processed her. You

  mean, for some kind of crime?”

  The computer beeped to indicate the memory stick

  was full. Gabrielle turned back to continue with the next

  copying function, and she stayed there, giving him her

  back. Lucan put his hands down gently on her shoulders

  and brought the swivel chair back around.

  “What was your mother charged with?”

  For a long moment, Gabrielle didn’t say anything.

  Lucan saw her throat working. There was a great deal of

  hurt in her soft brown eyes. “She was charged with aban-

  doning her child.”

  “How old were you?”

  She shrugged, shook her head. “Young. An infant. She

  stuffed me in a trash bin outside an apartment building. It

  was only about a block from where the police picked her

  up. Fortunately for me, one of the cops decided to check

  the surrounding area. He heard my crying, I guess, and

  took me out of there.”

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  Holy Christ.

  A jolt of recollection flashed hard in Lucan’s mind as

  she spoke. He saw a dark street, wet pavement gleaming in

  the moonlight, a wide-eyed female standing in transfixed

  horror as a Rogue vampire sucked at her throat. He heard

  the shrill wailing of the tiny baby nestled in the young

  mother’s arms.

  “When did this happen?”

  “A long time ago. Twenty-seven years ago this summer,

  to be exact.”

  To one of Lucan’s age, twenty-seven years ago was a

  blink of time. He clearly remembered interrupting the at-

  tack at the bus station. Recalled stepping between the

  Rogue and its prey, sending the terrified female off with a

  stern mental command. She’d been bleeding profusely,

  some of it raining down on her baby.

  After he’d killed the Rogue and cleared the scene, he

  had gone to look for the woman and her child. He hadn’t

  found them. He’d often wondered what had happened to

  the both of them, and cursed himself for not having been

  able to at least remove the horrific memories of the assault

  from the victim’s mind.

  “She committed suicide in the mental facility not long

  afterward,” Gabrielle said. “I was already a ward of the

  state.”

  He couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Gently

  sweeping aside her long hair, he cupped the delicate line of

  her jaw, stroked the proud lift of her chin. Her eyes were

  moist, but she didn’t crack. She was a tough one, all right.

  Tough and beautiful and so incredibly special.

  In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull

  her into his arms and tell her as much.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it with utmost sincerity.

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  And regret, something he wasn’t used to feeling. But, then,

  since he’d first laid eyes on her, Gabrielle made him feel a

  lot of things that were entirely new to him. “I’m sorry for

  both of you.”

  The computer beeped again.

  “That’s all of them,” she said, reaching up as if she

  might stroke his hand, but couldn’t quite bring herself to

  touch him yet.

  He let her back out of his caress and felt a sharp pang

  of remorse for the way she silently turned away.

  Shutting him out like the new stranger he was.

  He watched her remove the last memory stick and

  place it with the other. When she began to close the appli-

  cation, Lucan said, “Not yet. I need you to delete the im-

  age files from the computer and from any backups you

  might have. The copies we take out of here have to be the

  only ones remaining.”

  “What about print copies? The ones on the table there,

  the ones I have downstairs in my darkroom?”

  “You wrap up here. I’ll get the prints.”

  “Okay.”

  She got right to work, and Lucan made a quick sweep

  of the rest of the apartment. He gathered all the loose

  snapshots and took down her framed images as well, want-

  ing to leave nothing behind that could be of use to the

  Rogues. He found a large duffel bag in Gabrielle’s bed-

  room closet and brought it downstairs to load it up.

  As he finished packing and zipping the bag closed, he

  heard the low rumble of a muscle car coming to a stop out-

  side the townhouse. Two doors opened, then slammed

  shut, followed by urgent footsteps coming toward the

  apartment.

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  “Someone’s here,” Gabrielle said, sending him a stark

  look as she shut down her computer.

  Lucan’s hand was already inside his trenchcoat and

  snaked around to the base of his spine, where a custom

  Beretta 9mm was tucked into the back waistband of his

  pants. The gun
was loaded with maximum blast, Rogue-

  smoking, titanium rounds—one of Niko’s latest innova-

  tions. If a Rogue stood outside that door, the Bloodlusting

  son of a bitch was about to get a belly full of hurt.

  But it wasn’t Rogues, he realized at once. Not even

  Minions, which also would have given Lucan a bit of satis-

  faction in blowing away.

  There were humans on the front stoop. A man and a

  woman.

  “Gabrielle?” The doorbell rang several times in rapid

  succession. “Hello? Gabby! Are you in there?”

  “Oh, no. It’s my friend Megan.”

  “The one you went to last night?”

  “Yes. She’s been calling here most of the day, leaving

  messages. She’s worried about me.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “She knows about the assault in the park. I told her

  how I was attacked, but I didn’t tell her anything about

  you . . . what you did.”

  “Why not?”

  Gabrielle shrugged. “I didn’t want her involved. I don’t

  want her to be put in any danger because of me. Because

  of all this.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Maybe I didn’t

  want to say anything about you until I had some answers

  for myself.”

  The doorbell rang again. “Gabby, open up! Ray and I

  need to talk to you. We need to know that you’re okay.”

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  “Her boyfriend’s a cop,” Gabrielle said softly. “They

  want me to file a report about what happened last night.”

  “Is there a back way out of here?”

  She nodded, then seemed to change her mind and

  shook her head. “The slider opens onto a shared backyard,

  but there’s a tall fence—”

  “No time,” Lucan said, discarding the option. “Go to

  the door. Let your friends come in.”

  “What are you going to do?” She saw that his hand had

  just slipped back out of his trenchcoat, easing off the

  weapon concealed behind him. Panic flooded into her ex-

  pression. “Do you have a gun back there? Lucan, they

  won’t do anything to you. I’ll make sure they don’t say any-

  thing.”

  “I won’t have to use the weapon on them.”

  “Then what will you do?” After so deliberately avoid-

  ing any physical contact with him, now she finally did

  touch him, her small hands clutching at his arm. “God,

  please tell me you won’t hurt them—”

  “Open the door, Gabrielle.”

  Her legs moved sluggishly beneath her as she approached

  the front door. She twisted the deadbolt and heard

  Megan’s voice on the other side.

  “She’s in there, Ray. She’s at the door. Gabby, open up,

  honey! Are you all right?”

  Gabrielle slid the chain free, saying nothing. Not sure

  whether she should assure her friend that she was okay, or

  shout for Megan and Ray to get the hell out of there.

  A look behind her at Lucan gave her no indication ei-

  ther way. His sharp features were emotionless and still. His

  silver eyes were rooted on the door, cool and unblinking.

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  His powerful hands were empty, down at his sides, but

  Gabrielle knew he could spring into motion with no warn-

  ing at all.

  If he wanted to kill her friends—even her, for that mat-

  ter—it would be done before any of them knew to take the

  first breath.

  “Let them in,” he told her in a low growl.

  Gabrielle slowly turned the knob.

  The door was barely open a crack before Megan

  pushed inside, her boyfriend, still in uniform, right behind

  her.

  “Holy shit, Gabby! Do you have any idea how worried

  I’ve been? Why haven’t you returned my calls?” She pulled

  her into a fierce hug, then released her, only to frown at

  Gabrielle like a frantic mother hen. “You look tired. Have

  you been crying? Where have you—”

  Megan broke off abruptly, her eyes, and Ray’s, catch-

  ing a sudden glimpse of Lucan in the middle of the living

  room behind Gabrielle.

  “Oh . . . I didn’t realize you had someone here. . . .”

  “Everything okay here?” Ray asked, stepping past the

  two women and letting his hand rest lightly on his hol-

  stered weapon.

  “Fine. Everything’s fine,” Gabrielle quickly replied.

  She held her hand out toward Lucan. “This is, uh . . . a

  friend of mine.”

  “Going somewhere?” Megan’s boyfriend strolled for-

  ward, and gestured to the stuffed duffel bag that lay on the

  floor beside Lucan’s feet.

  “Um, yeah,” Gabrielle interjected, walking swiftly past

  Ray and putting herself between him and Lucan. “I’ve

  been a little shaken up tonight. I thought I’d go to a hotel

  and chill out. Lucan stopped by to give me a ride.”

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  “Huh.” Ray was trying to peer around her to where

  Lucan remained rudely stoic and silent. Lucan’s scathing

  stare said he had already sized up the young cop—and dis-

  missed him in that same instant.

  “I wish you hadn’t come, you guys,” Gabrielle said.

  And that was the God’s honest truth. “Really, you don’t

  have to stay.”

  Megan walked over and took Gabrielle’s hand protec-

  tively in hers. “Ray and I were hoping you’d consider com-

  ing with us to the police station, honey. It’s important. I’m

  sure your friend would agree with us. You’re the detective

  Gabby’s mentioned, right? I’m Meg.”

  Lucan shifted a step. The small movement brought him

  right up in front of Megan and Ray. It was such a slight

  flex of muscle, so fast, time seemed to slow around him.

  Gabrielle saw him take those handful of impossibly quick

  strides, but her friends blinked and found Lucan standing

  in their faces, crowding them with his massive size and a

  menace that vibrated in the air around him.

  Without any warning at all, he lifted his right hand and

  took Megan by the forehead.

  “Lucan, no!”

  Meg cried out, a half-uttered noise that died in her

  throat as she stared into Lucan’s eyes. With viper speed, he

  reached out with his left hand and clamped Ray in a simi-

  lar hold. The officer struggled for a mere second before his

  face drooped into a trancelike stupor. Lucan’s strong,

  clutching fingers seemed to be all that was holding the pair

  upright.

  “Lucan, please! I’m begging you!”

  “Get the memory sticks and the duffel bag,” he told

  her, his voice calm. Coldly commanding. “I have a car

  waiting outside. Get in, and wait for me. I’ll be right out.”

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  “I’m not going leave you here to bleed my friends dry.”

  “If that had been my intent, they’d already be dead on

  the floor.”

  He was right. God, but she had no doubt that this

  man—this dark being she had admitted into her life—was

  dangerous enough to do just that.

  But he hadn’t. And he wouldn’t; she trusted that much

  about him.

  “The pictures, Gabrielle. Now.”

  She jolted into action, hefting the bulky duffel bag over

  her shoulder and dropping the two flash drives into the

  front pocket of her jeans. On the way out, she paused to

  look at Megan’s blank face. Her eyes were closed now, as

  were Ray’s. Lucan was murmuring something to them in a

  voice so low she could hardly hear it.

  The tone of his words didn’t sound threatening, but

  oddly soothing, persuasive. Almost lulling.

  With one last glance at the bizarre scene taking place in

  her living room, Gabrielle dashed out the open front door

  and down onto the street. A sleek sedan waited at the curb,

  parallel parked in front of Ray’s red Mustang. It was an ex-

  pensive vehicle—incredibly expensive, from the looks of

  it—and the only other car around.

  As she approached, the front passenger door opened as

  if it had been willed to do so.

  Willed by the sheer strength of Lucan’s mind, she knew, won-

  dering just how far his preternatural powers might reach.

  She slid into the deep leather seat and closed the door.

  Not two seconds later, Megan and Ray appeared on her

  front stoop. They calmly walked down the steps and right

  past her on the sidewalk, eyes straight ahead of them, nei-

  ther of them saying a word.

  Lucan was directly behind them. He closed the apart-

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  ment door and came around the car where Gabrielle

  waited. He climbed in, stuck a key in the ignition, and

  started the Maybach’s engine.

  “Not a good idea to leave these behind,” he said, drop-

  ping her purse and camera bag into her lap.

  Gabrielle stared at him across the subtly lit cockpit of

  the vehicle. “You did some kind of mind control on them,

  like you’ve tried to do with me before.”

  “I suggested to your friends that they had never been at

  your apartment tonight.”

  “You erased their memory?”

  He inclined his head in a vague nod. “They won’t recall

 

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