Eveillez: Deny Your Blood Lust

by C. D. Hussey

  Murdered though? Shot through the head by Lohr? It was unfathomable. Slade … the detective said he'd been shot too.

  She swallowed a sob. Why hadn't she asked more questions? Was she so callous she didn't care to know if he was all right?

  What had happened?

  If Slade was involved, she knew where to get the answers she desperately needed.

  Grabbing her white satin coat, she threw it over her body suit and tossed on her heels. Pushing open the door, she hurried toward the bar exit as fast as she could in stilettos, dialing the cab company as she went.

  There were only a few patrons lounging on the black sofas when she burst into Luxure. Armand looked horrid, his energy putrid. It was no wonder the few patrons lingering in the bar were sitting as far away from him as possible. He might as well be leaking puss from an infected wound.

  When his gaze fell on her face, the scowl on his lifted. "Angel?"

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head furiously and tried to keep the tears behind her lids where they would do the least amount of damage. "I heard," she whispered, cracking her eyes back open. "Is Slade—?"

  "He's recovering. In fact, he plans on coming to work tomorrow."

  She sighed with relief. "What happened? I heard about Melanie and Satin … and Kate."

  "I see Detective McCoy visited you as well."

  "He did. Please, tell me what you know." When he started to shake his head she continued her plea. "You have to tell me. I need to understand. I took them to him. Melanie and Kate. I found them and took them to him. If I hadn't…"

  "Stop." He stepped from behind the bar and moved to stand toe-to-toe with her. "The details won't make you feel better."

  Looking up into his beautiful face, she was reminded it wasn't so long ago she thought she loved him. She'd wanted to love him, tried to make herself love him. He had seemed so perfect for her, and with the physical relationship they shared, it had seemed perfect. In the end, there was nothing there. Not on his end or hers. They were just … friends.

  "Angel," he said softly. He touched her shoulder, the gesture both caring and comforting. "You mustn't do this to yourself."

  She hung her head, silent sobs choking her. After pulling in a shuddering breath, she whispered, "It's my fault. I knew Lohr was … disturbed, from my days at Club Blood, but I still took them. I thought … I thought with Kindle there… I didn't think about what would happen if Melanie left with Lohr… What did he do to her?"

  He shook his head again. "It doesn't matter."

  "Oh God!" she wailed, horrified at the images springing to mind. She wasn't even sure she believed in the Christian God, but at that moment, calling His name felt natural. "I can't believe this has happened. I don't know what to think anymore." She wiped her eyes. Any other night she would have been horrified by her behavior. She had a role to play and rarely let her guard down or exposed her weaknesses. Right now though, she was having a hard time feeling anything but despair and couldn't see a way out of the fog. "When Eve died last year I dismissed it as an overzealous accident. But this was no accident was it?"

  "No."

  "Why didn't I listen to my instincts, Armand? I knew Lohr's energy was evil. I knew it! And yet I did nothing."

  He touched her cheek and smiled sadly. "None of us did."

  "But you didn't deliver Melanie Young to her death…" The sentence trailed off until her words were a whisper.

  "Perhaps not. But I didn't check Eve into the hospital the night she collapsed. Had I done that simple thing, she would probably still be alive."

  She covered her mouth with her hand, holding in the sob threatening to explode if she didn't contain it.

  "Hey," he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. "Please don't cry. I know. I understand. But you cannot let the guilt overwhelm you."

  Pressing her cheek into his firm chest, she allowed herself to enjoy the feel of his strong embrace. Memories of their last intimate encounter together flooded her mind, and for a brief second she wept for them. It wasn't actually Armand she wept for; it was the partnership, the passion she had hoped to find with him.

  Her relationships with Ash and Hail were abnormal to say the least. In many ways, the two men were like puppies that followed her around, lapping up any attention she sprinkled over them with eager eyes and wagging tails. Hail used her just as she used him, and she was okay with it. Ash was different. He truly loved her. She didn't return his feelings, and she couldn't force it. She'd tried.

  She cared deeply for him, and they were more than just business partners, but it wasn't a true intimate relationship. It never would be. Ash was both polyamorous and bisexual. Even if she could love him, that wasn't the relationship for her.

  Her thoughts turned to the detective. The backstage encounter with him had shocked her in more ways than one. It wasn't just the news about Lohr. Detective Kevin McCoy was a Human Vampire. All the signs were there: the shaking of his hands, the fatigue lines on his classically handsome face, the gaps in his energy. On top of that, his aura was darkened with such sorrow it was heartbreaking.

  And for a brief moment, before he began questioning her, they'd shared a connection. Silent, powerful, undeniable. She wasn't sure what to make of it.

  "I wish I knew what to tell you," Armand soothed. "It gets better, it really does."

  Breathing in his delicious, spicy scent, she almost believed him.

  * * * *

  Julia paced through the apartment she shared with her husband for a solid two hours. Nothing could distract her from the anger building inside her. Not books, or TV, or wine. Bubbers tried to console her for a while, following her from room to room. When even his presence annoyed her, she stomped at him, and he ran and hid under the bed.

  After lapping the apartment at least a hundred times, she finally resorted to cleaning, scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen until her hands were raw. She didn't care how upset Armand was; he didn't have the right to dismiss her when Detective McCoy wanted to ask some tough questions.

  Why wouldn't he want her to hear what the detective had to say? What was he hiding?

  He'd dismissed her twice this evening. Twice! Like she didn't matter, like she was some stranger.

  Tossing the sponge clutched in her aching hands into the sink, she rose with a jerk. If she didn't like being sent to her room, so to speak, why the hell was she cowering up here?

  She tried to keep the anger from her steps as she negotiated the stairwell leading into Luxure's back room. Using her breath to calm her temper, she ran through what she would say to him. She would ask him to remember they were partners and to trust her enough to be his partner.

  She paused behind the velvet curtains. In the year they'd been together, this was the first time anything like this had come up. She tried to remind herself he was under a lot of stress. She wouldn't overreact, and she could, no she would, forgive him this flaw.

  With another deep breath, she pushed open the curtains only to have the air vacuumed forcefully from her lungs. Standing mere feet from her stood Armand with Angel wrapped tenderly in his arms, his cheek resting gently on the top of her perfect fucking head.

  Julia had no words, but something sounding strangely like a squeak slipped from her lips. His head jerked up just as she turned on her heels and headed straight through the back door and into the courtyard, not stopping until she was out the back gate and marching toward Decatur.

  Turning off her brain, she heard nothing but the roaring in her ears.

  Chapter Four

  It's dark, but there is just enough light for him to make out the ribbons and ribbons of fabric surrounding him. They undulate like jellyfish tendrils, shimmering as they catch snippets of light.

  For a moment, he is lost, unable to decide which way to go, knowing he must choose a path. It looks the same in every direction. There is no path.

  "Kevin." His name floats through the fabric forest. "Kevin." It wafts like smoke, beckoning him to follow. Unable to resist,
not wanting to resist, he obeys. As he pushes through the fabric tendrils, they caress his skin. Silky, soft, a lover's gentle touch.

  "Kevin."

  The fabric forest clears and he is standing on a stage. A spotlight shines on a single set of fabric tendrils. Suspended in them is Angel, hanging upside down, the fabric hooked and threaded around her dangling body. Her black bodysuit is see-through and every perfect curve is on display. She slides down the fabric until she is eye-level with him.

  Gripping the fabric with both hands, she twists her body through the fabric and arches forward, the black fabric a sail behind her. "Come to me."

  He feels like he's floating as he's pulled to her.

  "Kiss me," she whispers when he reaches her. Their lips touch and he feels every ounce of self-control leave his body. He is helpless. He doesn't care.

  His lips part for her and their tongues meet. Sweet poison flows from her, energizing him, lighting his body on fire as it burns down his throat. He wants more, needs more, and she gives it to him. The heat is so intense, he is about to combust.

  The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth as her sharp fangs scrape his lips. She growls and takes more of his mouth, commanding his submission with her tongue.

  Finally, she pulls back, untwisting from the fabric and lowering slowly to the ground. Pressing her smooth body to his, she grabs a handful of his hair and uses it to torque his head back. "Give me what I want," she commands.

  "Take it." There is nothing more he desires. As her teeth sink into his neck, he feels the poison explode through his body. It begins to transform him. His teeth elongate, the points digging into the tender flesh of his lower lip. Suddenly, it is her blood he craves.

  She releases her hold on his neck and steps back. Blood covers her chin and drips down her neck. "Is this what you want?"

  "God, yes." He licks the blood from her chin, following the trail as it runs down her pale neck. Tearing the bodysuit free, he cups one of her exposed breasts, sinking his newly formed teeth into the soft flesh. She moans and arches into him. Ecstasy fills him as her blood fills his mouth. This is what he wants.

  When he woke with a raging hard-on straining against his pants and making sitting uncomfortable, Kevin was shocked. Given he was investigating a group of vampires, it wasn't so unusual to dream about them. But to dream about turning into one, and then be turned on by it? That was weird.

  He blamed it on Angel. Not only did she claim to be a vampire, but his thoughts about her hadn't exactly been pure. It wasn't such a stretch for his mind to link the two together.

  Rubbing his eyes wearily, he glanced at the closed wrought iron gate next to the faded stucco Creole townhouse. Hopefully he hadn't missed the person of interest during his short nap. It wouldn't be the first time.

  Leaning back against the headrest, he thought about the last time he'd been sitting in an unmarked police vehicle watching a house. He hated thinking about that night. Hated the rush of guilt and self-loathing that followed when he did. He tried to keep the memories shoved to the corners of his brain. But as he settled back into the tedious chore of watching and waiting, he couldn't seem to avoid them.

  He never ordered iced coffee, but the sweat seeping through his shirt dictated he drink something with a temperature less than two hundred degrees. Iced tea wouldn't begin to touch his caffeine needs, and for some reason, this gas station didn't stock energy drinks.

  The clerk looked at him like he was crazy when he poured the steaming cup of burnt java into a cup of ice. "We got coffee slushy mix," she said, pointing to a machine churning tan colored ice particles in an endless metal spiral.

  He glanced at the machine and then back to the clerk. "No thanks."

  "You don't even want cream or sugar in that?"

  "Nope."

  A sweaty two blocks later, he slipped back into the driver's seat of a nondescript Ford Taurus. It was unseasonably hot in Minnesota, and even at midnight, the thick, humid air offered no relief.

  "You get your drugs?" Fitz asked.

  He took a refreshing sip. "Mmm-hmm."

  His partner gave the cup a sidelong glance. "So when you take a leak, do you piss brown?"

  He laughed. "Yeah, yeah. And if you cut me, I'd probably bleed coffee instead of blood."

  Fitzpatrick leaned back against the headrest, his seat inclined as far back as it could go and still be considered upright. "I wouldn’t be surprised."

  Clutching the cup to his chest like it was a pacemaker attached directly to his heart, Kevin glanced toward the dark house they were watching. The paint was peeling from the front porch pillars in long sheets. Children's toys were scattered in the front yard, and bags of trash were stacked next to the tattered porch swing.

  "Anything yet?" he asked, keeping his gaze firmly planted on the house.

  "Besides the homeless man rummaging through the trash for cans? Nope."

  "He's going to move tonight. I know it." They'd been watching the house for two days, certain Frank Lutz was going to make a run for it.

  "I hope so. We got nothing else."

  Frank was the primary suspect in the murder of his ex-wife. They didn't have enough evidence to arrest him. Yet. But if he decided to leave town during a murder investigation they would. Getting him off the street was the primary goal. Finding enough evidence to make the case stick was the second.

  "I'm just glad we got the kid out," Fitzpatrick said.

  The only good thing that had come from the case so far was removing Frank's son, Daniel, from the home. The house wasn't fit for a dog to live in, let alone an eight-year-old boy.

  "I wish we'd been able to convince the girlfriend to leave," Kevin said. "Sometimes I wish we could force them out, make them go to a shelter."

  "It wouldn't help."

  He knew Fitz was right. He still hated it though. Helpless, it made him feel helpless. "Why do women stay with these men?"

  "She had a hell of a shiner, didn't she?"

  "And a split lip." Over the years, he had seen his fair share of abuse cases. It never ceased to light him on fire. "I want to get this bastard."

  "We will," Fitz assured. "We will." A yawn slipped out of his mouth. He didn't try to cover it.

  Kevin glanced at his partner. In the pale streetlight Fitz's blond hair looked like shining strands of fishing line, and the fatigue lines like spider webs on his face. "Why don't you get some sleep," he suggested. "I'll keep an eye on the place."

  "You sure?"

  He held up his coffee cup and shook it, the ice rattling in the sloshing liquid.

  Fitzpatrick laughed. "Point made. Shit, I'm surprised you sleep at all."

  The loud creak accompanying the iron gate swinging open roused him from the memory. A lean man stepped onto the sidewalk, the Mohawk making his identity undeniable.

  He pushed open the car door just as the man was rapidly walking past the car. "Aaron Jones?" He flashed his badge. "Detective McCoy. I need to ask you some questions."

  Aaron, or Darus, if Kevin was keeping with the pseudonyms, stopped and hung his head. "Shit. What now?" Darus turned to face him.

  "Oh, not much," he said, returning his badge to his pocket. "There's just the question of two dead women, Lohr Varius' warehouse, and you somehow having inside knowledge about the whole operation."

  "Two … dead women? I have no idea about that." Darus' face dropped. "Oh shit, did that crazy asshole kill Kate Miller?"

  "No, but he tried."

  Darus looked relieved. But then his gray gaze sharpened. "Look Detective, I had no idea what Lohr was planning."

  "Could've fooled me."

  The lean man held up his hands. "All I know is Lohr came to me spouting nonsense about finding his Queen in Kate Miller. He asked me to keep Slade out of his way. That's all. I refused."

  "But you found the need to go to Slade and Armand Laroque and inform them of Lohr's interest in Kate."

  "Lohr's crazy. I didn't want some innocent chick getting wrapped up in his bullshi
t."

  "And what bullshit is that?"

  "He thinks he's an actual Vampire, immortality and all. He had plans to Turn Kate Miller, to Awaken her true nature. I've been to those little ceremonies before, but unlike Kate, the participants were always willing. I wasn't going to stand by and let Lohr force someone into it. It's sick."

  "Why didn't you go to the police?"

  "And tell them what?"

  It was the same question Slade had raised when Kevin questioned him in the hospital. To be truthful, he wasn't sure what they could have told the police that would've made a difference. If Lohr truly didn't threaten to harm anyone, and no one knew of any prior violence, the cops probably would have ignored the report. But he wasn't convinced this man didn't know Lohr was violent.

  Taking Darus' arm, he pushed him toward the car. "You're going to have to come with me to the station."

  Darus held back. "Whoa. Are you arresting me?"

  "Not yet. But you're going to have to give me a reason not to."

  "Whatever you need, man," he said, opening the passenger door and getting in the car. Kevin stared at him. It was the last action he expected. "But I am not going back to jail."

  "We'll see about that," he said, closing the passenger door.

  * * * *

  "Shit," Armand muttered as Julia fled through the curtains. He heard the back door open and slam. Releasing Angel, he jogged to the door. Julia was already yanking open the gate leading to Royal. He called her name, but the harsh clang of metal slamming against metal drowned it out.

  "Fuck," he growled through clenched teeth. Grabbing a patio chair, he flung it across the courtyard, taking miniscule pleasure watching it deform as it bounced along the brick.

  He didn't need this added stress. What the fuck was he thinking?

  "I'm so sorry." Angel's meek voice sounded behind him.

  Pressing his fingers to his temples, he forced mouthful after mouthful of air into his lungs and tried to quiet the beast within. "It's not your fault," he said, keeping his back to her. If he turned and faced her now, she would see the monster he tried to keep buried.