by C. D. Hussey
Kate pressed her full lips together and clamped her eyes shut. When she opened them, they were glassy. Blinking a few times, she wiped discretely at the corners and leaned forward. "Thank you," she whispered. "Slade assured me you had nothing to do with Lohr. I believe him. I don't blame you. I'm the one…" She grimaced and wiped her eyes again.
Angel rested her hand on Kate's arm. "If you need to talk…"
"When there aren't so many people, I would really like to talk to you about … everything. It's been a little tough." Kate glanced briefly at Slade. "Worth it, but tough." Turning back to her, Kate noted, "You look like you could use an ear yourself."
The comment caught Angel off guard. She was used to her role as counselor. Being on the other end of the couch felt utterly foreign. At a loss for words, possibly for the first time in her life, she could only nod.
She gratefully took the drink Slade offered her. He knew exactly what she liked: a simple martini, well chilled and garnished with a lemon peel.
Smoothing the troubles from her face, she smiled at Kate and then turned and scanned the bar. The dance floor was packed with bodies, Darus was charming Onyx, Ash sat alone at one of the small round tables looking … morose. She should go talk to him, she should try to comfort him. But she couldn't. She tucked herself into the waitress well instead.
Slade caught a glimpse of her and made his way over. "Something wrong?"
Yes. "No. I'm just … tired. Can you get me a shot? Discretely." The bagged blood would do little more than get her through the evening, but the only flesh she wanted to put her lips on belonged to a man she doubted she'd see again. And while there might be less intimate ways to draw blood from a live Donor, there were none in the bar she wanted to face.
"Join me in the back," he said, jutting his chin toward the velvet curtains. "I doubt Armand will care, and then if you want to sneak out the back you can."
Was she that easy to read?
"You're in luck. I have a small bag in the warmer." He held the curtains aside for her and she stepped into the back room. "O positive, but at least it's ready to go. Unless you want me to microwave something?"
She grimaced. "No, thank you. The O positive is fine."
He filled a shot glass and handed it to her. "I'm going to head back. If you decide to take off through the courtyard, just make sure the gate locks behind you."
"Of course." He turned to leave, but she stopped him. "Thank you," she said when he glanced at her in question. "For being discrete."
"No prob." He started for the curtains.
"Oh, and Slade." He paused again. "You're looking well."
His brows bunched together. "Thanks?"
"I mean … Ash told me your Cravings had increased. How is that going?"
"Better. Surprisingly. Back to normal actually. I think it has to do with that hot redhead out there," he added, jabbing his thumb toward the bar.
"Because she's become your Donor?"
"I don't think that's it, at least not all of it. You might have been on to something all along with the energy bullshit. I get a dose of good juju every time that girl comes around. Maybe it's helping tame the blood lust." He shrugged. "Hard to tell. But I’m not complaining."
When Slade disappeared back into the bar, Angel sat gingerly on a stack of beer boxes and took a tentative sip of the blood. It was so bland. Not because of the type—though O positive wasn't her favorite—but bagged blood was like drinking flat soda. While most of the flavor and elements were there, it only vaguely resembled the original beverage.
She pondered Slade's words. Could happiness, or lack thereof, contribute to the Human Vampire condition? There was certainly something to the energy exchange. It wasn't only good energy though, some Vamps fed off negative energy, thrived on it. Energy was energy. But while she was learning to actively absorb it, Slade wasn't. Any energy he received from another had to be absorbed passively. He'd never shown any interest in manipulating outbound or inbound energy.
Maybe being happy made one more receptive to receiving good energy. Or maybe being unhappy, when one preferred happiness, ended up draining the Prana further.
That was a theory she could accept. She had spent the majority of her life seeking happiness and fulfillment and falling short. Was that why her Cravings were so strong?
Kevin McCoy's piercing blue eyes popped into her mind. Would happiness help him? Could she make him happy? The thought was satisfying. She'd like to be making him happy right now.
Of all the men she encountered on a daily basis who threw themselves at her, she would want the one who pushed her away.
Was that why she'd wanted Armand? No, Kevin was different. She'd convinced herself she wanted Armand because he seemed so perfect for her. She didn't harbor those illusions about Kevin. She wanted him because he excited something deep within her. And because he needed her. Desperately.
Of course, it didn't matter how drawn they were to each other if he refused to accept it or her or his condition.
Finishing the blood, she set the empty glass on top of the refrigerator next to her full martini. Hopefully, Slade wouldn't mind if she left them there. She was going to take his suggestion and slip out the back. She couldn't fake her way through the rest of the evening when all she wanted to do was curl up in Kevin's arms, or her bed, as the case may be. It was too exhausting.
* * * *
Kevin came to full consciousness a little before ten a.m. A half empty bottle of Jack was cradled in his arm and dribbled on his pants. A line of crusted spittle gathered in the corner of his mouth.
"Jesus," he muttered, setting the bottle on the coffee table. He hadn't planned on getting wasted on his couch last night, but at least he hadn't woken up on a park bench somewhere. With the way his head was operating these days it wasn't implausible.
He caught a glimpse of the gun and shuddered. Last night wasn't the first time he'd flirted with blowing his brains out. The night after they found the body of Frank Lutz's girlfriend, Shelly Holmes, he'd come really close, even closer than he had last night.
He'd left St. Paul the day after he and Fitzpatrick found her. He couldn't face his peers, his family, Fitzpatrick, or anyone else on the force. Not knowing falling asleep during a stakeout had cost a woman her life. He left his gun, badge and police issued cell phone with the cop working the front desk before hitting the highway.
He drove aimlessly for the first couple of weeks, spending his evenings in seedy bars and even seedier motels. Sometimes he wouldn't make it to the motel and the front seat of his car became his bed.
Finally, he found himself in New Orleans and decided to stay. He liked the city because he could easily disappear into it. And if he wanted to sit by the river and drink all day, no one seemed to notice or care. After Shelly's death, that was exactly what he needed.
He started picking up day labor jobs, working predominately in the shipyards. It was mid-summer and the heat was gruesome, but the physical labor and endless sweat helped clear his head.
He had never wanted to be anything but a cop, so when he saw the NOPD was recruiting he didn't hesitate to apply. With a Master's in Criminal Justice and ten years of service, he was hired immediately. A recent scandal had robbed the NOLA police force of a dozen officers and two detectives. They were desperate.
Besides his Sergeant, no one in New Orleans knew about Shelly Holmes. His Sergeant only knew because Kevin had volunteered the information. The incident had never made the news. He was too ashamed to find out why. Just like his life in St. Paul, the entire thing seemed to have been swept under the rug.
His new Sergeant didn't seem particularly worried about it either, which in some ways Kevin found more disturbing than anything. He was determined to make a fresh start in New Orleans and even more driven to put the bad guys away.
Lohr's was his first official case and Kevin knew they'd only given it to him because the "bad guy" had already been caught. Before that, he'd been working as Brian Johnson's underling. But h
e was grateful to still be doing what he loved and determined to prove his worth. The high murder rate in the city gave him ample opportunities, but busting up the vampire ring would be even better.
Unfortunately, he wasn't finding much to bust up. At this point, he was beginning to give up hope. Maybe he should take Johnson's advice. Let them police themselves.
After a brief stop in the bathroom to empty his bladder and wipe the scum from his face, he headed for the kitchen. An energy drink was usually his first desire before anything else. This morning, the bathroom came first.
Starting the shower, he finished the Red Bull as the water heated up and tossed the empty can into the trash. After brushing his teeth and stripping off his clothes, he stepped into the shower.
He felt surprisingly good considering all the booze he'd tortured his liver with. Actually, amazingly good. His morning caffeine usually only took the edge off his never ending exhaustion; it didn't make him feel like he could run a 5K. Definitely not when he should be crippled by a raging hangover.
Regardless, he'd take it.
After his shower he decided to go for that run. It was rare he felt well enough to want to exercise. He still exercised on a regular basis. Only because if he listened to what his body wanted, he'd never get out of bed.
* * * *
Angel tossed and turned all night. Her mind refusing to shut off, she relived the events of the previous day over and over. Confronting Ash, the amazing sex with Kevin, the eroticism of him drinking her blood, his harsh rejection… And over and over, she questioned her decisions. Did she do the right thing convincing Ash to give himself up? Should she have tricked Kevin into taking her blood?
By late morning, it became apparent trying to sleep was pointless. The first thing she thought of was Kevin. In spite of everything, she had to know how he was feeling. Digging her phone and his card from her purse, she dialed. His voicemail answered and she left a brief message. She didn't know if it would do any good, but if he was feeling as good as she imagined he was today, maybe he'd make the connection between her blood and his improved health.
Her next thoughts were of Ash. Today was the day his life would change.
The phone rang.
"I was just thinking about you," she said.
There was a long pause of silence. In the background she could hear people talking.
"Where are you?" she asked.
Another pause. "At the police station."
"What? Why didn't you wait for me?"
"I didn't think you'd want to be around me."
"Don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to let you do this alone." It was the least she could do. He needed her support now more than ever. "Have you spoken to the police yet?"
"No."
"Have you called your lawyer?"
"Yes. He's on his way."
"Good." She pulled a dress out of her closet and slipped it over her head. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll be right there." She grabbed a pair of heels.
"All right." He did not sound right at all.
"Ash, twenty minutes. At most."
She took no more than three minutes to brush her teeth, throw her hair up into a loose chignon, and freshen up her makeup. It wasn't until she was running out the door that she realized there was a high possibility Kevin McCoy would be at the station. Immediately, her pulse quickened and her stomach tightened. Was she excited or nervous? It was such a foreign sensation she had to pause to figure it out. Amazingly, she was both. She couldn't remember the last time a man made her stomach flutter. High school maybe?
There really wasn't time to dwell on it. She'd told Ash twenty minutes and it would take fifteen to walk to the police station. She needed to hurry if she was going to fulfill her promise.
* * * *
It was eleven by the time Kevin walked back into his house. He was shocked. His run had lasted almost an hour.
"I know why you’re tired all the time."
Shaking his head to expel the memory of Angel's voice, he picked up his blinking cell phone. Unfortunately, the first message was from her.
"Hi Kevin, this is Angel. I'm just calling to see how you're feeling today—"
He hit delete.
"Hey McCoy this is Johnson. There's an Ash here at the station to see you. Apparently, you're the only one he'll talk to. Also, your vampire gets released from the hospital tonight. Want to do the escort honors? Give me a call."
Ash…? He wracked his brain trying to figure out which one was Ash. He couldn't place it.
After taking a few seconds to rinse the sweat from his body, he threw on his least wrinkled suit and headed for the station.
He recognized the man waiting for him in the conference room from Angel's studio. He found it humorous all the male vampires either looked like body builders or heroin addicts. Apparently Average Joes didn't fit into the costumes.
Ash rose to greet him, inclining his head in greeting but did not offer his hand. Kevin gestured for him to sit and took a seat on the edge of the table. He liked to look down on potential suspects.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Ash?"
"I may have some information for you regarding Lohr Varius."
"Oh? Like what?"
"I will tell you on one condition."
Ash had obviously come with an agenda. "I'll bite." Kevin might not comply, but he'd bite.
"Stay away from Angel."
"That's right." He tapped his chin. "You're the receptionist. I thought you looked familiar." He gave Ash a patronizing smile. "So you want me to stay away from Angel. Are you protecting her?"
"I would do anything for her."
"Like go to jail?"
"Angel has done nothing wrong, Detective McCoy. Surely you've figured that out by now." Ash's dark eyes shone with disdain. "I don't know what you did to her last night, but a woman like Angel should never be reduced to tears."
The comment caught Kevin by surprise. Tears? The thought of Angel in tears knotted his stomach tight. He quickly snapped out of it. Her seduction had been nothing more than a ploy to get her blood into his mouth. He had no reason to believe the encounter would bring her to tears. She'd gotten her wish after all.
"Don't know what to tell you," he said. "I'm sorry your mistress was upset. Doubt it has anything to do with me."
"You're an idiot," Ash told him. "I don't know what she sees in you."
Besides a fucked up fascination with trying to convince him he was some sort of latent bloodsucker, neither did Kevin. "No worries my friend. I have no interest in her."
"Like I said, you're an idiot. Only a fool would walk away from Angel."
He wouldn't deny he was a fool. He still didn't care to be insulted twice in less than sixty seconds, especially not on his turf. "Make up your mind. Either you want me to stay away from her or you don't."
"I do."
"Wish granted." It was a promise he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep. "So, if you have something to share, Ash, you might want to spit it out."
Ash was silent for a long time. "There was at least one other victim," he said finally.
Kevin's interest was officially piqued. "What do you know?"
"The woman in the photos…"
"I knew it! I knew Angel was lying!"
"My lawyer is on the way. I won't say too much until he gets here, but please, you have to call off this witch hunt."
"Now why would I want to do that? After all, it got you here."
"Besides Satin, and maybe Darus, I can't think of anyone who's been seriously involved with Lohr. Casually maybe."
"Even Angel?"
"Especially Angel."
"Are you really trying to tell me you're the only one, out of this community of freaks, that knew Lohr was a killer?"
"Maybe. Probably. Lohr was gone constantly. He had his parties, sure, but those were public for the most part. The Community is filled with normal, law abiding citizens."
Kevin snorted. "Normal."
"Yes. Normal. Being aro
und Lohr is like fulfilling a fantasy. But that's all it is: a fantasy. I might have gotten swept up in it. I was young and naïve and didn't understand how the Community works."
"And now you do."
"I'm here aren't I? Who do you think encouraged me to give myself up?"
"Don't say anything else." Standing in the door was a man in his mid-forties with a shaved head and crisp gray suit. He entered the room forcefully and set his briefcase on the table with a thud.
"You must be Ash's lawyer," Kevin noted dryly.
"You're very perceptive, Detective," the lawyer responded just as dryly. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to my client…" He glanced toward the door.
Kevin pushed off the table. "Sure."
Closing the two men in the conference room, he grabbed his empty coffee mug without thinking and headed for the break room. Had Angel really been reduced to tears after their encounter? Tears? It was impossible. She was just trying to fuck with his mind, confuse him about the case, throw him off her scent. She hadn't really been upset. It was all an act. Right?
Of course he was right. She'd lied about Ash, very effectively seduced him, and seriously scrambled his brain.
Then why did he feel so wrong?
After filling the cup with the thin black water they called coffee at the station, he returned to his desk and took a seat.
He'd just powered up his computer when Johnson joined him.
"Did you actually catch one?" Johnson asked.
"I think so."
"Huh. I'm surprised."
He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not. "Surprised I caught a vampire or surprised I found one to catch?"
"The latter." Johnson looked him over. "Wow. You look … different. Good—no actually, great. What did you do?"
Drank blood from a supermodel.
He immediately pushed the ridiculous thought from his brain. "I went for a run today," he replied with a shrug.
"No, seriously. Yesterday you looked like you had a terminal disease. Today I'd actually introduce you to my sister." Johnson laughed and clasped Kevin's shoulder. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. Keep it up!"