Embrace the Darkness (Darkness Series)

by Lilly Gayle

  “Tina was Megan’s lab assistant at Baldwin, and they both worked with Weldon,” Gerard said in a voice laced with sorrow. “They didn’t know about vampires then. They thought Weldon was crazy.”

  Weldon probably was crazy—and dangerous. If he blamed Tina for Timmons’ arrest, he could have been the one to slit her throat. At least it was a logical motive—more logical than vampires.

  “Do you have proof of Weldon’s involvement in the Lifeblood murders?” She needed evidence—not conjecture based on wild tales of vampire experiments.

  Gerard ground his teeth. “There’s no mortal proof—nothing I can share without exposing my kind. But the facts remain. A vampire killed Richard and tried to cover it up by slicing his throat afterward. And Weldon killed Tina.”

  Pain flashed across his face, deeper than before. “He threatened her when she left Baldwin, and he’s still experimenting. We destroyed evidence of our existence before the government shut down Baldwin Industries, but Weldon escaped justice. And now, he’s working with a vampire.”

  “There was no mention of Weldon communicating threats to Ms. Gallagher in the case file. So, if there’s no mortal proof, what’s your immortal proof?”

  Had she really asked such an absurd question?

  He averted his gaze. “Because samples of Megan’s vampire vaccine are missing.”

  She crossed her arms and glared. “That wasn’t in the report either.”

  His sexy snort did nothing to lessen her irritation.

  “We want to pass for human. Reporting a stolen vampire vaccine wouldn’t accomplish that goal. And Tina wasn’t the primary target. Megan was.”

  “What about Richard? And Axle? How do they fit into your scenario?” Even if he was right on all counts, she couldn’t investigate. Who’d believe her?

  Gerard shrugged. “Richard’s death was a reward for Weldon’s rogue vampire friend—or a way to send the cops scurrying in a hundred different directions while Vincent and I sit around with our thumbs up or asses, too afraid to do anything for fear of discovery. But Axle’s disappearance frightens me. I think Weldon took him—maybe to test the vaccine after turning him into a vampire.” He shrugged again before his shoulders sagged on a defeated sigh. “It would explain why he hasn’t surfaced.”

  “So would a drug connection.” She told him Reid’s theory. Gerard didn’t buy it.

  “Axle had nothing to do with the murders. He’s a victim.”

  “Until we find him, we can’t be sure.” As if she was sure of anything. And since when were she and Gerard a team? Reid was her partner—even if she couldn’t share what she’d learned tonight. He’d think she was crazy.

  There had to be another angle—a way she could approach the investigation without acknowledging the existence of vampires. A way she could keep Reid in the loop.

  Vampires needed an invitation to enter a building. Didn’t they? She’d more or less invited Gerard into her home. Hadn’t she? Or was he just being polite when he’d suggested she invite him inside?

  Regardless, someone had let Dr. Weldon and his vampire inside Lifeblood Labs the night Tina and Richard were murdered. It might even have been Axel Travers.

  “Who let Weldon and his—accomplice—inside the facility that night?” she asked.

  Gerard arched a brow. “The vampire let him in.”

  Irritation scraped her nerves. “How did the vampire get in? Can they materialize wherever they want?”

  “It can appear that way to mortals because of the speed at which we travel. But we also have the ability to move small, inanimate objects with our minds. So, unlocking a door that requires security access isn’t a problem.”

  Tension tightened the muscles in her neck. Her shoulders bunched. “So, how do I know you didn’t kill your employees? You have a security code.”

  Gerard met her gaze. And then his straight white teeth changed. His incisors grew, stretching into long, lethal fangs.

  She nearly peed her pants.

  Pushing to her feet, she knocked over her chair. “What the fu—”

  “I didn’t kill her. I loved her. But you can see how easily I could have. I’m a vampire. Even if I didn’t work there, I wouldn’t need a code to get in.” He rose to his feet and came around the table.

  She took a staggering step back, her hand automatically going to her holster, drawing her Glock.

  “Get out of my house.” She aimed for his forehead. Gerard stood stone still. He didn’t even flinch.

  “Are you really going to shoot me? Again?” He crossed his arms.

  Could she? Even if it didn’t kill him, could she intentionally inflict pain when he wasn’t posing an immediate threat? Her pulse jumped. “Second time’s the charm.”

  “If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so already—without warning. Just like the vampire who attacked you in Germany.”

  She felt the color leach from her face. Her hands shook. Gerard stepped forward and wrapped his hands around hers, gently forcing her to lower the gun. She didn’t resist despite the fact that he’d made no effort to exert his influence over her. When her arm dropped limply to her side, he slipped the gun from her cold fingers and laid the weapon on the table. Amber stood weak and silent, her body shaking.

  “I didn’t think it was real,” she whispered. “The doctors convinced me it was post-traumatic stress.”

  Gerard led her from the kitchen and into the living room. He circled the coffee table and eased her onto one end of the sectional sofa. Then he sat beside her. She fell limply against the cushions and closed her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I invaded your thoughts yesterday, but I had to know what you knew about the murders,” he said.

  She kept her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to open them. Maybe this was a nightmare. If she didn’t acknowledge him, the dream would change. Or she’d wake up.

  “Imagine my surprise when I discovered your prior exposure to vampires,” he said with a touch of irony.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Liar!

  Weird thoughts had flash through her mind yesterday, fuzzy distorted images from crazy-ass dreams that seemed to overlay actual memories. Looking at crime scene photos and reading autopsy reports of punctured arteries and trocars draining blood had triggered long-forgotten memories—memories best left in the past.

  “The images I saw in your head were distorted and random,” Gerard said, reading her damn mind again. Or maybe not. She didn’t feel disoriented like she had before. “But what’s actual memory and what’s nightmare, Amber?”

  She raised her lids, challenging him with her eyes. “Why not jump inside my head again and find out?”

  “Because I don’t like to do it. C’est mal poli. It’s rude.”

  “Then don’t do it. Ever again. Not to me. Understand?”

  “Oui. I understand.”

  Man, that accent got to her. It made her toes curl. So did his smile. And she hated it. She didn’t want to relax her guard or cozy up to Gerard Delaroche. She should treat him like a murder suspect. Or a witness. She shouldn’t get all friendly with him. But the man had such an easy going nature when he put his mind to it—and he was damn easy on the eyes too. What gal wouldn’t be drawn in?

  “I’m probably bat-shit crazy to think vampires are real.”

  “Do you want to see my fangs again?” he asked with a smile—a smile that looked perfectly normal—and human.

  Before she could respond, a chill shivered over her skin and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end.

  Gerard rose to his feet, sniffing the air like a predatory animal.

  “Stay here,” he said. Then he vanished.

  Chapter 5

  Like hell. Amber ran to the kitchen and retrieved her Glock. Comforted by its weight, she returned to the living room. Gerard was gone. He’d disappeared into thin air.

  She closed her eyes, forcing herself to replay that split second in her mind. There was still no memory of seeing him move, but there wa
s a near simultaneous memory of sound—the sound of her front door slamming shut.

  Her shoulders sagged on a sigh. Gerard hadn’t actually vanished. He’d just moved faster than her mortal eyes could see. If he’d disappeared, he wouldn’t have needed to use the front door.

  Relief flooded her veins. The realization wasn’t profound, but it kept her functional. As long as she could function, she could make rational sense of what she’d just witnessed.

  Yeah. Right.

  She took a deep breath and stepped toward the foyer holding her weapon angled across her chest, the barrel pointed toward the ceiling. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end.

  Seconds before Gerard did his disappearing act, she’d had the sensation of being watched. It was the same sensation she experienced in Germany moments before her friend and fellow soldier, Andrew, was attacked.

  Most of that night was a blacked-out blur, but she remembered being thrown against a headstone. Unable to move or scream, paralyzed with fear, she’d watched in horror as a vam—as something or someone ripped open Andrew’s throat and drained him of blood. Then, the creature had turned toward her. And—Nicolas saved her. Just as Gerard—

  Was saving her now?

  Hardly. Most likely, a more primal instinct compelled him to dash out the door sniffing the air like a wolf on the scent of a frightened rabbit.

  Taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves. Fear would never hold her immobile again. She would react with courage. And she would react quickly.

  She held the Glock close to her chest and stepped off the beige Berber carpet onto the hardwood in the entry hall. Dark stains dotted the oak—blood droplets where Gerard had dripped onto the floor. A twinge of guilt made her flinch.

  Had the wound caused him pain? Had it healed completely?

  Her fingers tightened on the Glock’s textured grip. Frenzied thoughts of vampires and vampire legends filled her thoughts. Then another memory came rushing to the forefront—a memory from her childhood—deeply buried but never completely forgotten. Germany wasn’t the only time Nicolas had saved her from attack. He’d rescued her once before. When she was a child.

  Nausea roiled up from the pit of her stomach. Was Gerard a threat?

  “Nicolas?” she whispered.

  “No. It’s me.”

  Amber yelped and spun around. Years of training and experience saved Gerard from a second bullet. She lowered the Glock, forcing her rational mind to overrule her fear. If Gerard wanted her dead, he wouldn’t have announced his presence.

  “Do you know how close you came to buying the farm?” she snapped.

  His lips twitched but he didn’t smile. He did, however, eye her curiously, as if he wasn’t quite familiar with modern slang. “I’m not interested in farmland.”

  She tried ignoring the contrast between his biting wit, naivety, and attractive exterior. He was far too appealing for comfort.

  He leaned against the doorframe between the living room and foyer and folded his muscled arms over his wide chest.

  A rush of heat twisted her insides into warm sensual knots.

  Shit.

  Ignoring the flush of unwelcome desire, she held the grip of the gun to her forehead and pressed it against her skull. Her head felt as if it were going to explode.

  If vampires were involved in the Lifeblood murders, how would law enforcement bring the killers to justice?

  Images of her and Reid sneaking through cold, dank catacombs at high noon with wooden stakes and silver crosses flashed through her mind.

  Gerard stepped forward, eyes focused on the gun. “Who are you planning to shoot with that thing?”

  She’d forgotten she was even holding it. Heat burned her cheeks as she holstered her weapon. “No one. As you’ve already pointed out, bullets won’t stop a vampire.”

  He smiled faintly. “Silver bullets are rather effective.”

  “Great. I’ll make a note of that the next time I put in a requisition for ammo.” Did munitions companies even make silver bullets?

  She glanced at Gerard’s shirt. His wound no longer bled. And the way he moved—besides being inhumanly fast—indicated a complete lack of discomfort. “If it wasn’t for the blood on your shirt, I wouldn’t even know I’d shot you.”

  “Que puis-je vous dire?” he said with a shrug. “What can I say? I’m a vampire. The wound still aches and I’m sure I have a bruise but by tomorrow, there won’t even be a scar.”

  “A bruise?” She’d frickin’ shot him. “It wasn’t a through and through or a flesh wound. There’s still a bullet inside you.”

  He shrugged again. “You missed my heart, and it’s a foreign body. The bullet will work its way out through the original wound track when I fall into the regenerative sleep. When I awaken tomorrow night, I’ll find the bullet in my bed.”

  Teetering on the edge of hysteria, she tried embracing her anger but could only manage impotent sarcasm. “Not your coffin?”

  “No,” he replied with a touch of annoyance.

  Meds. I need Meds.

  She bent down to retrieve her purse from where she’d dropped it on the floor earlier. Then she brushed past him and into the living room. She needed to be on something a hell of a lot stronger than valium and Trazadone. She needed to add Paxil to her drug regimen. Because this was way more than post-traumatic stress. A hell of a lot more. This could push her over the edge—if she wasn’t there already. Until then, valium would have to suffice. And Trazadone at bedtime to help her sleep—despite the nightmares.

  Her thoughts raced as panic ebbed and flowed, leaving her jumpy and unable to focus. She dropped onto the sofa, frantically searching her purse like a junky in desperate need of a fix.

  Gerard stood in the doorway, leaning negligently against the frame. Amber ignored him.

  Where the hell are my pills?

  Taking deep, controlled breaths, she snagged the bottle, opened it, and poured a pill into her palm before popping it into her mouth. Then she swallowed with nothing more than spit.

  “You think it’s a good idea to take that after drinking beer?” he asked, coming closer.

  “Probably not.” Most likely, she’d have one hell of a headache in the morning. But the valium would calm her nerves and help her cope with this new version of reality—a reality she wasn’t ready to face. “Okay, who or what was lurking outside my door?”

  “I don’t know, but he didn’t smell mortal.”

  “Smell?” Was the man a vampire or a blood hound? She had a damn fine sense of smell herself, but Gerard didn’t smell like a vampire—not that she knew what vampires smelled like. Musty and old, she supposed, but he smelled good. Real good. But it was the smell of masculine skin and cologne. Not some moldy vampire scent.

  A chill washed over her, sending gooseflesh dancing along her skin. She shook it off, determined to face her fears. She had combat experience. She wasn’t going to fall apart. Not this time. If a vampire had been lurking outside her door, she’d find a way to deal with it.

  She pressed two fingers to the side of her pounding skull and prayed. Lord, don’t let me be going crazy.

  Gerard sighed, sounding more tired than annoyed, as he dropped down beside her on the sofa. He shifted his hips and angled his legs toward hers. Their knees bumped. So did her heart. He was too damn close and way too sexy for her own good.

  “It was definitely a vampire,” he said, “but I didn’t recognize his imprint.”

  “Color me stumped, but I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Yep, that’s me. The crazy, hysterical female cop.

  “Both vampires and mortals leave behind psychic imprints of themselves that linger long after they’re gone. It’s like a scent, but different. And mortals leave fainter imprints than vampires.” He sniffed once and then frowned. “You, however, have a strong imprint for a mortal.”

  “Maybe it’s my perfume.” Except, she wasn’t wearing any. She’d just gotten home from work, and she didn’t wear perfume to work. S
he cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact. “So, are there a lot of vampires in the world?”

  “Probably more than you’d think. But most keep a low profile.”

  “Yeah, so low your friend Sonia doesn’t even have a last name.”

  A flush crept up his neck to stain his cheeks. “She’s not my friend. But if you check your electronic records again tomorrow, you’ll find both a last name and an address for her on file.”

  Anger stirred the ashes of a simmering resentment. She fisted her hands in her lap and glared. “I have paper copies that show nothing on her. Copies obtained through long hours of old-fashioned police work. ”

  His flush deepened. “Your records are inaccurate.”

  “What records? We found nothing.”

  Gerard shrugged, unable to maintain eye contact. “Well there’s something there now. If you look again, you’ll find a Sonia Dalca in Bat Cave, North Carolina.”

  The fury burned brighter. Amber embraced it. Anger was safer than fear—or attraction. Anger could keep her alive. Fear could get her killed.

  She didn’t want to think about the other.

  “We expended hours of man power in a fruitless search for Sonia because Dr. Harper and Vincent Maxwell refused to provide anything useful. Captain Stratford even searched local and FBI data bases without success. So, you better not be lying because I’ll go to that address, and I will question her.” Not that she’d believe a damn word Sonia said. The woman had the power to manipulate public records, effectively erasing all evidence of her existence.

  Gerard nodded, casually crossing an ankle over his knee—not the least bit defensive. “She’s expecting you. And she will cooperate.”

  Amber’s gaze flickered over his warm, sympathetic expression. He wasn’t judging her or trying to manipulate her. He even seemed to understand her anger and frustration. Her fury faded.

  “Okay. Fine. So, why couldn’t we find anything on her before?” As if she didn’t know. Some kind of freaking vampire hocus pocus, no doubt.

  His lip curled. “Sonia is a master at keeping our existence a secret from mortals.”