Embrace the Darkness (Darkness Series)

by Lilly Gayle

  The morning sun glinted off the windshield, scalding her eyeballs. She squinted, trying to fight off a killer headache. Gripping the steering wheel, she refused to think about vampire boogiemen or sexy vampires with French accents. For now, she refused to think about anything vampire-related unless it figured into the Lifeblood slayings.

  Of course, she’d tried that same tactic for two days without success. Seeing Gerard again last night had only added to her confusion.

  If only she could talk to Reid. But he’d probably think she was crazy. Hell, it sounded crazy to her, and she’d seen the truth with her own eyes. Vampires were real.

  “I’m not pissed,” she said without glancing at her partner.

  Reid huffed impatiently. “You’re gritting your teeth. And you’ve hardly spoken since picking me up this morning. Yesterday, you walked around like a zombie. Today, you’re acting pissed.”

  “I’m not pissed.” Confused. Scared. Vulnerable. She didn’t know what to do or how to act and she hated feeling unsure. So yeah, maybe she was pissed.

  “You were sure acting pissed at the station,” Reid said. “You gave me the cold shoulder and didn’t say a word when I was filling Captain Stratford in on our progress with the investigation.”

  “What progress? We’re fresh eyes on Daniels and Tanner’s case. And so far, we got squat.” It wasn’t as if she could tell her partner or their captain the truth.

  Tina Gallagher had known vampires were real, and working with Dr. Megan Harper on a cure had gotten her killed. Richard Baxter had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and wound up on a murderous vampire’s dinner menu.

  Megan Harper was still alive because she hadn’t been at work that night. But that didn’t mean she was safe. If she was Weldon’s intended target, he might go after her again.

  But what about Axle Travers? Was he a victim? Or an accomplice?

  I need to talk to Gerard again.

  As much as Amber wanted to avoid him—and not for the sane, obvious reason of him being a vampire—she needed to learn more about real vampires and their supernatural abilities. Searching the internet for information hadn’t helped—too many flakes out there claiming to be “living” vampires.

  She should have asked more questions last night, but after Gerard took her in his arms and she’d melted against him like warm butter on a hot French roll, he’d started to feel more like a lover than a witness or a suspect. And that scared the crap out of her. So, she’d freaked. And sent his ass packing.

  And he obliged. Without question. In the blink of a frickin’ eye.

  Maybe guilt over Tina’s death drove him away. Or maybe he’d felt it too—that same disturbing, undeniable attraction that drew her to him like an addict to crack.

  Vampire glamour? Or the real deal? Either way, She did not want to get burned by Gerard’s immortal fire.

  “Okay, so if you’re not still pissed, why aren’t you talking?” Reid grumbled.

  When he wasn’t being arrogant, Reid was a nice guy. Nice. But paranoid. Or maybe he was still feeling guilty for driving off in a snit the night before last. Or for waiting until today to ask what was wrong.

  He was right about one thing. She wasn’t herself and hadn’t been since Gerard accosted her in her driveway two nights ago.

  Maybe accosted was the wrong word, but she had been scared enough to shoot him. Thank God, he didn’t die.

  But weren’t vampires already dead?

  Her body recalled his hard chest pressed against hers as he took her in his arms. His breath had fanned her neck, his heart steadily beating against her palm.

  No dead man had ever felt so alive.

  Shaking off thoughts of Gerard, she turned left when instructed by her GPS navigator and reassured her partner. “I’m not pissed. I’m just thinking about the case.”

  As much as she wanted to share what she knew with Reid, she couldn’t. He’d never believe her. If Reid couldn’t see it, touch it, taste it, or smell it, it didn’t exist. Despite his arrogance, she trusted him with her life. Just not her secrets.

  “Okay. Good. Cause I shouldn’t have acted like an ass the other night and I should have asked what was bothering you yesterday. I guess I just enjoyed the quiet for a change.”

  “Bite me,” she said with a smile, enjoying the camaraderie she shared with her partner. If she told him about vampires, the dynamics of their relationship would change. Reid would push her to get the help he thought she needed. On the off chance he believed her, he’d want her removed from the case—for her own protection.

  She didn’t like either scenario. So, she had to run with what she was willing to share.

  As an investigative team, they were so freaking far off the mark it was laughable. But why would any detective suspect vampires? It wasn’t as if vampires left evidence behind.

  Or did they?

  She glanced at Reid. Her GPS instructed her to turn right. “Did the tech guys ever finish enhancing the surveillance videos?”

  One of the killers was vampire. That’s how he avoided the cameras. But a blurred image had briefly flashed across the digital screen on a single frame. If it was Dr. Weldon, she could legitimately investigate him without mentioning vampires. Daniels and Tanner, the original investigators, didn’t know one of the suspects wasn’t human. They thought there was a glitch in the digital video recorder. When the department techies couldn’t get a better image, they’d sent a digital copy from the hard-drive to the SBI crime lab in Asheville for digital enhancement.

  “They didn’t get anything either. Just a fuzzy image of the back of a man’s head.”

  Weldon. But she couldn’t prove it. So, she had no reason to bring up his name as a possible suspect—unless she could find a stronger link to Baldwin Industries. Even if she and Gerard found Weldon and the vampire responsible for Richard Baxter’s murder, how would she prove it? A vampire could make the evidence disappear.

  She nearly choked on an indrawn breath.

  How did one go about arresting a vampire anyway? Or explaining to one’s colleagues their suspect was a creature of the night?

  “Here we are,” she said as she pulled into a swanky subdivision in Albemarle Heights, a small community outside of Asheville.

  Brit Travers’ residence was the largest house on the block—a big, white-columned structure that looked as if it belonged on a plantation instead of a quarter acre lot in a crowded suburban neighborhood.

  “He expecting us?” she asked.

  “Captain called last night to tell him we were coming and ensure Travers’ cooperation.”

  After she parked the car, she and Reid climbed out and walked up the brick sidewalk. They mounted the steps and stood on a long, narrow porch. Six white rockers sat in front of six tall windows, three each on either side of a wide oak door.

  Tara in the burbs.

  “Smells like old money,” Reid said with a sneer as he lifted the brass lion’s head knocker and rapped three times.

  A large man in his mid-to-late forties with skin the color of Columbian coffee answered before Reid could lower his fist. He’d obviously been expecting them.

  Reid gave Amber an “I told you so” look before flashing his badge. “Detective Reid Sheridan. This is my partner, Am…Detective Amber Buckley.”

  The large man nodded. “Captain Stratford said you’d be stopping by.”

  “You the butler?” Reid asked in a snarky tone.

  Round dark eyes narrowed to predatory slits. “No. I’m Brit Travers.” His voice rumbled like softly rolling thunder before a storm.

  Reid turned red. Amber had never seen her partner flush with anything other than anger. If the situation hadn’t been so precarious, she might have taken a moment to enjoy his discomfort. But Travers’ face darkened. And they couldn’t afford to piss him off. They couldn’t legally force his cooperation either.

  Before Amber could say anything to smooth over Reid’s social gaff, her partner curled his lip in distaste and said, “You
were married to Shannon Travers?”

  “Reid…” She wanted to duct tape his mouth shut and push him off the porch before he said something really stupid.

  What the hell happened to him letting her lead the interview?

  The muscles in Travers’ shoulders bunched. He looked about two seconds away from throwing a punch. “Are you surprised because she’s white?”

  Reid huffed. “I’m surprised because she’s a crack whore.”

  “Reid!” Where’s the damn duct tape when you need it? He was going to frickin’ ruin any chance they had of questioning Travers.

  Reid barely spared her a glance. “She is.” He turned his full attention back to Travers who’d turned purple with rage. A vein throbbed in his forehead. “And what I can’t figure is why a decent, hardworking fellow like yourself married her.”

  Purple faded. The vein disappeared. Travers shook his head and sighed. “Her family had money. Mine had brains and determination. Neither approved. Her folks didn’t want their angel marrying a black man. And my family thought Shannon was redneck trash with money.”

  “Huh.” Reid grunted. “Guess your parents were right. Your ex-wife is trash. And a hell of lot of trouble.”

  Amber tensed, but a slow smile spread across Travers’ broad face. “Yeah. But she gave me a son. A son I love dearly no matter what his mother says.” His face tightened. “Is there…Is there any word?”

  Dark rings rimmed bloodshot eyes and deep creases furrowed his brow. He looked haunted. Scared.

  Pity tugged at Amber’s heartstrings. She reached up and patted him on the arm just above the elbow. “We’re doing the best we can. But we do have some questions if you wouldn’t mind inviting us in.”

  “Fine.” He took a deep breath and let it out in an exhausted huff. “I’ll do anything to help find my son. Just remember I’m an attorney. I won’t tolerate any questions that could be used against me or my wife in a criminal investigation. Understood?”

  “Neither of you are suspects,” Amber assured him.

  Travers opened the door and stepped aside. “So…” He swallowed thickly. “Do you have any idea what happened to Axle?”

  “We have a few leads,” Reid said, as they crossed the threshold into the foyer.

  Leads my ass. They had squat.

  Amber knew more than her partner but not even Gerard knew what had really happened to Axle Travers. Just because they hadn’t found his body, didn’t mean the vampire who killed Richard hadn’t taken Axle home for a midnight snack. Or maybe, Dr. Weldon was holding him hostage.

  Most likely, Axle had been transformed and didn’t want to be found. Then again, if Axle had witnessed a vampire attack, he could have gone into hiding, convinced he was either crazy or doomed because no one would believe him. She knew what it was like to doubt your own eyesight. If the mind wasn’t ready to accept what it had seen, it sometimes shut down or searched for other, more logical explanations.

  Axle had grown up around drugs. If he’d smoked something before going to work that night and then witnessed a vampire attack, he might have thought it was a hallucination. If he escaped with his life, he could have checked into a rehab facility believing he’d finally destroyed his last, remaining functional brain cell.

  Or he might have gone in search of the nearest drug dealer to fry the rest of his brain so he could forget what he saw.

  As questions formed in Amber’s mind, she followed Reid and Travers into a formal living room. A thin woman with almond-colored skin and straight, shoulder-length black hair perched on the edge of a wingback chair like a nervous bird sitting on a branch. She rose on trembling legs when Travers approached. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “This is my wife, LaDonna. Sweetheart,” he said gently, “this is Detectives Sheridan and Buckley.”

  Mrs. Travers raised her narrow chin and spoke in a surprisingly steady voice. “Have you found my husband’s son?”

  “No ma’am,” Reid said.

  “Not yet,” Amber added. Travers’ wife might look like a frightened sparrow, but she had the steady gaze of a hawk.

  She nodded once. Then she took a deep breath and spoke in clipped tones. “Well, you find him. My son Jerome only recently met his brother, and this is breaking his heart. So you find Axle. You find him for Jerome. And you find him for Brit. You got that? You find him. And you find him alive.”

  “Mama…Don’t.” A preteen boy entered the room and crossed to his mother. She reached for him, pulling him into her arms.

  He hugged her once and then turned to face Amber and Reid. The top of his head barely reached her chin. His father stood beside his wife, his hand on his son’s shoulder. The young man resembled his father, but he was thin like his mother. His skin was some color between the two.

  “Hey,” he mumbled.

  “The boy doesn’t need to be here for this,” Reid said with a touch of compassion. “He doesn’t need to hear the details or the direction of our investigation. All he needs to know is that we’re doing the best we can to find his big brother.”

  Amber could have hugged Reid. She’d never been more proud to be his partner.

  The boy nodded. “Axle’s alive. Please find him. Okay?”

  Mrs. Travers kissed the top of her son’s head. Brit Travers squeezed his shoulder. “Go to your room son,” he said. “We’ll call when you can come back down.”

  “Yes sir.” And just like that, the boy left. No pouting. No argument. No stomping off in a snit. And no sagging pants and high-jacked boxers to flash them when he walked out. Just a clean cut kid in loose-fitting jeans and a Carolina sweatshirt.

  “Polite young man,” Amber said.

  Mrs. Travers nodded, her eyes affixed to the door her son just exited. “Thank you. With him being an only child, it was hard not to spoil him. It’s another reason you have to find Axle. He’s…” She covered her mouth. A lone tear slid down her cheek. “He hasn’t had such an easy life,” she whispered.

  Guilt washed over Brit Travers’ face. He hung his head and pulled his wife closer. “Let’s sit down.”

  He edged around an oval coffee table decorated with magazines and a floral centerpiece. He sat on the sofa, pulling his wife down beside him. Amber and Reid sat across from them in matching wingback chairs.

  Amber looked at Reid. He nodded, apparently willing to keep his word and let her take lead.

  “Did Axle do drugs?” she asked.

  “No!” Mrs. Travers’ eyes blazed with righteous indignation.

  Brit Travers jerked one large shoulder in a half-shrug. “He didn’t do drugs under my roof. And there were no needle marks on his arms. I checked before letting him stay here. I’m not a hard-ass, no matter what Shannon told you, but I wasn’t about to let Axle expose Jerome to drugs. Axle’s my son too, but I hadn’t seen him in years, and I had to protect Jerome.”

  Amber nodded, her heart aching for the big man. He looked worn by guilt and a pain so deep it shadowed his weathered face. “I understand. You can’t sacrifice one child for another. But do you think Axle was doing drugs before he came to live with you?”

  “He was clean,” Mrs. Travers insisted.

  “LaDonna.” Her husband’s voice was gentle but firm. She flushed. Her eyes watered. “I don’t know,” he said to Amber.

  Mrs. Travers caught Amber’s gaze and held it. “As much as I wanted Brit reunited with his son, I was afraid Axle was like his mother. I didn’t want him in this house if he was into drugs. So, I took him for a drug test. And the only thing that showed up in his system was pot.”

  “I know it’s illegal, but he’s twenty-six.” Brit held up his palms in a helpless gesture. “Young men his age smoke pot sometimes. I told him it was unacceptable.”

  “But that wasn’t enough for me.” LaDonna glanced at her husband and then back at Amber. “I made Brit search Axle’s bags. He didn’t find anything, but after Brit got him the job at Lifeblood, I asked Vincent to do a monthly drug test. I di
dn’t trust him. And I never warmed up to him. Now—it’s too late.”

  Her face crumbled. Tears fell. Her husband pulled her to his chest, muffling her quiet sobs against his white polo shirt. Travers swallowed convulsively and looked over the top of her head. “Axle was clean. He didn’t even light a joint while he was here.”

  But he’d grown up around drugs. “Did he ever use LSD?”

  “No.” Travers’ voice was emphatic.

  “Could the pressure of staying clean have been too much for him? Is it possible he just left and wasn’t even at Lifeblood when the murders occurred?”

  Reid looked at her sharply. This wasn’t the approach they agreed on. But Reid didn’t know about vampires.

  “I wish that were true,” Travers said with a deep sigh. “At least then I wouldn’t worry if he’d witnessed a brutal murder and was running for his life. But he wouldn’t just leave without telling me. Not voluntarily.” His voice cracked.

  Amber pushed. “He might if he didn’t want to disappoint you.” Or if he was scared out of his freaking mind.

  “Don’t even think of blaming the murders on my son,” Travers said in a voice as loud as a thunderclap. “Axle didn’t have a flashback from some bad LSD trip, kill two people, and then disappear to live on the streets. That’s bullshit.” He rose to his feet. “If you’re taking your investigation down that road then you can get the hell out of my house.”

  He glared down at her as if she were a cockroach he wanted to squash.

  Reid jumped up and snarled. “Wait just a damn minute!”

  Amber rose slowly and held up her hands. “Everyone calm down. Reid. Sit. Mr. Travers, I’m not trying to pin the murders on your son.”

  Reid narrowed his eyes and didn’t move. Brit Travers took a deep breath and eased back down onto the sofa. His wife patted his leg.

  Amber sat and looked at Reid with brows raised. He grumbled but lowered himself back onto the wingback chair across from her.

  Brit Travers seemed calmer. His wife held his hand as she perched on the edge of the sofa like a hawk, ready to swoop if an unsuspecting rabbit hopped by—and Amber felt like the bunny.

  She shifted her hips and locked gazes with Brit. “I’m not accusing your son, and there’s no evidence to suggest he was doing drugs. It was just a theory. But I do think Axle witnessed the murders. Tina Gallagher bled out by the door. Yet Richard Baxter’s body was drained of blood. There was barely a drop left at the scene. If Axle witnessed the murders, he might have seen what the killer did with the blood. And it might have been more horrifying than the actual murder.”