by Lilly Gayle
They were still in North Carolina, but miles away from Asheville.
“How did we get here?” Her voice faded to a whisper as the shock faded. She vaguely recalled the pounding wind and blur of scenery zipping passed. Memories assailed her. “You saved me. Just like before…When I was little.”
Travelling with Nicolas the one time when she was a child had been like a gravity-defying thrill ride—moving so fast she’d felt pinned to his body. But this time she’d been in shock and could barely remember—or comprehend.
She tried to wrap her mind around the truth and failed. Her legs turned to jelly. She would have collapsed to the floor had Nicolas not dragged her to the sofa.
Sagging against the soft leather, she closed her eyes.
“Not all vampires are hedonists and reprobates,” Nicolas said, a smile in his voice. “Some of us take care of our…of others.”
Anger roused her, incinerating her misery. She ground her teeth. “I guess the vampire who killed my mother and Andrew didn’t get the memo.”
He hung his head, clenching his fingers into fists at his sides. “I arrived too late. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I did the best I could for you. I took you home and replaced your memories of that night with dreams of flying. And I’ve been watching over you ever since.”
Knowing she hadn’t imagined unseen eyes watching her for years didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “The question is why. Why would a vampire protect me? Why would you protect me?”
He shifted in his seat, putting more space between them. His eyes sought the floor. “Let’s just say I’m a long-lost relative.”
“Let’s not,” she said, once more drawing his gaze. “I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth.”
“Can you?”
She’d accepted vampires and “handled” it. What could be worse? Werewolves? Banshees? She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the cushions. “You owe me an answer. Why are you protecting me? Better yet, why do vampires keep attacking me?”
“Because you’re investigating them.”
It wasn’t that simple. The vampire who attacked her tonight wasn’t the same one who’d murdered her mother and Andrew. And what if the vampire who’d attacked her mother had been after her instead?
Her heart constricted. Why would I even think that?
“I wasn’t investigating vampires in Germany,” she said, forcing the words past the painful knot in her throat. “I didn’t even know they existed. And neither did my mother when she was killed.”
He stared at his shoes. “Your mother did know about vampires.”
She’d braced herself, thinking she could handle anything. She was wrong. Her heart beat painfully in her chest. It hurt to breathe.
“Someone would have told me,” she whispered. Her father. Her grandmother. “Someone would have warned me the boogieman was real.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his anguish as real as her own.
She swallowed the tears clogging her throat. “How did she find out?”
Nicolas rose to his feet, turning his head away from her as if he could no longer bear looking at her tear-streaked face. “Your father was injured in the marine barracks bombing back in eighty-three. He was buried beneath the rubble for hours.”
“I remember,” she said, speaking softly through her tears. “It was my birthday.”
He spared her a quick glance. “Your fifth.”
She swiped at her eyes and sat up, stiffening her spine. “Dad called from the hospital two days later—a hospital in Germany. And two days after that, a vampire killed my mother. And twenty some years later I was attacked, and my friend was killed—also in Germany. And you saved me both times just as you did tonight. Why? What’s the connection?”
“I’m the unidentified soldier who pulled your father from the rubble.”
Amber stood, slowly backing away from him. It felt as if someone had stuck an eggbeater inside her head, scrambling her brain.
“Why would you save my father? Why me?” she demanded again.
“I knew your parents when I was mortal,” he said. “Greg was my best friend. He joined the marines when I joined the army. So, I knew he was in Beirut, and when I heard about the bombing, I—”
“Stop.” Amber’s world tilted even further off its axis. Nicolas wasn’t an ancient. He was her father’s age. But he looked like a man in his early thirties. He looked her age. “When did you die?”
Since meeting Gerard, the absurd question had become a routine part of her investigation.
A frown marred his handsome face. “It’s complicated.”
“Then use small words. I’ll keep up.”
He smiled. Then sobered. “I was injured in a live training exercise while stationed at Grafenwöhr in seventy-eight. They medevac me to Landstuhl—a US Military hospital—but my injuries were fatal. Before I died, an ancient vampire converted me. He made the army—my family—everyone believe I was dead. So, I stayed in Germany until—I stayed for years before returning to North Carolina.”
“Then you were already a vampire when you rescued my dad. Did he recognize you? Did he know you were a vampire?” Did that explain her father’s estrangement? Did he keep his distance to protect her?
“No. I manipulated his mind,” Nicolas said, remorse roughening his words. “He thought I was nothing more than a morphine-induced dream.”
So, her father’s neglect had nothing to do with his wanting to protect her. He was just avoiding her because she didn’t get along with his new family.
She inhaled sharply, fighting a fresh wave of tears. “Then how did my mother learn about vampires? If my father didn’t tell her, how did she know?”
Nicolas turned to pace; she jumped in his path. “You better start talking because I’m about two seconds away from doing something really stupid—like arresting you.”
A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “That would be stupid. Unless you have silver handcuffs.”
“Please,” she pleaded. “I need answers.”
He sighed as if resigned. “After I saved Greg, I went to see your mother. I knew she’d be glued to the television, watching the horrific images flashing across the screen, choking on fear while she awaited word from the military. I couldn’t put her through that.” He lowered his chin, avoiding her gaze. “Naturally, she was shocked to see me. She thought I was dead. So, an explanation was in order. She didn’t like it.”
Amber scoffed. “I don’t reckon she did. Dead men don’t usually make social calls.”
Pain etched his face. “I should have manipulated her thoughts—made her forget the way I did Greg, but she was so sad—so vulnerable. I—I left her to her misery. The next day, she called my former sergeant demanding he do something about the vampires preying on mortally wounded soldiers.”
Her pulse quickened. “That’s how Timmons found out. Isn’t it?”
“He wasn’t a colonel then,” Nicolas said, “but it was the beginning of his obsession with vampires.”
Gerard had been kidnapped because of her mother. She’d started this chain of events when she ignited Timmons’ compulsion to create the perfect soldier. And a vampire killed her to stop her from telling anyone else. Tina Gallagher and Richard Baxter were also dead—and who knew how many others. So much tragedy because her mother tried to do the right thing.
No good deed goes unpunished.
“Why is Timmons still alive if my mother is dead?” It didn’t seem fair. Her mother had been a kind, generous woman. Colonel Timmons was obsessed with power and advancing his military career at the expense of innocent people.
Nicolas grimaced. “Timmons kept his knowledge a secret, but your mother was on a mission to expose vampires. One of Surratt’s fledglings killed her.”
Amber’s heart slammed against her ribs. “Who’s Surratt?”
Nicolas jerked as if she’d shot him. “It’s not important.�
��
“He’s the ancient who turned you. Isn’t he? That’s how he knew my mother called the authorities—through his connection to you.”
“Let it alone, Amber.”
Her hands curled into fists. “Not a chance. He’s responsible for my mother’s death. Did his little buddy kill Andrew too? What was his excuse? He couldn’t have been protecting his kind from discovery. Andrew didn’t know vampires existed.”
“But you did.” Nicolas’ eyes shone with such profound sorrow, she couldn’t hold his gaze. “A vampire can implant false memories and manipulate thoughts, but we can’t erase memories completely. Especially tragic memories. A sliver always remains.”
“So, Surratt got tired of wondering if I’d remember something and decided to kill me? Is that it?” He’d really want her dead now. She no longer doubted her memories. She knew vampires were real.
“Surratt was there that night, but he didn’t attack you and your friend. Claus did.”
Knowing the name of Andrew’s killer didn’t ease the pain. The bastard was still alive—and would most likely live forever. “Did he also kill my mother?”
“Yes.”
“And you let him get away with it? Why? Were you protecting him because Surratt created you both? Is he your blood brother or something?” Nicolas had twice saved her life, but how could she trust him when he allowed a murderous vampire to go free?
“Saving your life that day was more important than going after your mother’s killer. And when I confronted Claus later, Surratt protected him.”
“So, Surratt is responsible.” The murderous vampire had to die. No matter how long it took, she would kill the bastard. “He sanctions the killing of mortals.”
“No. Vampires need humans to survive. Killing them not only diminishes the food supply, it draws unwanted attention to our kind.”
A slow burn heated Amber’s blood. Her fingers curled into fists at her side. “So, you see humans as little more than dinner. Is that it? Saving me was no different than stopping a farmer from beheading a chicken.”
He raised his hand as if to touch her. Amber moved beyond his reach, heart hammering with fury. If looks could kill, she would have destroyed him without a second thought.
Dropping his hand to his side, he sighed. “You matter to me, Amber. More than you’ll ever know. And Surratt isn’t the enemy. He’s trying to prevent a war between mortals who know vampires exist and vampires who kill indiscriminately.”
“His methods aren’t very effective. Claus got away with murder. Twice.” Just saying the bastards name made her blood boil with impotent fury.
“Claus learned of our existence when he was mortal. He had documents he rediscovered after his memory was erased. And he began his investigation again, armed with the knowledge that vampires could alter his memories. So, Surratt converted him. Claus then made it his mission to protect the identity of vampires from mortals, which is exactly what Surratt wanted. But after Claus killed your mother, Surratt put him on a shorter leash. Then you showed up in Germany—where Claus lived.”
“The army sent me to Germany.”
“But they didn’t send you to the cemetery—the cemetery where Claus was supposed to be buried. He thought you’d remembered. He thought you were gathering evidence to use against him.”
Had she remembered something without realizing?
It had been her idea to visit the cemetery that night, but she wasn’t looking for vampires. Since her mother’s death, she’d found cemeteries peaceful. After Iraq, she’d needed to find tranquility where ever she could.
“I didn’t even know Claus’s name,” she whispered. But had she inadvertently walked over his grave?
She stepped closer to Nicolas, leaned in, and glared. “I wasn’t looking for vampires before, but I damn sure am now. Is Surratt connected to the vampire who committed the murders at Lifeblood Labs?”
“No. And he’s just as interested in stopping that rogue vampire as you are.”
“I doubt it,” she said with a snort.
“Let it go, Amber,” he said again. “Let vampires handle vampires. I’m sure there are enough mortal crimes to keep you occupied.”
Seriously? He expected her to just walk away and let vampires handle it? That would be like putting terrorists in charge of punishing those responsible for the 9-11 attacks.
“I don’t think so. I’m a cop. It’s my job to investigate crimes, no matter who commits them.”
“This investigation is going to get you killed.” He ground his teeth like a father lecturing a teenager. “And you can’t go after Claus. He’s dead.”
A hollow ache settled in her chest. Her mother’s killer was dead. Her need for revenge should have been appeased. But the pain didn’t go away. Her mother was still dead. “Who killed him?”
He inhaled sharply and let the air out slowly, deflating his chest and the simmering anger in his eyes. “I did. Despite the shared blood flowing through our veins, I risked Surratt’s wrath and killed him.”
She met his dark gaze. Memory stirred.
The crack of her skull against cold concrete. The hot metallic scent of blood. And the scream that tore from her lungs as Claus ripped open Andrew’s throat as cleanly as if he’d sliced it with a blade. Smiling, the vampire lowered his mouth to the gaping wound to drink his fill. Then he’d tossed Andrew aside like a rag doll and turned toward her. His approach had been slow. Methodical. Words emerged from his lips. She heard nothing but the roar of blood in her ears.
Fear held her silent. Immobile. Before he could drag her to her feet, Nicolas appeared between them, saving her from certain death.
Terrified, frozen, she lay sprawled against a family crypt, fighting to regain control of her mind and body. Nicolas and Claus fought. Sculptures of saints and angels stood watch between the graves.
She woke up in the hospital two days later with a sketchy memory and post-traumatic stress.
“You erased my memories again,” she whispered as the recalled images in her head faded to black.
Nicolas clenched his fists. Tension rippled across his broad shoulders in waves. “Let it go, Amber. Claus is dead, and Surratt didn’t punish me for destroying one of his own. He also agreed to leave you alone as long as you didn’t remember anything. So walk away and forget what you know. Stay away from vampires and forget they exist. Do I make myself clear?”
She folded her arms over her chest. “I can’t forget. Not again. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect and serve, whether it’s in the army or the Asheville Police Department.”
“If I thought it would do any good, I’d make you forget—again. But then something else would trigger your memory and you’d never forgive me. So, I guess there’s just one thing left to do.”
He pulled her into his arms and the world went fuzzy.
Chapter 11
Gerard picked up Amber’s discarded purse and prowled the parking lot at Lifeblood. His nostrils flared, breathing in her lingering scent—and the smell of an immortal—two immortals.
Thank God he didn’t smell blood. The thought of her turning vampire chilled him to the bone. He wouldn’t wish this hellish immortality on his worst enemy—much less someone he…cared for.
Cared for? Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t react this way if he only felt friendship. Even without her purse and abandoned car, he would have known she’d been here. He sensed her presence—her fear. And he’d never felt anything like that with a mortal before. While Weldon had been slashing Tina’s throat, he’d been in Alexandria, spying on her ex-husband, unaware of her terror.
The intensity of his emotions now made his infatuation with Tina pale.
Guilt flushed his skin. He’d failed Tina. Now, it looked as if he’d failed Amber. He didn’t know where she was, and he didn’t know who’d taken her. Or how to find her.
Indecision immobilized him. He felt trapped in his own dark world without the tools or knowledge to find his way into the light. His mind reached out
, searching for answers. Embracing his dark powers. Lost in thought, he was only vaguely aware of contacting Vincent.
Moments later, he appeared by his side. “What’s wrong?”
“Amber’s missing.” The words choked him.
Vincent scowled. “Since when are you on a first name basis with Detective Buckley?”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s been abducted.” Exposing her to the truth had put her in danger—just as it had Tina. “I don’t know the vampire who took her, so I can’t track him. I couldn’t track him the other night either, but I know he was watching outside Amber’s house.”
Vincent’s brows climbed his forehead before snapping down over disapproving eyes. “I won’t ask why you were at her house—or why you’re hugging her bag.”
Gerard lowered his chin to stare at Amber’s purse, unable to meet Vincent’s knowing gaze. “She dropped it.”
Explaining why he was hugging Amber’s purse was easier than explaining why he’d been at her house—on more than one occasion. Or why he’d kissed her. She was a cop—a possible threat to immortals—especially since most Vampires used false documents to maintain a believable identity. But Vincent probably knew how he felt about Amber without him having to say it. He’d made no effort to block the mental connection between them.
Vincent furrowed his brow. “Why would a vampire be interested in a mortal detective?”
“To protect her? To protect himself? Je ne sais pas.” And not knowing was killing him. How could he keep Amber safe if he didn’t know from whom—or what—he was protecting her? “I think he might be her ancestor.”
Gerard didn’t want to think about the second vampire he’d sensed in the parking lot. It was as if he shared some strange psychic connection with him. It was weak, but he sensed the creature’s need to kill. He just couldn’t grasp the other vampire’s reasoning. Or get a clean fix on his location. There was something—different about that second vampire. And yet—strangely familiar.
Vincent closed his eyes. His nostrils flared. His body swayed. Then his eyes sprang open. His irises were red, his pupils dilated. “There was another vampire here. He fled before the ancient took Detective Buckley.”