Whiskey, Vamps, and Thieves (Southern Vampire Detective #1)

by Selene Charles

  “No! Oh my God, my babies. My babies!”

  Hissing, I snatched my hand back, swallowing a violent gag at the sight I’d seen. No mother should have to witness what she had. She’d never even looked at the monster when it’d come for her; her eyes had been for her children alone.

  Carter dropped a hand to my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze. “You okay?”

  I froze. Breathing heavily, I tried to shove the image out of my brain, but I knew what I’d just seen would haunt me for years.

  “No.” I shrugged out of his grip. “She didn’t see it.”

  Carter didn’t say anything, he just nodded. We’d been working homicide together so long that he was the peanut butter to my jelly. When I saw something really gnarly, I’d close my emotions down. Vampires were highly emotional—some would even say volatile—creatures, anyway. And I was even more so because of my empathic nature. After I’d once almost impaled him with a claw back in the day, he’d learned that when I started heavy breathing, it was time to give me my space.

  I hadn’t known what kind of partner Carter would be when I’d met him, but he’d quickly become a human I no longer viewed as just a food source.

  After walking around to the other side, I moved to the man. His heart was missing too. I found it hard to pull my gaze away from the darkness of his hollowed chest. There were monsters worse than me in the world.

  I could smell that rigor would set in soon. Decay had a scent, and it crept up in stages. The smell of fresh blood meant death had just occurred, but as the body set, the more rancid the blood became. The bitter sweetness to it let me know they’d been dead close to three hours. I needed to move quickly so CSI could get the bodies out of the car before they were locked in.

  Setting aside my anger, I grabbed the man’s left wrist—the one with the diamond-encrusted gold wristwatch.

  “What the hell, Susan? Did you just see that shadow cross the road?” He turned to glance at his wife, who suddenly screamed for him to stop just moments before their car hit a large bump in the road.

  I growled, dropping his hand.

  “He didn’t see anything concrete, either.” I shook my head, looking up into Carter’s worried amber eyes. “Just a quick flash of shadow. He did, however, run over something in the road.”

  When I said that, Carter glanced over my shoulder. I turned, looking behind me, recognizing the placement of the trees some twenty yards back as the spot where they’d run over whatever it’d been.

  But the pavement was black and clean. No tire marks and nothing dead in the road.

  “Did y’all find something dead or dyin’ when you got here earlier?” I asked, turning to look back at him again.

  Carter shook his head as the muscle in his jaw visibly ticked. “No. There was nothing. Just the SUV as you see it, and the bodies. Nothing else. It’s too dark to tell if there’s blood on the road, but with you paranormal types, there usually isn’t.”

  I lifted a brow. Used to be a time when Carter hadn’t sounded quite so acerbic when talking about us “paranormal” types. Then again, I couldn’t say I blamed him, either. He’d taken a leap of faith on me when he’d agreed to take on the greenhorn, and I’d betrayed him when I’d opted to walk away from the badge and him.

  “Well, it hurts nothing to send out some dogs into the woods later,” I said.

  He gave me his crooked grin. “Or maybe if I asked you real nice, you’d do me a solid and go sniff things out over there.”

  I hadn’t fed in a few days, so my heart was still as death inside me, otherwise it might have been beating like a drum. It was the first time in three years that he’d teased me. I wasn’t sure how to take it. Was he trying to extend an olive branch? Telling me he was willing to forgive if I was willing to forget?

  I bit down on my back teeth, fearing and hoping that maybe, finally, he was ready to hear my side of the story. But instead he sniffed, turned his face to the side, and that old hurt flashed through his amber eyes again.

  I sighed, hugging my arms to my chest, and tried to repair the cracks in the walls between us. But those fractures were growing wider and bigger, and soon, I knew, they’d come tumbling down.

  “I gotta be at the bar by midnight, you know this. I’ll take a quick sniff, but I don’t have time to be your personal errand girl. Don’t forget, I quit the SCPD three years ago.”

  His lips tugged down. “Believe me, I’ve not forgotten,” he said with bite.

  I flinched. I’d never known how to explain to him what’d happened to me that night. How I’d gone from being so sure about everything to suddenly adrift and lost. How I’d questioned myself and my motives. How I blamed myself for letting that monster get away.

  For a year after I quit, Carter hadn’t talked to me. In fact, he’d ignored all my phone calls. My halfhearted attempts to beg him not to hate me. Before I’d come onto the scene, he’d not had a partner, so our bond had been tight from day one when we’d fought to take down a hellhound. Carter might still have liked me, but he’d not forgiven me for leaving him alone. The guilt of knowing that forced me to remain a consultant. I remained in the job for him and only him.

  The world we lived in was a dark, dirty, and ugly place, and though vampires shouldn’t suffer nightmares, I did and probably always would.

  Sighing, he looked back at the car. “You know what you have to do, Scar.”

  I was angry at him for reminding me. Recalling a child’s final memory was spotty at best. Especially when they were young. They just didn’t view the world the way we did.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. I hated those cases, hated when a child was involved. Hated when I saw their beautiful, innocent little faces and knew their last moments had been ones of terror.

  “Gawd damn, Carter, I hate you.” I marched to the back, opened the door, took a deep breath, reached inside, and fluttered my fingers across the chubby wrist of the first child who wore a golden bracelet. A name was written on it—Patience.

  There was nothing but a void of dark static when I read the jewelry. I shook my head and then very gently reached across to the other child. The golden bracelet on her wrist read Faith.

  And I saw a flash of darkness. But that flash was different. That flash breathed and had glowing red eyes.

  Without thought, I tore a sliver of fabric off the hem of baby Faith’s gown. I didn’t know why I did it or even for what purpose. But something inside told me it was important.

  When I knew no one was looking, I tucked that scrap into my pocket and went to tell Carter what I’d seen.

  Chapter 3

  It wasn’t easy getting my head screwed back on right when, later that night, I walked through the doors of the Blue Creek Honky-Tonk, or as I liked to call it, “the den.”

  Mercer—my brother—nodded when I approached the bar. Tall for a shifter at well over six feet and built like a freaking tank, he had a shaggy mane of wheat-blond hair that fell to just past his shoulders and was usually caught up in some form of a bun, piercing blue-green eyes that turned neon when in full-on wolfy form, and a face that would make a saint weep. He was my antithesis in just about every way.

  I barely reached five-four, had a head of thick nut-brown hair, short—almost stubby—legs, and was slender. He was the one who’d found me. If Mercer hadn’t come across my body that night when he had, I’d have died or been sired. Because of him, I was one of a very rare breed of freed vampires.

  Meaning I belonged to no one but myself. I didn’t have to pander to any house or pay dues. It made me both hated and revered, depending on which circles one ran in.

  After shrugging out of my blue jean jacket, I draped it across a hook on the wall, rolled up my gingham sleeves, and tied a red-and-white bandanna across my forehead. My stylized tan-and-bright-turquoise ostrich-skin boots struck the hardwood floor heavily as I made my way to the bar. The back of my skull was aching, I still smelled the scent of sweet blood, and if I didn’t feed soon, I’d tu
rn murderous.

  But it was a Friday night, and the place was hopping, as was typical in the backwoods town. I couldn’t leave Mercer alone with that crowd to go on a hunt.

  I never hunted in pack territory; it was a law the Alpha had set the day they’d taken me in. Merc couldn’t afford to lose me for the two hours it would take to get my business done. I just hoped he’d remembered to store some Baggies in the fridge tonight, otherwise I was screwed.

  Silver Creek, Tennessee, didn’t have much to do on a Friday. There was the three-room movie theater that played movies about a month out of date, or the den. Those who weren’t in school and were twenty-one, the honky-tonk was where they came.

  A live bluegrass band played some Charlie Daniels covers before a smallish crowd of dancing drunks, but mostly it was just barflies wettin’ their whistle and catching up on the week’s gossip.

  I spied the Farley brothers—Tyler, Forsythe, and Blue—out of the corner of my eye, sitting at the table closest to the kitchen. Tonight was bound to be fun with them there. Half dark fae, all of ’em, it was to a person’s peril to ever decide to trust them. They were always scheming about something or other, some great big business venture whose investors inevitably wound up penniless and them just a little bit richer.

  But they were mostly harmless.

  It was to anyone’s detriment to ever believe even the cutest and kindest of us Veilers couldn’t rip someone’s neck out with our teeth and sing while we drank their blood if we really wanted to. Even the sweet-faced cherubim could go medieval on someone’s ass if they were really pushed to it.

  Mercer’s look was droll. “You look like hell,” he said immediately when I slipped underneath the bar.

  I snatched the rag out of his back pocket and started cleaning up the already charmingly pitted and dented mahogany bar top. “Gee, thanks for that running commentary, douchenozzle.”

  My brother and I were dressed almost identically—him in jeans, me in a blue jean skirt—and almost matching flannel tops. I glanced down at myself and growled. “You could have at least gone for the blue shirt, Merc. You knew I was going to wear red tonight.”

  “Yeah, but then what fun would that be?”

  He winked, causing his sea-glass eyes to sparkle. First time I’d seen him, I’d fallen halfway in love with him. But I’d learned soon enough that shifters and vampires rarely got together. It just wasn’t natural.

  Mostly a political thing, it seemed to me. But the war between our races was as ancient as time itself, and changing the minds of creatures that’d lived with those prejudices all of their long lives meant very little could or would change anytime soon.

  “And besides, you know I look good in red.” He waggled his thick blond brows.

  I chuckled. Merc looked good in anything, but he already knew that, and I didn’t need to bloat that man’s ego even a tiny bit more by saying so.

  Suddenly Blue flashed himself over to the bar. Moving in a way only the fae could, they literally bent time when they flashed. Distorted the very fabric of the universe and moved through dimensions and planes only they knew existed.

  Clean-cut, with a head of blue-black hair and crystal-blue eyes, he had skin the color of rich oak. At five-ten, five-eleven, compared to me he was a giant, but he was just another ant compared to Merc.

  “Scar,” he drawled, tapping a long finger on the bar top. His features were as beautiful as those of all the rest of the faes were, and while he didn’t have the rugged handsomeness of my brother, he did have an androgynous appeal that made him just as much fun to look at.

  “Blue.” I thinned my lips, waiting for him to get to the point already. I liked the Farleys, all things considered, but it wasn’t wise to keep in their company long; things often had a habit of disappearing off a person in their presence.

  “Wondered if you’d eaten tonight, gorgeous.” His blue eyes sparkled like cut sapphires.

  I wet my lips. “Why? You offerin’?”

  Leaning forward on my toes a little, I felt the hunger begin to leak through my eyes, turning them from a rich brown to crimson. Considering I’d not eaten yet and had been at a crime scene splattered in blood, it was a wonder I hadn’t already attacked his deliciously throbbing vein.

  A grin curled up one corner of his pretty, pretty lips. And when I said pretty, I meant it. Blue had a thing for going out in drag, and when he did, he made just about every woman in the place hate herself just a little bit more.

  “And what if I am?” He batted his naturally long lashes.

  Mercer growled. There was no hair ripping out of his face and forearms yet, so he wasn’t quite nuclear, but a shifter’s growl was like a snake’s rattle, a warning to get to stepping or face the consequences. And just to drive his point home, he wrapped his hand around my neck and dragged me into his side. Then, lowering his face, he lightly licked my left cheek, marking me with scent as his.

  I glowered and wiped at the drool. Wolves were so gross.

  “Move on, fae boy. Scar won’t be bitin’ you or any of your brothers’ necks tonight, or any night.” Mercer’s words were steely and grave.

  I rolled my eyes. Sometimes it was exhausting dealing with the crazy testosterone levels of a proprietary wolf.

  Shrugging at Blue, I gave him a winsome smile. “Guess that’s that, then.”

  As much as I wanted to chow on the pretty fae, Merc had probably saved my ass.

  Biting down on his bottom lip seductively, Blue nodded slowly. “Okay. For now. But someday I’m gonna make you mark me, fanger.”

  He really was a pretty man. But most monsters were beautiful. In our world, beauty often hid a wealth of sins. Sometimes the prettiest were the most evil among us. Being pretty also meant it was easier to catch our prey. A rotted, zombie-like corpse walking up to someone and saying, “I vant to suck your blood”? I imagine that’d go over about as well as a fart in church. “Pretty” was just another weapon for us to manipulate.

  Blue winked, and I sighed, knowing exactly what I was missing out on.

  When a vampire bit a fae, it was like a shot of speed through their veins, a high for them. But conversely, the same was also true for us. There was something in fae blood that made them highly addictive to us. I’d be a shot of speed to Blue, and he’d be like a hit of heroin for me. Together, we’d probably kill each other and laugh while doing it.

  Wiping at my cheek, I turned my back to Blue and crossed my ankles, letting Merc handle the drink orders for a while. Without Blue’s banter to distract me, my thoughts inevitably swerved right back to that crime scene I’d left behind. Images of the darkness with red eyes kept nagging at me.

  For some reason, its shadowy form reminded me of something. Something I’d seen a few years back when I’d been on the beat as Carter’s partner. But my thoughts were muddied and unfocused. Once I’d thought of food, it was all I could seem to fixate on.

  I wet my lips and tried to push away the thought of hot, warm crimson running down my tongue. Tried to focus on Faith’s last vision, but my mind was a buzz of incoherent images and noise. Trying to remember made the ache in my skull worse. It wasn’t just a low throb but a deep crescendo of pain sliding down my spine, my arms, my legs.

  I grunted, rubbing at my head. I needed food. Wetting my lips, I shoved off the bar, ready to head back to the kitchen and hope to God I found some Baggies of blood somewhere or I was about to break some serious pack laws.

  “Whiskey sour,” a deep voice behind me drawled in an accent unfamiliar to those parts. My stomach lurching and my hunger temporarily forgotten, I twirled and fought the shocked gasp.

  If my heart could beat, it would have been stuttering a mile a minute.

  The man was the most arresting thing I’d ever seen, and not because he was classically handsome. He was powerful looking, with thick forearms and a broad neck. His hands, which were lying flat on the bar top, looked fully capable of palming a basketball, or ripping a head off its neck, whatever floated his boat.
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  His face was chiseled and grizzled. Twin sets of thin pink scars ran from the corners of his lips in an upward motion. Once upon a time, many hundreds of years ago, he’d gotten that Glasgow grin in battle. He was perversely proud of the scar.

  Not that I minded, either. It added a mysterious, exotic allure to the man.

  There was a hint of bristle on his cheeks. His nose looked as though it’d been broken a time or twenty because of the slight crook to the bridge of it. And even under the blue neon glow of the bar light, I could see the multiple scars that crisscrossed his broad forehead.

  He had thick black hair, and if there was any hint of prettiness to the man, it was definitely in his eyes. The irises weren’t quite human. Even though they were rounded, they didn’t slit like Mercer’s, either. But it was the pupils—or rather the color of them—that had me feeling light-headed.

  Silver. Neon had nothing on his eyes. His eyes were like the shimmering wetness of liquid mercury. Arresting. Mesmerizing. And hypnotic.

  His nostrils flared, and I knew immediately he was refamiliarizing himself with me as I was with him.

  James Black didn’t come around those parts often, but when he did, he’d always made a hell of an impression.

  Mercer came sidling up next to me then. He had one brow lifted and looked quickly between James and me. The thing was, James and I, we didn’t know each other.

  Or at least that was what everyone in Silver Creek would think. I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels, feeling the old heat and longing creep over me.

  Mercer, still looking slightly confused and possibly even annoyed, grunted. “When’d you get back in town?” His blue-green eyes kept looking back at me, and if I knew my brother at all, he was wondering why the mood was suddenly so thick and electric.

  I cleared my throat and glanced aside, pretending to flick at an imaginary piece of lint on my shirt. It wasn’t that it was exactly forbidden for vamps and shifters to get it on—as the late great Marvin Gaye would say—but it was seriously, seriously frowned upon.