He knew, but it didn’t help. He could handle being alone professionally if he had someone to come home to, to share his day with. Hell, to share the night with. But it couldn’t be casual anymore. Wolves mated for life. Now, sex meant forever. If he wasn’t careful, he could be bound for life to a complete bitch.
To anyone on the outside he appeared healthier than he ever had. Sure, he had a quicker temper than he used to, especially during the full moon. Because he’d refrained from human flesh for his first full moon, with the help of Lydia and her mate, he didn’t look at humans as food. However, he now ordered his meat rare, and when the moon was full he barely cooked at all. The all-natural, raw diet cut the body fat, and the pet shampoos he used when he “wolfed out” made his hair full and shiny. Anyone who knew him thought he was happy.
The phone rang, startling him from his thoughts. A quick check of the caller ID and he answered. “Aaron Decker, how are you? How’s Sin City?”
“Troubled. I could use you down here, man.” Aaron sounded tired. More tired than when they’d gone through the academy together. “We’ve got a missing person case, juvenile, possible runaway.”
“I don’t know what I can do.”
“That’s all the false modesty you get. You were top of our class. You might have turned in your badge, but your reputation has grown in the last year. You’ve got instincts, and that’s what we need. There’s no evidence of abduction. The child left a typed note on her computer explaining she was running away, but that doesn’t feel right to me. Not to mention she’s the daughter of Miles Koburn, an influential man on the city council.”
Politics involved, too. Geez. “Aaron, you might want to get the feds involved. Better resources—”
“You’re not coming?”
The question hung in the air. He knew Aaron well, but could he work as part of a team again?
“It’s an eleven-year-old girl,” Aaron said. “The clock is ticking.”
That did it. “I’m coming.”
• • •
Ashley flipped her hair over her shoulder and strode confidently down the Strip. The dark night was lit by the ever colorful flashing lights. Other cities boasted that its citizens never slept, and although she’d never had a reason to leave Las Vegas, she was sure the nightlife here could give any of them a run for their money.
Every adult in this town focused on two things: sex and money. Women, men, young or old. All other necessities came second to the conquest of the seven deadly sins. And even these sins circled back to sex and money. Ah, but that was the good part. As the Mother taught her all those years ago, the deeper the coat of sin, the sweeter a soul.
Ashley had learned in the first few days of her own training that the sisterhood’s goal was to rid the world of the evils done at the hands of men. Not every soul was as corrupt as the next, and the less tainted a man’s aura, the worse the taste. Usually, after identifying those men whose hearts were mostly pure, she avoided them.
But now that Nichole had brought up the idea of a redeemable man, Ashley’s eyes lingered on the less polluted specimens. The ones she used to ignore. How they held their women close. She wondered what it would feel like to be held by such a man.
She ran her nails through her hair. Focus. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
The hunt could be fun. Reading thoughts, weighing sins. Separating those indulging in a weekend of transgression from those who made depravity a way of life.
She remembered her induction and rubbed a thumb over the onyx band around her left ring finger. The ceremony, the belonging. She would never be a victim again.
Striding past the people lined up outside a club, she slid into the front of the line. She’d found prey in this club before. A wink to the bouncer at the door and she was waved through without paying the cover. He wasn’t the purest man in the bunch, but as long as he remained useful he’d live. She spared a moment to wonder if the bouncer knew how close he stood to death’s door.
The rhythm of the music pounded in her chest like a second heartbeat. Colored spotlight beams crisscrossed the room. She wriggled and bounced to the pulse like those around her.
She danced through the crowd, gathering her hair behind her head, and then, raising her hands in the air, she let her long dark hair fall into shoulder-length blonde curls. No one in the pulsating room noticed; neither did they notice her eyes swirl through a rainbow of colors and land on a deep, seductive blue.
Tonight, she would find prey for Nichole. The best way to learn was to do. So, after a week of orientation, Nichole would get to put what she’d learned into action. Tonight, Ashley would find Nichole’s first kill.
Ashley’s instincts led her to a man around fifty. Short and stocky. His thinning hair whispered of once being strawberry blond, but the bad comb-over lay limp, thin, and peppered with gray. Stretching his mouth into a vile grin, he stood at the bar and leered at the woman dancing on top of it.
The aura around the diseased leprechaun of a man swirled in dark blacks and browns. Oh, yes, he was a ripe one. Ashley strode toward him, waited until he turned in her direction, and affected a vacant expression.
“Oh.” She stumbled against him and allowed her breasts to press against his arm for a moment longer than necessary. “Sorry,” she mouthed at him.
“That’s all right.” He gripped her shoulders and moved her to stand at the bar next to him. “Let me just buy you a drink.”
He waved at the bartender, and she leaned toward him again, this time catching the sweetly rotting scent of his corruption. She’d found a perfectly nasty one in the first club of the night. It seemed too easy.
The bartender passed the leprechaun her drink, and he gripped the glass by the top. If she really were the ditsy drunk blonde she pretended to be, she would have missed the little white pill he dropped into the glass. Too bad Nichole hadn’t come out with her. He was almost too ripe to resist.
Giggling, she accepted the drink and downed half of it. The drug would have no effect on one of the sisterhood. She nuzzled up to his ear and yelled, as the music wouldn’t allow for the seductive whisper the move called for, “I like you. How long are you going to be in town?”
“Baby,” he shouted, “I gotta get back to the wife in two hours!” He grabbed her ass and pulled her closer. “I need to make this count.”
“Where are you staying?” Nichole would have an easy time with this one. Her first time should be as pleasant as possible. Ashley could distract the wife while Nichole took the husband; the wife would be much better off without this jerk.
“The Palace.” Short as he was, his face barely reached her cleavage. He turned his head and attempted to help himself.
She stepped away, threw her head back, and laughed, as if the Palace weren’t good enough for her. She patted him on the cheek and made a show of stumbling away from him into the crowd. She felt his rage radiate at her back.
Once outside, she checked the bottle of pills she’d palmed from his coat. No label. She shook it and watched the little white tablets rattle around. Pleased that he would find no victims tonight, she emptied the pills into a nearby garbage can and then tossed the bottle in, too. Tomorrow, Nichole would ensure he would never take another victim.
• • •
Eric received the e-mail from Aaron with the tickets while at the bank depositing his check. The flight would leave first thing in the morning. Before heading home to pack, he stopped by his grandmother’s house to tell her he would be out of town for a few weeks.
Her small townhouse occupied an end unit in a historic neighborhood. It had been passed to her from her parents, and she’d raised her children there. Then, when Eric’s parents died in a robbery gone wrong, she’d taken him in.
The way the detectives had brought his parents’ killer to justice was what led him to choose to join the force. They’d reviewed the clues, followed the evidence, and given them peace.
Although the neighborhood had gone downhill over
the last twenty years, his grandmother insisted on staying in her home. No matter the crime statistics, or the fact that Eric’s grandfather had had to put bars on the downstairs windows.
After his grandfather passed away five years ago Eric found himself stopping in daily. He couldn’t cook, and since she made such terrific food and was on the way home, he would stop in and do a chore or two—then he would look meek and hungry. He spent many an off-hour mowing her postage-stamp-size lawn, moving furniture, or fixing things. Just his way of paying her back for the great food.
She was like a mother to him, and at seventy-one, she needed to be taken care of, though she’d never admit it. She didn’t know about his transformation last year, and if he could help it, she never would.
He knew from experience that unconditional acceptance could only go so far. Years ago, he’d almost gotten serious with a woman. Unfortunately, he’d been applying to the police academy, and she was an accomplished thief. No matter what he said, she couldn’t or wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t love someone who would cross the line he was going to defend.
He walked up the two steps to his grandmother’s barred screen door. With the thick metal door open he could hear gentle singing coming from the kitchen.
Before he could knock she called out, “Come on back, dear.” She never locked her doors. She refused to get a security system, but she always knew when he arrived.
“Nana,” he called out as he entered and then locked the screen door behind him. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that,” he chastised, though he knew it would be futile. “Anyone could walk in.”
“I knew it was you,” came her usual reply.
“And if it wasn’t me?” He followed his nose and the smell of fresh cookies to the kitchen.
She greeted him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. “I would ask them to leave.” She pulled the plate away from his outstretched hand to emphasize her next word. “Sternly.”
“I believe they’d listen to you.” Eric took his plate to the little table by the bay window of the kitchen. He could see his grandmother’s small garden through the glass.
The rows were perfect, like always. His nana loved to garden and had had one for as long as he could remember. The herbs seemed to stand watch by the gate, and a little flower garden was in the center. A vase on the table held some of those flowers.
The warm cookies melted in his mouth. He’d lived on his own for years, but this kitchen, this house, was home.
Nana sat at the other end of the table and sipped her mug of tea. “Will you be staying for dinner?”
“Sure.” He had nothing else planned, and it only took minutes to pack a duffle.
“Are you going to tell me about your day?” she asked when their meal was almost finished.
“Nothing much to tell. I finished a case for that woman who thought her husband was cheating on her, and got paid for it.” Nana hadn’t questioned his choice to quit the force. And although she’d quirked an eyebrow when he started asking for his steak rare she hadn’t pressed him.
“I’m very proud of you. You might have stopped being a police officer, but you still make a difference in people’s lives.” She patted his hand. “Are you done?” she asked, pointing to his plate.
He nodded. “Nana, I wanted to tell you, I’m heading to Vegas for a couple weeks.”
“Oh, a vacation?” She rinsed the dishes and set them in the dishwasher, then brought him a bowl of green beans to snap.
“A case. Aaron—you remember Aaron?” he asked as he reached for a bean.
“Married that lovely attorney, Vivian, got a job in Vegas. Yes, I remember him. Nice boy. Loved my pot roast.”
“Well, he called today and asked if I can go to Vegas to help him with a missing person case. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”
“I understand,” she said, drying her hands on a towel and leaning a hip against the cupboard. “Be careful; I hear there are some bad eggs in Las Vegas.”
“No more than anywhere else,” he replied, passing her the bowl of beans. But at her arched eyebrow, an expression he knew brooked no nonsense, he said, “I promise to be careful.”
• • •
The rest of the night held many potential candidates for Nichole’s first field trial, but none as delectable as the leprechaun-ish man who’d tried to drug Ashley. So she returned to the mansion.
The lush green grounds carried the scent of night blossoms and fresh mulch. Pale petals glowed under the full moon. The sisters took turns tending the house and grounds. Just because they weren’t exactly normal didn’t mean they didn’t want to put out a good impression for the neighbors. In the 1940s, they’d opened the mansion under the guise of a women’s hotel. A few years back they’d switched to simple apartments. They didn’t advertise. There was no word of mouth, so no one even tried to apply for one.
Ashley crossed between the palm trees that seemed to stand guard on either side of the path. She pushed open the mansion’s large wooden door, where the stone of the front porch gave way to an arching foyer. The sky mural of pink- and purple-tinged clouds painted in perpetual sunset on the ceiling seemed to ripple as she passed into the sitting room.
She heard giggling from the kitchen. She crossed the hallway, her stilettos tapping a staccato on the marble tile.
Six of her sisters sat surrounding the wood and glass table of the breakfast nook. Each woman held a spoon and passed around several pints of ice cream. The bay window behind them revealed the lights of the Strip glowing in the distance and added a festive atmosphere to the ice cream social.
Though they came from different backgrounds and different ethnic groups, they were family.
Tarma, who at the moment appeared as a long, lean woman with skin the color of caffé latte, sat opposite the door and was the first to notice Ashley’s entrance. “Well, how’d it go?”
Ashley took a spoon and a pint passed to her by a short-haired redhead named Jessie. “Good.” She scooped up a spoonful of dark chocolate and grinned. “Very good. Found the most delectably dark aura. He’s at the Palace.”
The other women moaned. Nichole wriggled in her chair. “Oh, could I have him?”
Tarma clucked her tongue. “That’s rude, dear. You don’t ask for a sister’s prey.”
Nichole hung her head as the other women nodded. But Ashley smiled at her student.
“I think we can overlook it this time, as I found him for you.” She lifted a hand at their surprised expressions. “Nichole is ready. Soon, we will induct another full sister.” Over a spoonful of ice cream she caught Tarma’s eye. “We might have another trainee as well.”
Tarma pursed her lips and nodded. “The prey has a wife?”
“Yes, but he says she’s in Vegas with him. And that is the only thing he said that I believe,” Ashley said, licking her spoon clean. “He tried to drug me.”
“Sounds delicious,” said Felicia, the blonde wisp of a woman with the death grip on the rocky road.
“I think he will be,” Ashley said. “After spending those few moments with him I think the wife will need us.”
A rustle of cloth announced the Mother’s entrance an instant before she spoke. “Not every woman is meant to join us, dear.”
She entered the room with an unearthly grace Ashley hoped one day to emulate. Her skin was pale and luminous, rich even in the fluorescent lights. Her long black hair didn’t hint at her age, which was rumored to be over three centuries.
She swept up to the table between Tarma and Nichole, and all the women sat in reverence.
“We are a select group of women.” She caressed Nichole’s cheek. “You all were chosen because you have a power inside you that attracts sinful men like moths to a flame. And in consuming their dark souls you complete two purposes.”
The Mother paced to the window and turned. “You provide your gift with the power it needs to thrive, and you remove the sediment of society, which, in turn, allows the women of the world to find
real love.” As she said this last, her voice rang out.
Ashley felt as if her heart would burst with pride for the sisterhood, for the Mother, and for their purpose. Before she recovered from the Mother’s speech Nichole cleared her throat quietly.
The Mother smiled at her. “Yes, my dear.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t go after him?” the quiet voice asked.
“Of course not. Ashley and Tarma will take you. It would be best for Ashley to lead you to him and for Tarma to talk to the wife.” To Tarma, she said, “Assess her potential. If she is open for the gift, bring her here. If not, then console her and advise her. Either way, both of you should be ready to assist Nichole if she needs it.”
Her face shining with delight, Nichole stood. “When can we go?”
They all smiled at her eagerness and then turned to Ashley. Even the Mother looked at her. The weight of Ashley’s position pressed unexpectedly. She knew what was necessary, so she placed her spoon on a napkin and said, “I think we should catch them at breakfast. He had the pills, so he’s obviously done this before, but he seemed to want to hide his infidelity from his wife. I say we corner him while they’re having breakfast.”
The Mother nodded. “I’ll leave you to discuss details, then. Remember, Ashley, when Nichole releases her harvest at the ceremony you will achieve your permanent place in the inner circle.” She moved from the room as gracefully as she’d entered.
Nichole exhaled as though she’d been holding her breath. “Such a commanding presence.”
The rest of the women nodded and again turned to Ashley. Taking hold of her nerves and shoving them to the rear of her mind she started to lay out her strategy. The ice cream was soon forgotten.
• • •
Eric returned to his apartment and found guests. Sitting on his couch were his old partner, Lydia, and her husband. It had taken him a while to get used to the idea of them married. Things change, he had reminded himself on more than one occasion.
Redeeming the Night Page 2