Vivi Anna - [Valorian Chronicles 04]

by The Vampire's Quest

  The inspector nodded and stood. “That’s an interesting gift you have there, Monsieur Falcon, to know when an explosion is going to happen.”

  “No more interesting than a lycan who can power-speak like a vampire.”

  Gabriel laughed as he shoved his notepad and pen into his jacket pocket. “Ah, but I have my great-grandfather’s bloodline on my side. He was a powerful vampire. What’s your excuse?”

  Kellen shrugged. “Just lucky, I suppose.”

  “I don’t have to tell you not to leave town any time soon, do I?”

  “You just did.” Kellen smiled grimly. Although the lycan was cavalier in a self-important kind of way, he liked him. “Besides, I’m hoping to reschedule that appointment with the doctor.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Hmm, well, let’s hope the good doctor is one of the survivors like you, then.”

  Kellen heard the derision in the inspector’s voice. It was time to cut his losses while he still could. He’d never been one to get along with law enforcement. Even working with them side-by-side for so many years was a lesson in futility—mostly for them.

  “Do you have any more questions? My head is killing me. I’d love to go back to my hotel room and drown my pain in a bottle of vodka.”

  “Give me just a few more minutes, then I’ll have a uniform drive you to your hotel.”

  Kellen rubbed at his right ear, trying to dislodge the painful ringing. “You could just ask me where I’m staying. It would be easier.” His ear finally popped and he could hear again.

  The inspector’s brow furrowed. “Yes, but for whom?”

  Kellen watched Bellmonte, as he wandered back to the explosion site and the neat row of body bags. The row was getting longer. Two attendants carried another gray plastic bag out from the destroyed room. Following them were two crime scene techs in dark-blue nylon jackets. Both women.

  One was a vampire, a strong one by the power waves she was emitting, and the other wasn’t. A witch, perhaps. Lycan possibly, by the graceful way she moved.

  Gabriel crouched next to the bag, and after putting on a glove, he unzipped the bag and winced.

  “Most of him is in there,” one of the crime scene techs, the vampiress, said. Her voice was heavily accented, Kellen noticed, maybe French-Russian. “A foot and a few fingers are missing. We’ll find them in the cleanup.”

  “Any ID?”

  The other tech, a stunning redhead, handed Gabriel a piece of burnt plastic. The inspector rubbed at the soot with his gloved thumb. “Dr. Bueller.”

  The inspector glanced over his shoulder at Kellen. The crime-scene techs followed suit. He raised the identifying piece of plastic. “Looks like you won’t be rescheduling that appointment.”

  Sighing, Kellen rubbed a hand over his face. It didn’t surprise him that the doctor was dead. It was just his kind of luck.

  The Russian tech’s full mouth tilted up, not quite into a smile, but close. She had an air of seduction around her. He had a sneaky suspicion that that was her particular specialty. Most vampires had special powers. Some could hypnotize with their eyes, others with their voice. Caine Valorian could detect emotion, any emotion, from a smell or taste. He was one man Kellen couldn’t lie to, even if he wanted to. This vampiress seemed to possess a powerful ability to seduce. But it wasn’t working on him.

  The other one, the redhead, aimed a gorgeous, blue-eyed gaze that pinned him where he sat. If the Russian was fire, this one was all ice, despite the fiery color of her hair. It was too bad really, because there was something about her that made his gut twist into a knot.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she finally turned and went back to the main crime scene. He watched as she walked away, appreciating the way her khaki pants fit over her long legs and curvy behind. She had a confident stride. She was a lycan for sure.

  His view became obstructed by a uniformed police officer, the same one who had spoken to him earlier. “I am to take you to your hotel now.”

  Warily, Kellen pushed to his feet and followed the officer across the main floor foyer to the stairwell exit. As he walked, Gabriel watched him, a pensive look on his face. The vampiress watched him, too, but her look was anything but pensive.

  When he reached the door, the inspector nodded in his direction. “I’ll be in touch.”

  The statement was innocuous enough, but Kellen felt a bit of force behind the words, especially with the way the inspector was regarding him—as if Kellen was his number-one suspect.

  Chapter 3

  After another three hours at the crime scene picking up pieces, literally, of the victims and the medical office, Sophie St. Clair was exhausted. Running on only a few hours of sleep to begin with, she’d been nearly ready to fall asleep on her feet when she got the call about the explosion.

  That was until she’d felt the vampire’s gaze on her. That had woken her up. Now her whole body was on edge.

  Sipping a strong cup of coffee, she settled into her chair and fired up the computer. The first thing she needed to check on was any mechanical or electrical problems that had been addressed at the medical center over the past year. The team had to determine whether this was accidental or intentional. She really hoped for the former.

  As the computer was booting up, she sat back in the chair and cradled the coffee in her hands. She was feeling shaky. It could have been sleep deprivation or, unfortunately, the lingering effects from the intensity of Kellen Falcon’s stare.

  Gabriel had informed the team about the surviving vampire, that he was an American and a former crime scene investigator from Necropolis. An expert in explosives. A rather convenient fact, she thought, considering the circumstances. And likely the reason he was at the top of Gabriel’s suspect list.

  She didn’t usually think the worst of people, but she’d been a crime scene investigator long enough to know that everyone had a darkness inside them. It just took the right environment and perfect circumstances to bring it out. Maybe these had been Kellen’s.

  She certainly knew the unpredictability of vampires. Male ones in particular. Jean-Paul had schooled her in that regard quite effectively.

  It had been over two years since her torrid affair with the flamboyant three-hundred-year-old vampire, but the bad taste still lingered in her mouth. So much that just being around another male vampire sent an involuntary shudder down her spine.

  It didn’t help matters that her father, also her pack’s alpha, continually reminded her of those two months of rebellion. Usually, he was trying to make a point about her un-lycan behavior by reminding her how disappointed he’d been in her, how embarrassing it had been for him, as head of the pack, how she couldn’t possibly give him a bunch of grandkids with a being who couldn’t produce children. And God forbid, if her pups ended up inbred.

  “No alpha daughter of mine should be prancing around with a bloodsucker. It’s beneath all that the pack stands for.” His words battered at her mind at the most inconvenient times. Like now, when the power of Kellen’s gaze still lingered on her skin.

  Setting her cup down, she rubbed her hands down her arms, trying to scrub away the gooseflesh that had popped up all over. She scolded herself for reacting this way. It wasn’t as if the vampire was all that good-looking. He wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, as Jean-Paul had been, with his long, black hair and alabaster skin.

  No, Kellen had been almost average-looking, more than average—tall, long legs, very short, dark-brown hair. He definitely had the perfect pale skin going, along with cut cheekbones and strong jaw, but it was his fierce eyes that rattled her. When he had looked at her, albeit briefly, she felt an instantaneous jolt. Like an arrow had pierced her, but without the insurmountable pain such an event would have caused.

  She shivered again and tried to force his image from her mind. She hoped that this would be the last time she would see him; she really didn’t need the problems that his presence could cause her. Her father had been on her back enough about settling down with a proper mate a
nd having a litter of children. Pity the thought. That was the last thing in this life that she wanted. She had other things to do before she even considered kids.

  But her father was insistent, even going so far as sending her dossiers on potential mates. In the past two months, he’d sent her five possible candidates. All lycans of course, except for one witch—the son of one of his old college buddies. He’d compiled information on everything, from their family backgrounds to their income to their favorite foods. She’d barely perused any of them, finding the situation completely absurd and irritating.

  When she was ready to find a mate, she’d choose someone who made her laugh and gave her that belly-dropping feeling just by one look.

  Another image of Kellen popped up in her head. Cursing, she shoved it away, then rolled her chair closer to the computer and got to work.

  She plugged the information for the city of Nouveau Monde business pages into her search engine. Because the medical center was run and paid for by the city, all of the electrical, heating and phone services were also taken care of by the city.

  After a quick search of the city’s website, Sophie found the number for repairs. She picked up the phone and dialed. It was around one in the morning, but she knew someone would be there. That was the beauty of having night-stalking species working for all branches of the city government.

  After a ten-minute conversation with an energetic employee named Berta, Sophie had a list of mechanical and electrical problems logged into the city’s repair system over the past year. None of them had been heating-related. There hadn’t been any complaints lodged about the center’s boilers or any major electrical problems. Just small jobs, like a bank of fluorescent tubes blanking out on the second floor, or the phones going out in one of the smaller offices. Nothing glaring that pointed to a major issue that would blow up Dr. Bueller’s medical offices.

  Certainly, she’d dig more into the building. She already set up an electrical wiring inspection for later today, and she had someone coming in to look at the boilers. But as it stood, it was looking more and more like the explosion had been deliberate.

  Sighing, she lifted her hands to her head and pulled off the elastic band holding up her hair. She ran her hands through her long, red hair and rubbed at the back of her head where the beginning of a headache was brewing. It was going to be an even longer morning than it had been a night—if that was possible.

  Sophie’s fellow investigator, Olena Petrovich, a vampiress from Russia, took that moment to glide into the room, looking just as fresh and spry as she did earlier in the evening. She didn’t know how the vampiress did it, but for as long as she knew Olena, she never looked rumpled or tired. It was as if she thrived on all the activity.

  “It’s official. Our victims died from a big explosion.” She slid onto the edge of Sophie’s desk, coroner’s report in hand.

  “Anything else interesting?” Sophie asked.

  “We’re still missing three pieces of Dr. Bueller and one piece of the lycan victim.”

  “Anything else that won’t make me lose my late-night sandwich and coffee?”

  “All the vampire patients had Sangcerritus. And the lycan had something called Immune-Medicated Hemolytic Anemia.”

  Sophie shrugged; she never heard of the disease. It was very rare for a lycan to contract any type of disease. But she supposed, if the lycan in question was unsanitary and didn’t uphold any standards for what he ate, he could contract an illness usually reserved for canines.

  “I guess the poor guy suffered from pica, as well, because of the anemia. The coroner found a bunch of concrete and dirt in the guy’s stomach.”

  Sophie shook her head, unable to imagine what that infliction would be like. She was familiar with the vampire disease Sangcerritus, though. A close vampire girlfriend of hers contracted it years ago. It was one of those diseases like cancer. It could inflict any vampire, but it was rare—only one in a hundred thousand would contract it.

  Unfortunately, her friend didn’t survive. It wasn’t exactly the disease that killed her—vampires could go for years before it finally shut down all their systems—but what it did to her mind…. She went mad and ended up taking her own life by jumping out of her twenty-first-story apartment window at sunny high noon.

  Sophie had been first on the scene. It was a horrendous way to discover that one of your close friends was dead. Sometimes late at night, she could still see her friend’s broken and bloody body and dead stare in her mind. Hazards of the job, she supposed.

  She wondered if Kellen had the blood disorder, if that was why he’d been in Dr. Bueller’s office. She pitied him, if that was the reason.

  As if reading her mind, Olena said, “I wonder if tall, dark and handsome was there for the same illness.”

  “Who?” She played ignorant. She really didn’t want Olena to know she’d just been thinking about him. The vampiress was relentless when it came to men, especially attractive men.

  “Kellen Falcon, the surviving vampire from the medical center.” She arched her perfectly manicured eyebrows. “I know you noticed him.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Olena smiled. “Sophie, my dear, you’re lying to a woman who has had centuries of sexual experience. I know when someone is interested and when they aren’t.”

  “Ne pas être sot. I’m not interested in him. He’s a suspect in a crime, Olena.”

  “So?” She wriggled her eyebrows. “It would make for a rather interesting tryst, n’est ce pas?”

  Sophie crinkled her nose at that. “I’m not interested in trysts with anyone, especially vampires.” She took a sip of her coffee. “If you recall, Jean-Paul was the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  Olena waved her hand as if batting away a fly. “He was a fool and an idiot.” She slid off the desk. “Kellen Falcon does not strike me as either of those things.”

  Sophie watched her leave just as elegantly as she had arrived, and cursed under her breath. Take it for Olena to plant the seeds of curiosity in her head. The woman was gifted in all things relating to love and sex. Especially the sex part.

  Leaning back in her chair, she stared at the computer screen, trying to wrestle those seeds out of her mind. Because if they remained for long, they would take root and grow. And the last thing Sophie needed was another vampire in her life.

  Chapter 4

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  The incessant sound tapped at his head like a woodpecker on a tree trunk.

  Kellen sat in the corner of his room and watched the walls slowly starting to close in. Inch by inch they pressed down on him, making the room seem smaller, cramped, stifling. Heat from the register permeated the confining area, making it difficult to breathe.

  The heat waves appeared to be melting the wallpaper off the walls. He wiped at his eyes trying to clear his vision. It didn’t help much.

  Every way Kellen moved, it felt as if his head was caving in. Even sticking his head out of the open window gave no relief to his growing claustrophobia. Lying down had just caused the bed to spin. And sitting on the sofa watching television made him feel like he was being sucked into the screen.

  He was in bad shape and it was getting progressively worse.

  If he didn’t do something soon to focus on something else, Kellen was afraid of what he might do. The last thing he needed was to get kicked out of the city or get arrested for tearing apart his hotel room—even though that was exactly what he wanted to do. His fingers itched to destroy something. It was a bad place to be in without any help.

  Kellen put on a fresh set of clothes, walked out from his hotel and hailed a taxi. Until he slid into the vehicle’s backseat, he didn’t have a real plan. The second he did, he told the driver to take him to the central police headquarters. Since he was in such a combative mood, he might as well find some people to bicker with.

  The fiery woman with the ice-laced eyes seemed like the perfect sparring partner.


  Twenty minutes later, Kellen stood in the lobby of the Nouveau Monde Otherworld Police Department, or NMOPD, trying to convince the witch receptionist to let him in. He was failing miserably and becoming more irritable with every passing minute. He needed to be doing something to help them solve the crime—why the medical center exploded. It was right up his alley.

  “If you don’t have an official visitor’s pass, I can’t let you in,” she informed him again, as she tapped her ball-point pen repeatedly on the top of the receptionist desk.

  In a way, she reminded him of Lyra Magice, the witch he had worked with at the OCU. Aloof, yet feisty when pressed. He had liked that about Lyra. She had ended up marrying a dhampir, a wealthy half vamp, half witch from Nouveau Monde. She was happy, and Kellen had been happy for her, even if he had never told her.

  “I could try Inspector Bellmonte’s cell phone again for you, Monsieur Falcon.”

  “Thank you.”

  Stepping back from the counter to give her room to make the call, Kellen watched the bustling of the department as it ebbed and flowed. Uniformed officers and plainclothes personnel moved through the open, airy lobby with purpose and intent. Some chatted with others, but most walked alone, expressions of determination or contemplation on their faces. It made him homesick for the police headquarters in Necropolis, although this place looked nothing like the OCU.

  With wide, tall windows and welcoming, high-arched ceilings, the NMOPD made a person feel wanted. The dark and cramped space in Necropolis always brought thoughts of depression and isolation. Again, the difference between the cities was evident even in the building design.

  Or it could have been that Kellen was merely seeking a refuge—a place where he could finally feel at home. He didn’t really know how long he had; his doctor had informed him that his disease was progressive, and it already was making its way to his brain, where it would eventually kill him. Most vampires went mad first, though. He was running out of time.