Blood Secrets

by Jeannie Holmes

  His declaration was cut short as a dark shadow rammed into his midsection, knocking Alex to the floor as it passed.

  “Daddy!” She tugged at her chains, helpless as the specter and her father tumbled and struggled to gain the upper hand on the other.

  Her father rolled backward, lifting his feet, and tossed the wraith aside but it was up and moving again before her father was able to rise to more than his knees.

  “Too slow, old man,” the shadow growled from where it crouched in the corner.

  “I may be a little slow but at least I’m not a coward hiding behind smoke and mirrors.” Her father gained his feet and slowly stood up. “But, then again, that’s always been your specialty. Hasn’t it, Peter?”

  The dark mass rippled, solidified, and took on the appearance of the Dollmaker. “No fair trying to take what I rightfully stole, old man.”

  “Life isn’t fair, Peter. That’s one thing you never could accept.”

  A savage grin sliced across Peter’s face. “Why should I when I hold the power to level the playing field?”

  “You’re a murderer.”

  “Who’s the pot and who’s the kettle here, old man? You took more than a few lives yourself.”

  “Liar!” Alex charged at Peter but was stopped short by the chains.

  Peter stepped back and disappeared in a haze of gray mist.

  “My father never hurt anyone!”

  “Princess, don’t—”

  “Do you hear me, you sick fuck?” Alex shouted.

  Gray mist surrounded her and materialized into Peter standing behind her, his fingers digging into the flesh of her arms. “Oh, I hear you, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “And I weep at your ignorance.”

  “Let her go,” her father ordered, reaching for her.

  “Back off, old man.” Peter held his hand up before them and a burst of blue energy smacked into her father’s chest, sending him tumbling backward.

  “Daddy!”

  Peter jerked her against him roughly. “It’s getting awfully crowded in here, darling. How about we go somewhere a little more private?”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Love to, but we have a few things to discuss first.” He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her own arms to her sides. “Say good-bye to Daddy Dearest.”

  Her father and the surrounding room disappeared in a burst of gray mist, and then she was hurtling through the void, screaming Varik’s name, with Peter’s laughter ringing in her ears.

  * * *

  Varik entered the interview room, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at Kirk Beljean seated at the lone table. Moments passed in silence before Kirk began to wiggle in his seat, eyes darting around the room, avoiding Varik’s steady observation.

  When Kirk finally looked at him, it was to explode in anger. “Stop staring at me, you fucking freak!”

  Varik pushed away from the door. He took his time crossing the room to lean in close to Kirk. “You’re eighty-three years old and hang out with girls old enough to be your granddaughters, and you think I’m a freak?”

  “Go to Hell.”

  “Already there,” he snapped. “The question is how soon will you be joining me?”

  Kirk scooted his chair to the side. “Get away from me.”

  Varik retreated a few paces and studied the younger vampire—stringy brown hair, gray eyes, an unhealthy ashen complexion, too thin even for his small frame, and fingernails jagged and red from repeated biting. “Mindy Johnson. Where is she?”

  “Dead, if she’s lucky.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Because if I find out she turned on me, I’ll kill the bitch myself.”

  Varik grabbed a fistful of Kirk’s hair and slammed his head onto the table.

  Kirk groaned.

  “Where is she?”

  “I think you broke my nose.”

  “I’ll break more than that if you don’t tell me where Mindy is.”

  “I don’t know!”

  “The vampire you sent her to—I want his name. Where does he live? Describe him.”

  “You don’t understand. I never met him face-to-face, only dealt with him over the phone. He calls every six or eight weeks and orders a girl. He always has me send them to the Thrifty Pick parking lot at midnight because they don’t have video cameras. I don’t know what he does with the girls from that point on, and it’s none of my business. But none of the girls come back, at least none come back to me.”

  “And you didn’t think that was suspicious?”

  Kirk laughed. “Man, some of these blood bunnies turn tricks for more than one broker. If they don’t come back to me, I assume they’re working for someone else or have moved on. Questions are unhealthy in my line of work.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “I want to see Piper first.”

  “No.”

  “Then I have nothing else to say.”

  Varik loomed over Kirk. “No, there is one word you can say.”

  He snorted. “And what would that be?”

  “Mercy.” He kicked the chair from underneath Kirk and as Kirk fell, Varik grabbed the back of his shirt, hauled him to his feet, and shoved him against the wall. He pressed his forearm against Kirk’s throat, slowly choking off the younger vampire’s air supply. “Give. Me. His. Name.”

  “No.”

  “Give me his fucking name,” Varik snarled, increasing the pressure on Kirk’s throat.

  He gurgled his response.

  “Tell me and you see Piper.”

  Kirk struggled to draw a breath. “P-Peter … That’s all I know.” He gasped. “I swear.”

  Varik released him and turned to face a camera in the corner near the door as Kirk tumbled to the floor behind him. “Did you get all that?”

  Damian’s voice filled the room from a hidden speaker. “We got it.”

  Varik nodded and headed for the door.

  “Piper,” Kirk rasped. “When can I—”

  “Oh, yeah, about that.” Varik half turned in the open doorway. “I lied.”

  Kirk’s howl and shouted curses were muffled by the heavy door as Varik walked away and entered the nearby observation room. He joined Damian in front of a closed-circuit video monitor as they watched a live feed of Kirk using a chair in a futile attempt to break out of the interview room. “Persistent little fucker, I’ll give him that.”

  “We’ll keep the tape rolling for a while,” Damian said. “In case he gives up any more names.”

  “What about this Peter?”

  “It’s not much to go on, but I’ve already called Freddy and Reyes says he has some new info on that doll left with the Johnson girl’s car.”

  Varik nodded. “I’ll be in the lab if you need anything.”

  He opened the door to leave when the blood-bond roared to life.

  Varik!

  Alex’s call slammed into him with the psychic force of a small truck and bowled him over. Distorted memories mixed with flashes of conversation flooded his mind. Images of Alex chained and Bernard fighting shadows pushed to the forefront, only to be replaced by a dizzying sensation of free-falling through darkness.

  Alex! He reached across the bond for her familiar warmth and felt the joy and hope that surged from her as she responded. Her mind brushed his, a gentle caress that was like a cooling salve to his tortured soul.

  The bond trembled and Varik bellowed as Alex was ripped from his grasp.

  A new presence filled with coldness and hatred tapped into the bond. She’s mine.

  Over my dead body.

  That can be arranged.

  Varik reached for the intruding mind as it retreated, but it slipped from his grasp. Alex!

  Varik …

  The connection faltered and collapsed, leaving the echoed memory of her touch and voice in his mind. He was unable to stop the hot tears that spilled from his eyes. On his knees, he voiced his anger, fear,
and longing in a wordless scream.

  nineteen

  ALEX WAS SCREAMING AND FIGHTING. SHE TWISTED AND bucked, trying to dislodge the heavy weight that pinned her. “Get off me!”

  “I don’t think so,” Peter said, laughing. “I’m rather enjoying myself.”

  Her fist connected with his jaw, leaving him momentarily stunned. She kicked him aside, scurried off the bed, and darted for the door.

  Arms encircled her waist like iron bands and yanked her off her feet. “Gotcha!”

  “No!” She clawed at the doorjamb, trying to find purchase for her fingers. Smooth wood offered no salvation. The world spun as Peter flung her onto the bed. She bounced over the mattress and tumbled to the floor on the opposite side. Something popped in her wrist as she tried to brace her fall and pain shot up her arm, making her cry out.

  “We could’ve been so happy,” Peter said as he stalked her from the foot of the bed. “But your father had to mess everything up.”

  Alex backpedaled across the floor. Her injured wrist refused to support her weight and gave way. Hissing with pain, she cradled it to her chest and continued her awkward retreat until her back hit a wall.

  “And then you found a way to reach out to him.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Bernard thought the same thing. Even said as much when he refused to take me on as a Hunter-Talent.”

  As he spoke, Alex realized she could see again. At least somewhat. Instead of unending blackness, everything was now fuzzy gray with amorphous dark blobs. Imperfect vision was better than none at all. “What are you talking about? My father was a history professor.”

  “That’s what he told you because you were too young to understand what he really was.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Your precious Varik”—he spat the name as if it tasted bad—“was Daddy Dearest’s partner. Your father was the one who sent him to kill our kindred.”

  Alex dove for what she hoped was the bed, worming her way underneath. She shrieked as she felt a hand close over her ankle.

  “Tricky tricky, chickie chickie,” Peter chanted, pulling her out of her hiding place. “You’re a quick little—oof!”

  She used her free leg to kick him in the shin. As he collapsed, she scrambled to gain her feet.

  He lunged and landed atop her.

  “Let me go!” She raked his arms with her nails, leaving bloody welts.

  He managed to grab her injured wrist and squeezed.

  Alex gasped and wailed as fresh pain rushed up her arm.

  Peter seized her other wrist and settled his weight over her, pinning her facedown to the floor. “You think I like hurting you? Huh? I don’t, but you leave me no choice. We’ll never be happy unless you stop fighting me!”

  “Go to Hell, you lying sack of shit! There is no fucking us!”

  He switched his hold on her wrists to one hand, used the other to flip her onto her back, and covered her with his body again before she could strike another kick. His breath beat against her face as he spoke. “That’s your father and Varik talking. You’ll see that you and I are meant to be together, that everything I’ve told you is true.” He stroked her hair. “I’ll make you see.”

  Alex grunted as he pulled her to her feet. He kept a firm grip on her injured wrist and tugged her along behind him, heading for a destination only he could see.

  Tasha stood in the doorway of the employee break room, watching Varik as he sat on a low sofa in the separate lounge area, elbows on his knees and head in hands. She’d never seen anyone look so thoroughly dejected. The primal scream he’d sounded earlier turned her blood to ice, and the memory of it even now made her shiver.

  “Good job today,” Damian said from behind her within the break room.

  “With what?”

  He picked up the cup of coffee he’d poured. “Convincing the Garver girl to come to the scene and talk to Kirk. If she hadn’t distracted him, we would’ve been forced to breach the house. The outcome probably wouldn’t have been as tidy. As it stands now, docs at the hospital say Janet Klein will make a full recovery.”

  “What about him?” Tasha jerked her head toward Varik. “Will he make a full recovery?”

  “He’ll live,” Damian said softly, joining her. “Once we find Alex.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “I’ll be looking for a new Director of Special Operations.” He crossed the hall to the lounge and offered the coffee to Varik. When the offer passed unacknowledged, Damian sighed, lowered himself onto the sofa next to Varik, and began speaking in tones too low for her to hear.

  She left the break room and entered the common area, where uniformed officers and the junior detectives crowded into small cubicle spaces. As she headed for her office, Tasha was surprised to see Morgan leaving it. “Can I help you, SI Dreyer?”

  Morgan spun around, eyes wide and startled. “Lieutenant Lockwood,” she stammered before composing herself. “I was just—I left some papers for you to sign on your desk.”

  “Step back in my office and we’ll take care of it right now.”

  “No,” Morgan barked. “What I mean is, I can’t now. I have a meeting to attend.”

  “Okay, but it shouldn’t—” Tasha stopped as Morgan walked away, clutching a thick stack of papers to her chest. “Fucking vamps,” she muttered and entered her office, closing the door behind her.

  The papers Morgan mentioned were for the complaint she’d filed against Varik. She skimmed the documents, verifying them for accuracy, and picked up a pen.

  She hesitated. If she signed the papers, invisible wheels would be set in motion that would ultimately end with Varik standing before his own Tribunal inquiry. She’d been pissed off at him when she told Morgan she wanted to file the complaint. Now, seeing her harsh words outlined in black and white, she wondered if she could really go through with it.

  “Ah, hell,” she murmured and leaned back in her chair. Indecision clouded her mind. There would be no harm in waiting to sign the papers, at least until she had more time to think about the ramifications of charging a federal agent with inappropriate conduct.

  Tasha picked up the papers and slipped them into her desk drawer and discovered the evidence bag for Mindy Johnson’s journal.

  She frowned, staring at the bag. She’d removed it, taken it home with her, and promptly lost it, according to Rueben. Picking up the bag, she was gripped with confusion and suspicion as she felt its heaviness. She looked inside and discovered the journal, seemingly intact.

  Tasha retrieved the pink leather-bound book and flipped it over in her hands. The pages slipped easily between her fingers as she scanned the looping handwriting she recognized as Mindy’s. Halfway through the book, she stopped, staring at the jagged remains of several pages that had been removed.

  Guilt stilled her breath. Had the pages been ripped out before or after she took the journal from the lab? Where had it disappeared and who’d returned it?

  The most plausible explanation was that Rueben had stolen the book from her. But why? As for how it came to be in her desk, Morgan Dreyer had been in Tasha’s office only moments prior. Could Morgan and Rueben be working together? If so, what was their connection to her mystery callers?

  A commotion outside interrupted her thoughts. Shouts and curses drew her to the door and as she stepped into the common area, she saw two Enforcers dragging a still-ranting Kirk Beljean toward a rear exit of the Jefferson Police Department. The Bureau didn’t waste time in cases where vampires were the direct cause of a human’s death. Beljean would be flown to Louisville, evidence would be presented, and he’d be dead by morning.

  One of the Enforcers reached for the exit and Kirk broke free, barreling up the hallway in a desperate attempt to escape.

  Tasha went for her sidearm but was too slow. The rampaging vampire slammed into her and her Beretta skittered across the floor. She shrieked as fangs pierced her clothing and sank into her forearm.

  Hands grappled wi
th Kirk, ripping his mouth from her arm. Tasha glimpsed Damian’s massive silhouette before he scooped her up, carrying her to the safety of the deserted Municipal Center’s lobby.

  He set her down on the lower wall surrounding the silent water feature. “Give me your arm.”

  Breathing hard and fighting back hysterical tears, she obediently held her arm out for his inspection.

  The big Enforcer ripped the sleeve from her blouse at the shoulder in one fluid movement. He glanced at her with golden eyes when she sucked in a breath and then turned his attention back to her arm. His oversized hands were gentle as he assessed the damage. “No apparent broken bones, but it’s a nasty bite. You’re going to want a doctor to check it out.”

  A high and long screech sounded from the JPD wing and suddenly fell silent, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake.

  “Shouldn’t you—” Tasha began and stopped as Varik pushed through the glass doors and into the lobby.

  Crimson beads dotted his face and ran down the front of his shirt in dark splotches. He limped wearily to Damian and Tasha, extended his hand toward Damian, and dropped two bloody nuggets in the Chief Enforcer’s palm. He then focused on Tasha. “Kirk won’t bite you or anyone again,” he said, deadpan.

  Tasha cradled her injured arm to her, watched him head toward the exit and disappear down the front steps of the Center. Only after he’d melded with the night’s shadows did she look at what he’d left behind.

  Two bloody fangs lay in Damian’s hand.

  The world tilted violently and then she was surrounded by darkness.

  * * *

  Staring out Janet’s hospital window, Emily wondered if she was fated to spend a majority of her life in hospitals. When she and Bernard married, she’d been the one to care for him and any wounds he suffered as a Hunter until he was tapped as a Talent and taken out of the field. Then Stephen was born and the usual boyhood scrapes and occasional broken bone had to be tended.

  Her boys had been boys through and through, and Alex had been no slouch in the rough and tumble department either. Bernard may have called her “Princess” but the precocious child had been anything except a princess. Emily had lost count of the number of trips to the emergency room Alex had fostered during her teens. She smiled with the memories.