“You and Marcus are dropping all your other cases. I want you on this blood thing and Abraham exclusively. Hell, for all we know the two are connected.”
Alex doubted it. That wasn’t Abraham’s style.
“Are we okay here? Anything you want clarified?” Roberts asked.
“That all?”
Roberts shook his head. “What, you want more?”
Alex considered it. Roberts was right. It wasn’t even true dark yet.
3
Rhuna Gallier finished putting on her white thigh-high stockings and tried to ignore the yelling outside her room. They’d been going at it for at least two hours now and it was unraveling her last nerve.
She smoothed out the elastic tops to make sure there were no wrinkles. The stockings were an inch shy of the bottom of her black skirt, which left just a touch of alabaster thigh teasingly exposed.
The low-cut crimson blouse highlighted key parts of her anatomy and just barely met the top of the skirt. Rhuna’s subtlest movement would reveal a tantalizing glimpse of her flat stomach. Perfect.
Most importantly, she could shed the entire ensemble quickly, if it came to that. And sometimes, Rhuna had to admit, it did, though not for the more pleasurable of reasons.
Voices outside the room rose again. Rhuna rolled her eyes.
The crux of the argument was that they’d risked their lives and tipped their hand by striking at a decoy. Half of the group thought it had been a wise move. If the woman had truly been Lelith, they would have dealt the Lightbearers a severe blow. They should have known it was too good to be true. Instead, they had likely played directly into the Lightbearers’ plan, and that meant Abraham wasn’t dictating the terms anymore.
Some of the group thought Roeland had become careless and rash. They’d seen his manifesto, an ultimatum thrown in the face of society and the vampires. It was full of innuendo and threats. Roeland’s defense was that it really was not his manifesto at all, that the publisher had tampered with large portions of it and changed the overall message.
That wasn’t the real problem. At issue was whether he’d shown his hand too early, and whether their foes would call or fold.
Rhuna’s bet was that the vampires would raise. It thrilled her. They’d been stalking for too long. The endgame was near.
Besides, the others were probably more upset that he hadn’t consulted them before sending the manifesto to the media. He’d been ranting about it long enough and reading parts of it to them; they were fools if they hadn’t seen it coming.
Rhuna sat down on a rickety metal stool in front of the cheap pressboard dresser. She’d propped up a mirror and used a desk lamp to help her apply her makeup. At least this apartment had come furnished. Other places they’d stayed could barely count as a roof overhead.
If some of the others were really leaving, as the raised voices outside promised, maybe she could have her own room again. Not that the bed here was any prize, but a sleeping bag and foam liner on the floor was getting old, no matter how a girl got used to “roughing it.”
Rhuna smiled.
She teased her white-blond hair into a trendy “just out of bed” look and pressed her lips into a pucker to apply her lip gloss. Next came eyeliner and a dark purple eye shadow, applied so that it flared outward from her blue-green eyes for a stylish and dramatic effect.
She had tried using more eye makeup before, and though it looked good, it hadn’t worked out well. Mascara had once run into one eye and nearly blinded her. If that had happened at a critical moment, she’d have been in real trouble. No, it was better not to chance such things.
Especially since the whole point of her outfit was to invite trouble.
Instead, she chose to make her eyelashes thicker and longer naturally. A moment’s concentration and it was done. She stood up from the dresser and admired her handiwork. She was the ideal image of a twenty-something desperate Wannabe. For their target tonight, she was the perfect piece of bait.
She stepped into her heels and opened the door.
The argument still raged, but all the yelling came to a stop when they noticed her.
Diana, a black European woman, spoke first. “Dear Lord, he has you posing as a streetwalker now?”
Rhuna noticed she’d been tossing her sparse belongings into her large camping backpack.
Tom, Diana’s mate, had been looking in the opposite direction, at Roeland Jaap, their leader, “Abraham” in the flesh. Tom turned at his wife’s statement.
“Rhuna, you don’t have to do this.”
Rhuna saw a backpack in his hand as well. She’d known the argument was serious, but she hadn’t realized just how grave.
“You’re leaving?” Rhuna asked. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes, but she fought them back.
“It’s too dangerous now, honey,” Tom said. “Roeland has put us all at risk.”
“To be fair, we were always at risk.”
The new voice belonged to Arthur Holmwood. His rich English accent instantly seemed to bring a measure of civility back into the conversation. He looked more like a pudgy accountant than a vampire killer. “We aren’t babes in the woods, and I thought we all had equally good reasons to be here.”
Diana turned to him. “But you don’t tell them we’re coming, you don’t broadcast it—”
Tom interrupted her. “We’ve said our piece. If you lot want to get yourselves killed, that’s your own lookout. We’re leaving.”
“Come with us, Rhuna,” Diana said. “You don’t have to go about all tarted up anymore.”
A keen whistle cut through the air.
A summons! It startled her. Subconsciously she drew her lips back from her teeth. The others hadn’t heard it—couldn’t hear it. She regained her composure. Too much was happening too quickly.
Rhuna’s eyes flitted toward Roeland. He alone knew what she really was.
Roeland’s voice was calm. “Rhuna is ‘tarted up,’ as you put it, because our mark likes Wannabes so desperate for sanger attention they’re practically whoring themselves out. In that outfit, I think we can all agree, Rhuna is going to be hard to miss.”
“But you can’t keep using her as bait. What happens when something goes wrong? What if you lot aren’t there to save her?” Diana asked.
“Rhuna can take care of herself,” Roeland replied.
The whistle cut through the argument again. Rhuna winced and moved toward the door.
“I need some air.”
Rhuna stepped out into the narrow stairwell and made her way down to the alley in the rear of the building.
“Can’t you see the girl is terrified?” Diana said, as the door closed behind Rhuna.
She mentally blocked out the rest of the conversation. Even with the nearby Dumpster doing its best to obscure all other scents, she could already smell her contact. He had that wet-dog smell of the Luperci, the Wolves.
Lou (most definitely not his real name) let out an appreciative growl when he saw her.
“Wow. Are you in season?”
That was all the males ever thought about.
Lou was tall, with rakish good looks. In most circumstances, he was the kind who could have any female he wanted. All but one.
Rhuna chuckled. “If I were, it wouldn’t concern you. And you can take it easy on that whistle, I heard you the first time.”
“I couldn’t be sure if you’d heard over all the shouting. What’s that all about?”
“They’re starting to unravel. I don’t know how much longer they’ll be effective. Now hurry up, why did you call me out here?”
“I’ve brought you some flesh. And something more serious.”
Rhuna’s mouth began to water as soon as he mentioned the meat. She crossed the short distance to him. It had been long since she’d properly fed.
“Where is it?”
“Hang on, little kitten.” Lou held a package over his head, well out of Rhuna’s reach.
“Give it.” It barely sounded like wo
rds. The sounds tore forth from her throat in a wet snarl that told him clearly she was not in a playful mood.
He placed the fist-size package of plastic-wrapped meat in her hands. She tore it open and took a large bite.
Though it was still cold from refrigeration, it did not have the sterile antiseptic taste of their usual sources. She would have preferred it warm, but this tasted like the hunt. It was excellent.
“What was the other thing?” she asked, her mouth still full as she chewed.
“Have you heard from Gail at all?” Lou asked.
“Gail?” Her blood was rushing from the effects of the flesh and she was finding it hard to care about anything Lou had to say.
“She’s been out of contact for two days. The Conclave has concerns. She’s succumbed to lack of control in the past.”
“Have you heard anything?” Rhuna asked. “The humans haven’t reacted to any attacks, so she didn’t lose it. If she does, she’ll probably regain it without incident. Why the worry?”
Rhuna gobbled the last of the meat and licked her fingers. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears. She wanted to run and jump, but in these heels, that would be foolish.
“It’s probably nothing. The Conclave sent her to check out a new blood club. Very exclusive. In some industrial park…” Lou trailed off.
Rhuna’s nipples pressed against the thin fabric of the blouse, and Lou’s eyes drifted in that direction. The mongrel had probably planned it this way. She started getting angry.
“They sent her alone? She wasn’t ready for that. She can’t even change at will. The fools.”
Lou inched closer to her and she could feel his warmth through their clothes. He nuzzled her neck.
“Have you thought about taking a mate?”
Rhuna laughed, full-bodied, without restraint.
“Oh, you’d like that? Why not right here against the Dumpster? We can be quick.”
Lou stood back, incredulous. “Really?”
“No, you idiot.” Rhuna fought to regain her wits. “Find Gail. Maybe she’ll be more receptive to your advances. I have mischief to do tonight. And when I choose a mate, you can be sure it won’t be one of the Luperci.”
She laughed again to let him know she was joking. Lou wouldn’t be a bad pick, though Rhuna could have any number of suitors if she desired it. But there was much to do before getting to that.
Rhuna headed back toward the building. “Did you really think you could play me with an offering of flesh?”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying.” He laughed.
She chuckled again. “No, you can’t. Try and try again, little wolf.”
Rhuna stepped back into the apartment. Diana had finished packing. She put a hand on Rhuna.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us? I can see how upset you are. You don’t have to do this.”
Rhuna gave her a wan smile. Despite both of them having had their reasons for joining the group, Diana and Tom were too idealistic. It was only a matter of time before their ideals would compromise a mission, or worse, the group. Though Rhuna was sad to see them go, perhaps it was for the best.
“I have to do this. But I won’t forget you.”
Diana nodded, tears forming in her eyes. Without looking at the others, she opened the door and stepped out.
“Be careful, girl. Don’t let those boys talk you into anything you don’t want to do,” Tom said.
“I won’t.”
He followed Diana out and the door closed behind him.
Rhuna stared at Roeland, who hadn’t moved from where he’d been sitting—his head in his hands.
“We’re going to miss them,” she said.
Roeland looked up at her. “Don’t you think I know that? As soon as John gets back, we’re going.” He added, “You’ll have to do something about your hair if there’s time.”
“What?” Rhuna asked.
“Our target prefers brunettes,” Roeland said.
“Does he?”
Rhuna glanced about her, ensuring no one but Roeland could see. She could hear Arthur moving around in the kitchen. Annoyed, she concentrated and ran her hands through her hair. In a matter of seconds, her hair was dark brown.
4
Jolted awake by an explosive noise, Gail found she was lying on her side in some kind of cage. Her muscles refused to obey her, making her move in fits and starts. Her head weighed tons. The bars and the straw pressing against her face came into focus.
“Wakey, wakey! Come on, you’ve been out damn near two days, least you could do is get a move on now.”
The voice, almost pleading, came from a hulking brute wearing an undersize wife-beater shirt and darkly stained coveralls. Gail raised her bloodshot eyes, and the room briefly swam out of focus. A nagging sense of danger and urgency pulled at the back of her thoughts, just out of reach.
“Two days?” she repeated dully. She clawed herself onto all fours, designer jeans sticky and covered in straw. The straw scratched her naked belly where her blouse had ridden up. Where was she? She could remember the club, the drinks. What happened?
Something was very wrong. What was that terrible stench? Was it coming from her? It was everywhere.
There was another smell, cloying and succulent, which hung just beyond recognition. Fear scratched at the edge of her consciousness. The feeling of danger grew; also, those other feelings, the ones of urgency, to run, to rend, to scream with reckless abandon, to give in to lunacy.
Gail’s eyes flitted around the room and finally began to take it in. Small pale yellow tiles covered the floor and crept halfway up the wall to meet with crumbling discolored whitewashed plaster. A large stainless-steel counter with a lip ran along one wall, ending in a deep sink. Dark stains pointed from the counter to drains set into the floor every few feet. The half-working fluorescent lights flickered with annoying irregularity.
“Get your skinny ass out here or I swear I’m gonna pull you out by your fucking hair!” The brute smashed his massive hands against the cage again. The crashing noise as the bars rattled threatened to split her skull.
Instinct sent her retreating into the farthest reaches of the tiny cage, which was no bigger than a large dog kennel. Somehow, those few extra inches offered her a sense of safety.
A loud clank startled her. A massive door screeched open, and another man, lanky and gaunt, backed into the room pulling a small tool cart. The car battery on top dangled alligator clips. The man looked over his shoulder.
“You fallin’ in love there, Pete? We need her in the chair.”
Pete hung his head briefly. He half mumbled, “Get off my back, Stan. She’s taking longer to wake up than normal, that’s all.”
“Well, she is a cutey. Ain’t they all? But you’re droppin’ the ball, man. Get her out of there. Our guy is here already.”
Pete looked at Gail and shrugged his shoulders. “Can’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” He reached in and grabbed a handful of matted hair. She kicked, clawed, and screamed as he yanked her small body out of the cage. She lashed out blindly, at the cage, at the floor, at him. She howled in pain as she tried to slip out of the agony radiating from her scalp.
He whipped her around on the floor by her hair. His other colossal hand closed about her neck, strangling her cry and cutting off her air. She tried to escape his grip but it was like trying to move the floor.
Pete brought his face close so he could look into her eyes. “I’m only going to tell you once. Shut up. You’re going to be screaming your throat raw in a couple minutes, so there’s no point runnin’ your damn mouth now. Understand?”
Gail blinked at him, her face flushed red. Her mouth gasped, inhaling nothing. Clutches of gray crept into her spotted vision. Instinct responded again: She slashed her hand across his face and raked viciously, gouging deep marks into his cheek. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind it felt wrong; the marks were not deep enough.
“Bitch!” He let her go as he recoiled, clutching at his f
ace.
She retched and sucked in air. That first lungful of breath was full of the scent of him, day-old cheap booze and BO. She managed to crawl back up onto her hands and knees before he kicked her.
That brief breath rushed out of her. A second kick, a third, and her insides felt like they wanted to squirm out her throat. She writhed.
The other man laughed, “Cat has claws, huh? I told you you’re too nice.”
“How’s this for nice?”
He punctuated his question with another kick, which lifted her off the ground and rolled her over. He straddled her, and plopped his bulk down on her stomach, then smashed his fist into her face.
* * *
Stan whirled at the sound, turning away from his work on the little cart. “What the fuck did you do?”
He ran over and yanked Pete off the girl’s limp body. Blood ran freely over her face.
“You broke her goddamn nose? Fantastic! You asshole.”
“She tore up my face!”
“You had it coming. You’re lucky you didn’t get worse. Now you can explain to the client why his little angel is tenderized meat. You better hope he doesn’t take the tools to you, shithead.”
“Sorry.” Pete hung his head like a small child.
“If he wants a discount for that, it’s coming out of your cut.” Stan strode back over to the cart and continued laying everything out.
“You think you can manage to get her in the chair now since she’s done struggling? Or do I have to do that, too?”
Pete tugged her by an arm and began to lift. Then he remembered the last girl.
“Pants on or off?”
“Off. They were a bitch to cut off last time.”
Pete grabbed the girl’s hip-huggers and started to yank. They clung to her.
“Damn, she must’ve greased up to get into these.”
He changed his grip, seized the jeans from the bottom, and yanked. Her body came with him at first, dead weight flopping against the floor, but finally slid back as the pants, wet with urine, gave up their grip on her thighs. He tossed them aside and they landed with a wet slap.
Graveyard Shift Page 4