Blood Law

by Jeannie Holmes

  “Both.” A muscle along his jaw twitched as he bowed slightly. “Thanks, again, for your time, Lieutenant.”

  Tasha watched as he slipped behind the wheel of his Corvette and left the parking lot. Once the car was out of sight, she snatched her cell phone from her pocket. Alex rarely spoke of her past, and when she did, it was usually because someone else broached the subject. She didn’t know the history of Alex’s relationship with the man who was now driving through town, but as she dialed the number she’d memorized long ago, she’d be damned if she’d allow Alex to face him unprepared.

  Alex walked through endless rows of weathered gravestones, searching for something, for someone. She paused in her dream’s quest, looking around at the sparse trees and distant homes. She knew this cemetery, knew for whom she searched, knew he was near.

  “Alexandra,” a voice whispered her name on the wind.

  Dread slithered down her spine. She forced herself to move past one row. Two. She followed the phantom voice until the scent of fresh blood, pungent in the rising breeze, made her steps falter.

  “Alexandra.”

  She halted. She knew this place and didn’t want to continue. “No,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

  “Alexandra,” the voice called again, closer and more insistent.

  “Go away.”

  Wind brushed her cheek, a gentle caress, startling her, and she opened her eyes to a remembered horror.

  A crumpled body lay on its back a few yards away. Blood had splattered across the gravestones and soaked into the ground, turning the budding grass black. What had been a white shirt was now a splash of crimson against the darkness of a suit. A single brightly colored butterfly fanned its wings on the end of a wooden stake.

  A scream welled within her but lodged in her throat as the dreamscape shifted. The cemetery morphed into a barren plain stretching beneath a seething sky. Movement to her right drew her attention.

  Hundreds of orange-and-black monarch butterflies swarmed around her, lifted and carried her up into the darkening sky. The motion of their wings sounded like distant and distorted voices whispering to her. They carried her higher and higher, and the black-and-gray clouds rolled and tumbled above her, mirroring the butterflies’ aerial dance.

  Wind buffeted her and tore at her carriers’ delicate wings. Their whispered messages increased, trying to compensate for the wind’s growing howl. The breeze became a vortex, and a familiar smell of sandalwood and cinnamon enveloped her. “Varik,” she murmured, but her voice was lost in the storm.

  The churning tornado ripped the butterflies away one by one. Her heart beat against its bony cage. The storm stripped the last butterfly of its wings, and she felt herself suspended in the air for a moment. She screamed as she fell and the roaring wind became the first crashing notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony.

  Alex sat up, gasping for breath. Sandalwood and cinnamon clung to her, cloying in their spicy sweetness. She looked around her, uncertain if she was awake or still in the dream. Music sounded from nearby. Her cell phone.

  She searched for the phone on the bedside table, knocking over a half-empty glass of water. “Damn it.”

  Beethoven continued to play. Dweezil chirped his annoyance from his perch on top of the half-wall separating the bedroom from the kitchen.

  Cursing, Alex stumbled from the bed, searching the previous day’s clothing scattered on the floor. She finally located the phone in the pocket of her jacket and flipped it open to silence the symphony. “Sabian,” she said hoarsely, dropping onto the sofa and resting her head in her free hand.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you for the past ten minutes,” Tasha said.

  “Sorry, I was asleep.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned. “What’s up?”

  “I just had an interesting visitor and wanted to warn you before he shows up at Stephen’s.”

  Nervous energy burned in the pit of her stomach, reminding her of the dream. The image of a tall black-haired vampire came to her mind along with a fresh infusion of sandalwood and cinnamon. “Varik,” she whispered, and the butterflies in her stomach spun faster.

  “Yeah, how did you—”

  “He’s in town?”

  “Came in with the mobile lab.”

  Alex stared at the ceiling. She’d heard Varik had retired, settling down in Louisville in the house that would’ve been theirs if she’d stayed. Questions raced through her mind. Why was he in Jefferson? Had Damian sent him? Her hand strayed to the scar on her neck. Or was he finally coming for her?

  “Alex?” Tasha asked quietly. “Are you—”

  “I have to go.”

  “But—”

  Alex flipped her phone closed and ended the call. She could sense Varik’s presence vibrating in her mind like a suddenly remembered melody. There would be no point in hiding, since she knew he was equally aware of her presence. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him in six years, but a mix of anticipation and dread closed around her. Part of her wanted to reclaim her place in his arms, and part of her wanted to escape, tear a hole in the apartment’s wall and run away.

  “Running isn’t an option,” she muttered. She looked down at her University of Louisville T-shirt and bare legs. He would be there soon.

  She raced through the apartment, throwing off the shirt as she ran for the shower. Within moments, hot water coursed over her shoulders but did little to ease the tension building in her muscles. She showered in record time and hurried to dress while Dweezil watched her with what appeared to be amused detachment.

  An image filled Alex’s mind as she pulled on her boots, and the force of it made her gasp. Stephen, his face twisted in rage, stood in front of Varik, shouting at the taller vampire. “Ah, shit.”

  She clipped her sidearm and badge to her jeans, grabbed her cell phone and keys, and ran from the apartment. Angry voices rose through the bell tower’s stairwell. Opening the door leading into the bar, she saw Stephen’s fist connect with Varik’s jaw. “Stephen!”

  “You stay the fuck away from my sister!” Stephen shouted, straining against the two vampire patrons holding him back from the stunned Enforcer now lying on the floor. Other customers scattered, heading into corners or out the front doors. “Get the hell out of my bar!”

  Alex stepped between Stephen and Varik as the intervening patrons cleared out. “Stop it!”

  The irises of Stephen’s blue eyes had changed to bright amber. He pushed her aside. “Stay out of this, Alex.”

  She grabbed Stephen’s shirt in both fists and shook him, forcing him to look at her. “You lay one more hand on him, and I’ll charge you with assaulting an officer.”

  Stephen’s mouth opened and closed a few times before his words finally tumbled out. “You wouldn’t dare. Not after what he did!”

  “Try me.”

  “You’re going to defend him?”

  “Stephen—”

  “He deserved it”—his eyes shifted to Varik—“and worse.”

  “Back off, Stephen. I’m not going to—”

  “He’s right,” Varik said, as he climbed to his feet.

  Alex looked over her shoulder at him.

  He brushed a trickle of blood away from the corner of his mouth and studied his hand. His dark eyes swirled like tiny maelstroms, the irises bleeding into the color of molten gold. “I deserved this one, but that’s your one freebie, Stephen. Next time I won’t be so charitable.”

  Stephen lunged forward, and Alex pushed him back against the bar. Glasses beneath the counter tumbled onto the floor and shattered with the force of their impact. “I said, back off.” She glanced at Varik. “You! Get the hell out of here.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Outside.”

  Varik turned on his heel, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. “Later, Stephen,” he shot over his shoulder as he left.

  “Damn it! Let me go.” Stephen squirmed between her and the bar. “I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.”

  She waited for the
door to close before she released him and stepped back, still blocking his path. “You will over my dead body.”

  “How can you protect him after what he did? How?” Stephen glared at her, breathing heavily, his eyes still bright amber.

  “Because, like it or not, it’s my job. He’s an Enforcer.”

  “But he—”

  Alex raised her hand to stop him. “I know what he did, Stephen. I was there, remember?” She stepped closer to him, laying her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t even know why he’s here, okay? Until I know what’s going on, I need him alive.” She smiled wryly. “After that, then you can kill him. String him up by his balls and use him as a piñata, whatever you want.”

  Stephen scoffed and brushed her hand away.

  “But until then, leave him alone.”

  “Fine, as long as he stays out of my bar.”

  Alex nodded. “Agreed. Now I better go see what Señor Asswipe is doing in town.”

  “Be careful,” Stephen called after her.

  She raised a hand in acknowledgment as she stepped out into the midmorning sunlight.

  Harvey Manser ground the butt of his cigarette into the overfilled ashtray. “Shit, Bill, empty this damn thing, will you?”

  Bill Jenkins glared at him but swept the tiny metal tray off the truck-stop diner’s counter.

  Harvey looked around at the few patrons huddled over their meals. Maggie’s Place wasn’t much to look at, but it offered some of the best food in town, if you didn’t mind extra grease and burned toast. Mismatched tables and chairs crowded the floor between the counter where he sat and a bank of tattered Naugahyde booths.

  A couple of truck drivers occupied one booth, silently eating their stacks of pancakes and sausage links. A woman sat at a table, reading the paper and absently munching on a salad of iceberg lettuce that had seen better days. The only other customer was the man seated next to him at the counter, Martin Evans, who was busy chasing a piece of pork chop around his plate with a fork.

  Bill dropped the ashtray. It spun in a wobbly circle before coming to a rest. “What the hell’s going on, Harvey?”

  He lit another cigarette. He’d known this conversation was coming, and now that it was upon him, he found himself reluctant to engage. It wasn’t out of fear or a lack of enthusiasm but because he was tired of arguing with Bill. The man needed to decide to either shit or get off the pot. It was that simple. Smoke billowed from his mouth as he spoke. “With what?”

  “The vamps.” Bill’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I heard they found another body last night.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, who’s behind it?”

  Harvey rolled his shoulders. “How should I know? Vamps aren’t my jurisdiction.”

  “But people are scared. I hear them talking. Rumor has it that these killings are two rival Midnight gangs offing each other so they can expand their territory.”

  “Where’d you hear that?” Martin asked.

  “Tubby Jordan came by this morning. He told me.”

  “As long as they’re killing vamps, what difference does it make?” Martin stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

  “Think about it,” Bill said. “Half of the town’s population is fucking bloodsuckers. That drug hypes them up, makes them crazed. A couple of dead vamps would be the least of our problems if the gangs take over.”

  “I haven’t seen or heard anything that would support that rumor,” Harvey said. “Besides, we’ve got bigger problems.”

  The two men quieted.

  He took a long draw on his cigarette and released his smoky breath slowly. “Sabian’s brought in more Enforcers.”

  “Shit.” Martin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “How many?”

  “Three, and two of them are forensic experts with a mobile lab.”

  Bill emitted a low whistle, and Martin mouthed curses.

  “In order for our plan to work, we’re going to have to be damn sure we cover our tracks.”

  “How are we supposed to do that?” Martin pushed his plate aside. “I don’t know crap about that stuff, and neither do either of you.”

  Harvey tamped out his cigarette. “That’s why I’m going to have Darryl stop by the meeting tonight.”

  “Darryl?” Bill scoffed. “What can he do?”

  “Hopefully, keep us out of Parchman Penitentiary, for starters.”

  Martin and Bill exchanged glances. “What’s Tubby say about him?” Bill asked.

  “Tubby doesn’t have anything to say. He knows we need Darryl.”

  “Well, if Tubby’s okay with it, then count me in.” Martin stood and stretched. “I got to get back to the Feed ’n’ Seed.”

  They all muttered their good-byes, and Martin left the diner after giving one final wave at the door.

  “Are you sure about this, Harvey?” Bill asked after a moment had passed. “Especially after what happened at Oak Tree.”

  Harvey lit another cigarette and shook his head. “No, but it’s the only way to reclaim our town. Besides, Oak Tree was a trial run to get Sabian off her game. That’s why we need Darryl, to make sure we get the big event right.”

  Bill nodded. He hesitated, as if he would say something more, before finally moving to the grill, and began scrubbing away the cooked-on remnants of someone’s meal.

  Varik leaned against the trunk of his Corvette, arms folded across his chest and dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. He’d taken off his denim jacket, and the black dress shirt he wore clung to his broad shoulders and accentuated his well-toned biceps.

  He watched Alex exit the bar, and his pulse quickened as the sunlight turned her auburn hair into a fiery veil. She hesitated and then walked toward him. He could see her eyes, could tell they were a mix of amber and emerald. She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and slipped them over her hypnotic gaze. The urge to sweep her into his arms was almost overwhelming, but the ache along his jaw reminded him that he no longer had a place in her life.

  “What are you doing here?” She stopped a few feet in front of him and folded her arms beneath her chest, mirroring his stance.

  “Getting the hell knocked out of me, apparently.” He raised his hand to gently touch the cut in the corner of his mouth.

  “It’d take more than one punch to knock the hell out of you.”

  Varik smiled, then winced. Stephen had caught him off guard, but he’d make certain it didn’t happen again. He reached his hand out to her, then let it fall when she pulled back. “It’s good to see you, Alex.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  He took a deep breath and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “The Bureau sent me to check on the investigation’s progress.”

  “I thought you were retired.”

  “Not anymore, thanks to Damian.”

  “Why did he send you?”

  “He seems to think you need my help.”

  “You mean he sent you to spy on me.”

  “That’s the second time today I’ve been accused of spying. If you want to see it that way, then so be it, but I am here to help.”

  “You can help by getting in your car and leaving. I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

  “Is that so?” Varik leaned forward, looking at her over the top of his shades. Her sunglasses reflected his molten-gold eyes. “Then why were you risking blood-hunger on-scene?”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Lieutenant Lockwood was very accommodating.”

  Alex scowled. “I was under control.”

  “Rii-ight”—he drew the word out—“sure you were.” He looked around the parking lot and the surrounding area. Cars turned into a strip mall across the street. A white Cadillac had to brake hard to avoid crashing into a small red pickup that darted into an empty space in front of one of the shops. Varik shook his head and turned back to Alex. “If you don’t have time to take care of yourself, then you can’t very well care for the investigation. Yo
u know that. Hell, I taught you that.”

  “You’re going to lecture me?” Alex laughed and tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, showing the edge of a jagged pink scar. “I’m not the one who killed dozens of people.”

  “I was following orders.” He pushed away from the car and stalked a few steps toward the bar.

  For centuries, human parents had ruled their children with tales of the bogeyman hiding in the closet. Vampires were no different, but instead of the bogeyman, they had threatened their misbehaving children with the Hunters, vampires who punished those who broke vampiric law, and the only punishment had been death. Varik had been a bogeyman to generations of vampire children. But that was all in the past, before—He turned back to Alex. “Yes, I killed people. Yes, I was a Hunter, but it was a different time then, Alex. Humans didn’t know we existed. Secrecy was our only means of survival. We kept the peace through force.”

  “Don’t try to romanticize it, Varik. You were nothing more than a hired assassin.”

  “When are you going to understand that what I did was a long time ago, a hundred years before you were even born? I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t killed anyone in over fifty years.”

  “Good for you.”

  He charged forward, and she immediately dropped into a fighting stance, fists held in front of her chest. He stopped, watching her, not moving so as not to provoke her any further. “Don’t think yourself to be so high and mighty. Enforcers are nothing more than Hunters dressed up in political correctness to please the humans.”

  “Enforcers don’t kill people.”

  He laughed.

  “We uphold the law.”

  “Believe what you want. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I may want to. I’m tired of trying to explain myself to you, Alex.” He propped himself up against the trunk of his Corvette, staring at his boots.

  They stood in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. The first notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony broke the silence, and Alex jumped. She fumbled with her jacket and retrieved her phone. “Sabian,” she answered breathlessly.

  Varik strained to hear the conversation. He managed to catch part of it, enough to know it was the coroner calling.