“Son of a bitch,” Darryl mumbled, jumping out of the way. “That’s going to take forever to clean.”
A painful spasm traveled up his ruined leg and sent his head spinning. Darkness encircled him, but he fought to remain conscious. “You fucking shot me.”
Darryl grinned. “Well, I can’t have you running off to tell the vamps about my little hobby.”
“Hobby? You’re a goddamned murderer!”
“I prefer to think of it more as a public service. Isn’t that what you told Lieutenant Lockwood?”
“You’re insane.”
“No, I’m doing what should’ve been done when those goddamn demons killed my Claire.” Darryl cocked his head as if listening to an inner voice. “It’s time.”
“Time? What are you—”
Harvey saw the table bearing a golden-haired body as Darryl retreated to another room within the large metal building. The workbench was filled with tools, wood shavings, and crosses in various stages of completion. A broad-bladed double ax hung horizontally above the work surface. Finally, his gaze settled on the wide bracketed shelves, the four large jars, and the heads perfectly preserved and suspended in a clear liquid.
A barrier deep inside his psyche shuddered, snapped, and Harvey was set adrift on a strange ocean from which there could be no return.
Alex slowed as she neared the shed. Keeping to the darkest shadows, she crept forward and crouched beneath a window. Light and the sound of someone whistling spilled through the small opening. With her back braced against the wall, she rose slowly and peeked inside.
Darryl Black whistled softly as he rinsed a pair of pliers under the faucet in a sink to her left. Glass jars and racks of vials lined the open-fronted shelves to either side of the sink.
The faucet shut off, and she ducked down, out of sight. Footsteps and the cessation of Darryl’s whistling made her breath catch in her throat. She chanced another quick peek through the window.
The room was empty.
She felt a tug on the blood-bond, and the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood swept over her. The bond surged to life, beating in time with her racing heart, and Varik’s voice filled her mind, calling to her.
Go the fuck away. She sent the thought over the bond along with a mental shove, pushing him out of her mind.
Alex! Back off! Varik’s mental shout reverberated in her head. Damian and I are—
Fuck you, Varik. She thrust his thoughts aside and sealed the bond between them. She could feel him pounding at the thick wall she erected, trying to reconnect with her, but he was a distraction she couldn’t afford to entertain.
Her time to confront Darryl was ending. She darted to the corner and quickly checked to be sure her pathway to the door was clear. It was. She skirted around the building and paused by the door. She’d have only one chance to stop Darryl. Steeling her nerves, she tightened her grip on her Glock, eased the door open, and slipped inside.
Darryl held a cross-shaped stake over a golden-haired vampire’s chest. His other hand raised a heavy mallet in preparation for delivering a fatal strike.
“Swing that mallet and all you’ll have left is a fucking stump,” Alex said, aiming her Glock.
He didn’t flinch or move. Slowly he turned his head and pinned her with a malevolent scowl.
She saw him tense and took a half-step forward. “Try it and I swear Claire won’t recognize you in the afterlife.”
“You’ve got no right to speak her name, demon.” His voice was a tense, harsh growl.
“This is between you and me, Darryl. Let Stephen go.”
Confusion momentarily flashed in his eyes, only to be replaced with grim determination. He tightened his hold on the cross-stake. Shaking his head, he planted his feet. “Get thee behind me, Satan.”
Roaring, he swung the mallet and Alex pulled the trigger.
Gravel pinged against the bottom of the Ford Expedition as it barreled up Darryl Black’s driveway. Varik didn’t wait for the vehicle to reach a full stop before leaping out. He hit the ground running. “Alex!”
The rapid pop of multiple gunshots split the cold night and made his heart stutter.
“No!” he screamed, and charged the metal shed, following the noise. He pulled his Glock free and primed it as he ran, fear and adrenaline giving his feet wings.
He could no longer hear gunfire as he reached the shed. Without slowing, he kicked the door. Wood splintered and flew inward like shrapnel. “Alex!”
Fluorescent lights damaged by bullets buzzed, hummed, and flickered overhead, creating a dizzying strobe effect. A body lay on a table, a cross-stake protruding from its chest. Harvey Manser sat in a corner, his wrists shackled to a wooden post and blood staining the floor beneath him.
Sounds of a struggle issued from the shadows beyond the table. He rushed forward to find Alex straddling Darryl Black on the blood-covered floor. The man was screaming in a combination of rage and pain, his mangled hand pinned by Alex’s knee. She knocked a Beretta from his free hand, and Varik lost sight of the weapon in the chaotic flash of light and shadows. Black dodged a punch aimed at his head, then sank his teeth into Alex’s arm. She howled and jerked away.
“Alex!” Varik shouted, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her backward and off Black.
“Let me go!” she screamed.
Varik pulled her toward the exit. “You can’t do this, Alex.”
“He killed Stephen!”
Varik glanced at the bloody body on the table. Golden hair framed a pallid face. Unseeing eyes stared into the heavens. “Alex—” Movement to his right drew his attention back to Black. “Shit,” he breathed, and spun, holding Alex tightly to his chest.
The gunshot sounded like a bomb in the confines of the metal shed. Pain seared his chest, and his left arm numbed. Alex slipped from his grip. The force of the bullet knocked the air from his lungs, and he crashed into a wall before sliding to the floor.
Gasping for breath, he reached for Alex, but she sprang away from him. He tried to call to her, but pain robbed him of his voice. He watched, helpless, as Alex charged into battle without him.
The gunshot deafened her. She felt Varik’s body jerk against her and smelled fresh blood and charred flesh. She continued the spin Varik had begun and found Black holding his reclaimed Beretta in a shaky hand.
He drew a ragged breath and spoke: “And ye shall tread down the wicked, for they shall be ashes—”
Alex slammed into him, grabbing his arm. The gun fired into the floor. Her voice was a harsh whisper. “Thou—”
She clenched her fingers. The bones in his arm snapped, and he screeched. “Shalt—”
His howls of pain died as her fist connected with his throat.
“Not—”
He gagged.
“Kill!” Her final punch sent him crashing through the metal wall and into the night.
She ran to the hole made by Darryl’s body and peered into the darkness. Flickering light from the interior strobed over his bloody and battered form. A broken two-by-four timber, once part of the wall’s frame, now pierced his back and protruded through his chest. Wide eyes, devoid of life’s spark, stared into the black, star-filled heavens.
Behind her, Varik groaned and struggled into a sitting position.
Alex moved toward him.
He was pale, and his left arm dangled uselessly at his side. “Fucking A,” he groaned. “That burns.”
“Are you—”
A flash of light seen from the corner of her eye turned her head. Time slowed. Sounds grew distorted and movements sluggish.
The ghostly vision of Claire stood in front of the table. A shadow formed beside her, stretching, roiling, and morphing into Darryl Black.
She watched, enthralled, as Darryl swept Claire into his arms. Claire appeared to be laughing, her face radiant, as Darryl lifted her and twirled in place. When Alex’s eyes met Claire’s, she once again heard the woman’s voice in her mind.
Thank you.
The ethereal lov
ers spun and danced their way through the table and disappeared in the shadows.
Alex blinked, unsure of what she’d witnessed. The flickering lights overhead highlighted the golden hair of the vampire still lying on the table. “Stephen,” she whispered.
Her approach was unsteady. The need to know drove her to place one foot in front of the other.
Gaze firmly fixed on the cross-stake, she reached the table. Her eyes closed. She no longer wanted to see.
“Alex.”
Varik’s call sounded distant to her ears, but it drew her out of her shell. She looked down at the body, and an anguished sob ripped from her throat.
Time restored itself. There was movement all around her. She heard someone calling her name and ignored it. “It’s not Stephen,” she cried. “It’s not him!”
She sounded her frustration, fear, anguish, and relief in a primal wail. Her legs buckled and folded under her. She collapsed on the floor and sobbed into her blood-streaked hands.
“Alex.” Varik’s soft voice echoed in her ears and in her mind, cut through her stupor, pulled her back into herself.
She looked at him and blinked, uncertain if what she saw was real.
He held a pale, blood-splattered hand out to her. “Come on, baby,” he whispered. “There’s nothing more you can do here. Let the Enforcers do their job.”
Alex saw the blood on her hands, and they began to shake.
A strong arm wrapped around her, lifted her to her feet, and sandalwood and cinnamon enveloped her. Hot tears tracked down her cheeks. She clung to Varik as he led her into the shadows of a faded day.
Stars shone brightly in the clear sky over the scene of Darryl Black’s final stand. A cold northern breeze wound its way through bare oak branches. The trees voiced their displeasure in low groans and high-pitched creaks.
Tasha leaned against the hood of her cruiser, arms folded over her stomach, trying to find some comfort and warmth in the flood of lights around Darryl’s house and the surrounding grounds. But no comfort came as she watched Darryl’s body being loaded into a hearse for his final trip to the morgue.
None of the Enforcers were talking as they went about their business of collecting evidence. The house had been ruled an official federal crime scene. The vampires had closed ranks around one of their own, and Tasha and her men weren’t needed.
However, despite everything that had happened, the JPD and the Nassau County Sheriff’s Department considered Darryl one of theirs, and many who’d known Darryl had gathered outside the FBPI perimeter, watching in silence.
Tasha stiffened as another body was wheeled from the metal shed and loaded into a second hearse. She guessed it was the body of the as-yet-to-be-identified vampire. How could Darryl, someone she’d known and trusted with her life more than once, be capable of such inhuman cruelty?
Paramedics pushing a gurney emerged from the shed. Even from a distance, she recognized the gleaming hairless dome of Harvey Manser as they loaded him into an awaiting ambulance. Its lights and sirens flared to life seconds later. Within moments, she and the others gathered alongside her watched the ambulance speed down the gravel drive, turn onto the narrow unpaved county road, and disappear.
Tasha sighed. Harvey was an arsonist and kidnapper. Darryl had been a murderer. Tubby had poisoned himself while in custody. She obviously didn’t know anyone as well as she thought, not even herself, since she was guilty of tampering with evidence.
Another flurry of activity at the shed pulled her from her musings.
Alex emerged with Varik beside her, supporting her with his right arm. The other was held tightly against his chest and drenched in blood. They climbed into the back of a second ambulance, and the doors closed, sealing them away from prying eyes.
“Lieutenant Lockwood,” Chief Enforcer Damian Alberez addressed her as he strode across the yard.
Tasha stood up straight.
“Come with me.”
She ducked under the barricade and fell into step with the vampire. “Are you going to tell me what happened in there?”
“Enforcer Sabian did her job,” he replied tersely, and kept walking.
“That’s all you’re going to say?”
“Nothing else needs to be said, Lieutenant.” He halted beneath a towering sycamore tree, out of hearing distance for any of the humans sequestered behind the tape and even most of the vampires roaming the grounds.
The ambulance bearing Alex and Varik began to roll down the drive. Its red and white lights cast eerie flickering patterns on the ground. They watched as it made the turn and headed toward Jefferson.
Wind rustled the few dried and curled leaves that still stubbornly clung to the branches above her. “What happens now? Does Alex get reinstated?”
“That’s not for me to decide. For now she’ll continue to be on paid suspension, pending the outcome of an official investigation.”
Tasha snorted and shook her head. “So, she kills a human, wreaks havoc through the entire town, attacks fellow Enforcers, and gets away with it?”
“I didn’t say she would get away with anything, Lieutenant. Her fate is yet to be determined.”
“In the meantime, she walks away from all this, totally unaffected.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Taking a life isn’t easy. It can have unforeseen consequences.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s something you’d know about, huh?”
He shrugged.
Tasha felt restless. She needed to get away from this place, away from the vamps and their bureaucracy.
“Lieutenant,” he called to her as she brushed past him.
She waited.
“I understand you knew Black, worked with him, but Stephen Sabian is still missing.” He faced her. “As liaison officer, you have an obligation to assist the Bureau in our efforts to find him.”
Tasha opened her mouth to reply, and a curious thing happened. She laughed. “Oh, now you want our help?” Her laughter turned harsh. “With all due respect, Chief Enforcer, you and all the rest of you fucking vamps can get bent. You want to find Stephen Sabian? Find him yourselves.”
She stormed away, ignoring his repeated calls for her to come back. “Let’s go, boys,” she said loudly as she neared the barricade. “We’ve got our own people to protect. Let the feds have their fun.”
Officers drifted to their cars and trucks. She slipped into the cool interior of her car. She’d had enough of vampires for one day, maybe even for her entire life. She maneuvered through the orderly mass exodus and onto the narrow gravel road.
The night seemed more ominous as she drove back to Jefferson. In her mind, gunmen and vampires lurked behind every tree. A rock kicked up by a passing car struck her windshield with the sound of a gunshot. Her pulse jumped.
She was close to town but didn’t want to face the harsh lights of the hospital, waiting for word on Harvey’s condition. The source of the threats she’d received was still a mystery. She had no idea who was behind them, but knowing that she was the one ultimately responsible for Harvey being in the hospital was more than she could bear.
She pulled into a dimly lit parking lot on the outskirts of town. Her hands shook, and she stared at the cracked windshield. She had to get ahold of herself.
A flickering sign in a window across the parking lot beckoned. Bars had never interested her, and she’d always considered herself a teetotaler, preferring tea to coffee and soda to alcohol, after seeing the effects alcohol had had on her mother. But times had changed.
She had changed.
She killed the engine and stepped into the night. Jamming her hands into her jacket pockets, she picked her way through the crowded lot.
Tasha paused at the door, uncertain. Someone roared in laughter inside. The sound was pleasant, warm and entirely human. That’s what she needed. She needed to be with her own kind, with other humans. She held her breath and opened the door.
Smoke and the smell of beer assaulted her. Music pumped from the jukebox next
to the chicken wire–encased stage across the room from the entrance. Two pool tables were crowded into a small room to the right of the stage. Outdated license plates and faded advertising signs decorated the bead board–paneled walls. Heads turned to check out the newcomer, and a few nodded greetings.
Tasha wove through the tables and took a seat at the bar, keeping her eyes downcast, not making eye contact with anyone. She wanted to be with other humans, but conversation seemed like a chore.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough night, honey,” the woman behind the bar said, setting a paper napkin and a bowl of popcorn in front of Tasha. “What can I getcha?”
She looked at the rows of glistening bottles lining the wall. Her mind blanked, and she simply stared. “I don’t know,” she muttered.
The bartender arched a thin black eyebrow that had been drawn way too high on her forehead. “Hmf. I got just the thing for ya, honey.”
Tasha watched the woman blend liquids from several bottles and add a dash of cranberry juice in an ice-filled glass before straining it into a shot glass.
She set the dark red final product down with a smile. “Slam that back, honey. It’ll take the edge off.”
Tasha picked up the glass and eyed it. Taking a deep breath, she brought it to her lips and drank it down in a single gulp. The cold liquid burned her tongue and throat. Coughing, she struggled to draw another breath while the woman cackled with high-pitched laughter.
“Good, ain’t it?”
Tears gathered at the corners of Tasha’s eyes, and she wiped them away. The burning in her throat spread out to encompass the rest of her, calming her frazzled nerves. She nodded. “What was that?”
“My specialty. I call it a Vamp Fang ’cause it’s cold as hell and it’ll bite your ass if you drink too many.”
“Appropriate.”
The woman grinned. “Want another?”
The damn vamps had been biting her ass for a long time—what was once more? At least this way, she had a chance of not remembering it in the morning. Sighing, she passed the glass back to the woman.
Alex paced the full length of the emergency room’s waiting area, turned, and retraced her steps. She could feel her mother’s eyes on her as she moved. She reached the opposite wall and turned to start the circuit again.
Blood Law Page 26