Yeah, the fact that Veronique hadn’t shared important information had ticked him off. Jess didn’t blame him, but as the captain of a vampire hunting team, Jess suspected Veronique couldn’t always tell others what was going on because of inter-departmental politics.
It was time to throw Veronique a bone. “Look Vee, we have our own secrets in New York. We understand the difficulties you face, don’t we, Britt?” She planted a hand firmly on Britt’s arm.
Veronique exhaled in obvious relief. “I can’t ask you to help. There are protocols in place as a result of the damned Peace Pact, and if I do anything that is seen as breaking rules, I’ll be pushed back to beat cop where I’ll have no say in protecting our citizens. That’s been my on-the-job raison d’etre since I joined the force, and I’m damned well not going to break rules now. Even worse, I have a co-worker who will be more than happy to step in and take over if I fuck up. A co-worker with, let’s say, a lot more interest in elevating himself in the department. He’s not as worried about vampire attacks as he should be. I’ve heard him say there were too many street people and beggars anyway, and that he wouldn’t be averse to a stray vampire taking a few of them out.”
Veronique had just shared a lot more than Jess expected her to. It was bad enough there was a possible leak in the department, but now Veronique had a back-stabber waiting for her to mess up—maybe even working behind the scenes to make it happen.
“We don’t want to put you in a bad position,” Jess said. In her experience, other departments in the New York Police force didn’t like or understand her vampire hunting team. There was a definite chasm between their two sections, and it was probably the same here.
Veronique brushed a stray hair out of her face. “If you do happen upon attacking vampires in the city from now on, who am I to spout doctrine to you? But, please, be very sure they are attacking humans before you take action.”
STANDING SILENTLY next to Jess, Britt’s jaw ached from gritting his teeth so tightly. Hell, he hated bureaucracy when it interfered with the right way to handle things. He and Jess had had their own run-ins with departmental rules. At least at home, they’d always managed to get around them. It sounded as if Veronique was giving them the okay to do the same thing here. Only this time, she didn’t exactly want to know about it. “It seems like you think this issue might escalate?” he said.
To vent her frustration, she kicked something metal, making it ricochet off the nearby dumpster. “I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this, but there’s a power struggle going on in the vampire world right now. The olde vampires have had a stranglehold on power for centuries, but the younger ones are making a move to take over. It could turn into a street war.”
“That sounds much more like the kinds of vampires I deal with on a daily basis,” Jess said.
“Captain.” Veronique’s driver got out of the car and held up a cell phone.
“I’ve got to go. Maybe we should meet for dinner sometime soon and talk. I didn’t mean for you to learn the truth in this way. Hopefully, the next time we meet, I’ll have an identification on our mystery vampire,” she said.
“Hopefully,” Jess said.
Once they left the alley and were satisfied they were alone, Jess asked, “Did you get a look at the vampire who got away?”
“I only caught a bit of a sideview of his face. You?”
“No, but the back of his head looked a bit familiar. In fact, it might have been Diesel.”
Britt frowned. “But I saw him at the club when we left. He would have had to skip out right after us. Still, it’d be an easy enough thing to check out.”
Jess cast a wry expression his way. “And you think Morana will sell him out to us? Not likely.”
“I’m damned well going to find out.”
Jess grinned. “Morana is going to be pissed.”
Chapter Five
“YOU TWO AGAIN?” Morana growled, then continued past them with a tray of Longina Iced Teas in her hand, her bright orange lips thinned. When she returned, she asked, “Why would you come back here again tonight?”
Without answering her, Jess scanned the room. “Where’s Diesel? Is he here?” She’d yet to figure out if Diesel was Morana’s lover. Morana treated everyone the same, and she’d given no hint of there being anything more between herself and Diesel. Still, there was something about Diesel that Jess couldn’t put a finger on.
Morana’s eyes narrowed. “As if I’d tell you. If you’re going to try to get him in some kind of trouble, I’ll have no part in it.”
“You don’t have to tell us. He’s obviously not here,” Britt said between gritted teeth.
“You can make all the assumptions you want. I’m not interested in your fucking nosy questions. Go away.” She flicked an orange-pink fingernail at him, as if he were an irritating gnat.
“We thought we saw him somewhere he shouldn’t be tonight— attacking a female police officer,” Jess said, watching closely for her reaction.
“You think you saw him? Jesus, Jess, is that enough for you to crucify a fellow vampire?” She’d lowered her voice so the humans at the bar wouldn’t hear her. “For your information, Diesel doesn’t attack humans. He has his own source of blood.”
“I didn’t say I found him drinking the victim’s blood. But if it was him, he’d attacked a cop. You and I both know vampires need violence to feel alive,” she said.
“Do they? I’m surprised you know anything about that.”
“Cut it out, Morana,” Britt said. “I suggest the two of you get together and find out what happened when you were young—that might lessen some of the animosity between you.”
“Well now, aren’t you just the psychologist’s cat’s meow.”
“Pull in your claws, Morana,” he said.
Morana made a face and stared at the roof of the cave for a few moments. “Okay.” She glared at Jess. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you keep away from Diesel, I might agree to help you find the vampire who attacked the police.”
“Aren’t you just as curious to know if it was him?” Jess asked her cynically. “Besides, I’m not asking you to solve the case.”
“Don’t push it, Vandermire. And stay out of Diesel’s business. It’s bad enough that I hear your pet human here is a deputized French police officer.” She tipped her head at Britt.
This was a dead end. They’d get nothing from her so-called sister. “Let’s go,” Jess said. They’d only gone a few steps when Morana shouted to them.
“Wait! My father has agreed to a meeting. He suggested we get together Sunday.”
Jess froze and frowned at the woman. “I’ll let Regent know,” she said. A minute ago, Morana hated them. Now she was inviting them to her home?
Talk about bipolar.
On the other hand, maybe Morana was hoping to learn more, too. She needed this meeting as much as they did. Her father had been around at the time of the adoption. He might have known their birth parents. And even more importantly, he’d be able to tell them if they were really twins and not some concocted look-alikes with faked VNA.
“Regent will be pleased to hear it. He’s been asking about you,” Jess said, hating to admit it, but saying it in the hope that it might create a bridge of understanding between them.
“I’ll see him Sunday night,” Morana said in a couldn’t-care-less voice.
“Where shall we meet?”
“Near the main doors of the Louvre?” Morana said. “I’ll pick you up in my car.”
Jess nodded and grabbed Britt’s hand in an unusual show of affection. They worked their way through the tables and exited the club.
“If Diesel is here, he might be in the storage room.”
“And he could’ve been in that alley tonight.”
“Morana certainly sticks up for him. Do you think they’re lovers?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t think so. They don’t have the same familiarity they’d have if they were a couple.”
“Tr
ue, but they’re vampires. They’re not going to act as if they’re in love, are they?”
She wanted to debate that fact based on her own feelings for Britt but held back. Morana wasn’t like her. Who knew if she had any remnants of human emotions left?
ON SUNDAY EVENING, Regent paced back and forth in front of the Louvre. It had been a long three days for him to wait for the meeting with Sinclair Longina, and his excitement was showing.
“Calm down, Reej,” Jess said. “It’s not our fault we were separated; we were only kids. The thing we need to know is why and how it happened.”
Regent allowed a rare disappointed look. “Yes, I think it’s important to find out why we were given up for adoption. Why keep two of us together and split up twins?”
Jess held her tongue, just barely stopping herself from reminding Regent that this situation with Morana seemed a little bit too convenient. A lot too convenient!
Who knew what kind of person Morana’s adoptive father might be? One thing Jess believed: Morana wasn’t to be trusted, sister or not. “If we don’t get the information we want from this man, promise me you won’t try to figure this out on your own, Reej. I know you’ll be tempted, and I know you’re trained in fighting vampires, but promise me you won’t take any chances alone. It’s not safe to be out on the streets at night by yourself.”
“This guy might not know much about your birth parents. Most adoptive parents don’t,” Britt inserted calmly. “It’d be best for you both to be prepared for disappointment.”
“But what if he does know? Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Regent said, ever the optimist.
Without a sound, Morana rounded the corner and nodded briefly to Regent. She’d worn similarly styled jeans and T-shirt as Jess. If her hair had been the same length, they’d be almost identical. Ha!
“I heard you questioning why we were given up for adoption, Regent,” Morana said. “If Sinclair knows, he’s never told me. In fact, you’ll probably be disappointed. He’s never been very open about my adoption, but then again, considering that he ended up with a vampire as a daughter, I guess I can’t blame him.”
Jess bit her tongue. Asking too many questions right now might put an end to this before it even started. And she wanted to meet Sinclair Longina first. She had questions—the first one being . . . how had Longina aged a baby vampire? Vampires didn’t age and grow normally. Once bitten, they took forever to age, if they did at all.
There were a lot of questions that needed answers. Their only hope was that Longina would supply a few of them.
Morana led them to a vehicle that she’d parked a block away. Weird that she made them walk a block, but she was a vampire with her own idiosyncrasies. Jess looked the vehicle over and frowned at the ancient bucket of rust. If she’d known they’d have to travel in this, she would have brought her own vehicle for Regent’s comfort. But then, Morana didn’t know Regent was really seventy-three.
And that was another thing—why hadn’t Morana questioned Regent’s age? Shouldn’t she have wondered how her human brother had remained so young? Morana had no way of knowing that Regent’s body had been physically altered by a fringe group of the Church last year. She and Britt had surmised a secret sect of the Church had made him younger so he’d be able to save the most destructive and deadly vampire they’d ever come across—archangel Uriel, who’d been turned into a vampire. It had been a miracle they hadn’t all been killed.
Jess grabbed the side of her seat while Morana drove through the city traffic at speeds typical of most Parisians. They were well into the countryside before they slowed and turned down the lane to an old weatherworn house with a thatched roof. Behind the house, dozens of goats grazed in a fenced-in paddock.
Under the bloated moon, a plume of smoke meandered up from a small smokestack in an outbuilding beyond the house. This Parisian homestead must look the same as it had a hundred years ago.
Morana’s green car sputtered and coughed to a standstill. Hopefully, it had just died. They escaped the cramped vehicle and approached a weathered oak door. In contrast to the aged exterior of the home, the driveway consisted of perfectly laid flagstones. And even though the house looked ancient and rundown, colorful flowers grew in the boxes under the windows. Not just flowers, but herbs as well—some varieties Jess recognized and others she couldn’t identify.
The door opened, and a short, stocky man with a white brush-cut and grizzled features eyed them. “Come in,” he said. Although he spoke English, he had a slight accent. But it wasn’t a French accent; Jess was sure of that.
They entered the home. If she expected the inside to look as ancient as the exterior, she’d been mistaken. The place was completely modern and beautifully decorated with an open concept kitchen any chef would be happy to have. In fact, bread was baking in the oven—meaning he was most likely not a vampire. The dining and living room looked as if it had come straight from a magazine.
“Sinclair Longina, this is Regent and Jess Vandermire,” Morana said, ignoring Britt.
“I’m so happy to meet you,” Regent said in his usual affable manner. “You have a beautiful home.”
“Thank you,” Sinclair said. “It’s been in my family for generations.” His assessing gaze landed on Jess and stayed there for too long. If he thought he’d make her squirm, he’d obviously forgotten she was a vampire.
“You and Morana really do look alike. Of course, as Morana’s father, I can see the differences,” he said, glancing lovingly at his daughter.
Good. The fact that Morana obviously had a father who loved her should take a little guilt off Regent’s shoulders.
Sinclair’s gaze switched to Regent next, and he frowned. “You seem much younger than you should be, Father Vandermire. Aren’t you in your seventies?”
“I am. And please call me Regent,” he said, taking a seat on a leather sofa. “I’ve been lucky enough to have good genes. And of course, as a priest, I don’t have many vices that might age a person.”
Jess could tell Sinclair hadn’t swallowed one bit of that little white lie. Probably because Regent hated lying and wasn’t very good at it.
There was another subject no one had mentioned; namely, how young Sinclair also appeared. He had to be older than Regent. So how had he remained so young? Did he have access to the same technology that had made Regent young again?
Maybe he had a connection to the Church . . . if it had been the Church that had reversed Regent’s age. Cardinal Vasilli, the jerk who’d brought Uriel to them in New York to be healed from vampirism, had been connected somehow to Regent’s regression in age. It was hard to say where the technology had come from, but the coward Vasilli was just as likely to be involved in it, right up to his weasel eyeballs.
“Would anyone like a drink? I have a lovely homemade peach brandy,” Sinclair said, changing the subject.
“I’d love one,” Regent said instantly.
Sinclair turned his attention to Britt next. “Mr. Brittain?”
It was interesting that he knew Britt’s name. Morana hadn’t introduced him. It appeared Longina had done his homework on them. If this was merely a case of siblings finding each other, why would Sinclair make it his business to know about Britt? Jess gritted her teeth. Unless Morana had been telling Longina about him . . . But that seemed unlikely. Vampires like Morana didn’t sit down and share information with anyone. Jess didn’t do it all that often, herself.
“Thanks.” Britt accepted the golden liquid. He accepted, but didn’t drink, Jess noticed.
“We’re hoping you have some information on Jess and Regent’s birth parents,” Britt said, pretending to let the liquid touch his lips. Meanwhile, Regent took a long sip and smiled hopefully at Sinclair.
“All I know is that you were born in Rome,” Sinclair said. “I don’t know the names of your parents, even though I tried to find out who they were, for Morana’s sake. The records had been sealed. I tried again several years ago, but the office had burned down and the paperwor
k lost forever.” He raised his hands in a motion of helplessness.
“In Rome?” Jess said.
“I take it you already knew that part,” Morana said.
“Our brother telephoned our family solicitors after he met you,” Jess said. “My family has had the same firm since our parents were alive. Unfortunately, they had no answers when we asked about our birth parents and why they gave us up for adoption.”
Sinclair nodded. “Oui, that is the question most adoptees have, I think.” He tipped his head in Morana’s direction. “I have often wished I’d been able to get that information for my darling daughter. But alas, fire takes away everything. And of course, your parents are long gone by now.”
Jess had to wonder why Sinclair Longina was still alive and so very healthy looking. It didn’t make one bit of sense. Sinclair should look like a wrinkled gnome, given his body structure and probable age.
“Do you know where in Rome the children were born?” Britt asked. “Maybe the street address?”
“That information would have been lost as well,” Sinclair said, smiling widely and showing most of his teeth. He seemed a little too happy about the fact that the information was out of reach.
“But wouldn’t the church have kept records, as well?” Jess asked. “I’m assuming the records office that burned was a government facility?”
“Oh no, it was a church building,” he said a little too quickly. “Back then, only the churches kept such records.”
“Did you live in Rome when you adopted Morana?” Britt asked Sinclair, barely missing a beat.
Very good question.
Sinclair hesitated. “I did.”
“Do you mind if I ask what your occupation was?”
“Actually, I do mind,” Sinclair said, not trying to hide his irritation. “I gave all of that up when I adopted my beautiful baby girl.”
Morana’s black irises gave her temperament away. She obviously didn’t like what she’d heard any more than Jess did. No doubt she’d speak to her father later and find out why he’d kept so much from her.
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