“Where?” Veronique asked.
“The same place,” the sergeant said. “Near LaCave.”
“Damnation!” Britt said.
“That means Diesel was killed for crimes he didn’t commit, and we still have a serial killer in our midst,” Veronique said. “Just what we need on top of everything else.”
Jess leaned against the door casing and looked at her newly painted fingernails. Had coming to Paris turned her into a girly vampire, trying to keep up with her twin sister? And was this her way of stopping herself from thinking about the grisly murders in the tunnel?
Veronique grabbed her wrinkled raincoat off the coatrack near the door. “You both coming?” she asked.
A minute ago, they’d been summarily dismissed, but now Veronique wanted them around. Jess cursed internally. She was tempted to tell Veronique to shove it and walk out. Then again, her damned vampire temper and pride sometimes got in the way.
Britt, on the other hand, would likely just look past Veronique’s misplaced anger and move on. God, she loved that about him. Especially when his fingers grazed hers just long enough to balance her.
She usually stayed out of the investigations, for various reasons. And this time, she had a good one. After a fresh kill, the blood in the tunnel would be a little too strong for her to handle, anyway.
“I’ll pass,” she said. “You two don’t need me down there.” She pushed away from the door and stepped into the hall.
“I won’t go either, then,” Britt said.
“Yes, I want you to,” Jess replied. “You need this. Get back to work. Help those poor women find peace.”
He looked uncertain, and Jess hated to see such a strong man broken down into unsure pieces because he’d inadvertently killed her newfound twin sister. Her gut twisted. And worse, because she’d nearly burned alive on that rooftop, he didn’t want to risk leaving her alone.
She couldn’t stand to be cosseted, and he needed this case.
“Why don’t I wait for you both in LaCave?” The second she said it, she regretted her words.
She hadn’t gone to the club since Morana’s death. With Morana’s coworker Diesel gone, too, she had no idea if any vampires still worked there now. And to be honest, it was going to be damned difficult to step into that club again.
THE STREETS OF Paris were unusually silent on the way to LaCave. It had rained a while ago, and water glistened on the now-steaming sidewalks on their way to the tunnels.
Veronique and Britt disappeared into the entrance while Jess hung back. She could tell he was still wary about leaving her.
That thought both endeared him to her and ticked her off. She was a damned vampire. She didn’t need a babysitter, but she loved that he wanted to protect her. Argh!
She’d been leaning against a building on the other side of the street, contemplating going inside, when she spotted someone walking her way. The stride was familiar enough to make her stare.
Fine hairs rose on the back of her neck with every step the person took.
The familiar rhythmic tapping of heels coming down the sidewalk struck her. The outline of the person approaching—complete with mini-skirt and hair tipped with orange—while her face was strangely in shadow, meant Jess couldn’t be sure . . .
“Morana?” Her voice came out hoarse and pained. It couldn’t be her.
“Who else did you expect?” Morana said caustically . . . as if nothing had happened to rip their world apart.
Jess’s insides froze, and she was tempted to punch Morana, to make her bleed, which was crazy considering how she’d been feeling about her sister a few minutes ago. Had Morana deliberately led them to believe Britt had killed her? To cause them pain?
“Why didn’t you tell us you were alive?” Jess said. “Do you know what Britt and Regent have gone through?”
Morana raised a cynical eyebrow. “But not you, sister?”
Jess ignored that. “Why wouldn’t Sinclair see us, at least to tell us you were okay?”
“Because, if you must know, I wasn’t okay. I was badly burned. I’ve been in stasis for over a week trying to heal. Sinclair has been helping me, and he didn’t have time for you, or anyone else, since he was trying his damnedest to save my life.” The only thing she left out was the word ‘bitch’ at the end of her sarcastic sentence.
That didn’t matter. Jess was ridiculously happy that Morana was alive. “How did you survive the light?”
“I think it was because I’d slipped into a hallway where I thought one of the vampires had gone. I was just returning to the street when the light caught me through the glass doors of the building. The glass must’ve reflected the light enough that I didn’t die. I can’t begin to tell you the kind of pain I suffered. I’ll have a few things to say to Britt when I see him. And I’d like to know how in the name of Hades he did that!”
Jess looked at her completely healed sister and said nothing.
Britt had been devastated when he thought he’d killed her, but Morana didn’t care about him, or anyone else. “I’m glad you made it. And, of course Regent will be ecstatic. Can you go see him soon?”
Not surprisingly, Morana looked peeved.
“Not tonight. I’m here to try to get my job back. I heard someone told them I was dead.”
“Probably the cops,” Jess said.
“Yeah! Sinclair had to steal my body from the morgue,” Morana growled.
“It might be hard to explain that to your coworkers.”
“I’ll come up with a good story.” She went inside and left Jess standing there, staring after her.
Crap! Jess ran toward the tunnel entrance. Britt would have to be told before he saw Morana. Unfortunately, that meant she’d have to go to the crime scene. She’d wanted to avoid the pervasive sanguine odor. Even though she could handle it okay, her teeth and her eyes would give away her condition to anyone she came in contact with, and there were too many humans traipsing the tunnels to walk around so blatantly vampiric.
Still, right now, more than anything else, Britt needed to hear that Morana was alive. Jess would manage the fallout if she scared any of Veronique’s men with her black eyes and elongated teeth.
She descended the steel ladder and looked into the tunnel where the victims were almost always left. The odor of blood was even stronger than she’d feared it would be, even from the tunnel opening.
The club was still open because the tunnel was far enough away that humans couldn’t notice the odor, with their ordinary senses.
She didn’t get far before she met a gendarme on guard.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Jess Vandermire, and I’d like to speak to John Brittain. He’s with Captain LaFontaine.”
The gendarme obviously didn’t understand English, but when Jess said Veronique’s name, he shook his head and spoke into his mic. She heard Veronique’s voice as she responded to the call.
Jess waited for a few minutes that felt like hours.
“Jess?” Veronique said when she finally arrived. “I thought you didn’t want to come down here?”
“I didn’t. I mean, I don’t.” She was actually flustered. “I have to see Britt and fast—it’s very important.”
“Sure. He’s coming along behind me,” Veronique said. “We’re done for now, anyway.”
“Is it the same?” Jess asked. “The serial killer?”
Veronique nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. “If we don’t find this deviant soon, the department is going to be in big trouble. The public is getting very nervous. They want this person caught.”
“I guess Diesel was telling us the truth all along. He didn’t kill that woman. He was merely being opportunistic when we found him drinking the victim’s blood.” Would Morana feel any remorse at killing her coworker now that they knew it could
n’t have been him committing the murders? Probably not. She didn’t appear to care about much. Not even her adoptive father, who had been able to help her heal from her burns.
Jess frowned. How could Sinclair possibly heal a vampire?
Veronique gave Jess an odd look. “What’s up, Jess? You seem unusually anxious.”
“I am. Hang around for a few minutes and you’ll find out why.”
“Hey, Jess. This is a surprise,” Britt said, switching from pleased to concerned when he noted her expression.
“I have fabulous news that couldn’t wait,” she said.
“Okay? What is it?”
Morana stepped around the corner. “Always trying to steal my glory, aren’t you, sister.”
Britt’s face turned ashen, and for a second, Jess thought he might need physical support. She moved closer to him, and he actually leaned against her.
“That was mean, Morana,” she said. “He was really upset when he thought he’d killed you.”
Morana laughed. “And now he knows he didn’t. You burned me horribly, though. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive you for that, John Brittain.”
“You’re alive!” he breathed. “Why the hell did you let everyone believe you were dead?”
“Because I was dead, for all intents and purposes,” she spat at him. “I was in stasis, trying to heal from my horrendous injuries—no thanks to you.”
“I didn’t know you were there, Morana. If I had, I wouldn’t have—”
“Please don’t try to tell me you’d have held back if you’d known I was nearby. I know there’s no love lost between us. You’re probably just shocked to see I’m still here.”
“That’s unfair,” Jess said strongly.
Britt inhaled and pressed a steadying hand against the wall. “No, it’s fair. I’m sorry I burned you,” he said. “I’m very glad that I didn’t kill you.”
Morana narrowed her gaze on him and moved a little closer. “Just how’d you do that, anyway?”
“I’d like to know the answer to that question, myself,” Veronique said, her arms over her chest, fingers tapping on one arm.
“How are you feeling now, Morana?” Jess asked, changing the subject.
Morana merely sniffed the air, turned on one heel, and strode back to the club.
Jess started to go after her, but Britt touched her arm. “Don’t bother, babe. She’s back in all her glory, at least. We can be thankful for that.” He let out a sigh.
She paused and realized he was right. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”
After they left the catacombs and went up to the street level, Jess added, “I’d sure like to know where she’s been all this time.”
“You don’t believe she’s been with her father?” Britt asked.
“Do you?”
He shrugged. “It’s possible, I guess. Maybe after her anger diminishes, she might tell us the truth.”
Veronique made a cynical noise. “Good luck with getting that one to talk. She’s not very willing to share anything, unless it’s to her advantage.” Realizing she was talking about Jess’s sister, Veronique flashed her an apologetic look.
Jess waved a hand in the air. “Don’t worry. I’m fully aware of Morana’s lack of character. She’s the yin to my yang.”
“Pardon?”
“You know, ancient Chinese philosophy—she’s dark and I’m light.” A weak joke for sure, because in actuality, they were both dark.
Since the Prefecture was only a few blocks from the entrance to the catacombs, Jess walked with Veronique and Britt.
“I’d really hoped the killings had ended,” Jess said. “Did this one have the same modus operandi as the others?”
Veronique nodded. “Exactly the same.”
“There’s something about the killings that’s been niggling at me,” Britt said.
“Really? What?” Jess asked, keeping an eye on the rooftops out of habit. She often spotted vamps up there in New York. But so far, vampires in France didn’t come out much at night, at least not in this part of the city. Which begged the question . . . where did they go?
“I’m not sure, but there’s something about the victims that is bugging me,” Britt said.
Jess spotted a silhouette on a roof in the distance. She didn’t tell Britt and Veronique. She’d check things out first. “Good luck with your investigation. I’ll see you later, Britt.”
He leaned down and kissed her before he went inside the police station. Most likely, Veronique hadn’t noticed that Jess’s attention had been pinned on the skyline in the distance, but Britt had.
“Don’t do anything risky,” he said, just for her.
“Girl Scout’s honor,” she said.
He laughed. “Really? Girl Scouts?”
She paused a moment before they entered the precinct, taking one last look at her handsome man’s face.
His expression told her he was worried she’d get herself into trouble again if she went alone, but he knew better than to expect her to ignore what she’d just seen.
She was all hyped up to go as soon as the precinct door shut. But when she turned back to look at the rooftop, the shadow was gone.
She bit back a curse.
THE NEXT EVENING, Morana Longina stared at herself in the full-length mirror in the basement containment room of her father’s house. She looked exactly like her twin. So why didn’t she have humans doting on her every move, the way Jess did? She bit her lip and considered what her sister did in New York. She killed vampires and had no remorse about it. It was easy for another vampire to see Jess needed a way of releasing her inner darkness, just like every vampire did. Just like Morana did. So why did everyone act like she was bad and Jess was good?
No one had any idea what she went through to work at that bar and mingle with humans every day. No one . . . except, Sinclair, her devoted father.
Working at the bar gave her insider information—it paid to have superhuman hearing. That’s how she’d first learned that the Order of the Revenant was building up its ranks again. All vampires worth their weight knew about the Order in the days of the French Revolution, but only a select few knew about them today.
She donned a white leather mini-skirt and purple ruffled blouse. Next came the go-go boots. She loved this era—the colorful clothing, the flashy makeup. Most people called this stuff ‘retro,’ but she still had her old clothes from the fifties and sixties.
She found Sinclair reading the paper at the table. “Papa, make sure you don’t answer the phone if Jess or Britt call.”
“I don’t know why you don’t want me to speak to them. I can keep a secret as easily as you, my dear.”
“I don’t want Jess and Britt to dig into your background. If they do, they might find out that you’re a Watcher and that you have special abilities that aid me. They’d try to stop you, I know they would.”
“I highly doubt they’d learn that I’m a Watcher. Not many people even know Watchers exist. Your worries don’t make sense, darling.”
Morana glared at Sinclair. “They’ll dig until they know. They want Jess to be the special one. They’d probably expect you to give her the benefits you’ve given me.”
He frowned at his daughter, looking concerned. And he should be concerned—Jess might force his hand.
“Do you think you’re a little too worried that your twin will want to take over your life? She has a life of her own, ma petite.”
Morana bit her lip. She’d like nothing better than to kill Sinclair for that comment, but as long as he had the recipe for her to maintain herself, and to appease the addictive qualities of the drug, she’d never be free of him.
“Have you made any more inroads into the Neo Order?” she asked.
Sinclair’s shoulders slumped, gi
ving his feelings away. “Not yet. I am still trying to find out where the meetings are being held. Once I learn that, I can use my special elixirs to convince a vampire or two to get you into the group. Then, when you are inside, you and I can work on a way to get you to the top.”
“Oh Papa,” she said, nearly feeling a twinge of something for the old bastard. “Only if that’s what you wish,” she lied.
“In the meantime, keep your ears open at work,” he said. “That last tidbit about the painting at the Louvre came in handy.”
“I’ve seen a few vampires lately with the raven tattooed on their inner wrist, too,” she said. “There’s a good chance they belong to the Order. But they’re not friendly, and they won’t talk to anyone but their own group,” she said. “I’ve tried to initiate a conversation when I serve drinks, but they merely look right through me.”
Anger burned in every vein and capillary. She’d make those bastards pay for the way they treated her, once she reached the top. They had no idea who she was, and who she’d become.
Sinclair got up and limped to the window. He’d been limping since she’d broken his leg in a fit of anger a while back.
His shoulders were taut, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was angry that she’d virtually forced him to stay inside while he helped her to heal. Well, let him be angry. It was all part of her plan. If he didn’t comply, he’d find himself locked in the basement until he gave her the recipe. Then she’d have no more use for him.
She left him silently staring out the window. As if the silent treatment would bother her.
Since Diesel’s death at her hands, she’d hired another vampire to take his place as bartender. She couldn’t work with a human, not directly. She’d have no patience for their unstable moods and emotions. She needed balance, and that meant she’d had to find another person as dark as she was to tend bar beside her.
It had taken a while, but she’d found a vamp who’d seemed able to keep his murderous self well compartmentalized in order to serve drinks to humans. Good thing she’d hired Gervais before she’d been burned so badly. He’d filled in for her in her absence, though he hadn’t been able to make her Longina Iced Tea. Even better, he had no interest in her personally. And now that she was back, he didn’t seem overly interested in her reasons for being gone. He didn’t care what she did, one way or another, whereas Diesel always had a tendency to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.
Graves of Retribution Page 3