Frostbound (11 page)

“And?”

“The dead woman’s cousin, Talia Rostova, is on there. A big-shot vampire from down east was her sire, and he’s looking for her. Apparently, she’s trouble. A thief, among other things.”

Crap! Why did I keep my own name? What an idiot!
Of course the sires had a registry. It was a simple way of finding rogues so that they could be returned to their clans for punishment. And why wouldn’t they enlist the human police to help out?

Suddenly, switching identities seemed like a basic precaution. Naturally, there would be forgers, people who made new identities—but she didn’t know who any of them were. That was way too James Bond. She’d counted on sheer distance to hide her, and the fact no vampire king would dare to enter Queen Omara’s domain—especially not Belenos. He’d learned that the hard way.

She’d counted wrong.

I’m such an incompetent fool
. The Hunters had trained her to fight, but not to hide. Now she would pay the price for that oversight.

No, Michelle’s memory would pay the price, because they’d be looking for Talia instead of the real killer. Suddenly, making sure justice was served seemed more important than anything else.

It was the only thing she could do for Michelle.

The gurney came rattling out of the condo. All that was left of her cousin was a misshapen lump in a zippered bag. Talia felt a scream building in her throat. She began to shake so violently, she had to brace the door with her foot. Her shuddering rattled the safety bar.

Oh, God, Michelle
. There were no tears. She was beyond that. It was more as if her body couldn’t contain what she was feeling anymore. Any strength she possessed leaked from her body.

All that existed was the sight of her dead cousin.

She didn’t hear Lore approach. Suddenly, she felt him like a hot wall behind her, and was drowning in the scent of him. He reached around her and put his hand on the door. She stared at it, barely comprehending what his presence meant. Dully, she noticed his knuckles were scuffed as if he’d been fighting.

“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “Hellhounds have power over doorways and the places between places. I can close it without anyone noticing.”

Talia hesitated, unable to tear her eyes from the last glimpse of the gurney as it rattled toward the elevator. At last, though, she stepped back, colliding with the solid wall of his body. She stiffened as if she’d encountered an electrical field.

He closed the door silently, and then closed his hands around her upper arms. “You escaped.”

“No, I didn’t,” she returned dully. “Here I am, back in your power.”

He turned her around, never releasing her completely. Not for an instant. Almost funny, since what she’d just seen and heard had drained the fight out of her. Right at that moment, he could do what he wanted.

“We’d better get out of here,” he said quietly.

Talia didn’t have the will to move. She felt like a black hole, a pit of negative space. Lore, on the other hand, radiated urgency—not just impatience, but the hot fire of vibrant life. At first, she wanted to shrink away—not just because he was taking her captive all over again, but because he was simply
too much
. Too alive. Too male. She wanted to be alone with her grief, because that was all that seemed real.

Worse, with both of them on the landing, it was crowded. He had her trapped against the wall. She turned her face away, wishing she could sink into the hard concrete behind her.

“Come on,” he urged, giving her arm a light tug. “The last thing we need is for Baines to walk through this door.”

Talia finally looked up at him, meeting his eyes. She’d expected anger, but instead saw sadness. Not pity, but a tightening around the mouth and eyes that mirrored the ache in her throat. He saw her grief, and that dulled the hostility between them.

A part of her wanted the anger. It was easier to navigate. It would be simpler to strike out, push him down the stairs, leap over his body on the way out into the snowy night. Yet she couldn’t—not when he was looking at her like he could read her soul. “Are you going to lock me up again?”

“Probably.”

“Why?”

“I still don’t know if you’re telling the truth. And now there’s another vampire prowling this building. Can’t you smell him?”

The moment he said it, the trace of another’s presence penetrated her fog of distress. Talia shivered, suddenly freezing cold. “I heard the cops talking. There’s a registry for rogue vampires. Maybe my sire figured out where I am and sent a bounty hunter.”

His eyebrows twitched together. “Then what are you doing standing here?”

“I . . .” She couldn’t answer. She’d been completely derailed by the scene playing out in her old home, which was now anything but a haven. All she could see in her mind’s eye were scattered images of the cops, the gurney, the body. She gripped the wall, light-headed.
Vampires can’t faint, can they? Do we go into shock?

Lore gave her a grim look. “Trust me, you’re safer downstairs. I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

“I don’t trust anybody.” It had been her mantra for a long time. Michelle had been the exception.

“Suck it up. They have all the exits covered. Unless you’ve got that vampire hypnosis thing down pat, you’re not getting out of here for a few hours.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist, both supporting her and effectively capturing her against his tall body. She wasn’t ready for that. She pushed him away, putting distance between them. He let her, but kept an iron grip around one wrist.

They went cautiously for the first few flights, but then picked up speed once the sound of their footsteps wouldn’t carry to the crime scene.

“So what was so vital you had to risk your life to go get it?” Lore demanded once he closed his condo door behind them and steered her back into the bedroom.

“My personal laptop. My money. My driver’s license. My everything.” Talia pulled away and turned to face him. She was feeling steadier, but not by much. “Maybe I needed to say goodbye.”

Oh, God, I’m back in his bedroom. Ugh!
The thought suddenly gave her back her anger. “Don’t you get it? My life just crashed and burned. Again.”

He leaned against the door, blocking her exit with his body. The posture showed off the worn softness of his jeans. “Again?”

“What do you think?” She folded her arms and walked toward window. “There’s a lot of starting over involved when you wake up a monster. A lot of losses. And they just keep coming.”

Her mother. Her humanity. Her family. Her vampire clan. And now this. Her head was starting to clear, and a low, dull throb of anger was building. Someone had stolen her last ray of light, and she was going to make him pay. Michelle needed justice. That was something Talia the Hunter and Talia the vampire could agree on. No, not justice. That was too soft.
Vengeance
.

Outside, the snow was still falling, but she barely saw it. She was still too shaken to take in much new information. She turned around to face him again. “You have to let me go. I’m going to find out who did this to Michelle. Then I’m going to chase him down and shred him with my teeth.”

Lore gave her a startled look. “That’s usually my line.”

“Was that a joke? Because I’m completely serious.”

Lore looked her up and down, from her dainty boots, up the length of her tight jeans and the curves of her sweater. His eyes warmed at what he saw, suddenly becoming intimate. Despite everything, she felt a rush of heat under her skin.

His gaze finally made it to her face. “I’m trying to find the killer, remember? Telling me you’re going to bite your enemies probably isn’t smart.”

Talia’s cheeks burned, but his words focused her. She had to be careful. She had to think. “We want the same thing. We want to find out who did this.”

Not that she had any intention of working together. They’d just met, and she could tell by his expression that she wasn’t quite crossed off the suspect list.

“What do you know about that vampire who was in the building? Do you really think your sire sent him to drag you home?”

“I don’t know anything. It’s just a strong possibility.” Especially since Talia had not left empty-handed. Older vampires didn’t like banks. She bet Belenos used one now that he was missing a few million in neatly bundled stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

She really hoped the cops didn’t tear up the floorboards upstairs.

 

S
he was so damned beautiful, Lore felt himself struggling to keep his upper brain in charge. The hound part of him didn’t sweat things like murder and interspecies differences. It liked the little brain much better.
Female. Pretty. Soft
.

The part of him that could still string thoughts together realized that this was the first time Talia seemed open to conversation. Now was the opportunity to question her.

“Baines invited me into the crime scene,” he said, doing a reasonable imitation of a rational being.

Her expression had gone from angry to thoughtful. “What did you find out?”

“I found out that you’re a teacher.” He gave a slight smile. “That’s a very honored profession among my people.”

She looked down, as if shy all of a sudden. This was obviously important to her. “I used to teach in a private high school. Now I tutor first- and second-year literature. My classes are online distance education.” She grimaced. “That way I can’t eat my students.”

The sudden regret in her voice made him flinch. She raised her gaze to him, her guarded expression slipping a little. Her eyes were a striking bronze color. The shade reminded him of a hawk’s—neither brown nor gold, with a hint of green rimming the iris. They’d probably been hazel when she was alive, but once a vampire tasted living blood, their eyes took on a metallic cast. It was an easy way to pick them out of a crowd.

Lore held that gaze. Hellhounds were safe from the Undead’s hypnotic powers, and he felt compelled to prove it. Maybe to her, maybe to himself. He wasn’t sure. He was too aware of her, and needed to control the situation. “You know Latin, don’t you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“There was a Latin word written on the wall. A symbol was painted over it in blood.”

She looked startled. “Huh?”

“Someone wrote on the wall in Latin.”

“What for?” Bewilderment filled her features.

“Could it have had anything to do with Michelle?”

“No. Latin wasn’t her thing. I’m the geek.” Pinkish tears filled her eyes. She swallowed convulsively. “I can’t talk about her right now. Not if you want me to make sense.”

She swallowed again. “What did the words say?”

Lore’s hands twitched at his sides. He wanted to comfort her, but holding her against him would shut down his thought processes once and for all. The questioning would end, and the reign of the little brain would begin. That would be giving in—to her? To himself? All he knew was that if he started something, it would be hell to stop.

“There was just one word.
Vincire.
”

She shook her head. “Why that?”

“What do you think it means?”

“It’s in the imperative tense. It means ‘be bound.’ ”

“Why would someone write that?”

“I have no idea. It sounds creepy.” She seemed to be telling the truth.

It might fit with his necromancy theory, but he wanted to talk to Perry before he said anything. Lore moved on. “What were you doing before you came home tonight?”

“Shopping. What does it matter? Do you need an alibi? I have receipts.”

A tear escaped, leaving a faintly pink track down her cheek. Before he could stop himself, he reached over and erased it with his thumb. Her skin was satin-soft, almost white against the deep tan of his skin. She looked up at him, eyes wide. She looked as vulnerable as one of those wild daisies that grew in the sidewalk cracks. There only by chance, and by chance as easily destroyed.

He withdrew his hand, heart stumbling.
No, don’t do this.
Vampires seduced as easily as they breathed. His half-demon blood was good armor, but it wasn’t bulletproof. Pretty women didn’t necessarily need magic.

He took a step back from her, hating that he did. “Why is your sire after you?”

“Because I ran away. Isn’t that obvious?” He saw her gaze flicker away.
A half-truth.

“Where did you come from?”

“A long way away.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, as if she were suddenly tired.

“If you’re in the registry of rogues, it’s easy enough for me to find out who your sire is.”

“If you ask the cops, they’ll want to know why. You’ll have to give me up.” She shot him a glance. “Are you really ready to do that?”

Lore clenched his teeth. “Why did you come to Fairview? Why not go someplace else?”

“Michelle was here. Plus, you have a big supernatural population.”

“That makes it easier to hide.”

“Yeah.”

That much made sense. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Her mouth tightened. “Why do you care?”

The need to touch her again itched through him. It made him impatient. “Think about it. If somebody wants to kill you, it would help to know why.”

She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know! I’m just a schoolteacher. And you’re about as subtle an interrogator as a troll!”

“Why did you run away from your sire?”

The repeated question got a reaction this time. She jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing with a sudden bolt of fury that made Lore want to fall back—but this time he stood his ground.

“My sire was pushy.” Talia’s words were quiet, almost inaudible. “Take a hint. It brings out the worst in people.”