Assassins Bite (12 page)

“It's up to us here and now,” he agreed. “But whatever we decide, it's Elias who will eventually have to deal with it.”

“I can live with that.” She started to turn out of his embrace.

He pulled her back. “If you tell her, she's no longer off limits to Nosferatu.”

“I know.” She searched his face. “I don't think we have a choice.”

“Nosferatu,” I said. “That's the name Blackthorne gave to those Lestats' boss.”

Elena spun to face me, consternation written on her face. “Bacon-wrapped damn.”

“Damn,” Rorik said happily.

She clamped her eyes. “Super-frag-me-ilicious. There goes that vice.” She glanced at her son.

Bo was staring mournfully at me. “We're screwed. She already knows everything.”

“No,
she
guesses,” I said. “But think of all the trouble
she
can get into if she guesses wrong. I personally think you should tell her the details.”

One corner of Elena's mouth quirked. “Except she's a Ruffles.”

“Even more reason to tell her,” I shot back. “So she doesn't go around blurting things about vampires like her brother.”

“Point,” Elena said.

“Fine.” Bo's hands flailed in the way that meant anything but fine. “Tell her. But ask yourself where it ends.” He strode to a liquor cabinet, yanked out a heavy crystal decanter and poured three fingers of something with fumes so strong they nearly knocked me senseless from across the room.

Elena returned to the couch and sat next to me. “Okay, here's the deal. V-guys are real. We don't use the term in public—mostly. Sometimes we slip. But we try hard not to say anything because there's maybe one v-guy to every couple thousand humans. They're hugely outnumbered and vulnerable.”

“But aren't they super strong?”

“The older ones are. But fledglings are only a bit stronger than humans. And strength isn't everything—even ultra-mega-strength can't stand up to extreme ordnance.” She glanced at the locked cabinet, with its grenade launcher and who knew what else. “Mostly. There are really ancient ones who can, like Dracula—”

“Dracula's real?”

“Oh yes. But he's not a threat right now because…well, it's complicated.”

“Dracula is real. Wow. Does he look like Jonathan Rhys Meyers?” All the times Dirk talked vampire, I'd never once thought anything of it because, well, Dirk. Since meeting Blackthorne though…dozens of questions bubbled up all at once. “And what about the other legends? Drinking blood, sleeping in coffins in native soil, killing people for food…” Which creeped me out until I thought of Blackthorne's hot mouth at my neck, sucking, and I got a full-body shiver of pleasure.

Elena said, “Some of it's true, but not the way you think. You should get it from the expert. Bo, honey?” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“No.” He tossed off his drink and poured another, crystal clinking against glass. “I'm not getting co-opted into this again.”

“But sweetheart, I can't use words like symbiosis without sounding like an ass.”

“Ass.” Rorik clapped his hands.

“Fine.” Bo brought his drink to the couch and flopped onto my other side. “If only to save my son's innocence. My kind drinks blood for our veins, not our stomachs. It's like transfusions by mouth, so it must be human blood. We don't need much, maybe three pints a month, so we don't have to kill. In fact, many of us live in symbiosis with humans, in households like this. We offer protection in return for the gift of life.”

“See?” Elena said. “This is why you had to explain. If I said ‘gift of life' it'd sound like a bad movie.”

He grimaced, but there was an edge of helpless
aw she's so cute
love to it.

I wanted that.

But my wantee was Blackthorne, an alleged assassin, so it wasn't happening. I muttered, “Mace and the gang weren't cooperative.”

“V-guys are predators by nature,” Elena said. “Some still hunt humans, just as some humans still hunt and fish. But innocent humans are never killed.”

“More of my kind would kill,” Bo said. “If not for the Ancient One.”

“Yeah, point. That ancient fuh…I mean fudger has his uses.”

“V-guy philosophical differences?” I asked.

“Political.” Bo drank off his glass, his strong throat bobbing as he swallowed. “The Iowa Alliance versus the Chicago Coterie.”

“We're Alliance,” Elena said. “Led by Kai Elias. The Iowa Alliance because he lives there. The Coterie is led by Arnaud Nosferatu, from his Chicago stronghold-slash-mansion.”

“Alliance versus Coterie?” I said. “Then who are the Lestats?”

“Gang muscle,” Elena said. “There are branches of the Lestats all over the country. The Chicago Lestats are run by the Chicago Coterie.”

“But not even Lestats kill humans?”

“Not in Meiers Corners.” Bo snarled it. “I make sure of it.”

Elena said, “Rogue v-guys kill humans.”

My hand rose to my throat. “Assassins?”

“No, usually insane,” Bo said. “Or fledglings, too young to know better. The blood thirst can be overwhelming. But Sun-Hee—now that you know all this, you have to be careful. There's an unspoken truce that noncombatants aren't to be harmed. But humans in the know are assumed to have chosen sides. They can be captured, or worse.”

Strangely, that thought didn't bother me nearly as much as the question behind all my others, the one that hadn't been answered but that I really did not want to ask straight out. I tried one last time. “So you're part of the Iowa Alliance, and the Lestats are part of the Chicago Coterie. And the guys at Dawn trucking?”

“Casual labor,” Bo said. “They come and go. They don't live in Meiers Corners. But believe me, none of them kill, not in my town.”

“Yeah, but…but Blackthorne's an assassin,” I finally blurted. “Right?”

“Oh, Sun-Hee.” Elena took my hands. “Don't worry. I haven't assigned you to a cold-blooded killer.”

Apparently she hadn't seen him in action. But hearing her say it, I realized how silly I was being. Who better to assign to watch over a killer than a cop?

Maybe a cop who still had both her guns. Or one of those really cool grenade launchers. “Then Blackthorne isn't an assassin?”

“He was trained as one. But that was a long time ago.” She gave my fingers a brief squeeze. “You can trust me when I say he's not the same person now as when he was as a boy.”

“A boy?” My voice didn't work right. “He was trained to kill
as a boy
?”

She winced. “I shouldn't have said anything.”

“You can't drop that on me and not explain.”

“It's not my place. Not my secret.”

“I don't care. Tell me.”

Chapter Twelve

Elena exchanged a pleading look with her husband. He shook his head. She glared, not quite The Look but he wasn't getting any intimate birthday presents in the near future. Grimacing, she said to me, “I only mentioned it to show that the assassin training wasn't Blackthorne's fault. He was orphaned and at the mercy of a sociopath.”

“What?” I was going to kill said sociopath. “
Who?
”

Bo snarled, “Nosferatu. And you'll have to get in line.”

“Blackthorne wasn't at his mercy long.” Elena rubbed my arm comfortingly. “It was only a few years before he and a friend escaped to Minnesota.”

Years.
At the mercy of a sociopath. My heart ached for him.

“I wish I knew why he was here now,” she said.

“He comes around occasionally,” Bo said. “To scout out his enemies, Nosferatu and the Ancient One.”

I startled. “Blackthorne's enemies with the Ancient One? I thought you said Blackthorne is your friend.”

“He
is
our friend,” Elena said quickly.

“No, his friend Holiday is our ally,” Bo corrected. “But allegiances change.”

Elena said firmly, “He's our friend.”

As casually as I could, I said, “Even if he's a friend, there's still Mace and the other Lestats. I don't suppose you have any antivampire handcuffs? I'd like to be better prepared next time—”

“There's not going to be a next time,” Elena said. “Sun-Hee, it's far too dangerous for humans to fight v-guys.”

I was already shaking my head. “I'm a police officer. Sworn to uphold the law for everyone, whatever their color, creed or canine length.”

“A cop,” Bo said. “Like you, Detective. You wanted her to know. Now she does. Deal with the consequences.”

The Strongwells exchanged a glance. Elena said, “It's risky.”

“Yes. Is that going to stop her? Would it stop you?”

Elena's head turned slowly to me, her eyes cop-narrow. “Damn.”

“Damn,” Rorik echoed.

“Protect and serve,” Bo said. “At least give her the tools she needs to do her job.”

“Fine. I don't like it, but you're right.” Elena rose, reached under her sweater, unhooked a pair of silver-blue cuffs from her belt and held them out to me. “Here. They'll hold all but the strongest v-guy. There's also an antimist feature. Push that button to activate it. But that's only if you're backed into a corner and have nothing else, do you hear me? Don't go after them until you're properly trained.”

“Properly trained, got it.” I took them and fit them into my pouch.

When I left, I felt both better and worse. The world made much more sense.

But it raised more questions—including how much of the assassin, shaped by a psychopath, was left in Aiden Blackthorne today.

Aiden left the Dawn barn as the eastern sky lightened. He was in deep trouble. That blowjob had taken his head off.

Sex with a mere human shouldn't—
couldn't
—have had such a profound effect on him. Especially not with such a mouse of a woman.

No, a strong, beautiful woman.

No. A cop.

He shook his head. She was a complication he didn't need but had a bad feeling he couldn't avoid. And as Ric had pointed out, his bad feelings were never wrong.

He was headed for Settler's Square to try to find evidence as to what Eloise wanted from him, using shadows where he could, when his phone rang, Ric's ringtone. Speaking of bad feelings. Aiden answered with a light, “Hello, Mom. I'm fine.”

“Don't you ‘hello' me, you ass.” For a change his friend wasn't out of breath from the almost-constant mated sex. “You had a bad feeling, someone shouted, you hung up and you didn't call back. I've been worried sick. What went wrong?”

“What didn't? Eloise lured me to Settler's Square using a cop as bait.” Was the cop she picked intentional? Had Eloise seen Sunny and known she'd be the perfect lure?

His vision turned red. Ex-friend or not, he'd kill Eloise.

“Are you okay?” Ric said, and Aiden realized he'd stopped talking.

He continued both his glide and his story. In a few terse words he painted the rest of the picture.

“I've been thinking,” Ric said hesitantly when he finished. “Maybe someone else is gunning for Eloise, and you sprang the traps instead.”

“Really?” Aiden drawled. “Makes more sense to me that they were gunning for me and got me.”

“Yes, but…isn't this like when we were attacked in Timbuktu?”

Aiden's feet stuttered. They'd never been attacked in Timbuktu.

It was their codeword for danger.

“Maybe,” he said cautiously. “Now that I think about it. Is John Virid up to his old tricks?” Virid meaning green, their signal for meeting. He held his breath on Ric's reply.

“Yes, that makes sense.”

Aiden's breath released. “So how are things in Minnesota?” Asking if they'd meet there.

“Good,” Ric said. “Synnove is thinking of painting the baby's room pink.”

Meaning not Minneapolis. “Nice. She still set on Maria Catherine for a name?” MC, meaning Meiers Corners.

“Yes. What would you pick?”

Meaning Ric wanted him to pick a place. Ric wouldn't need to know where exactly—they'd shared blood and either could find the other within a few miles' radius. “Tommie,” he said, meaning tomorrow.

“Cute,” Ric said. “'Night, Aiden. Sweet dreams.”

Night, meaning tomorrow night. Sweet dreams, meaning they should run silent until then.

Aiden thumbed off as he arrived at the park. He chafed to know what was wrong but obviously Ric was worried about surveillance. It was essential Aiden act as if everything was fine. He looked around. It was more important than ever that he discover Eloise's game here. This was his first chance to look. He'd returned to the scene immediately after the dropping off Sunny at the station—but to clean up Lestats. Strongwell looked unkindly on hard-to-explain messes, of which body parts scattered in a public park qualified. Then he'd zipped to the depot for a quick rinse and had his mind blown by a cop who was as talented with her tongue as her gun.

But now…the electric cable was gone and the fountain pool cleared; the only sign of the trap was the destroyed outlet.
Damn
it.

The rising sun hit his skin. Double damn it, time to retire. He'd just have to dig in here and try again tonight.

Dreams plagued me, bad dreams of Smith the Most Wanted hiding behind the pine tree. I confronted her and in true nightmare fashion found that she was me.

I woke much too early, my subconscious stabbing me awake with a question. If Smith had set the trap for Blackthorne, how had she known he'd be there? He could have been anywhere in Meiers Corners or beyond.

Unless I was somehow the bait? He did tend to turn up where I was. Damn her if she was using me to get at him. It made me determined to find her.

She found me, instead.

As I showered, my phone chimed an alert. I hopped out, dripping, shampoo stinging my eyes. It was a text message.

We met last night. Want more on Blackthorne? Meet me 9 p.m. tonight. Gazebo Fifth & Lincoln.

Yes.
I wanted to arrest her in the worst way, and here she was, practically jumping into my cuffs.

But I wasn't an idiot. Well, not intentionally. After rinsing, drying and dressing, a plain white tee replacing my cut uniform blouse, I headed straight for the crime lab, tucked in the back of the cop shop. I entered my phone into evidence for CSI to examine. Not Crime Scene Investigations—in Meiers Corners CSI meant Charles Samuel Ignatek, although with his silvered hair and beard he could have walked onto the set of the Las Vegas show ten years ago and been mistaken for a regular. My small town was epic eerie that way. We also had a waitress named Penny and a martial arts instructor named Mr. Miyagi. Mostly we just shrugged and rolled with it.

I headed for the detective pen to let Elena know about the meet and to request backup. She wasn't in—graveyard shift didn't start until nine—so I said hi to Detective Gruen and left a note under her family picture. It was seven thirty and I had over an hour, but I wanted to check the site early, so I started out.

Gruen called me back. “Ruffles. I need you to pull a file.”

“Me?”

“Who else understands your brother's system? Get me the skateboard-jacking ring and the peppermint heist from Randy's Candies. Then you can pull…”

He kept me busy for over an hour. When I finally sneaked away it was after eight thirty, barely enough time to get to the gazebo and give it a once-over. I did a quick ready-check. Backup Glock 27 and both regular and antivamp cuffs. Good to go. She'd probably have her helpers, Thuggoh and the other guy, and for a moment fear seared me, raising my dark side…
Lashing out at the bully, hearing bones break…

I raked my hair, as if I could pull the dark thoughts out. I'd just have to hope the meeting didn't get out of hand.

Aiden rose from the soil in Settler's Square feeling fully refreshed, ready for anything. He rarely slept covered but was glad he had today; he wanted maximum reserves for whatever new trap he was sure Eloise had planned.

After searching the park and finding nothing to explain the vampire woman's behavior, he found himself drifting over the river toward the MCPD. There, he breathed air filled with sunshine, the light womanly scent that was uniquely Sunny. He could almost hear the ring of her soles percussing the pavement; he could picture her straight shoulders and tiny waist obscured by the heavy jacket that refused to stay tugged down, her trim behind all too defined by the cut of her slacks…pain lashed his groin. He glanced down, confused, and saw he was bent double in his pants.

He cursed himself for ten kinds a fool. His infatuation was getting worse. Yet here he was on her doorstep, panting to see her again, which might turn infatuation into something deeper. Although from the warmth in his blood and the lightness in his step, it might already be too late.

He dug claws into his palms.
Focus.
Eloise. The female had used Sunny as bait—which had worked so brilliantly she'd almost certainly try it again.

His heart stopped. He had to know that Sunny was okay,
now
. He misted inside. Her smell beckoned from the second floor. He misted directly there and reformed.

Just as she slipped out the door from the detectives' pen.

He merged automatically with a shadow—and stared, because she was bending to check the gun in her ankle holster. The action snugged the ill-fitting wool pants nicely against her rounded bottom. His gums ached at the sight. Brushing a tongue to one fang made him aware of just how long they were. He shuddered.

She straightened. Pulled a pair of handcuffs from her belt.

A harder, delicious shudder wracked him. Oh, what he could do with those cuffs if she were willing.

Then he saw the button and indicator light. The cuffs were electrified. Antivamp.

Surprise jolted him. She had antivampire handcuffs? He didn't know whether to be annoyed or proud.

But it decided him. She'd gotten between him and Eloise twice, and had almost been hurt. Sunny was not going vampire hunting, not on his watch.

Well, unless the vampire she was hunting was him.

She tucked the restraints in a belt pouch and straightened. She looked so adorably determined. He found himself smiling.

She trotted off, headed for the stairs.

He ghosted after her, curious. On the first floor she turned right and turned again. Tucked in the back was a crime lab.

“Hey Charlie,” she said to the tech. “Get anything from my phone?”

“Not much.” The silver-haired, bearded man separated a cell phone from a piece of paper that looked like a work order or lab report. “Elle Louis Smith's message came from a burner phone. I'm checking the web for a footprint—message copy on a server, for example—but I don't expect much. Whoever sent it was cautious.”

Aiden's smile faded. Elle Louise? He used his supernatural sight to zoom in on the report. Saw
9 p.m. tonight. Gazebo Fifth & Lincoln.

His smile disappeared entirely, replaced by death. Not Elle Louise, Eloise. Sunny was not meeting her, not if he could help it. He couldn't live with himself if the vampire injured Sunny.

But how to stop his stubborn cop? It had to be subtle.

The tech handed Sunny the phone and she marched out.

Aiden recognized that determined clomp. He had to stop her, now. So much for subtlety. He was sorry, but he had a job to do.

He misted past her to the infirmary. The door had been fixed.
Yes.
He positioned himself just inside the door and called, “Help me!”

“I'm coming.” Sunny ran in, stopped in the middle of the room and whirled. “What's wrong—?”

He slammed the door and locked it.