Blood Secrets (2 page)

The moon had reigned over the Hall’s interior, but once outside, Alex found a sun low on the horizon and the creeping gloom of twilight. Gravestones stretched to either side in endless rows, casting elongated shadows
over soft spring grass. Looking over her shoulder as she walked away, the Hall’s door appeared as the entrance to a small mausoleum, what may have been a family name worn away long ago.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she muttered and then smirked at the reference to
Alice in Wonderland
, one of her favorite childhood books. Sometimes she definitely felt like Alice chasing the rabbit.

Parting the Veil, the thin sliver of psychic energy that separated the physical and spiritual planes, required concentration and wasn’t a task she’d fully mastered. If she wasn’t careful in melding her consciousness with her physical body, a dozen nasty fates awaited her, the least being death.

Her physical body lay in a hotel room in a meditative trance. To an observer, she would appear to be in a really deep sleep. However, waking someone in such a trance could be deadly. Separating the consciousness from the body was a risk, but it was one she was willing to accept if she could find clues to solve her father’s murder.

She sighed and closed her eyes, pushing aside the random thoughts that crowded her mind. Once awake, she would be groggy and disoriented, like someone coming out from under anesthesia. In order to shift her consciousness from the Shadowlands and back to the real world, she had to remember details of the room.

Gradually she recalled the feel of the bed beneath her, the coolness of the air, and the hum of machinery from the nearby elevators. The sensation of a pit yawning beneath her made her stomach roll. She’d learned to keep her eyes tightly shut against the kaleidoscopic whirlwind of colors and shadows as she passed through the Veil and returned to the physical plane.

Alex slowly awoke from the dreamlike trance and alarms immediately sounded in her mind. Her skin prickled under the gaze of an unseen watcher.

Darkness cloaked her surroundings. Disoriented, she searched with her senses, probing for signs of life. She steadied and measured her breathing as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The greenish glow of a security light bathed the window beside the bed on which she lay and cast strange shadows on the wall.

Without turning her head, she looked around the small hotel room, trying to make sense of what she saw. One of the shadows in a far corner shifted and her focus narrowed on it. She eased her hand beneath her pillow, reaching for her loaded Glock G31 .357-caliber pistol.

The shadow detached from the wall and moved toward her.

Alex sat up quickly and aimed her pistol at the shadow as it launched itself onto the bed. Her finger found the trigger.

The shadow landed beside her with an inquisitive warble.

“Damn it, Dweezil,” Alex whispered, jerking her finger from the trigger as the large Maine coon cat swished its tail over her bare legs.

Dweezil head-butted her empty hand and purred.

She chuckled and scratched behind his large tufted ears with her free hand. “Don’t scare me like that. I almost shot you.”

His eyes flashed iridescent green in the light filtering through the window. He winked at her, as if to say, “Gotcha,” before moving to her still-warm pillow and curling into a tight ball.

“You sure are jumpy,” a voice announced from near the window.

Alex gasped and aimed her Glock at the newly perceived threat.

“It’s me, damn it!” A man’s silhouette raised his hands and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon wafted toward her.

Recognition stopped her finger from pulling the trigger. She lowered the pistol, her breath leaving in an explosive puff.

Varik Baudelaire—Director of Special Operations for the Federal Bureau of Preternatural Investigation, her ex-fiancé, former mentor, and current lover—cautiously approached the bed and took the pistol from her. “Fucking-A, baby. What the hell’s got you so worked up?”

“Sorry. I’m not used to someone being here when I wake up.”

He placed the Glock on the bedside table. “Well, it’s little wonder if you make a habit of trying to kill your lovers.”

She moved Dweezil from her pillow. “Oh, fuck you,” she spat and pulled the covers over her head.

The bed shifted with Varik’s added weight and his arms slipped around her. “That sounds like a fabulous idea,” he growled and nipped at her ear with his fangs.

Alex giggled and rolled to face him. “Is sex the only thing you think about?”

“No.” He kissed her neck. “Sometimes I think of food. Especially whipped cream.”

“Whipped cream?”

He pulled back enough that she could see his dark eyes had shifted to the color of molten gold. “It’s very versatile and has many uses.” His hand slipped beneath her University of Louisville T-shirt to cup her breast. “It’s especially good with melons.”

She laughed and shoved him away. “You really are a French pig, aren’t you?”

He captured her, pulling her close, and brushed his lips against hers as he whispered, “Le oink, le oink.”

His mouth covered hers, and his tongue lazily traced the curve of her lips. He rolled her bottom lip between his teeth, teasing her with the possibility of piercing her
flesh. A warm tingle blossomed low in her belly when his tongue finally darted between her fangs, exploring and gliding alongside hers.

Alex entwined her fingers in his black hair, reveling in its thickness and the way it slipped over her skin like warm silk. Since taking over as Jefferson’s official Enforcer, he’d found having hair to his waist to be impractical and cut it, a decision with which she wholeheartedly agreed.

An upbeat techno song played, and Varik growled when she broke the kiss.

“Your phone is ringing,” she muttered.

He kissed the scar along the left side of her neck, making her shiver. “Ignore it.”

“It could be important.”

“It can wait.”

The beat cycled to the beginning, and she sighed. “Varik …”

Groaning, he rolled onto his side, reaching for his cell phone. The music died as he answered. “This had better be damn good.”

She could hear the distinctive bass rumble of Damian Alberez, Chief Enforcer for the FBPI and boss to both of them. Rather, he was
Varik’s
boss.
She
was cooling her heels on the Bureau’s shit list because she’d turned rogue a month ago and abandoned her oath to uphold the law.

As a result of her transgression, she’d been placed on administrative suspension and ordered to remain within the city limits until the powers-that-be called her to their headquarters in Louisville, Kentucky. Once summoned, she’d face an official inquiry before the Tribunal, the vampire equivalent of an internal affairs committee, and answer for numerous violations of the Enforcer code of conduct. The most serious charge was
one of corruption, which if found guilty carried a mandatory death sentence.

“How long ago was the car found?” Varik asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Alex stretched and pushed herself into a seated position, back resting against the headboard.

“Are you certain about that?” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Right. Yeah, I know where it is. I’m bringing Alex along for this one.”

She frowned as Damian’s voice rose, and Varik was forced to hold the cell phone away from his ear.

“—no way in hell you’re bringing her,” Damian shouted. “Sabian is suspended until further notice. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that. I also know that if we’re going to get anywhere with this investigation, we need all the available
talent
we can get,” Varik snarled.

Damian remained silent.

“Varik,” Alex whispered. “If he—”

“Fine.” Damian’s grudging response cut her off. “Bring her along, but you’re responsible for her while she’s on-scene.”

Varik winked at her. “Agreed. We’re on our way.”

“What—” She gestured to his phone and shook her head. “How do you do that?”

He turned to face her squarely. “How do I do what?”

“Get Damian to agree to whatever you want.”

He grinned, showing the full extent of his fangs. “It’s part of my French pig charm,
chérie
.”

She rolled her eyes. “So what’s this scene we’re going to?”

“You’re familiar with the Mindy Johnson case?”

“The girl who disappeared three days ago.”

He nodded. “Someone located her car in front of the women’s dorms at Nassau County Community College. Damian and the forensic team are there now.”

“Sounds like the scene is under control. Why bring me in?”

Varik rose and pulled her up along with him. “Because you have an ability to see things others don’t.”

“You want me to use my psychometry to get a vision of what happened to Mindy?” She tried to move away but he held her close. “It doesn’t work like that, Varik. I can’t control the visions.”

“I know.”

“There is no guarantee I’ll even sense anything.”

He kissed her forehead. “Will you at least try?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Thank you.”

They took turns in the bathroom, and she was surprised by how easily they fell into a familiar routine. As she washed up, Alex checked her reflection in the age-spotted mirror above the sink. The bruising that had encompassed her ribs, stomach, and the right side of her face had finally disappeared but the fractured cheekbone hadn’t fully healed. She could still feel the soreness when she smiled. A bright pink scar ran diagonally over her right biceps, the result of a sniper’s bullet grazing her arm.

She secured her shoulder-length auburn hair in a low ponytail. Another scar marred the left side of her neck, a jagged slash starting behind her ear and extending to her collarbone. She fingered the scar, a permanent reminder of a chapter in her life she thought was behind her. Fate, however, had other plans for her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Varik appeared in the mirror, leaning against the doorjamb. His dark eyes steadily meeting her reflected gaze. “Ready to go?”

She nodded. “I just have to get my sidearm.”

He grabbed her arm as she tried to push past him. His thumb traced the blemish on her neck. “I’m sorry I caused you pain,” he murmured.

Six years ago, when they’d been engaged to be married, he attacked her, savaging her neck. He’d taken her blood and forged a psychic bond between them. Time and distance had weakened the blood-bond, but a few weeks ago she’d turned the tables and attacked
him
, re-strengthening the bond. It hadn’t been a conscious thought, unlike when she later slept with him and continued to sleep with him even though a portion of her said she shouldn’t.

Her attention flicked to a matching mark on his neck. She followed the jagged edge of the healed wound with her finger. “I know,” she whispered. “But now isn’t the time to discuss it.”

“You always say that.”

“We’ll discuss it later.” She gave him a quick kiss. “I swear.”

He released her in silent agreement.

She grabbed her Glock from the side table and paused to give Dweezil’s exposed belly a quick rub. “Behave yourself,” she told the purring cat. “No barfing on the bed or carpet.”

Dweezil yawned and stretched in response.

Varik was shaking his head when she joined him at the door. “Sometimes I think you like that cat more than me.”

“Love me, love my cat.”

The door automatically locked behind them as they headed for the elevators. “Actually, I’m quite fond of your pus—”

She punched his arm. “Don’t you dare complete that sentence, Varik Baudelaire, or I’ll kick your ass right here.”

He clutched his shoulder, laughing. “Promises, promises.”

Alex growled in frustration and hurried ahead, wanting to place some distance between them before she
really did hurt him, and pressed the elevator call button. She was still sorting out her feelings for Varik, and even though she cared for him, he often irritated her, especially with his insistence on providing for her.

Her apartment had been damaged in a fire and wasn’t ready for her return. She’d been staying with her brother, Stephen, in a studio apartment he rented out over Crimson Swan, Jefferson’s only legal blood bar for vampires. However, arsonists led by Harvey Manser, the now former sheriff of Nassau County, had destroyed the bar, leaving her homeless once again.

The hotel room that became her temporary shelter had originally been reserved by Varik when he first arrived in town. Her suspension from the Bureau left Jefferson without an Enforcer so the Bureau had assigned Varik as her provisional replacement and had provided him with a short-term apartment, not that he’d been there often. He gave his hotel room to Alex and had been staying with her most nights. She’d offered to reserve her own room but he’d insisted, claiming that the room was already paid in advance.

She didn’t believe his story. However, a check with the hotel’s manager had yielded no information of value other than gaining access to the hotel’s after-hours gym.

The elevator arrived as Varik joined her, and the doors slid open. He gestured for her to enter first then walked in with a knowing smirk. She ignored him and pushed the button that would take them to the lobby.

As the doors shut, she heard another door open and close somewhere in the distance, bringing to mind her encounter—or lack of an encounter—in the Hall of Records. In the excitement that followed her trip to the Shadowlands, she’d forgotten about it. She was certain someone had been in the Hall. Why had they not shown themselves?

Machinery whirred overhead and while the elevator descended, she was on edge. Dread settled over her like a shroud and she couldn’t shake it. Irrational visions of monsters lying in wait in the lobby flittered through her mind. The same sense of a forgotten dream nibbling at the corners of her consciousness made her shudder.

Varik draped an arm over her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

She nodded and stepped away. “Just a little nervous to face Damian,” she lied.

His eyes narrowed but he didn’t press her.

The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened to reveal a well-lit and empty lobby.