Crimson Reign (40 page)

For the remainder of the trip, he kept his eyes trained out the window and his mind firmly on the details of the victims and crime scenes. As soon as Copi brought the Hummer to a stop, Vischeral sprang the latch and stepped from the truck. He barely felt the cold, but noticed Copi shiver and pull his jacket closer around himself.

“I told you to dress warm, don’t come bitchin’ to me when your nuts fall off.”

Copi responded with a smirk and a jaunty middle finger as he made his way across the uneven terrain to the command post set up by the WST.

“What’s new?” Copi asked the two troopers studying a map of the wildlife park. The “New York” was loud in his voice and the two troopers patently ignored him. Vischeral recognized them from the departments’ meet and greet. Stan Juneski and Lief Peltier. Just fucking great. Two local yokels who thought the WST badges in their pockets equated them with the Gods. Too bad for them, Vischeral wasn’t impressed with their credentials or their intellect.

“I believe my partner asked you twits a question.” The menace in his voice brought their heads up, and due to his enhanced hearing, he heard them both swallow. Hard. “He’s waiting.” He avoided Copi’s eyes, but sensed the surprise radiating from the male. When the two fuckwits only stared at him, Vischeral cocked an eyebrow at them then swung his gaze to Copi.

“Looks like we have another investigation to conduct partner; got to find the cat that stole their tongues.” He gave his partner a sardonic smirk as the two WST officers started to sputter.

Without looking at Cophious, the taller of the two reluctantly began a rundown on the day’s events. “Another drop site was found about 45 minutes ago. Body’s in the same condition as the others. Site’s about two miles north of the Kantock scene. A hiker found it. Identification on the body says it’s Clara DeFoe, age 27. Address is 6500 Bubbling Brook Circle. The M.E. is on the way.”

Vischeral immediately tensed. “How many have been on the scene?”

He demanded at the same time Copi asked, “Has anyone else been there?” Again, the two ignored Copi’s question.

“Only the hiker and the first on scene. The hiker didn’t touch the body, but he did upchuck his dinner.” Wheeling around, Vischeral punched Copi in the arm as he headed away from the command post.

“Let’s go. I want to see if I can catch a sce…” Vish cleared his throat and amended. “I want a fresh view of the scene before anyone else tramples around in it.” They had only taken a few steps when the WST officer’s comments reached Vischeral’s ears.

“What’s new?” Juneski mocked Copi’s New York dialect, causing Peltier to smother laughter. “As if I’d tell that pansy...assed, citified drunk anything. Did you see his file? They shipped him out here ‘cause he was a fucked up in the he…” Juneski’s words gurgled to a halt as Vischeral grabbed him by the collar of his uniform and held him suspended in the air at arm’s length over his head. His state issued boots uselessly searched for the ground a good two feet beneath the soles.

Terrified eyes met Vischeral’s frozen black stare. “That pansy...assed, citified drunk is my partner, shit...for...brains, and if you want to continue breathing from both lungs, you will do well to remember that.” Vischeral pulled the male closer so that their noses touched. “Are we clear?”

Juneski’s Adam’s apple bobbed against Vischeral’s knuckles as he nodded hard. With a disgusted sneer, Vischeral tossed the man away from himself and spun back to see the stunned look on Copi’s face. Well shit and damnation Vischeral. .what a can of worms you just opened.

Striding past his partner without speaking, he took several steps, and then stopped as Copi’s scent reached him and immediately soothed the beast raging for the trooper’s blood. With sudden clarity, Vish realized he had an enormous problem. There was only one reason the male’s scent alone soothed his savage nature. His vampire, the very essence of himself had bonded with the human. It should have been impossible, there had been no blood exchange, no sex…hell, they hadn’t even touched, yet it was there. That’s why he hadn’t been able to erase himself completely from Copi’s mind back in the alley, and why he dreamed of the male since that night. His vampire found the mate it wanted, and there wasn't a damn thing Vischeral could do to change it. With a sigh, he started down the rough hiking trail once again, wholly unwilling to deal with this revelation.

“Let's go, Copi. The moon's wasting.”

~  *  ~  *  ~  *  ~

Copi grimaced as he pulled his coat tight around his back. His spine seized and stiffened as ice cold tendrils sent shivers through each and every nerve. At Vischeral’s smart mouthed retort, Copi flipped him the bird and walked in the direction of Dumb and Dumber. Their animosity toward him clearly evident as they both ignored his line of questioning, which in turn seemed to piss Bourne right off. Copi stood speechless as Vischeral’s mood turned feral. Was that a fucking growl?

Copi watched open mouthed and totally in awe of Vischeral’s fury as he berated the WST agents, treating both with the same distaste they’d previously shown Copi. Vischeral openly belittled their intelligence until the dim witted duo stuttered out the news that a new stop and drop sight had not long been discovered. His partner turned on his heels and abruptly took leave of the two troopers. Copi tracked his movements instinctively recognizing the gait though he couldn’t exactly place from where. Had he ever seen anyone move in the same fluid way Vischeral did? Behind him, the WST cracked jokes about his transfer. Copi bit down hard on the inside of his jaw and tried to ignore them as he followed his partner deeper into the trees.

Another growl, and this time Copi knew without a doubt where it came from. His head snapped up, and he whirled back to face the two troopers when a third guttural snarl filled the air. Copi stood in utter shock and awe. How the fuck had Vischeral moved so fast? In what could only be described as a blur, Vischeral passed him and grabbed one of the troopers, Juneski, maybe, by the throat. “Fuck.”

Vehemence rolled off of Bourne as he effortlessly lifted Juneski up from the ground and held him face to face and spat in Copi’s defense. W.T.F.! Completely taken aback by his partner’s actions, he waited in shock, watching the color bleach from Juneski's face. Peltier paled and immediately backed out of the way just in time to catch Juneski’s crumpled body when Bourne all but threw him to the ground. If either had any intelligence at all, they’d stay and not provoke the hulking man any further.

Copi had known it wouldn’t take long before the stories behind his transfer reached his new precinct, but he hadn’t expected it to be so fast. The shame he tried so hard to keep at bay over that night threatened to rear its ugly head again. He’d hoped to make a new start up here away from New York and the nightmares, but apparently someone else thought differently. The only way any motherfucker could have found out what happened was if they had pulled his file.

“Great. Just fucking great!” To make matters worse, his partner obviously already knew and never brought up the subject. The motherfucker probably thought his new partner was a French fry short of a Happy Meal and definitely on his way to being sidelined under the mental health act, and apparently believed Copi needed fucking babysitting from the yokels, too. Damn it!

He froze, lost in a quandary as to what to do next. A quick glance behind him, and he saw both troopers back on their feet and casting looks of disbelief in Vischeral's direction. There was no fucking way those numbskulls were going to show them the dump site. With his mind miles away, lost in his own ponderings, he failed to notice Vischeral’s approach. The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention, and even though it was cold enough to freeze the balls off of a brass monkey, a trickle of sweat snaked down his spine. Bourne growled as he stalked by Copi, causing a sudden rush of absolute terror to surge within him. The way the man moved; the way his eyes, so black and emotionless, homed in on his, unmanned Copi and had him reeling in fear.

From out of nowhere, his mind spiraled back in time and he was there, back in the alley where that…that…

The word screamed in his head, but he refused to say it for fear of it becoming reality. He breathed long and deep trying to calm his overwrought brain. Mentally, he scolded himself for being such a stupid fucking dick. The soft, damn near erotic, scent of vanilla and wood smoke filled the air around him as Vischeral’s low husky voice demanded Copi haul ass.

Instinctively, Copi turned to follow his partner’s authoritative command. With Vischeral taking the lead, Copi hung back, watching the way the mountain of muscle glided instead of walked. Dark thoughts crept into the depths of his subconscious. Vischeral was dangerous. Fact. He felt it, and for some unknown reason, he liked the fear his new partner struck into the hearts of the people he worked around. One thing was for sure; no one… not the Chief nor the fucking welcoming committee of yokels… dared stare the big bastard in the face, let alone stand up to him. And why? Because every one of them were scared shitless of him.

He trailed behind as Bourne headed back toward the Hummer and gave the brooding male a heads up before tossing him the keys. Without hesitation, Vischeral took the driver’s seat. Copi laughed to himself. After where his head had been on the journey up, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate enough not to get them killed, especially with all that tight leather sitting next to him.

He stayed quiet on the journey to the dump site; he was infuriated with himself for letting the likes of Juneski and his sidekick get under his skin. Hell, if he’d still been in New York, he’d have roasted their balls with a smile on his face. But, things had changed; he’d changed. Relief from his churning thoughts came with the sound of Vischeral hitting the brakes as they came to a stop alongside a rough dirt track. Three officers stood together most likely waiting for the M.E. One of them was so green he was bent over delivering up second helpings of his dinner.

“Nice going, rook. I hope like hell you stupid fucks haven’t screwed up my God damned crime scene with your fucking department issues. If you’ve contaminated any evidence so help me you’ll need a surgeon to remove my boots from your asses.” Vischeral's voice trailed off as the young officers hastened to assure him the scene was intact.

Without pausing, he passed the uniforms and took a well...worn dirt path that wound up through the tightly knit forest of pine trees. Torch light in the distance gave away the location of the body. Officers milled around the edge of the crime scene. Vischeral glared at them before exchanging glances with Copi. They both knew that the more people there, the more chances of cross contamination. Luckily enough for them, the two officers taking the hikers’ statements and follow up addresses had also taped off the scene. Copi guessed Vischeral’s reputation must have preceded him because neither one questioned it when he ducked under the tape and slowly stepped into the footprints of the firsts on scene. Once again Copi found himself following his partner’s lead.

“Holy fuck!” He breathed when the body came in to view. He crouched down and looked over what was left of the woman, cataloguing his observations in his head. The M.E. always had first dibs on the body, but there was no harm in a quick look. Hair that had once been blonde lay soaked in blood. Clara DeFoe might have been a pretty girl, but with blood and dirt hiding her features, it was hard to tell.

By the looks of the attire she wore… Nikes, hoodie over a long sleeved tee, and matching jogging pants… she kept herself fit. Not that it had done her any good. Fear contorted her face. Her throat had been ripped out and four long, deep jagged tears similar to the previous victims adorned her upper arms, chest and upper legs. Her intestines spilled out from her gutted stomach. Heart, liver and kidneys were partially…eaten? Deep lacerations marred her hands; a tell...tale sign the woman had tried hard to defend herself against the savagery of her attacker.

There was so much blood. It pooled everywhere. The stale copper taint of it filled the air along with the awful stench of ammonia and other bodily fluids. He wondered if the hikers had interrupted the killer. His gut churned. He looked up at his partner who loomed over him and was shocked to see Vischeral pale and breathing heavy, almost as if the sight of all the blood was getting to him. Curious, Copi cocked a brow when Vischeral lifted his face into the wind as though he sniffing the air around them. About to ask if the man was half blood hound, the sound of approaching footsteps stopped him.

“Get the fuck off my scene,” the approaching M.E. barked. His command snapped Vischeral’s head back to the scene before them. The medical examiner must have known Vischeral well, because a second later he smiled, albeit warily, and asked Vischeral questions in a more friendly tone.

Leaving them to their conversation, Copi turned and took the same trail back and ducked under the tape. Once out of the immediate vicinity of the crime scene, he popped a squat on the trunk of a fallen tree and took his notebook from the inside of his Carhartt. Carefully, he started to jot down notes on his visuals while his memory was still fresh. He tried to be as precise as possible, but no matter how many times he began to write, he always found his gaze lifting to land on his partner, which in turn made his whole body come alive. When their eyes met there was something in the way his partner looked at him that had Copi wanting to know who the hell Vischeral was and what made the fucker tick.

He scrutinized the easy way Vischeral moved, and had to admit the guy was fuckin’ graceful for someone so thickly muscled. He exuded strength and danger, and with those devilishly dark looks, he’d make the Grim Reaper piss his damned pants. His new partner occupied a whole different league of hot and horny, one Copi only dreamed about. And, that heated him up from the inside out. Fuck! He had to get himself in check, had to stop looking at the guy like he was some sort of man candy.

Like the guy really needs to know you’re in the closet, dude. Shit! He’d be lining up with the likes of Juneski and company to kick your ass back to New York; if he doesn’t freak the fuck out and kill you first.