The Darkest Kiss (10 page)

“I’m still hetero all the way, bro. Trust me on that.” I took a sip of coffee, then added, “I tried reading her mind, but it felt like falling into a black hole.”

“So why not use threats or force? If she’s withholding evidence, you’re entitled to.”

I shrugged. “Beating her up would have been an exercise in stupidity. She had forty of her get living with her and those sort of odds are a little overwhelming.”

“Forty?” He frowned. “How does any one vampire control that many fledglings? And how would they even manage to all live together?”

I finished off my cereal, then dumped the bowl back on the table and said, “She wasn’t a blood vamp, but rather some sort of emotional vampire. Apparently living together is a requirement for suckers who feed off emotion.”

“There’re vamps who feed off emotion?” Liander said. “That’s a somewhat horrific thought.”

I raised an eyebrow. “No worse than blood vamps, really.”

He snorted. “It’s hard to miss a blood vamp feeding off you. Bet the same couldn’t be said of an emotional vampire.”

He had a point. Especially if all emotional vamps had an aura as strong as Vinny’s.

“You reported their presence to Jack?” Rhoan asked.

“Yep.”

“Good.” He paused to sip his coffee. “So why were you even there rescuing this accountant? Did it have something to do with that phone call you got last night?”

I nodded and explained why Ben had rung, then added, “Which is why I kissed the vamp. To get the name before he attacks someone else.”

“So it’s not someone connected to this Ben fellow?” Liander asked.

“Ben doesn’t seem to think he’s the connection, but I haven’t talked to him since getting the name. Could turn out that he
does
know this Aron Young.”

Which wouldn’t be a good thing, because Young’s actions had earned him an execution order. Vamps involved in the torture of others didn’t live all that much longer than those actually killing—simply because one crime usually developed into the other anyway. And if Ben was a good friend, he’d come under Directorate scrutiny as well.

Liander frowned. “That name rings a bell.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You know someone called Aron Young?”

“I didn’t say that. I just said it rings a bell.”

“I’m sure there’s more than one Aron Young out there,” Rhoan said dryly.

Liander sniffed. “Well, of course there is. I’m just saying the name seems familiar.”

“Well,” I said, grabbing my cup and bowl as I rose. “Let me know if you remember. Meanwhile, I’m heading into the Directorate. You want me to let Jack know you’re going to be late?”

“No need.” Rhoan’s voice was decidedly smug. “I’ve got the day off. Some of us do occasionally think ahead and prepare.”

“And this would have to be a first for you.”

He threw a cushion after me. It thudded into a wall, missing by miles. For some reason, it sent the two of them off into fits of laughter. I shook my head and left them to it.

Thankfully, the car had survived the night without additional decoration from the local goons. I threw my gear in, clipped my cell phone onto its hands-free holder, then pulled into the traffic and headed to work.

The phone rang well before I got there and my heart sunk. The number said it was either Jack or Sal, and a call at this hour from either one could never be a good thing.

I pressed the receive button and said, “You know I can’t stomach bad news before I’ve had my second cup of coffee.”

“Well, ain’t that just too bad,” Jack said, sounding tired and just a little frustrated, “because I’ve got another one for you.”

I slowed the car as the lights ahead turned to red. “I take it you mean another dead naked politician flashing his butt to the world?”

“Not quite. This one is a naked shoe-store owner flashing his butt to all and sundry.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Human or nonhuman?”

“Non. Werefox, to be exact.”

The killer wasn’t restricting himself to any one race, then. “Where was he found?”

“In his store, by his employee. Apparently the dead man and a friend were getting hot and happy in the store window, and that’s where he died.”

So we had a killer who liked to do the deed in exposed spots, and who obviously had no qualms about being seen. Either that, or it added to the thrill. “Let me guess—his friend is nowhere to be found again?”

“Spot on.”

“So why are you so sure it’s connected? Beside the fact that our killer is something of an exhibitionist?”

“A feeling, nothing more.”

And I’d put money on Jack’s feelings over most people’s certainties any day.

“Kade’s heading there now,” he continued. “I want you there ASAP to see if you can sense anything.”

“I didn’t sense anything useful at James’s office.” And if my job at the Directorate started to be nothing more than visiting murder scenes to try and sense departing souls, then I’d rather quit.

Which was quite a statement, considering I never actually wanted to be a guardian in the first place.

“Still worth trying. I’ll send you the address.” He paused, and in the background I heard paper rustling. “We checked out that nest you found last night, too.”

I raised my eyebrows. “That was fast.”

“Emo vamps can be quite dangerous. We had to assess the situation.”

“So they really
do
feed on emotions rather than blood?”

“Yes. And they have the ability—and the tendency—to amp up emotions. In certain situations, that can get extremely dangerous.”

“This one seems to feed off sexual energy.”

“Sexual emotions tend to be the rawest, and therefore more satisfying to emo vamps, but they’ll make do with lesser emotions like fear, anger, and pain when they have to.”

Which is why there’d been such a strong sense of hunger in the building when I’d walked in—they’d been feeding off what was happening in Ivan’s apartment.

And I wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been part of the reasoning behind Vinny allowing the vampire to visit Ivan.

“What’s your impression of Vincenta Castillo?” Jack asked.

I hesitated. “She’s one to watch. I think she has great plans for herself and her fledglings, but I don’t think she’s done anything to cross the line just yet.”

“Interesting.”

His voice was dry, and my eyebrows rose again. “Why?”

“Because our inspector gave a glowing report.”

I grinned. “Was he young and blond?”

Jack paused. “Young, yes. Blond, no.”

“She razzle-dazzled him, boss. He wouldn’t have known what side of his pen was up when he was taking notes.”

“Young Clark has strong shields. Even an emo vamp shouldn’t have been able to affect him.”

“
I’ve
got strong shields, and I felt her pull.”

“Then we’ll keep an eye on her, for sure. Have you written up a report about last night?”

“Nope. I was intending to do it when I got in this morning. Did Sal get anything on Aron Young?”

“We found three. We’re still trying to get a current address on two of them.”

“At least there’s not hundreds to investigate.”

“True.” He paused for a moment. In the background, someone was murmuring. Paper moved, then he added, “Sal mentioned you were investigating some BDSM case?”

Meaning Sal had listened in on my phone call—there was no other way she could have known, because I hadn’t yet written the report. “It’s related to last night’s case—same vampire.”

I wasn’t a hundred percent positive of that, of course, but I wasn’t about to let Jack know that.

“I’ll hunt up the police report on it for you, and hurry the search on Young. If this is the start of a murder run, we’ll need to get onto it straightaway.”

“Could you also get a check done on a Ben Wilson? He’s a black wolf who manages the Nonpareil stripper business. As far as I can see, he’s the only real link between the two men.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, boss.” I hung up, then changed lanes and headed over to South Yarra and the address Jack had given me—which just happened to be in the heart of trendy Chapel Street.

Obviously, whoever was killing off these people had a taste for power and money. And perhaps a need for the high that exhibitionism could give. Which in itself would suggest some sort of were. While the danger of public sexual acts—and the high such risks gave—was not the sole province of weres, we weres were certainly willing to take it further than most races.

It was impossible to find parking near the shoe shop in Chapel Street, so I parked in nearby Garden Street. And made sure an “Official Directorate Vehicle” sign was visible through the front window, just in case the parking inspectors got a little trigger-happy with their ticket machines.

I pocketed my keys and headed back to Chapel Street. The shoe shop was easy enough to spot—it was the one with the cop cars out front and the black plastic sheeting over the windows.

Kade was nowhere to be seen, so I ducked under the tape, showed my badge to the patrol cop, and headed in. And discovered Chapel Street shoe shops weren’t like ordinary shoe shops. For a start, the shoes were well spaced rather than crammed together in soldier-like rows. Then there were spotlights over the display racks, high-back comfy chairs, and plush carpets.

And a dead naked guy in the front window.

His thick thatch of red hair was the first thing I noticed. He was leaning over a waist-high shoe display, his butt facing the window, arms and head flopping down the back of the metal stand, with pretty-colored stilettos and boots scattered all around his feet.

“Puts a new spin on eye-catching window displays, doesn’t it?” Cole said, stripping off bloodied gloves as he stepped out of the window.

I frowned at him. “Whose blood?”

“His. Seems our killer got a little heavy-handed with the scratches this time.” He nodded toward the victim’s torso. “Got scratches on his chest, genitals, and legs.”

“What type of scratches?”

“A cat of some kind. She’s a big one, though.”

“How big is big?”

“Twice the size of a regular cat, at least.”

“So are we looking for something the size of a puma or something more like a tiger?”

“Something the size of a tiger, at least.”

I stepped closer. The metallic tang of blood perfumed the air, as did the scents of sweat and sex. But underneath those were notes of jasmine and orange. The same scents that had been evident in Gerard James’s office.

My gaze ran from the dead man’s neck to his back and down his legs. There were scratches scattered across his pale flesh—big, thick, ugly scratches that had taken more than a little skin with them.

“It can’t be the same cat that scratched James,” I said, glancing around at Cole. “This one has massive paws.”

“I think it is, but I won’t know that until I do some DNA tests.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You found more than the victim’s DNA this time?”

“Found it last time, too. I’m hoping the saliva found on James’s cock will match that found on this man.”

“And that’s the only DNA of our mysterious lady friend that you’ve found?”

“Nope. And it appears our murderess is in heat.”

That raised my eyebrows. “Then why would she be killing her mates? That’s more a spider habit than cat, isn’t it?”

He smiled. It was a nice smile, a smile that lit up his whole face. “Maybe they
really
disappointed her.”

“Then let’s hope her future dates have brushed up on their technique a bit more.” Or that we caught her before those dates happened. The violence in her attacks seemed to be escalating, and I really didn’t want to imagine what she might do to the next man. “We’ve got a witness this time?”

“Henry Rollins is the gentleman who found him. He’s waiting in the back storeroom, if you’d like to talk to him. There’s also another potential witness, but it might be best to let Kade deal with him.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

“He’s as drunk as a skunk and smells like vomit.” His gaze met mine, blue eyes twinkling. “And we all know what a delicate little nose you have.”

“Thanks. I think.”

I turned and headed for the back of the store, but had gone only three or four steps when Kade finally arrived. I didn’t have to actually see him to know he was there—his sheer, masculine scent overwhelmed just about everyone else in the room.

“About fucking time you turned up,” I said mildly, over my shoulder.

“Hey, I had to stop for coffee.”

“For everyone, I hope,” Cole commented.

“I didn’t think you boys were allowed to drink on the job. In case of spillage, etcetera.”

I pointed an imperious finger and tried to be stern, despite the smile teasing my lips. “If you didn’t bring us coffee, you can just go out on the sidewalk and interview the witness the cops are holding.”