Blood Law (22 page)

“Take care of her for me,” Varik whispered, stroking the cat’s head.

Dweezil warbled softly and leapt onto the bed. He placed his paws on the curve of Alex’s waist between her ribs and hip. He rested his head on his paws, and his golden eyes closed.

Varik watched the cat guarding the woman they both loved. He crept to the door, opened it, exited, and then reached through a small crack to turn off the light before closing the door fully. He tested the knob and was satisfied to find it locked automatically.

His footsteps echoed heavily in the tower’s stairwell. He stepped into the alley behind Crimson Swan, and the cold night air wrapped around him, bit his exposed flesh, as he recalled the shared memory of Alex’s vision.

Warm air rushed from his Corvette’s vents but didn’t alleviate the chill that continued to make him shiver as he watched the tower fade into the darkness behind him.

Tires screeched on pavement as Tasha braked hard in front of her home at 231 Mimosa Street. She sprang from the car as a marked unit slid to a stop behind her vehicle. Drawing her Beretta, she motioned for the two uniformed officers to circle around to the back of the single-story bungalow.

She had to resist the urge to rush up the front steps and throw open the door. No lights burned within the house’s interior. She frowned. She always left the porch light burning and a lamp on in the living room.

Moving rapidly but with caution, she mounted the front steps and crossed the small porch. Glass crunched underfoot. She glanced up. Someone had shattered the overhead fixture and bulb.
Not good.
She pressed her back to the wall beside the door’s hinges. From her vantage point she could see that the door was slightly ajar.

Panic threatened to overtake her senses. She stilled her breath, willing herself to be calm. She eased the door open with her foot while raising her arms in front of her to bring her weapon into a ready position.

Silence filled the house, and shadows enshrouded the foyer. Tasha stepped into the gloom, hugging the walls. She methodically moved through the small entryway and deeper into the interior. She met up with the uniformed officers in the kitchen at the rear of the house. Seconds ticked away as they searched each room before declaring it empty.

Tasha sighed heavily, removed her handheld radio from her belt, and signaled an all-clear with dispatch. She thanked the uniformed officers for responding, said it was probably some neighborhood kids playing a prank. She didn’t believe it, but there was no evidence that anyone had been in the house. Aside from the broken porch light, nothing was missing or appeared out of place.

The uniformed officers left reluctantly. She promised to call if anything happened and thanked them again. As she closed and locked the front door, a mirror that had been obscured by the door when she entered caught her eye.

Tasha saw the writing scrawled on the glass surface,
but her brain refused to process the information. She stepped closer, and the words seemed to spread across her face. Finally, her brain awoke and the words on the mirror became clear.

JUDGMENT DAY COMES. COOPERATE AND LIVE. INTERFERE AND DIE.

He’d killed the security guard at the high school. It hadn’t been his intention to kill her, but she’d seen his face. If he simply knocked her out and left her locked up somewhere, she’d eventually be found and would identify him. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d beaten her with a crowbar and stashed her body in an equipment shed.

Once that was done, he’d positioned the vamp’s corpse behind the top row of the football-field bleachers. Using a hose behind the equipment shed, he’d washed the blood from his hands, cleaned the gory bits from the crowbar, and gathered the tarps. He changed into his uniform and drove to work.

Now the game was getting interesting.

He cruised Jefferson’s streets, humming along with the music in his head, waiting. He checked his watch. Any time now the show would start.

STROBING BLUE AND WHITE LIGHTS DANCED OVER THE
manicured lawns of Mimosa Street. Neatly trimmed hedges transformed into menacing blobs behind which shadows darted, chased by the lights. Curious faces pressed against windows. Braver souls congregated in driveways and beneath sprawling bare oak tree branches.

Tasha sat at the circular dining table in a home she once considered her haven from the madness of the outside world, with a cup of herbal tea clamped between her hands to keep them from shaking. One uniformed officer stood in the doorway between the dining room and the hallway leading to the foyer, where forensic techs worked.

She wanted to run screaming from the house that someone had violated. It took all her strength to not break into hysterics, but falling apart wouldn’t help find who’d threatened her. She had to remain calm.

A hand brushed her shoulder. “Lieutenant?”

Tasha followed the line of the arm attached to the hand and was greeted with Harvey Manser’s grim face.

Harvey pulled out the chair beside her and sat. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Tasha,” he said gently, “I’m real sorry about all this, but I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to find the bastards.”

She stared at him, her brain sluggishly deciphering his words. When she finally spoke, her voice was a harsh whisper. “You’re leading the investigation?”

“Given the circumstances, it’s best for someone outside of the JPD to oversee it. I know it’s hard, but I need to ask you some questions.”

Tasha sipped her tea and nodded.

“You said you received a phone call earlier?”

“That’s right. Caller said essentially the same thing as the message on the mirror. The voice was distorted somehow, like something mechanical.”

“Maybe one of those voice-changer toys that are always popular around Halloween?”

“Yeah, could be.”

“Is there anyone you can think of who’d want to hurt you? Someone with a grudge?”

“I’m a cop, Harvey. Take your pick of about six thousand Jefferson residents.” She sipped her tea. “Could this be tied to the vampire murders somehow?”

Harvey scratched his balding head. “Maybe. We’ll look into it.”

“I should call Alex. Maybe she could—”

“Tasha, you know how the vamps work. They look after their own and to hell with us humans.”

“I know, but I thought that since the FBPI has that mobile lab in town, maybe they could find something our guys miss.”

Harvey fidgeted in his seat. “Unless it’s proof this is tied to the murders, they aren’t going to touch anything we dig up here. Best to just let me and my boys handle this.”

Tasha began to protest, but a deputy appeared in the doorway. “Sheriff?” She and Harvey looked to him, and he shuffled his feet. “Sorry to interrupt, but you got a phone call.”

Harvey sighed and patted Tasha’s arm as he stood. “I’ve got to take care of this, but don’t you worry. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Tasha watched him retreat down the hall with the deputy in tow. She stared at her reflection in her teacup and silently prayed for Harvey’s promise not to be an empty one.

Where was everyone?

He didn’t see signs of anyone taking their positions, and the clock was ticking. The vamp would be home soon. If they missed their opportunity—

The cell phone hooked to his belt vibrated. He pulled it free and answered.

“The girl wasn’t part of the plan,” a gruff voice said.

His heart faltered and threatened to stop. “What girl?”

“Tasha Lockwood, you idiot,” Harvey Manser snarled.
“Someone broke into her house, threatened her.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. His secret was safe for now. “It wasn’t me. Talk to Tubby. Maybe he knows something.”

“I just did. He says he doesn’t know anything.”

“What about Martin and Bill? Have you talked to them?”

“No, but I will. Where are you?”

“On my way to Crimson Swan, like we planned. You?”

“The same. You’re to observe and record only. Do not interfere. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fire proceedeth out of their mouths.”

“And devoureth their enemies,” he completed the biblical quote.

“Amen,” Harvey intoned, and the line fell silent.

He returned the phone to his belt and steered his car down Jefferson Boulevard toward the blood bar. He’d suggested the biblical passage as the Human Separatist Movement’s code for Judgment Day. Since the inspiration for ridding Jefferson of its demons was the Lord’s act of casting Satan and his minions into the lake of fire, he thought it was fitting.

The fact that Tasha Lockwood had been threatened bothered him. He’d always liked Tasha despite the fact that she associated with that vamp bitch Enforcer. The lieutenant had always been decent to him, especially after Claire died.

He waited in the shadows alongside the strip mall
on the opposite side of Jefferson Boulevard from Crimson Swan. From here he could remain hidden but still see the action as it unfolded. His role was simple: observe the passing of judgment, and if needs be, he could stop anyone who may try to prevent HSM from carrying out their task. Otherwise, he was an observer and nothing more.

No vehicles were parked in the bar’s lot, not even the owner’s pickup. That would change. He’d been observing the vamp’s comings and goings. It usually returned late after escorting one of the human whores to her home. He was certain the vamp and donor were more than employer and employee. Not that it would matter after tonight.

He didn’t have to wait long before he saw shadows darting along the bar’s walls and ducking around corners. HSM members were moving into position, waiting for the vamp to arrive.

Minutes ticked away. Finally, a blue Dodge pickup appeared, moving slowly down the boulevard. He picked up the camcorder and began filming.

The truck turned into the bar’s lot and parked beneath a streetlamp. The demon’s golden curls shone under the fluorescent light as it locked up the truck. He could hear it whistling while it strolled along the sidewalk toward the alley behind the bar, heading for the private entrance in the rear.

A shadow broke away from the side of the building. The vamp spun to face the attacker. More shadows peeled away from the darkness. They surrounded and descended on the vamp. Shouts and curses echoed in
the night. The vamp lashed out at two rushing attackers, and they dropped to the pavement, unmoving.

He watched the fight and offered silent encouragement.

Another set of shadows leapt into the melee. The vamp whirled to face them, and another shadow materialized from the darkness of the alley. It assumed a shooter’s stance and raised its arms. No gunshot sounded, but the vamp cried out in pain nonetheless. Its back arched, and its limbs jerked spasmodically. It fell to the ground and the shooter shadow advanced.

The vamp tried to rise. The shooter shadow halted, and he heard the distinctive rapid clicking of a Taser. The vamp shrieked and writhed on the ground.

He smiled.

Using a Taser to subdue the demon had also been his idea. It’d come to him after reading a forensic science article regarding vampires’ heightened sensitivity to electrical currents. A genetic fluke left them with higher levels of iron in their bodies. The article stated that Tasers could be used effectively to subdue vamps, a handy tip when faced with a bloodsucker hyped on Midnight.

The shooter shadow was now standing over the unmoving vamp. The other shadows were gathering around, supporting those who had taken the brunt of the vamp’s counterattack.

A van emerged from behind the bar, and a side door slid open. The shooter shadow knelt down and jammed something into the vamp’s arm. The shooter then stood
and gestured for the others to load the vamp into the van.

He watched the van leave the lot, turning toward the interstate. It sped beneath the overpass, heading past Maggie’s Place and into the rural county. Phase one of Judgment Day was over.

Crashing glass and the
whoosh
of igniting flames pulled his attention back to the bar.

The shooter shadow, his balding head gleaming, triumphantly stood in the center of the parking lot as the others darted around the building. They lobbed makeshift torches into windows. Buckets of accelerant were tossed in through the broken windows. Flaming bottles smashed against the front doors and walls. They even torched the vamp’s truck.

He settled into his seat and smiled. As he watched the inferno devour Crimson Swan, he couldn’t help but feel as though he were at the movies with Claire sitting beside him, and he wished he’d brought a bucket of popcorn.

Alex bolted from the bed. Her gaze darted around the darkened room. Her ears strained to catch the faint noise that had awakened her.

Dweezil yawned, and then his head bobbed as he sniffed the air.

Click-click-click.
A muffled cry.

She crept through the studio apartment and pressed her back to the wall beside the window overlooking Crimson Swan’s parking lot. She caught the corner of
the blinds with her finger and peered into the night. Her blood turned to ice.

Stephen lay immobile on the pavement. A gang of shadows slowly converged on him.

Adrenaline surged into her bloodstream and revived her tired and dulled senses. She crossed the studio to the bedroom and reached for her FBPI-issued Glock G31 .357-caliber sidearm on the side table. She pulled three fifteen-round-capacity clips from the drawer and retrieved a leather shoulder holster from behind the corner of the shoji screen. She slipped it on while stuffing her bare feet into her hiking boots.

She slid one of the clips home in the Glock and chambered a round. The two remaining clips were secured in the carrying case on the right side of her holster.

The sound of a racing engine pulled her back to the window. The shadow gang roughly hoisted Stephen into the rear of a van.

“Damn it all to hell!” she shouted, and sprinted for the door.

A small explosion shook the building.

Dweezil and the smoke alarm over her head both screeched their displeasure. The smell of burning pine and the chemical sting of diesel soon permeated the air.