Authors: Jeannie Holmes
He watched Alex exit the bar, and his pulse quickened as the sunlight turned her auburn hair into a fiery veil. She hesitated and then walked toward him. He could see her eyes, could tell they were a mix of amber and emerald. She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her pocket and slipped them over her hypnotic gaze. The urge to sweep her into his arms was almost overwhelming, but the ache along his jaw reminded him that he no longer had a place in her life.
“What are you doing here?” She stopped a few feet in front of him and folded her arms beneath her chest, mirroring his stance.
“Getting the hell knocked out of me, apparently.” He raised his hand to gently touch the cut in the corner of his mouth.
“It’d take more than one punch to knock the hell out of
you.
”
Varik smiled, then winced. Stephen had caught him off guard, but he’d make certain it didn’t happen again. He reached his hand out to her, then let it fall when she pulled back. “It’s good to see you, Alex.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He took a deep breath and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “The Bureau sent me to check on the investigation’s progress.”
“I thought you were retired.”
“Not anymore, thanks to Damian.”
“Why did he send you?”
“He seems to think you need my help.”
“You mean he sent you to spy on me.”
“That’s the second time today I’ve been accused of spying. If you want to see it that way, then so be it, but I
am
here to help.”
“You can help by getting in your car and leaving. I’m doing just fine, thank you.”
“Is that so?” Varik leaned forward, looking at her over the top of his shades. Her sunglasses reflected his molten-gold eyes. “Then why were you risking blood-hunger on-scene?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Lieutenant Lockwood was very accommodating.”
Alex scowled. “I was under control.”
“Rii-ight”—he drew the word out—“sure you were.”
He looked around the parking lot and the surrounding area. Cars turned into a strip mall across the street. A white Cadillac had to brake hard to avoid crashing into a small red pickup that darted into an empty space in front of one of the shops. Varik shook his head and turned back to Alex. “If you don’t have time to take care of yourself, then you can’t very well care for the investigation. You
know
that. Hell, I taught you that.”
“
You’re
going to lecture
me
?” Alex laughed and tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear, showing the edge of a jagged pink scar. “I’m not the one who killed dozens of people.”
“I was following orders.” He pushed away from the car and stalked a few steps toward the bar.
For centuries, human parents had ruled their children with tales of the bogeyman hiding in the closet. Vampires were no different, but instead of the bogeyman, they had threatened their misbehaving children with the Hunters, vampires who punished those who broke vampiric law, and the only punishment had been death. Varik had been a bogeyman to generations of vampire children. But that was all in the past, before—He turned back to Alex. “Yes, I killed people. Yes, I was a Hunter, but it was a different time then, Alex. Humans didn’t know we existed. Secrecy was our only means of survival. We kept the peace through force.”
“Don’t try to romanticize it, Varik. You were nothing more than a hired assassin.”
“When are you going to understand that what I did was a long time ago, a hundred years before you were
even born? I’m not that person anymore. I haven’t killed anyone in over fifty years.”
“Good for you.”
He charged forward, and she immediately dropped into a fighting stance, fists held in front of her chest. He stopped, watching her, not moving so as not to provoke her any further. “Don’t think yourself to be so high and mighty. Enforcers are nothing more than Hunters dressed up in political correctness to please the humans.”
“Enforcers don’t kill people.”
He laughed.
“We uphold the law.”
“Believe what you want. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I may want to. I’m tired of trying to explain myself to you, Alex.” He propped himself up against the trunk of his Corvette, staring at his boots.
They stood in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. The first notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony broke the silence, and Alex jumped. She fumbled with her jacket and retrieved her phone. “Sabian,” she answered breathlessly.
Varik strained to hear the conversation. He managed to catch part of it, enough to know it was the coroner calling.
Alex glanced at her watch. “Okay, I’ll see you at two.” She snapped the phone closed.
“Autopsy. Sounds like fun.”
“Damn your ears.”
He smirked. “Listen, I think we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here.”
“No shit.”
“We’re going to have to find some way to work together.” He heard Alex’s stomach grumble loudly. “Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat? My treat.”
She shook her head. “I have things to do.”
“Damn it. Does everything have to be an argument with you?”
She pulled her keys from her pocket. “No, not everything. The Bureau sent you to check on the progress of the investigation. I told you it’s under control and I don’t need your help. No argument there.” Turning on her heel, she walked away. “Good-bye, Enforcer Baudelaire.”
Varik watched her climb into her Jeep and then slam it into reverse. She zipped past him, and tires squealed and horns blared as she darted into traffic, nearly causing a three-car pileup. Picking up his jacket, he watched her speed away from the bar. “Good going, Varik,” he said to himself. “Next time, try
not
pissing her off for a change.”
“NEED A RIDE?” HE SHOUTED THE QUESTION THROUGH
the passenger-side window.
The vamp that’d been walking along the side of the road stopped and approached the open window. “Yeah,” it said. “My car broke down a ways back.” It nodded toward the deserted country road. “My house is another couple of miles up. You mind taking me there? I’ll pay you for your trouble.”
“Don’t worry about that. Hop on in.”
The vamp climbed into the truck’s cabin. “Thanks. I appreciate this. My boss is going to kill me for being late.”
He checked the rear mirrors and pulled onto the asphalt road once more. He glanced at the speedometer and the picture of Claire tucked in beside it. Her dark eyes glittered up at him, alight with anticipation for what was to come. “Where do you work?”
“Here and there. Mostly construction.”
He nodded, listening to the thrum of the tires over
the asphalt and wind whistling through the partially opened window. The two combined into a hypnotic pulse that relaxed him. He could feel himself slipping into that familiar peaceful state, the calm of the hunter’s mind before he unleashed his fury and pounced.
A rock in one of the tires clicked rapidly against the pavement and created a steady musical score for the fantasy playing in his mind.
Kill it. Kill it. Kill it.
“My place is the next drive on the left,” the vamp said, pointing to a partially obscured gravel entrance.
Rocks crunched under the tires and pinged against the truck’s bottom. Large red oaks and pines surrounded the small brick house and nearby wooden storage shed. He pulled the truck through the circular drive and stopped in front of the house.
“Thanks again,” the vamp said, opening the truck door. “Sure I can’t pay you something?”
“No, the Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed.”
“Uh, right. Well, like I said, thanks for the ride.”
He nodded.
The vamp closed the door and crossed the drive in front of the truck, heading for the house.
He glanced at Claire’s photo. Shadows covered her face, but her eyes bore into him. He reached below the seat, pulled out the hidden nine-millimeter Sig Sauer P250, and killed the truck’s engine. The vamp was already inside the house, in its lair, but that made no difference. He knew he could take it down the same way he had the others.
Alternating sunlight and shadows danced before him as he quietly walked up to the front door. He thumbed off the gun’s safety mechanism and peered into the home. No sign of the vamp in the furniture-devoid first room. The metal storm door squeaked faintly as he opened it and moved inside.
A door to the right opened to a kitchen, and another to his left led into a narrow hallway. He paused by the front entrance, allowing his eyes time to adjust and the storm door to close. The scuffling of feet in the hallway gave away the vamp’s location.
It entered the front room and jerked to a halt, staring at him. “What the fuck—”
He’d practiced a quick-draw kill, and now he raised the Sig Sauer and fired. The bullet streaked from the gun’s barrel and exploded into the vamp’s heart.
The vamp stumbled back into the hall, staring at the scarlet stain spreading over its chest. It slid to the floor and left a wide red stain on the white plaster wall.
The joy that overcame him was rivaled only by the joy he’d felt the day he and Claire had married. He stalked toward the vamp, keeping the gun trained on its motionless body. He tapped its foot with his toe and received no reaction. Everyone knew vamps were devious creatures, demons with golden tongues and a host of mind-bending powers. He had to be certain it was dead before he moved the body.
The report of the gun echoed like an explosion within the confines of the small hallway. Blood and fragments of bone and brain sprayed the wall behind the body. It fell over onto its side, a gaping hole in its
head to match the one in its chest. Satisfied, he inhaled a cleansing breath and gagged from the stench of gunpowder and blood permeating the still air.
To escape the smell, he entered the kitchen and breathed an inaudible curse as a new odor assaulted his senses. Boxes of empty vials crowded the counters. Large clusters of garlic bulbs hung from the ceiling, filling the air with their pungent aroma. Huge bottles of aspirin were scattered over a table along with bags of other brightly colored pills. Guessing what he’d find, he opened the refrigerator and his stomach turned when he saw the rows of jars filled with blood.
Everything needed to make Midnight, the drug responsible for taking away his beloved Claire, was present.
Anger overtook him. He slammed the fridge closed and fired several rounds into the door. Sparks popped from the dying motor and dark red liquid oozed from the broken bottom seal. Roaring in a primal fury, he overturned the table, smashed the various pills to powder beneath his heels. He ripped the garlic from the hooks from which it hung and hurled it through the kitchen window.
A breeze entered the kitchen, cleansing it of the overpowering smell of garlic and blood, and carried away his anger.
Sickened by the mess before him, he returned to the empty first room, where the air was marginally cleaner.
A vision of Claire smiling at him glided into the room through the front door. “Claire …” He smiled and reached for her.
The vision faded, and he found himself staring into emptiness, left behind once again, but he and Claire would be reunited soon. Once his tasks were finished and justice had been served, he would join Claire, and nothing, not even death, would tear them apart.
Alex dodged an outbound eighteen-wheeler and swerved around a stationary minivan to pull into an open space in front of Maggie’s Place. Her encounter with Varik had left her in a foul mood and in desperate need of coffee and food. The truck-stop diner wasn’t the best place for either, but it was the closest to Crimson Swan.
She sat for a moment behind the wheel of her Grand Cherokee trying to compose herself. Her temples throbbed with every heartbeat. She ripped her sunglasses off and tossed them on the seat beside her. “Damn it,” she mumbled, grinding her fingers into her closed eyes. “Damn
him.
”
Varik had always been able to push her buttons, but she’d thought that she’d left him in the past, where he could no longer hurt her. Time hadn’t completely erased her feelings. She’d suppressed them, denied their existence, but seeing him had brought on a rush of memories.
One now drifted up from her subconscious, a brief image of Varik. His eyes were the color of molten gold. Blood covered the front of his shirt and hands.
“Get a grip, Alex,” she whispered, fingering her scar. She couldn’t afford to show weakness with Varik in
town. His assurances that he was there to help meant nothing. Damian had reinstated him. She knew how the Bureau worked. By sending her former mentor to aid her without warning, they showed a lack of confidence in her abilities.
A new surge of determination to see the case through to the end filled her. “Fuck ’em,” she said to her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bloodshot, but at least they’d returned to a normal color. Her hair didn’t look too bad, a little mussed from the wind but presentable. Varik’s sudden appearance may have unnerved her, but that didn’t mean she had to let it show.
Her stomach growled in protest of her delay. With a heavy sigh, she opened the Jeep’s door.
Interstate traffic whizzed by on the nearby overpass. Big rigs and family vehicles were a constant stream through the combination diner and gas station. Parents yelled at their children to avoid the moving cars. Men gathered around the tailgates of their pickups, watched the commotion with feigned disinterest, and commented on the weather. The steady rumble of idling eighteen-wheelers mingled with the noise of interstate traffic and vibrated the ground beneath Alex’s feet.
A car horn blared in the distance. She looked to the interstate in time to see a sedan accelerating around a red pickup that had pulled to the shoulder on-ramp. Even small towns had bad drivers. She shook her head and entered the diner.
The mismatched tables and chairs and tattered Naugahyde booths of Maggie’s Place were a dramatic
contrast to the unblemished environment of Crimson Swan. Backless stools bolted to the floor in front of a chipped Formica counter and facing the open grill showed the same amount of wear as the booths. The dingy and cracked laminate flooring had pulled away from the concrete slab beneath some of the tables. A clock and two unframed and faded posters of Elvis Presley and Hank Williams Jr. added little cheer to the poorly painted green walls.