Authors: Jeannie Holmes
Slow country music played from an antique jukebox tucked into the corner beside the restrooms. The smell of burning bread, rancid grease, and stale cigarettes filled the air and seemed to cling to Alex as she wound her way around the tables.
Sheriff Harvey Manser and a few other men occupying several of the counter stools glanced over their shoulders at her. Two frowned and said muted words to their companions before rising and leaving the diner.
Alex ignored the dark looks they directed at her when they passed and the whispers from the family of six seated at the largest booth. She knew she was encroaching on a predominantly human restaurant, but her hunger dictated her actions for the moment. Their discomfort at having a vampire in their midst would be short-lived. She didn’t intend to stay.
A short man with salt-and-pepper hair looked up at her from his position in front of the grill when she sat down at the counter, scowled, then turned back to his work.
She plucked a laminated menu from between a sugar container and a napkin holder. Scanning the limited
offerings, she made her choices and checked her watch. The autopsy was scheduled to begin in about an hour, so she had plenty of time to eat. Her leg bounced anxiously as she watched the traffic through the grease-fogged windows. Half of her hoped to see Varik’s Corvette pulling into the parking lot, but she knew him too well. He wouldn’t follow her. He’d wait and ambush her at the autopsy. Glancing at her watch again, she wondered if she could convince the coroner’s office to bump up the time.
“What’re you having?”
Alex started at the sound of the waitress’s voice. She hadn’t heard the woman approach and stared at her.
The woman cocked her hip and scratched at the stiff beehive hairdo piled on top of her head. “You deaf?”
“Large coffee and a bacon-and-egg sandwich, extra mayo. To go. Please.”
The waitress turned away, shaking her head, and Alex pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She’d call Jeff and have him try to convince Doc Hancock to move up the autopsy. She was halfway through dialing the number when a voice beside her brought her up short.
“Didn’t think you vamps needed to eat,” Harvey said, smoke pouring from both his mouth and the cigarette he cradled between two fingers. “Thought you all got by on just blood.”
Closing the cell phone, Alex half turned to face him. Harsh fluorescent light made his skin appear sallow. The wisps of hair he normally combed from left to right in an effort to minimize his spreading baldness stood on end, as if someone had soaked them with hair spray
during a windstorm. Gray eyes stared at her through the smoky haze with undisguised hatred. Alex glanced over his shoulder at the men who had taken a sudden interest in their conversation. She smiled, showing her small fangs. “Just popped in for a quick bite.”
The men turned away, and Harvey frowned. “If you’re planning to eat anyone here—”
“No, that would be rude.”
“Kind of like leaving your pet detective to deal with the new crop of bloodsuckers that wheeled into town this morning.”
“First of all, Tasha isn’t my pet. Secondly, I didn’t leave her to deal with anyone. Except maybe you.”
“I’d watch that attitude if I were you. Folks with bad attitudes in this town have a way of getting burned.”
“Burned, huh?” She cocked her head. “Confessing to that apartment fire, Harvey?”
All conversation in the diner stopped, only the slow melody of a country-music ballad disturbing the silence.
Harvey ground the remains of his cigarette into an already overflowing ashtray and stood up. His hand rested on the butt of his service revolver as he leaned over Alex. “You accusing me of something, vamp?”
She met his angry glare without flinching. “What’s the matter, Sheriff? Feeling the prick of a guilty conscience?”
“The only thing I feel guilt over is playing nice with the likes of your kind because some governmental bureaucrats forty years ago didn’t have the ability to
understand the consequences of setting monsters loose on our streets.”
“You think the world would be better if humans had never known of us—”
“Damn right.”
“—and that humans and vampires shouldn’t live together?”
“The good Lord may make the lion and lamb lay down together one day, but the lion is still a killer.”
“Who are you to say the lamb isn’t?”
A greasy paper bag dropped to the counter in front of Alex, cutting off Harvey’s reply. “Five fifty,” the waitress said, setting a large paper cup beside the bag. “To
go.
”
Alex stood and began searching her pockets. She laid out a five and three ones on the counter. “Keep the change.”
The woman snatched the money and flicked her eyes to Harvey. “Can I get you anything, Sheriff?”
“Coffee,” he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his uniform’s pocket. He tapped the filtered end of one on the counter’s edge. “Guess if you ever manage to track down the killer, then we’ll see who has more blood on their hands—the lamb or the lion.”
Alex shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter. Either way, someone is going to answer for these deaths.”
“Since we’re on the subject, any luck finding those heads?”
“Yeah, I’m taking out lost-and-found ads in all the newspapers within a three-county radius. ‘Missing heads. Reward for their return. No questions asked.’”
She picked up the grease-stained bag and coffee cup. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an autopsy to attend.”
She left the diner, balancing the bag and coffee in one hand while fishing for her keys in her pocket with the other.
As she rounded the side of her Jeep, she heard the gunshot an instant before she felt the burning pain.
Emily Sabian compared the price of two brands of tomato sauce and picked up three cans of the on-sale brand. Moving down the grocery store’s aisles, she picked up other canned vegetables, fruit, and a box of pasta. She checked her list and tallied the prices she’d marked next to each item. She’d picked up almost everything and was well within her budget.
At the deli, she added a boxed pecan pie to her cart. A little treat now and again never hurt anyone, and pecan pie was her weakness. If it weren’t for her naturally high vampire metabolism, her waist would’ve thickened to the point of no return by now. However, she tried to take care of herself and secretly prided herself on maintaining a curvy size-twelve figure. She didn’t even mind the fact that silver shot through her once-golden curls. Her blue eyes still sparkled, and she was happy, despite losing Bernard. His death had been difficult, but her children had kept her going.
She sighed as she stopped in front of the Vlad’s Tears display. The synthetic blood tasted horrible, and she rarely used it. Louisville had become known as the Vampire Capital of America in the years after Bernard’s
death, and donors were never in short supply. Regardless of her personal preferences, she liked to keep a supply on hand for guests.
“Emily!” a woman called from behind her.
Suppressing a groan, she smiled at the rotund woman wheeling toward her. “Hello, Pearlie. How are you?”
Pearlie Marker stopped her motorized shopping-cart scooter next to Emily’s cart. “Oh, all right, considering my knee’s been bothering me a good bit lately.” She rubbed her right knee with a pudgy hand and used the other to smooth the close-cropped white hair on her head, pressing it down so it conformed to the contours of her rounded face. “There must be a cold front moving in.”
Pearlie had lived a few doors down from the Sabians for years and had known them before she knew they were vampires. In the days after Bernard’s murder, Pearlie had been one of the few humans who’d stuck by the family and accepted them regardless of their bloodsucking nature. At the time, Emily had thought Pearlie a godsend, but she’d quickly learned that the woman loved to gossip, and her ardent support was often motivated by a desire to be in the center of the latest neighborhood scandal.
Emily nodded in sympathy and grabbed two twelve-pack containers of Vlad’s Tears. “I hate to hear that you’re having troubles, Pearlie.”
She waved away the comment. “Just the price we humans pay for getting old.”
Emily laughed nervously as she dropped the synthetic blood into her cart.
“I’m so glad I caught you,” Pearlie said. She twisted the handle of her shopping scooter and inched it forward. “I’ve been meaning to call and see how you were holding up.”
Emily’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Fine. Why would you be asking?”
“Well, with all that unpleasantness down in Jefferson—isn’t that where Stephen and Alex moved?” She plowed ahead, not giving Emily an opportunity to respond. “Of course it must be. How many towns in Mississippi can be named Jefferson, after all? Anyway, with those awful murders going on, I thought you might be—”
“Murders?” Emily’s voice was louder and shriller than she’d expected. A few nearby shoppers turned and looked at her. “What murders?”
Pearlie blinked rapidly, and her jowls flapped as she tried to get the words out. “Three vampires were killed. Staked and beheaded.”
Emily gasped and had to clutch at her cart to keep from swaying on her feet. Her mind reeled and raced in circles. When had she last spoken to Stephen or Alex? Were they okay? Was Alex investigating? Were these murders somehow connected to Bernard’s? When had Stephen last called her, one or two weeks ago?
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” Pearlie patted Emily’s arm. Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my stars. You didn’t know, did you?”
Emily shook her head, unable to speak.
“My grandson works for one of the television stations
in Memphis. He told me about it. I just assumed, with Stephen and Alex being there, that one of them would’ve told you about it. Alex is an Enforcer, right? Why wouldn’t she tell—”
“I’m sure Alexandra has her reasons,” Emily said quietly. A shiver traced down her spine, jolting her into action. “I have to go.” She pushed her cart away, heading for the line of registers at the front of the store.
“I’ll call you later,” Pearlie shouted.
Emily hurried to the checkout stand, searching her purse for her cell phone before she realized she’d left it at home to charge the battery. She had to get home. She had to know if Stephen and Alex were okay. Her foot tapped the floor and her fingers drummed the handle of her cart as she waited for the cashier to ring up her purchases.
If something had happened to one of them, she would’ve been notified, she thought. No one had knocked on her door. No one had phoned her. Uneasiness quivered in her belly. She had to be certain her family was safe.
She snatched the receipt from the cashier’s hand and rushed for the door with images of caskets and flower-draped funeral homes flashing through her mind.
Tasha reached Maggie’s Diner and was greeted with a chaotic scene of ambulances and fire trucks, as well as police cars from city, county, and state agencies. Medical personnel scrambled across the parking lot,
performing triage on the wounded. White sheets stretched across temporary posts dotted the pavement and marked the victims who wouldn’t be needing transport to Jefferson Memorial Hospital. Sheets were no longer draped over bodies in order to avoid cross-contamination of forensic evidence.
In total, she counted five dead on the scene and at least a dozen more wounded, including the most critical, who’d already been taken away.
Harvey Manser, shouting orders and chain-smoking, stood in the center of it all.
She made her way over to him, mindful to step carefully around the pools of blood that seeped from beneath the makeshift fences and filled cracks in the deteriorating asphalt. “What the hell happened?” she demanded once she’d reached Harvey’s side.
“Gunman parked on the side of the southbound on-ramp,” he answered, pointing toward the interstate with the glowing tip of his cigarette. “Damn fool shot into the crowd. It’s a miracle none of the gas tanks exploded.”
“Call came across the wire with an officer down.”
Harvey nodded, drawing on his cigarette. “Sabian took one in the arm.”
Tasha glanced around at the remaining ambulances. “Where is she now?”
“Inside. All this blood was bound to set her off, so I had a couple of my deputies haul her in there for the EMTs to check her out. Didn’t want her attacking the survivors.”
She couldn’t believe her ears and gaped at him.
“Don’t give me that look. She’s a fucking vamp. I wasn’t going to stand by while she either attacked the survivors or fed off the dead.”
“Are you stoned or just stupid, Harvey? I can never tell.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s ignorant bastards like you who create events like this in the first place,” she shouted, flinging her arms wide.
“Now wait just a damn minute. You can’t—”
“Oh, shut up, Harvey.” Tasha stormed away. “Just shut the fucking hell up!”
Officers stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Harvey hurled obscenities at her back, but she kept her eyes focused on the entrance to Maggie’s Place as she walked. Her hands shook, and she curled them into fists at her sides.
Drive-by shootings. Mass murder. Beheadings. These were crimes associated with larger cities, with
somewhere else.
With the exception of the rare suicide by handgun, the only shootings recorded in Nassau County for nearly fifteen years were hunting accidents. Senseless violence on the scale they were now experiencing wasn’t supposed to happen in Jefferson. Not in her hometown.
Tasha entered the diner and found Alex seated at a table with a paramedic at her side. She passed the two deputies who stood to either side of the door and kept their hands on their service belts, sidearms within easy reach.
Alex looked up as Tasha approached the table. Her
normally green eyes were dark amber, and small specks of dried blood dotted her face. Her gaze flicked over Tasha’s shoulder and back. “I don’t suppose you can convince Harvey to call off his goons.”
“He seems to think you’re going to start biting people.”
Alex snorted and rolled her eyes. “If I did, he’d be the first.”
Tasha heard the two deputies shifting behind her. She pulled out a chair and sat opposite Alex. “How badly are you injured?”