Embrace the Darkness (Darkness Series) (16 page)

It didn’t get dark this time of year until 8:00 or so. Did that cut into Vincent Maxwell’s work hours? Or did the anti-virus injections allow him to keep a regular nightly schedule?

Vampires must hate summer and daylight savings time.

She pulled onto interstate forty and headed west. Then she took the Sweeten Creek Road exit and drove toward Bolton Boulevard and Lifeblood of America.

Florescent lights illuminated the parking lot, but as she approached the front entrance, the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. She glanced over her shoulder. The lot was empty. She walked faster.

Light from inside the facility shone through the large plate glass door. A security guard sat at the desk. Amber knocked to get his attention. He remained seated, glaring at her from across the lobby. She flipped open her badge and held it up to the glass. He grudgingly rose to his feet, came around the desk, and took his own sweet time unlocking the door.

“Can I help you?” His tone said, “Go away.”

“I’m Detective Amber Buckley. I’d like to come in and ask some questions about the murders last spring.”

With an irritated grunt, he moved aside, allowing her to enter the lobby. Then the muscle-bound security guard stepped in front of her as if barring further entrance into the facility. He watched her drop her badge into her purse, his expression belligerent. “What kind of questions? I didn’t even work here then.”

“Dr. Harper did. I’d like to ask
her
a few questions. Is she in?”

Mr. Happy smiled. It wasn’t pleasing to the eye. “No.”

It took supreme effort on Amber’s part not to jack the man up against the wall and threaten to arrest him for obstruction of justice. That would knock the smirk off his face.

She tapped her foot. “What time
will she be in?”

“Don’t know.” He glanced at the clock on the wall behind him and shrugged as if to say he didn’t care.

Her foot stilled. “Is Mr. Maxwell in?”

“No.”

She stood on tiptoes and got in his face. The guard jumped back, his eyes bugging out of his head.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” she snapped. “When I ask a question, I expect complete answers spoken in complete sentences. Now. Let’s try this again. Is Mr. Maxwell in and if not, when do you expect him?”

“He’s not in. He took his wife out of town on vacation. I don’t know when they’ll be back.”

Vacation my ass. He’s avoiding the investigation.

Or protecting his wife. Maxwell was no dummy. Weldon had taken the serum but that didn’t mean he knew how to turn it into a vampire vaccine. Dr. Harper knew the vaccine’s side effects and limitations. And she’d know how to create more if that was Weldon’s goal. If his goal was to destroy the vaccine, then she was in danger. And Maxwell wouldn’t want her anywhere near Lifeblood of America.

Amber stepped back and forced a note of civility into her tone. “Thanks.”
For nothing.
Then without another word, she turned and left the building.

The sensation of being watched persisted. Her low heels clicked against the pavement as she hurried to her car. A shiver snaked down her spine. She touched the door handle and froze. Something or someone watched from the shadows.

She slipped her hand inside her jacket, unsnapping her Glock from its holster. Sweat slicked her back and under her arms. It wasn’t just from the heat.

It’s Iraq all over again.

Danger lurked. She sensed it. But like a terrorist attack, she didn’t know from which direction it would come. She turned in a slow circle. Nothing out of the ordinary drew her attention. No one waited in the parking lot or watched from the trees. Then she turned back to her car and into strong arms.

She grunted. A low growl emanated from a broad chest. She raised her chin. Light shone from behind, shadowing the man’s face, but his eyes glowed a predatory red. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

Choking back fear, she reached for her Glock. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her arm over her head before her fingers made contact. Then his lips peeled away from his teeth revealing razor sharp fangs that glistened in the dark.

Before she could scream, the nightmare vanished in a blur. Air whooshed by her—the force strong enough to knock her to the ground. Her purse slid from her shoulder. She let it go, clawing at the pavement, reaching for her gun as she pushed to her feet.

Two figures tussled on the ground, moving inhumanly fast. One rose and vanished. The other snarled and turned. Heart pounding, palms slick with sweat, she raised her weapon. And couldn’t pull the trigger.

Dark eyes held her captive. Her fear abated. “Nicolas.”

****

Gerard sat at his desk, responding to Lifeblood emails when fear pierced his heart. His body tensed. Amber was in danger. He sensed it.

“
Mon Dieu
!” How was that possible? He’d never made love to her or taken her blood. And she had never been exposed to his. How could there be a psychic connection?

He pushed back his chair and stood.
Where the hell is she
?

Closing his eyes, he tried sensing her again, but the connection was faint. His mind hummed. His skin tingled. Then…nothing. Amber’s fear abated. Or, he’d lost whatever tentative connection they shared.

But why was he able to connect with her at all? It made no sense. Unless…

Vincent shared a supernatural connection with Megan. Gerard always thought it was because she’d injected herself with Vincent’s blood to create the anti-virus. Megan could feel Vincent’s emotions but she’d had his blood in her veins. But what if it was something more? What if engaging a vampire’s heart created the connection?

Merde! Am I in love with Amber?

He most assuredly felt her fear. Or he had until he’d felt…nothing. Was she unconscious? Or…

Terror seized him. He couldn’t think of other possibilities and maintain his sanity.

He shoved his feet into his shoes and disappeared into the night.

****

Amber rubbed her temple and tried to blink the world back into focus. The parking lot at Lifeblood didn’t re-appear. Nicolas had transported her to a large room with hunter green walls and dark wood trim. Books lined inlaid shelves above a large mahogany desk in the corner opposite green leather furniture and matching side tables. The faintly sweet aroma of expensive cigars hung in the air.

She dared a glance at her savior. Or was he her doom? “Where are we?”

“Cedar Plank, near Mount Mitchell State Park.” Nicolas held out his hands, encompassing the richly decorated room. “Welcome to my home.”

They were still in North Carolina, but miles away from Asheville.

“How did we get here?” Her voice faded to a whisper as the shock faded. She vaguely recalled the pounding wind and blur of scenery zipping passed. Memories assailed her. “You saved me. Just like before…When I was little.”

Travelling with Nicolas the one time when she was a child had been like a gravity-defying thrill ride—moving so fast she’d felt pinned to his body. But this time she’d been in shock and could barely remember—or comprehend.

She tried to wrap her mind around the truth and failed. Her legs turned to jelly. She would have collapsed to the floor had Nicolas not dragged her to the sofa.

Sagging against the soft leather, she closed her eyes.

“Not all vampires are hedonists and reprobates,” Nicolas said, a smile in his voice. “Some of us take care of our…of others.”

Anger roused her, incinerating her misery. She ground her teeth. “I guess the vampire who killed my mother and Andrew didn’t get the memo.”

He hung his head, clenching his fingers into fists at his sides. “I arrived too late. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know. But I did the best I could for you. I took you home and replaced your memories of that night with dreams of flying. And I’ve been watching over you ever since.”

Knowing she hadn’t imagined unseen eyes watching her for years didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “The question is why. Why would a vampire protect me? Why would
you
protect me?”

He shifted in his seat, putting more space between them. His eyes sought the floor. “Let’s just say I’m a long-lost relative.”

“Let’s not,” she said, once more drawing his gaze. “I’m a big girl. I can handle the truth.”

“Can you?”

She’d accepted vampires and “handled” it. What could be worse? Werewolves? Banshees? She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the cushions. “You owe me an answer. Why are you protecting me? Better yet, why do vampires keep attacking me?”

“Because you’re investigating them.”

It wasn’t that simple. The vampire who attacked her tonight wasn’t the same one who’d murdered her mother and Andrew. And what if the vampire who’d attacked her mother had been after her instead?

Her heart constricted.
Why would I even think that?

“I wasn’t investigating vampires in Germany,” she said, forcing the words past the painful knot in her throat. “I didn’t even know they existed. And neither did my mother when she was killed.”

He stared at his shoes. “Your mother did know about vampires.”

She’d braced herself, thinking she could handle
anything
. She was wrong. Her heart beat painfully in her chest. It hurt to breathe.

“Someone would have told me,” she whispered. Her father. Her grandmother. “Someone would have warned me the boogieman was real.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his anguish as real as her own.

She swallowed the tears clogging her throat. “How did she find out?”

Nicolas rose to his feet, turning his head away from her as if he could no longer bear looking at her tear-streaked face. “Your father was injured in the marine barracks bombing back in eighty-three. He was buried beneath the rubble for hours.”

“I remember,” she said, speaking softly through her tears. “It was my birthday.”

He spared her a quick glance. “Your fifth.”

She swiped at her eyes and sat up, stiffening her spine. “Dad called from the hospital two days later—a hospital in Germany. And two days after that, a vampire killed my mother. And twenty some years later I was attacked, and my friend was killed—also in Germany. And you saved me both times just as you did tonight. Why? What’s the connection?”

“I’m the unidentified soldier who pulled your father from the rubble.”

Amber stood, slowly backing away from him. It felt as if someone had stuck an eggbeater inside her head, scrambling her brain.

“Why would you save my father? Why me?” she demanded again.

“I knew your parents when I was mortal,” he said. “Greg was my best friend. He joined the marines when I joined the army. So, I knew he was in Beirut, and when I heard about the bombing, I—”

“Stop.” Amber’s world tilted even further off its axis. Nicolas wasn’t an ancient. He was her father’s age. But he looked like a man in his early thirties. He looked her age. “When did you die?”

Since meeting Gerard, the absurd question had become a routine part of her investigation.

A frown marred his handsome face. “It’s complicated.”

“Then use small words. I’ll keep up.”

He smiled. Then sobered. “I was injured in a live training exercise while stationed at Grafenwöhr in seventy-eight. They medevac me to Landstuhl—a US Military hospital—but my injuries were fatal. Before I died, an ancient vampire converted me. He made the army—my family—everyone believe I was dead. So, I stayed in Germany until—I stayed for years before returning to North Carolina.”

“Then you were already a vampire when you rescued my dad. Did he recognize you? Did he know you were a vampire?” Did that explain her father’s estrangement? Did he keep his distance to protect her?

“No. I manipulated his mind,” Nicolas said, remorse roughening his words. “He thought I was nothing more than a morphine-induced dream.”

So, her father’s neglect had nothing to do with his wanting to protect her. He was just avoiding her because she didn’t get along with his
new
family.

She inhaled sharply, fighting a fresh wave of tears. “Then how did my mother learn about vampires? If my father didn’t tell her, how did she know?”

Nicolas turned to pace; she jumped in his path. “You better start talking because I’m about two seconds away from doing something really stupid—like arresting you.”

A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. “That
would
be stupid. Unless you have silver handcuffs.”

“Please,” she pleaded. “I need answers.”

He sighed as if resigned. “After I saved Greg, I went to see your mother. I knew she’d be glued to the television, watching the horrific images flashing across the screen, choking on fear while she awaited word from the military. I couldn’t put her through that.” He lowered his chin, avoiding her gaze. “Naturally, she was shocked to see me. She thought I was dead. So, an explanation
was
in order. She didn’t like it.”

Amber scoffed. “I don’t reckon she did. Dead men don’t usually make social calls.”

Pain etched his face. “I should have manipulated her thoughts—made her forget the way I did Greg, but she was so sad—so vulnerable. I—I left her to her misery. The next day, she called my former sergeant demanding he do something about the vampires preying on mortally wounded soldiers.”

Her pulse quickened. “That’s how Timmons found out. Isn’t it?”

“He wasn’t a colonel then,” Nicolas said, “but it was the beginning of his obsession with vampires.”

Gerard had been kidnapped because of her mother. She’d started this chain of events when she ignited Timmons’ compulsion to create the perfect soldier. And a vampire killed her to stop her from telling anyone else. Tina Gallagher and Richard Baxter were also dead—and who knew how many others. So much tragedy because her mother tried to do the right thing.