Embrace the Darkness (Darkness Series) (3 page)

Reid wrinkled his nose. “You think anyone ever gets used to that stench?”

“I’ve smelled worse.” The remembered scents evoked memories best forgotten.

A flash of light followed by a hissing boom. Sulfur, melted plastic, and chard flesh tainted the air as Private Piner was thrown to the ground. Clutching his bloody stump with mangled fingers, he screamed, the sound echoing through the deserted streets of an Iraqi village while the severed remains of his left leg landed fifteen feet away in a wet pile of pulpy flesh and splintered bone.

Pushing the painful memory aside, Amber cleared the sour taste of bile from her throat and said, “Lifeblood is more than a non-profit blood and tissue bank. They’ve expanded into research, which accounts for the smells. I guess Maxwell and Delaroche finally decided to use their resources to help themselves.”

Sympathy ate at the tough cop persona she projected to the world, tightening her raw throat even more. She couldn’t imagine never going into the sunlight without layers of protective clothing, dark glasses, and massive amounts of sunblock.

Were Vincent Maxwell and Gerard Delaroche deathly pale? Did sores and lesions mar their skin?

Reid looked at her askance. “What are talking about?”

She blinked, refocusing on the case. “Maxwell and Delaroche have a rare genetic condition called XP.”

She repeated what Ms. Jackson said about xeroderma pigmentosum. She didn’t tell her partner Delaroche had been involved with Tina Gallagher. Reid didn’t need another reason to believe the man guilty. He needed an open mind to analyze the evidence.

He pulled a face. “So, they’re like vampires or something. They can only come out after sunset?”

“No,” she said with disgust as an unexpected shiver crawled down her spine. Richard Baxter’s autopsy report had raised some frightening questions.

Complete exsanguination.

The medical examiner had found two puncture marks in the carotid artery beneath the knife wound. Dr. Hall believed the assailant had used a trocar to kill Mr. Baxter and drain his body of blood
before
slashing his throat with a knife.

But what had the killer done with the blood? And why hadn’t Tina Gallagher been killed in a like manner?

Two assailants? Or something far more terrifying?

Blood filled her vision. She blinked to clear the nightmarish image from her mind, pushing the memories aside. “They have a medical condition, Reid.”

“Maybe they just think they’re vampires. It would explain the security guard’s death. If the two of them actually drink blood…”

“There’s no
proof
either of them were even involved in the murders. And Miss Gallagher’s blood was all over the lobby.” Despite her words, she envisioned cloaked figures with lethal fangs skulking in the dark in search of prey. The crazy-ass images didn’t fade from her mind until they reached the only door in the corridor with a blinking, green LED.

Reid turned the handle and pushed open the door without knocking. Amber would have offered an apology to the men inside for her partner’s rude behavior had her mouth not gone dry.

“The cops, I presume?” A tall dark-haired man with a goatee and slight accent said.

He wore his shoulder-length hair in a ponytail and his coffee-colored eyes seemed to look into her soul. His complexion was only slightly pale but it in no way detracted from his good looks. But the man beside him was a real piece of eye candy. And his skin was definitely
not
marred.

Shorter but much broader and muscular, he was built like a steroid-enhanced body builder without the overly developed bone structure in his face. His neck was of normal size and although his cheekbones were chiseled and his jaw square, he didn’t look like a low-browed Neanderthal. In fact, he was probably one of the most handsome men Amber had ever seen.

Silver streaks highlighted his brown hair and when he turned those baby blues on her, she felt as if she’d been tasered in the gut—only there wasn’t any pain. But damn if her brain didn’t react in the same confused fashion.

After the first electric jolt, her brain-to-body signals became jumbled, and she was incapable of interpreting nerve impulses. She couldn’t think and she couldn’t move. She just stared into Gerard Delaroche’s eyes while a slow sensual heat bathed her body, turning her knees to mush.

Chapter 2

Sergeant Reid Sheridan tried to appear intimidating but he didn’t look all that tough. Average height. Lean. Business-short dark hair and dark sunglasses in a not so brightly lit room. Gerard gave him a cursory inspection and came to a swift conclusion. Sheridan was ambitious but lacked the experience to climb above his current rank. He wasn’t a threat. Although, he could prove as irritating as a gnat. The woman, on the other hand…

Gerard’s gaze slid to Sheridan’s partner. Attractive brunette in a shapeless brown suit. Cream-colored blouse.

A thin chain with a silver cross drew his attention. Not that he or any vampire had an aversion to crosses. It was the silver. Vampires had a deadly allergy to silver and a respiratory reaction to garlic.

Funny the way mortals developed entire myths around the tiniest bit of information.

Amber Buckley wore her hair scraped back in a severe style that made her high cheekbones stand out sharply, giving her an air of superiority. She carried herself with quiet confidence and barely flinched when her partner failed to introduce her by rank. Gerard attributed it to class and sophistication. Then he met her direct gray gaze.

Bon Dieu! Such fire and intelligence in those beautiful eyes.

His body tightened as if an electric current passed between them.

Tina was barely cold in her grave.

Pain as sharp as the blade that took his life over two hundred years ago twisted his gut. Tina was dead because of him—viciously murdered because she’d wanted to help bring him out of the dark world he inhabited.

Inhaling sharply, he fisted his hands at his sides and tried to calm his raging anger. His gaze shifted from Buckley to Sheridan. Perhaps the sensation he’d felt when looking at Buckley was nothing more than a warning. Between her and her partner, Buckley was the more dangerous of the two. She was open-minded and intelligent enough to discover things best left undiscovered. It didn’t take glamour to see that.

Even with the “deer caught in the headlights” expression she wore when he glanced at her, he could see the wheels in her mind spinning. Then her spine stiffened and those shapely brows snapped down over deep-set eyes—as if she were trying to read
his
thoughts.

Now, that was a truly frightening concept.

Sheridan removed his sunglasses, drawing Gerard’s attention once more. “Where were you on the night of March 5, between four and five a.m.”

Vincent bristled. “Hasn’t he answered those questions already?”

Sheridan ignored him, keeping his gaze on Gerard.

Gerard didn’t want mortals investigating the murders, but if he wanted to live among them, he couldn’t manipulate them—much. He folded his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed. “Like I told those other two detectives, I was in Alexandria.”

La beauté’s
lips twitched in a smile that looked more like a sneer. Had he thought her a class act? Class A bitch was a role she played well too, and he didn’t mean that in a bad way. She was cool. Sophisticated. And she carried authority like a man.

“Can anyone verify that?” she asked.

His expression never changed. He’d invented cool before her great-great-great-great-great grandfather was even born. “Yes.”

This time, Sheridan bristled. “What were you doing in Alexandria, Virginia at four in the morning? You weren’t sleeping. We didn’t find any record of a hotel reservation in your name for that night.”

Gerard looked at Vincent who was now leaning casually against the conference table,
his
cool demeanor restored. Their minds briefly connected. Sonia, Vincent’s creator and master manipulator of mortal technology, had done her magic and covered Gerard’s ass. Gerard suppressed a smile.

“Of course you didn’t. I used a corporate credit card to pay for a two-night stay at the Morgan Suites. As the major shareholder in Lifeblood of America, Vincent’s name is on the account.”

Detective Buckley jolted as if caught off guard. Of course, she couldn’t have been prepared for his answer. He hadn’t given this information to the original detectives. Sonia had needed time to manipulate credit card records and flight logs. He’d needed time to manipulate Lifeblood’s pilot and the hotel night clerk’s memories.

Anger twisted his gut. Safeguarding vampires hampered his efforts to investigate the murders himself.

“Why haven’t you cooperated before now?” Detective Buckley asked.

There was no practical excuse for an innocent man keeping such vital information to himself. An objective analysis of possible responses made him look guilty—or like an uncooperative ass.

He adjusted his tie, hating the modern fashion accessory. The detectives watched his movements with suspicion, most likely interpreting his actions as the nervous gesture of a guilty man.

Stifling a groan, he lowered his hands and shoved them into his suit pockets. “I answered the other detective’s questions. I just didn’t elaborate. I wanted to confer with our attorney first. Axle Travers is his son.”

With Axel still missing, Brit wouldn’t remember if he’d discussed the case with Gerard or not. Concern for his son took precedence over everything else.

“We haven’t forgotten Mr. Travers’ son,” the beautiful detective responded, her voice losing its sharp edge.

Sheridan glared, his jaw set at a rigid angle. “Can you produce receipts to prove you were in Alexandria?”

Vincent responded in an authoritative tone that inspired obedience without the use of glamour. “Our accountant can. If you’ll stop by the reception desk on your way out, Miss Jackson can give you whatever you need, including the name of our company pilot who can confirm Gerard’s flight to Alexandria that night.”

His veiled dismissal went unheeded.

If the situation weren’t so dire, Gerard would have laughed. Vincent didn’t like being ignored. Fortunately for the detectives, he didn’t like manipulating mortal thoughts either. Otherwise, he would have mentally compelled them to leave without their knowledge or understanding.

“Did you order room service while you were there? Make any long distance calls?” Detective Buckley’s voice remained cool. Undeterred.

Gerard smiled. “I ordered a meal before checking out on the evening of the sixth.”

Buckley wasn’t a fool. Even if Gerard could verify having checked into the hotel, she wanted proof of his whereabouts
during
the time of the murders.

Claiming to have flown to Alexandria didn’t preclude his renting a car and driving back to Asheville in time to kill Tina and Richard—except he was supposed to have XP. The timing of the murders would have prevented him—or anyone who actually had XP—from making it back to Alexandria before sunrise.

Ironically, those afflicted with xeroderma pigmentosum were almost as vulnerable to the killing rays of the sun as vampires.

While Sheridan drilled Vincent about Gerard’s credit card usage and room service order, Gerard stared into Detective Buckley’s eyes, searching her thoughts. He hated the necessity, but he had to find out what she knew of Tina’s killer. It wasn’t just about revenge. It was about protection. When mortals knew vampires existed, it put everyone in danger. And he didn’t want the authorities focusing on him while Tina’s killer went free.

He reached for the table behind him. Reading mortal minds made him dizzy. Getting past Detective Buckley’s defenses challenged his abilities.

Her mind rebuffed him like a brick wall. He persisted, breaking through her mental barriers until distorted images and random thoughts from the detective’s brain filled his head, confirming what he already suspected. Despite careful planning, he was still a person of interest.

The police believed he had the means, opportunity, and motive to commit murder. He was Lifeblood’s after-hours acquisition consultant. He worked with the transplant teams and procurement groups, coordinating the transfer of organs and unallocated body parts. The initial detectives believed this gave him access to morgues—and a trocar—the weapon supposedly used to kill Richard Baxter.

A rogue vampire drained Richard of blood. And a knife was used to cover up the fang marks.

But a mortal killed Tina—a mortal who knew about the vampire vaccine. And there was only one mortal who knew so much about vampires and had the ability to capture them.

But how had Dr. Steve Weldon gained a vampire’s cooperation?

Gerard looked deeper into the detective’s mind. The Asheville PD suspected him of having an affair with Megan and believed Tina threatened to tell Vincent. They believed the murders were the result of a love triangle gone wrong.

Quelle idée idiote.
The idea was ridiculous. Nothing could be further from the truth. But at least the Asheville PD didn’t suspect vampires. He should be grateful for small favors, he thought as he pushed at Detective Buckley’s uncooperative mind, trying to delve deeper.

Random flashes of unrelated events diverted her thoughts—horrific images of blood and war. Gerard intensified his efforts, trying to understand the discordant memories that flashed through her mind without rhyme or reason.

A wave of dizziness broke his concentration.

Gripping the table to keep his balance, he backed out of her head, taking several deep breaths to regain his equilibrium.

Detective Buckley blinked back into focus. Her face was pale, her big gray eyes wide and frightened.

“Gerard!” Vincent snapped, gaining his attention. “You did sign your own name to the credit card slips. Didn’t you? It’s company policy.”

His name was added later, and the night clerk—whom he’d not met until several days after the murders—would swear in a court of law he remembered Gerard checking in because of the discrepancy between the name on his credit card and the name used when he signed the bill.