Hunter's Blood Special Edition (Cursed by Blood Saga) (26 page)

***

Lily looked at Ryan’s profile as he
wound his way through midday traffic. The man had high cheekbones and a strong
jaw, with a tiny cleft in the center of his chin. Two dimples graced his cheeks
whenever he smiled, crinkling the area around his green eyes. He was dark
haired and olive skinned, a model for the cliché of tall, dark and handsome. He
was the complete opposite of Sean in every way, except for an unwitting sex
appeal they both wielded with ease. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but
there was something familiar about the young detective, and it nagged at her
every time he looked at her.

He clicked the directional and glanced
her way as he switched lanes. “You gonna tell me what spooked you so bad back
in the freezer section?”

Lily blew out a breath. “Not until I
get a better handle on it. It’s too vague, but I’m hoping the crime scene will
give me more precise residual impressions. Right now, I can’t be sure of
anything. Images are often muddied. Besides whatever impressions I’m
specifically looking for, I sometimes get snippets of entirely unrelated thought.”

He shot her a look, taking his eyes
off the road for a moment. “Are you saying there are variables that can skew
the images you get from a victim’s corpse?”

Impressed, Lily cocked her head to one
side. “Very good, Detective, succinct and professional. But not to put too fine
a point on it, yes. I once caught flashes from a movie a victim had seen with
his girlfriend only hours before he was murdered. It made my job very
difficult, to say the least, trying to sift through what memories were his and
what belonged to the film.”

“
Jeez
.”

Lily exhaled softly, and rested her
head back against the seat. “Exactly.”

They drove the rest of the way in
silence. Lily looked out the window, watching the lunchtime throng fill the
sidewalks despite the cold. They were just people going about their daily
business, unaware of the darkness lurking in the shadows, waiting for
nightfall. Two months ago, she had been just as innocent. Unfortunately, if she
was correct in her assumptions, the detective was in for just as rude an awakening.

Horns blared as traffic merged past
roadwork further choking the already congested streets. Lily ignored the noise.
If her gut was right about what she sensed, then they were all in deep shit.
She chewed on her bottom lip, weighing the options. How was she going to tell
the cops she believed a vampire was at the root of all this mayhem? She knew
vampires existed—but the average person? Not outside books and movies.

According to Ryan, his boss wanted to
make sure she wasn’t some kind of a kook. If this went badly, Shaw would have a
field day, and she’d lose all her hard-earned credibility. This had the
potential to be a lose-lose situation all the way around, but she’d be damned
if she would allow that to happen without a fight.

Blood bath. Phillips didn’t know how
close to the truth he might be, and she prayed her gut was wrong. If what she
suspected was even remotely true, then she needed to keep things quiet—at least
until she called Sean.

Ryan pulled his car to the side of the
street and double-parked. Though CSI had finished its initial investigation,
the length of sidewalk outside the crime scene was still marked with yellow
police tape, including the small section of asphalt covered in debris from the
blown out bar. Uniformed officers were still on traffic patrol, directing cars
away from the scene and keeping pedestrians moving along on the opposite side
of the street.

Lily opened the passenger door and
squeezed out between the parked cars. Without so much as a nod, Ryan took her
by the elbow, steering her across the street.

“I don’t think I need to remind you
how bad it would be for you spout off about ghosts or other weird shit at this
point. For the time being, we keep this just between us.” Raising both
eyebrows, he dropped his chin slightly. “Got it?”

Lily blinked, tactfully disengaging
her arm from his grip. “Detective, I’m a professional. In my line of work,
discretion is not only good business, it’s a necessity.” Her answer was soft,
but to the point.

Outside the bar, officers manned the
perimeter, but from what she discerned, there were no other detectives on site.
Ryan flashed his badge, and the two crossed police barricade.

Lily’s breath puffed out in front of
her as she took in the exploded frontage and scattered debris.

“Where do you want to start?” Ryan
asked.

Lily was silent for a moment, and then
slowly shook her head. “The answers aren’t out here, that’s for sure.”

She took a step toward the darkened
bar, peering through the shattered doorway. A wall of stench hit her as soon as
she stepped through the threshold, sending her body’s alarm systems into
overdrive and her trace amount of Were blood racing through her veins,
intrinsically registering the stench as dangerous.

Ryan came in behind her. “CSI has been
through here already, but they’ve asked that you not touch anything or disturb
the scene. I suppose they’ll have to sift through all this again at some point
if we come up empty.”

She regarded him, her expression
deadpan.

“What?” When she raised one eyebrow at
the essentially rhetorical question, he blew out his breath. “Okay…I get it.
Just try not to touch too much. There’s a box of latex-free gloves in the squad
car, if you want,” he said, raising one hand toward the door and letting it
drop.

Ignoring him, she walked further into
the room, fragmented glass crunching under her boots with each step. She moved
slowly, her attention pulling her across the room toward a pile of broken
chairs. She squatted down, her reflection fragmented and distorted in the
shattered pieces of the bar mirror lying amid the rubble.

The silvered glass was jagged-edged,
and clearly, razor sharp, but Lily picked up one of the larger shards, resting
it gingerly against the flat of her palm. She curled her fingers over the edge
and closed her eyes. The image of a young girl, her face, sharp planed and her
body thin to the point of being gaunt, flashed through Lily’s mind. She was
heavily made-up, and despite her youth, the girl’s eyes held a desperation so
profound it made Lily’s heart clench. Pain, sharp and quick, raced up Lily’s
arm, and she knew. This sad teenager was a heroine whore.

She dropped the shard from her hand,
letting it clatter to the floor, taking the image of the girl with it. But it
was too late. She had opened the channel. Violence had left an imprint on the
room so deep, that images bombarded Lily’s mind one after the other, hitting
her like uppercuts to the stomach. She wrapped her arm around her middle,
biting back on the feeling of vertigo.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asked, putting
his hand on her back.

She sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah.
It’s just a lot to process at once.”

He frowned, pulling his hand away from
her back. “This is nuts,” he mumbled, raking his fingers through his hair.
“First, the freezer section freak show, and now this.” He pressed his lips
together and glanced toward the exit. “We’re outta here. This isn’t working,
and I’m not standing around with my thumb up my ass while you make yourself
sick or whatever it is that’s happening to you.”

She dragged in another breath, holding
it for a moment as she composed herself. The detective was doubtless a Type A
personality. With his jaw clenched, he looked as though he was ready to bolt.
“Just give me a minute. I’ll be fine.”

He made a face. “Maybe you just need a
break, a cup of coffee or something…some fresh air,” he said, glancing toward
the exit again.

Lily moistened her dry lips, a ghost
of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Type A, definitely.
“Trust me. I’m good. I just need to find my center.”

Looking at his drawn expression, she
couldn’t help but feel for him. He was completely out of his element,
unfortunately, the only thing she could do was reassure him. “There’s no other
way to do this, Detective, and besides, a hazmat team couldn’t clear away what I
sense and smell.” She studied him for a moment. “You smell it too, don’t you?”

He hesitated, giving her a cautious
nod, before turning away. “I thought so,” she said, straightening up.

Lily regarded him. He seemed upset, as
if unsure of what he’d just revealed. So she waited, not saying a word, and
when he turned back, his professional veneer was once again in place.

With a nod, she took a deep breath
through her mouth and exhaled. “Let’s get to work.”

Careful not to touch too much, she
picked her way through the bar. A green clock in the shape of a Heineken bottle
dangled precariously above the dirty outline where the mirror had once hung. It
was the only thing left untouched in the entire place. Lily stopped equidistant
from where it hung, turning left, then right. “This room is not the epicenter.
What happened here took place after the fact.”

The stench of old blood and an
underlying bitter tang, she knew but couldn’t place, grew stronger as she
headed toward the back of the bar. She moved slowly, her stomach roiling with
each step. The feeling of vertigo hadn’t subsided, and bile rose in her throat.

Lily lurched forward and gagged,
swallowing back on the sour taste. She gulped down air to quell the nausea, but
the scent permeated everything, and she grabbed the edge of the broken bar for
support.

As soon as her hand made contact, the
image of a fat man in a stained t-shirt, with a limp dishtowel tucked into his
dirty apron, shot through her mind. Missing front teeth showed through a wheezy
chuckle as he palmed money from the bar and signaled for two girls—one of them
the same young girl from Lily’s previous vision. He watched, leering as the
teenager coated her lips with bright orange lipstick, before slinking through a
side door marked as private.

“There.” Lily pointed from her
half-hunched position. “That’s where it started.”

Whatever remained of the private
entrance now hung suspended by a single broken hinge. Ryan pulled on a pair of
leather gloves and carefully maneuvered the door open for Lily to enter first.
She stepped through the ruined threshold into what looked like the backroom to
an illegal social club.

Echoes of illicit partying and sex for
hire lived in the air like noxious fumes. Amid the wreckage, a pool table sat
dead center of the room splintered in half, its green felt shredded, and
covered in dried blood and chalk dust.

A slick coating now congealed to a red
gelatinous state, covered the floor. It didn’t take much to envision the kind
of blood loss necessary to saturate the floor to that point.

Beads of sweat formed on Lily’s
forehead and between her breasts. Ryan called to her, but his voice was thick
in her ears. The room was spinning and she gagged again, more bile rising to
the back of her throat.

With her hand over her mouth, she held
her breath, searching for an unobtrusive place to vomit. The last thing she
wanted was her DNA mixed up with anything CSI might yet find.

“Here,” Ryan said shoving a plastic
bag her way.

She grabbed the baggie and turned
away, retching, until there was nothing left but dry heaves. Her back was to
him while she waited for the last wave to pass.

“This place is pretty ripe, despite
how cold it’s been,” he said, handing her his handkerchief. “Sorry about that.”

She wiped her nose and mouth. “Thanks,”
she muttered, glancing back over her shoulder. Head down, she sucked in a
ragged breath. “I think I threw up everything, including my dignity.”

“It’s all part of the job,” he said
with a shrug.

Lily frowned, sealing the top of the
zip-lock bag. “I suppose. This has never happened to me before. She glanced
down at the contained mess in her hand and sighed. “Is it common practice for
detectives to carry zip-locks around in their pocket? Not that I’m not glad you
did.”

His lips formed a lopsided smirk. “A lot
of detectives carry them, for evidence or whatnot,” he said, lifting one
shoulder and letting it fall. “But, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not
the first rookie to lose it at a crime scene, and you won’t be the last.”

“So you think I’m a rookie? And here I
thought experience was the key.”

He laughed, folding his hands in front
of his chest. “It is. That and how many times you’ve vomited behind the yellow
tape.”

“Ha! Leave it to men to quantify skill
through bodily emissions,” she mumbled, resting the baggie on the floor by the
door and wiping her hands once more on his handkerchief. “…and on that note,
we’ve still got work to do.”

Lily walked to the center of the room
and stopped. She took a single cleansing breath and turned her body slowly,
sending her senses out like a web. Images darted through Lily’s mind at high
speed, but this time she was ready for them.

Laughter. Drinking. Loud music. The
room was in shambles, and its story played out in time with the kaleidoscope of
color and noise that flashed its way through her mind.

Along the wall, a wide rolling bar had
been turned on its side, its chrome edges bent, and its frosted glass
countertop and LED panels smashed. She reached out and slid her finger over
what was left of the counter, bringing it to her tongue. A rush of euphoria
flew through her veins, and she was numb. In a flash, there were crack pipes
and methamphetamines, or Ice, as it was known on the street, piled high across
the bar. The scenes were sordid, filled with images of drug-induced sex.