Authors: D B Reynolds
"On what grounds?” Sarah demanded, getting right in his face. She'd spent her entire life being smaller than most everyone else. He'd have to come up with something a lot better than size if he wanted to intimidate her.
"Interfering with an ongoing investigation, withholding evidence, and—"
Sarah barked a laugh. “What evidence would that be, Tony?” she scoffed. “You want to tell the D.A. I've been keeping my dreams from you? What are you now, my shrink?"
Scavetti flushed angrily and opened his mouth to reply, but someone else had started pounding on her door. “Sarah,” a woman was shouting.
Sarah frowned. Her first instinct was to ignore it, just as she'd ignored all the ones before, but there was something familiar about the voice. She started toward the window closest to the door, but Scavetti got there first.
"Who the fuck is that?” Scavetti snarled.
Peering around him through the half open shutter, Sarah did a double take. It was the woman from the restaurant bathroom. The one who'd knocked her purse over. What the hell was she doing here?
As if she'd heard Sarah's unspoken question, the woman called urgently through the door, “Sarah, my name's Angel. I work for Raj. I want to help you. Let me in."
Sarah's heart did a little flip. Raj? But that meant he'd known about her meeting with Blackwood. Had he been spying on her all this time? Why would he do that unless . . .
"Sarah, please. Let me help you."
Sarah hurried over to the front door. If there was one person in this whole mess she trusted, she realized suddenly, it was Raj.
"What the hell are you doing?” Scavetti demanded. He reached for her, but Sarah snapped the locks open first, pulling the door open just enough to peek out cautiously. “How do I know Raj sent you?"
"I don't know,” the woman Angel said, seeming flustered by the question. She started to say something, but cut herself off with a curse, placing her fingers to one ear as though listening. Looking closely, Sarah saw she was wearing some sort of radio earpiece, like Raphael's security wore. She nodded at whatever the other person was saying. “Go ahead and call Raj,” Angel said to Sarah. “No, wait. Call Emelie. She says to tell you—"
If the woman knew both Raj's and Emelie's names, then she had to have been sent by Raj. Sarah opened the door and stepped back. Angel pushed her way inside and closed the door quickly, shutting out the rush of noise and bodies that tried to follow her. “Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “And I really do work for Raj."
"You were at the restaurant today."
"I was. We knew about the Blackwood meeting and didn't want you going there alone. For good reason, as it turns out."
"I don't understand,” Sarah said. “Why would Raj—” Scavetti cleared his throat noisily behind her. “Ah,” she said turning slightly to indicate the pissed off detective. “This is Detective Scavetti, Buffalo PD. He wants—"
"You don't have to go with him,” Angel said immediately, giving Scavetti an unfriendly look. “Raj will be here—"
"What the fuck does that damn vampire have to do with any of this?"
Angel cut him off with a cold stare. “We will wait until he gets here before anything is decided."
"Who the hell appointed him God?” Scavetti snarled. “I don't have to wait for any fucking vampire—"
"Stop,” Sarah shouted at Scavetti. “We'll wait,” she said told him firmly. “Unless you're prepared to take me out of here kicking and screaming in front of all of that.” She gestured at the crowd of overheated press people.
Scavetti frowned, clearly thinking about doing just that.
"Come on, Tony,” she cajoled. “What can it hurt to wait until Raj gets here? If you drag me out there it'll be all over the papers. And what good will that do? You don't want me involved in your case, and that's pretty much the last thing in this world that I want either. Maybe together we can figure something out."
Scavetti stared at her, and she could tell he wasn't happy. But she also knew she'd touched a nerve about the press being all over the story. He finally gave her a short, unhappy nod.
"Fine. We'll wait.” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes. After that, I don't give a fuck what you say. I'm taking your ass out of here."
Sarah knew when to quit. “Thank you, Tony. I'm going upstairs to pack a few things, just in case,” she said.
"Good idea,” Angel said. She gave Scavetti a smug look as she followed Sarah up the stairs. “I'll help you with that."
Raj opened his eyes to the familiarity of his Buffalo lair. The lights were already up, set on a timer so when he woke there would be the little bit of light he needed to see by. As he swung out of bed, the light increased until it reached a steady, soft level of illumination. His first thought was hunger, but he didn't have time to stop for a live donor. Or so he told himself. He was unwilling to face his growing reluctance to tap anonymous women for blood and sex. Unwilling to deal with the significance of that reluctance in light of his feelings for Sarah Stratton—who was history, he reminded himself firmly.
He went over to the bar refrigerator and pulled out a unit of bagged blood. Loosening the release valve enough to prevent the contents from exploding all over his microwave, he set it for a quick warm up. Less than a minute later, he rolled the bag between his hands to even out the temp and downed it quickly, trying not to think about the woman he'd rather be drinking from instead.
The memory of Sarah's sweet blood hit him anyway—the sudden burst of it when he'd nicked her full lip with his fangs, the warmth as it caressed his tongue and slid down his throat with exquisite slowness. His brain moved on, thinking how delicious it would be to tap her vein, to pierce the velvet softness of her neck as his cock slammed into her tight little body. He could feel her soft curves beneath his hands, could hear her hungry little cries as he'd pressed her against the wall—
Enough
!
He threw the empty bag aside in disgust and forced his thoughts elsewhere. Sarah wanted nothing to do with him, and he had far better things to do than to chase after a woman who thought he raped little girls for fun. He felt the heated rush of righteous anger and welcomed it, letting it fill his gut with determination as he started the shower. He leaned against the tile wall, eyes closed, arms stretched straight ahead of him as the hot water pummeled his neck and back, reviewing what he knew so far. He pictured again the faces of the young women, imagined the scenes at the blood houses where they'd disappeared. When he came to Estelle Edwards, his thoughts skiddedto a halt. It all came down to her. She was the orange in the bowl of apples, the lone rose in a bouquet of daisies. She was the key. A researcher who specialized in blood, who'd been seen talking to Krystof and then told her husband she had a contact in the vampire community who could provide—
He swore viciously when the thought hit him. He slammed his fist against the tile so hard it cracked beneath the strain.
Young women were missing, but
so were old vampires
! Old, but not powerful. That was the crucial element. They were old enough to have fully manifested the one aspect of most interest to human researchers—resistance to disease and aging—but not powerful enough to master children of their own or to bend other vampires to their will. What if the missing vampires were prisoners, just like the young women? What if all of them—vampires and humans—were nothing more than Estelle Edwards's lab rats?
But then why bring Raj in to unravel it? Krystof had to know he'd never stand for something like this. Unless that was the old man's plan all along? Maybe he'd lost control of the project and didn't know how to shut it down himself. Christ! That didn't make sense, either.
He turned off the shower, disgusted with the whole business. Drying off quickly, he was halfway dressed when his phone went off. He picked it up, not surprised to see it was Emelie.
"Em,” he said, by way of greeting. “How'd it go today with Sarah and Blackwood?"
Emelie sucked in a breath on whatever she'd been about to say and said, “Right, let's start at the restaurant, then.” Raj frowned, but Emelie had launched into her report, so he listened carefully. “Angel managed to get a bug on Sarah ahead of time, so we got the whole thing. Blackwood tried to blackmail her, threatening to go to the press with her true identity—"
"Blackmail her? Wait, what identity?” Raj interrupted.
"Okay, this is where it gets tricky. Blackwood seems to know Sarah from back in California."
"Yeah, she told me. A friend of the family or something."
"Not exactly. Sweet little Sarah hasn't been quite forthcoming with us. Her real name is Susan Siemanski. That name familiar to you at all?"
Raj frowned. Sarah wasn't really
Sarah?
What the fuck? “No,” he said. “Should it be?"
"Not unless you spend way too much time on the Internet."
"I pay people to do that for me,” he said impatiently. “What the fuck's going on, Em?"
"Susan Siemanski pops up on several web sites, every one of them dedicated to the weird and unknown. Paranormal shit. Our guys cruise those sites looking for supposed vampire activity. It's sometimes a cover for the real thing and we—"
"I know this, Em. Get to the point."
"Sorry. Susan, aka Sarah Stratton, was fifteen when she claimed to be—I guess the word is
channeling
kidnapped women in her dreams. There were two cases made public, a few months apart. In each case a woman was found dead after the police ignored Siemanski's warnings. She drops off the radar after that, which explains why Sarah didn't exist until ten years ago. She must have changed her—"
"Right,” Raj cut her off, feeling his own anger grow. She'd been lying to him the whole time, had let him think she'd run away to escape a bad home situation, had let him conjure all sorts of possibilities. And none of it was true. She was a fucking psychic. Was that her connection to this case? Was she getting hints of the missing women in her dreams or whatever the fuck she did? Goddamn it, she'd played him for a complete fool.
"Raj, you there?"
"Yeah. So what's Blackwood want?"
"Tell me your dreams kind of bullshit, but it was obvious he wanted her working exclusively for him, no one else, and especially not us
disgusting blood drinkers
. I believe that's how he put it."
"Imagine that,” Raj said absently, pulling a shirt out of the closet and working his way into it without putting the phone down. “And he seemed like such a nice man, too."
"Yeah, well, fortunately one of his fans stopped by and Sarah made a clean getaway. She went back to her house and stayed there.
Unfortunately
, the slick asshole had a camera crew waiting out front to film his triumphant rediscovery of the long lost teenage psychic, or barring that, to follow through on his threat of exposing her. Which, apparently, he's decided to do."
He stopped what he was doing. “What's happening?"
"We have a situation."
Raj heard Emelie talking to someone else, a one-sided conversation, like she was on a second cell phone. He heard her swear and then shout orders to someone in the warehouse. “That was Yossi,” she said, coming back to him. Sarah's house is swarming with reporters wanting to know why a psychic has been called in to help find William Cowens's daughter. The police are there too, with that Scavetti guy. He wants to take her into custody—"
"No!” Raj all but roared. He heard Em talking on the other cell again.
"Angel thinks she can persuade Sarah to let her inside. Do you want her to—"
"Yes. I want someone inside that house. I don't want Sarah disappearing into police custody. I need to know whatever she knows about this case. Tell Angel now, Em. I'll wait."
Em spoke briefly and came back. “Okay, Yossi and Cervantes are staying outside, but Angel's hitting the door now. What next?"
Raj was already pulling on his jacket, the phone snugged between his shoulder and his ear. He could hear a lot of noise from Em's end, SUV engines revving to go.
"Em!” he shouted, wanting to be certain she heard. “We need a getaway car, something anonymous."
"Will do, boss,” her words were jumping as she ran to join the guys in the SUVs.
Raj punched the exit code for his vault and waited impatiently as the door swung open. “I'll meet you at Sarah's,” he said and hung up, racing for the garage.
"What the fuck?” Raj took one look at the street in front of Sarah's duplex and circled around the block, remembering an alley of some sort and assuming she had a back door. He'd been a bit distracted the two times he'd been in her kitchen. The east end of the alley was blocked by a chain link fence. He swore viciously and circled around again, turning down the west end of the alley and speed dialing Em as he drove up to and parked behind Sarah's car.
"Where are you?” he asked, before she could say anything.
"We're in three vehicles, two SUVs and the rental sedan. The two SUVs are holding at either end of the block. It's a mess out there, boss."
"Yeah, I saw that. I'm in the alley behind Sarah's. There're a few reporters hanging around back here, but nothing I can't handle. Too dark for the rest of them, I guess. I want both SUVs to come in the front. Tell them to make an impression. You bring the sedan around back; you and I will go in this way. Is Angel in the house?"
"Yes, my lord, along with Detective Scavetti who is not a happy camper, according to Angel. Sarah has dug in her heels and refuses to do anything until you get there. Scavetti's about to blow, but Angel doesn't sound too worried about it."
"I've met Scavetti. I'll put my money on Angel any day. Give her a call, tell her what's about to happen and tell her to brief Scavetti. I don't want a gun in my face when I come through the back door."
"I don't think you're Scavetti's favorite person right now."
"I'm crushed.” Raj looked up as a white Taurus appeared in his review mirror, with Em at the wheel. He executed a quick U-turn so the BMW was facing the open end of the alley. Em did the same, pulling up behind him. She got out of the car and gave him an excited grin.