The Darkest Kiss

Chapter 3

If the smell was this bad out here, I’d hate to think what it was like in the apartment.

Unfortunately, it was my job to find out.

I peered through the glass and tried not to breathe too deeply. The only thing I could see in the small living area was dusty furniture and yellowing newspapers sitting on the coffee table—both indicators that someone hadn’t been living in this apartment for quite a while.

So either Alana was no longer living here—and if she wasn’t, why had she answered Rosy’s phone call yesterday?—or she was here, and in a very bad way.

Which I guess went with what the smell was suggesting.

It also suggested that maybe it wasn’t Alana who’d dated our dead politician.

I blew out a breath, then gripped the handle of the sliding door and pulled back with all my might. I had the strength of both a werewolf and a vampire behind me, and the little metal clip holding the sliding door closed didn’t stand a chance. The door crashed back with enough noise to wake the dead, and the force of it sent a shudder recoiling up my arm.

But it was nothing compared to the smell that assaulted my senses. My stomach rose in a rush and I gagged. The stench was vile.

Whoever—whatever—was dead in this apartment had been that way for some time. Although the air rushing out of the apartment was hot—the heating had obviously been left on high, so maybe that had helped accelerate the decomposition of whatever it was lying inside.

I stepped back until I was breathing fresh air again, then took a deep breath and dashed inside. It was only ever going to be a quick look. I couldn’t hold my breath longer than a minute or so.

I ran into the first room off the living room. It turned out to be a spotless kitchen. No junk in the fridge, no unwashed dishes, no trash in the basket. Nothing that would account for the smell. The next room was a bathroom, and once again it was spotless.

The third room…

That’s where I found her, lying half-dressed on the bed with one arm still in the sleeve of a sweater—as if whoever had killed her had caught her in the middle of either taking it off or putting it on. She only wore panties on the bottom half, and her body was heavy and bloated and…horrible.

Bile burned up my throat, and I raced outside, gulping in fresh air and trying not to vomit. God, unpleasant didn’t even begin to describe that experience.

It wasn’t like I hadn’t smelled death before. I had. Hell, I was a wolf, and the wild part of me actually enjoyed rolling in stuff that would make my human half scream in revulsion. But I’d never smelled a death that old before. Or that deep into decay.

I shuddered, then got out my phone and rang Jack.

“Parnell here,” he said, voice neutral. The tone he reserved for official speaking moments like press conferences. Given who our dead man was, it was an even-money bet that was exactly where he was. “What can I do for you?”

“Jack, it’s Riley. I’m over at the apartment of Alana Burns, the woman Gerard James supposedly went out with last night. Only she’s dead, and has been that way for at least a week, if the putrefaction is anything to go by.”

“Hang on a sec.” A muffled conversation came down the phone line, then footsteps. “Okay, we’ll have to make this fast. I’ve got a room full of reporters waiting for an update. What’s this about a dead woman?”

“Her name is Alana Burns—if it is her body inside the apartment. According to the secretary, Gerard James went out with her last night.”

“Or someone pretending to be her.”

Exactly. “James’s secretary rang Alana to confirm the afternoon of the date. She mentioned Alana being in a snit, so she definitely talked to someone. And it very definitely wasn’t the woman dead in the apartment.”

“Interesting.” He paused, and I heard voices in the background. “Has Cole requested the security tapes?”

“Yes. He was still at Gerard’s office when I left, though. I think he’s going to be there awhile.”

“Get another cleanup team out to the apartment, then go talk to the people at Marrberry House. They were running the charity function that Gerard attended last night. And keep me updated. I have the press and the politicians hounding my ass over this one.”

“Will do.”

I hung up, then dialed the Directorate. A less-than-cheery Sal answered. “What?”

Her voice was flat, and didn’t even hold the usual spark of annoyance when she knew it was me calling. Something had obviously gone wrong since the last time I’d talked to her. “If I didn’t know you were a vampire, I’d seriously suspect you were PMSing.”

“That’s because I have to deal with assholes all day. What do you want?”

Okay, that jibe I could fully understand—and hey, I could be a pain in the ass when I wanted to be. Just as every other guardian on the books could be. “I need a cleanup team at my current location. I’ve found a ripe one.”

“Charming.” In the background came the sound of typing. “Okay, I’ve dispatched Mel and her team. Should be there in fifteen. Anything else?”

“Can you send me the address of Marrberry House? It hosts charity functions, apparently.”

“I know that, moron.” She paused. “Sending their details through to your car’s onboard now.”

I blinked. Sal was usually super-efficient, but this was brilliant service, even by her standards. And the bitch in me couldn’t resist commenting. “You’re horribly professional this evening. Maybe you need to get premenstrual more often.”

“I haven’t eaten,” she said and hung up.

I stared at my phone for a moment, eyebrow raised. Why hadn’t Sal eaten? The Directorate kept a supply of synth blood for the vampires in their employ, so there was no reason for her to go hungry. Although maybe she was one of those vamps who preferred their blood fresh, straight from the vein. She definitely seemed the fussy type. I was tempted to ring her back and see what was going on, but it wasn’t like we were friends or anything. Talking to me was the last thing she’d probably want.

I shrugged and put the phone away, then leaned on the balustrade again and waited for the cleanup team to arrive. Mel turned out to be a tall, dark-haired woman with a fabulous figure and who wore red stiletto boots underneath her more sensible jeans. A woman after my own heart, obviously.

She strode up the pathway, saw me waiting, and stopped. “Riley Jenson?”

I nodded. “I’m afraid I’ve a rather ripe one for you. The victim seems to have been dead for at least a week, but the heating has been on full, so that guess could be way off.”

“Any obvious signs of death?”

“I didn’t get close enough to find out.”

She smiled. “A guardian with a weak stomach. Nice to know there is such a beast.”

“Now that sounded like something Cole would say.”

Her smile grew. “He and I went to school together, and I’m best friends with his sister.” She looked around as her team—a potbellied man and a woman who was rake thin and almost insectlike—arrived, then added, “You want me to send you a copy of the report as soon as it’s done?”

“That would be great. Oh, and the building’s front doors are locked. I’ll unlock the apartment doors before I leave.”

“Marshall will get these doors easy enough. Anything else I need to know?”

“We need the ID ASAP. She may be linked to another case we’re investigating.”

“We’ll make it a priority.”

“Thanks.”

She nodded and disappeared from my view. I took a deep breath, then dashed inside and unlocked the front door. Then I ran back out, did a one-handed leap over the balcony, and dropped back down to the concrete.

Mel and her team had already gotten inside. Maybe Marshall had been a thief or a locksmith in his pre-Directorate days.

I collected my purse, then headed back to the car. The information on Marrberry House had arrived, so I scanned it quickly, gleaning as much information as I could without reading the full thing. It seemed they ran a number of functions over the year, with their major beneficiaries being the Royal Children’s Hospital and the Peter MacCallum Cancer Foundation. Last year they raised nearly half a million for the two organizations.

I really couldn’t see how they could help our investigations, but being the good little guardian that I sometimes was, I drove over and had a chat with the organizer of last night’s events.

Turns out I was right—he couldn’t help me much. But he did give me a photo they’d been planning to use for publicity purposes—one of Gerard with a striking blonde at his side.

It was hard to say whether she was the woman I’d discovered dead on the bed, because the body had been in such a state of decay, but the height looked the same, as did the blond hair.

So if it was Alana Burns I’d discovered in the apartment, then who was this? And why would she go to so much trouble to date—and then kill—Gerard James?

Unless Cole picked up something in his investigations, they just might be unanswered questions. Which wouldn’t make Jack a happy little vampire at all.

I tossed the photo on the seat, then rang Kade to tell him I’d changed my mind and was heading home. I might have promised Ben I’d check what the police files had to say about his friend’s murder, but I really wasn’t up to doing any more this evening.

I found a parking spot not too far up the street from our apartment building, and hoped like hell the local vandals had gotten tired of their spray-painting binge. Last time I’d brought a Directorate car home, it had ended up green and red. Jack had not been happy.

The night air was cool and surprisingly fresh, free of the usual tint of fumes from the nearby freeway. Maybe the wind had been blowing the other way before it had died earlier this evening, because right now, all I could smell was the faintest hint of humanity, mixed with the sharpness of paint coming from the new pizza parlor they were building a few doors down from our place. If they did a good meat-lovers’ pizza, they’d have me and Rhoan practically living on their doorstep.

I pushed open our building’s old glass and wood front door, and rattled up the stairs. We lived on the sixth floor, in one of the bigger apartments the old converted warehouse had, and on clear summer days had a view right out over the western suburbs. It would have been nicer if it had been views of parks or even the bay, but we wouldn’t have been able to afford the place if it had. Anything remotely resembling a decent view cost big bucks these days—even if the building was as run-down as this one.

I grabbed my door key from my purse and opened the apartment’s front door. Then stopped.

There were dark mutterings coming from the direction of my bedroom, and there were clothes strewn everywhere. Over the floor, across the old leather couches, patterning the rugs scattered over the wooden flooring, even hanging off the old red-plastic light features.

Neither my brother nor I were the tidiest of people, but the house had definitely been in a better state when I’d left this morning.

I raised my voice and said, “What the hell have you been doing, Rhoan?”

He came stalking out of my bedroom, his face almost as red as his hair and his gray eyes flashing fire. “I’m looking for a shirt.”

I looked pointedly at all the shirts strewn across the floor and furniture. “What shirt in particular?”

“The pink one.”

“The one you hate?”

“Yes.”

“The one you swore you were going to trash only a couple of weeks ago?”

“That would be the one.” He stalked across the room and upended a basket of clean laundry onto the coffee table.

“Can I ask why you’re looking for this shirt, and only this shirt?”

“Because Liander gave it to me to celebrate our anniversary and I need to wear it tonight.”

I frowned. “I thought he gave you a watch for your anniversary?”

“He did. He also gave me an outfit. He wants me to wear it tonight.”

“Why?” I stepped inside and closed the door, then dumped my purse and keys on the nearby lamp table.

He gave me an exasperated look. “It’s the premiere of the movie, remember?”

Understanding dawned. Rhoan didn’t usually attend the premieres of any of the movies Liander had been involved in, simply because he preferred to remain out of the limelight. But this one was important. This one was the first movie in which Liander’s company had been totally responsible for all the movie’s effects. Which meant Liander had been on tenterhooks for the last week, hoping and praying that the movie—and his effects—were well received. Which had made dealing with both him and my brother a party.

As the scattered clothes would attest.

I shook my head and walked into Rhoan’s bedroom. Like the living room, it looked as if a cyclone had hit it. No doubt my bedroom would be the same—though why he’d think I’d be stealing pink shirts was anyone’s guess. Pink and I were not compatible.

Of course, seeing as we were twins, the shirt didn’t actually suit Rhoan, either, but at least his skin was a bit more tanned than mine. It helped.

I ignored the open robes and went directly to his armoire, sliding out the bottom drawer. I knew from experience—and my own packing habits—that this was where all the unwanted clothing usually ended up.

Sure enough, there it was, shoved right at the back, under the fluorescent pink and lime-green socks I’d given him for his last birthday. I thought he’d adore them, as he usually loved all things bright. Obviously, I was wrong.

I dragged out the shirt and slammed the drawer shut. “Would this be the shirt you’re looking for?” I said, holding it up on one finger as I walked out.

“Yes. Thank God.” He walked across the room and grabbed it from me. “Where’d you find it?”

“In the dead clothes drawer.”

“Ah.” He paused, then added, “I like the socks. Really.”

“About as much as I like those shiny yellow snake-skin shoes you gave me.” My voice was dry. “What time is Liander getting here?”

“He said he’d pick me up about seven.” He glanced at his watch. “Damn, I’d better move it. You sure you don’t want to come along?”

I shook my head. “Zombies, trolls, and whatnot running around creating havoc is not my style.” And I got enough bloodshed and havoc in my day job. I didn’t need to explore it any further on the big screen. “Give me a nice romantic comedy any day.”

He gave me a quick hug. “You’re just a girly-girl at heart, aren’t you?”

“Takes one to know one, bro.”

He snorted. “I am the man of my relationships, thank you very much.”

I glanced at my watch. “And if the man doesn’t hurry, the wife will beat you up for being late.”

“Good point.”

He rushed back into his bedroom and I headed into the kitchen to make myself coffee and a toasted sandwich. I wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, but I could usually manage the basics without burning the place down.

But I’d barely even sat down on the sofa to eat it when my cell phone rang.

“Phone,” Rhoan called out helpfully.

“Gee, thanks,” I said, barely resisting the urge to throw a cushion his way. I picked it up. “Hello?”

“Riley? It’s Ben. I need your help again, and quickly. A friend of mine has just called, and he’s in trouble. As in, dead-in-a-few-minutes trouble.”

“The cops?”

“He said it was a vamp. The cops won’t help.”

I blew out a breath, and wondered what the odds were of two of his friends being attacked by vamps. “Give me the address.” I picked up a pen and scrawled it down on the overdue electricity bill sitting nearby. “Got it. I’ll be there in ten.”

By which time, if it was a vampire, his friend might well be dead.

“It’ll take me longer, but I’ve told Ivan I’d be calling you for help. He’s expecting you.”

If he was still alive, that was. I hung up, picked up my ham and cheese sandwich as well as my badge and car keys, then headed out.

I could smell vampire as soon as I got out of the car. The night air had gone from crisp to cold, and the rotten smell of unwashed vamps seemed to cling thickly to the night.

I pocketed my keys and studied the apartment block as I walked up the pavement. It was one of those high-rise brick-and-glass affairs that the government had built some fifty years ago in an effort to relieve the low-income housing crisis. Of course, governments tended to work with minimal budgets—except when it came to their own comforts—so the resulting buildings were neither pretty nor truly functional. Add tenants who didn’t really give a damn about the place, and you were basically left with a large hovel. One with many smashed windows and doors, and decorated by multi-colored graffiti.

It wasn’t the sort of place I expected a friend of Ben’s to live.

I walked past the front of the building, heading for the main entrance. The stink of vampire grew stronger, until the cloying, unhealthy smell all but surrounded me, filling every breath and clinging to my clothes.

This wasn’t a human low-income building. Not any longer.

Which was unusual. Vampires tended to be solitary souls, and except for those who had newly blooded young to look after, they rarely lived together. Surely the fact that this lot were would have come to the attention of the Directorate, but I couldn’t remember seeing any mention of a vamp encampment this close to the city. But I guess if the vamps were behaving themselves, they might have avoided Directorate scrutiny.

Footsteps whispered across the night, the sounds so soft regular hearing wouldn’t have caught it. They were pacing me, watching. Worse still, the raw taste of their excitement and blood hunger tainted the air.

Young vamps, I thought. Great. I dug out my badge, holding it toward the building as I kept on walking.

“Directorate, folks. Mind your own business, or there’s going to be a heap of trouble.”

I didn’t bother raising my voice. They were close enough that they’d hear me, even though I couldn’t see them through normal vision. And I didn’t want to see them through infrared. Just knowing how many there were might get a little scary.

The blood hunger abated a little, but I had to wonder what had them so worked up. If they were old enough to control their hunger, then why had the sight of me caused it to rise so sharply?

I could think of only one thing that would cause such a reaction—blood. The scent of fresh blood was a call few vampires could ignore, and with the young it stirred the blood hunger to life, making them react hungrily to even the slightest beat of life.

And yet the night seemed free of that scent. Or was the aroma of vampire overwhelming everything else?

I didn’t know, but I had a suspicion I’d soon find out. And if Ben’s friend was a wolf and living with this lot, then he was a braver soul than me.

The vamps were still following me, and my skin crawled with the sensation. I breathed through my mouth and pretended to ignore them. Though, being vamps, they’d hear my accelerated pulse rate. I was just hoping they’d take it as readiness for action, not for any sort of fear.

Of course, if they decided to attack en masse, I was one dead puppy no matter what. I might have a vampire’s strength and speed, but I’d still be one against dozens. Not great odds, in anyone’s book.

I loped up the steps and through the smashed glass front doors. The yellow light of a solitary bulb broke across the darkness, making the corner shadows seem even deeper. Thankfully, there were no vamps in those shadows. Not yet.

The building had two elevators, but neither of them seemed to be working—one was sitting on the fifth floor with the floor light flashing, and the other had no numbers lit at all. I hesitated, switching to infrared before looking down the left, then the right, corridors. As I suspected, it was pretty scary. There had to be at least twenty vamps crowded against the walls, their eyes glinting brightly and their sharp canines prominently exposed.

I still couldn’t smell blood, but a vampire’s sense for life’s nectar was far sharper than mine. And it was obviously still calling to them.

This would not be a pleasant place to be if things got out of control.

I flicked the small stud in my ear, turning on the two-way com-link—which had been inserted when I’d been going into a madman’s lair, but was now standard equipment for all guardians. Jack didn’t like losing his people, and the com-links also doubled as trackers.

The vamps melted back into the deeper shadows as I headed for the stairs, so hopefully that was a sign they didn’t want any trouble.

But I wasn’t about to take a chance on that.

“Hello, anyone listening?” I said softly.

“What now, wolf girl?” Sal’s tone seemed even sharper than normal, coming though the tinny confines of the com-link.

“What, are you pulling a double shift or something?”

I ran up the stairs as I spoke, heading for the fourth floor. Thankfully, the vamps didn’t follow, though the scent of them didn’t lessen any. Meaning there were plenty more ahead.

“Yes,” Sal snapped. “I am. Now what do you want?”

I used to get awfully bitchy when I had to sit double shifts, too. Combine that with hunger, and it definitely explained her attitude. “I’m investigating a possible vampire attack at my current location. We got anyone in the area, in case I need backup?”

“What, teacher’s pet needing backup?” She sounded positively cheerful at the thought. “I think you’ve just made my night.”

“I’m so glad.” Not. “What have you got on this apartment block?”

Keys tapped, then she said, “Not a lot. It’s an old government housing development that has been listed for demolition for the last ten years. It’s become a squat for itinerants and the homeless, apparently.”

“Well, it’s now the home of a rather large vampire community. A youngish one, too.”

“Impossible. Vampires don’t pack like you wolves do.”

“Well, tell that to the vamps here.”

She grunted. “There’s nothing in the files here about it.”

“Then you’d better make a note and let Jack know. He may want to investigate.”

“It’s noted. Talvin’s nearby if you need him.”

“Thanks. I’ll yell if I do.”

“Don’t yell too late, wolf girl. Talvin doesn’t appreciate picking up the bits.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate being bits.”

I slowed as I neared the fourth-floor landing. The unwashed scent still clung to the air, and my infrared sight picked out several vamps hovering down the right-hand corridor, the heat of their bodies standing out sharply against the surrounding darkness. I looked left. No vamps.

Fortunately, Ben’s friend lived in apartment 41, which, according to the signage on the walls, was the very last one on the left. My boot heels clicked sharply against the threadbare carpeting, the sound echoing across the thick air, as steady as a heartbeat. Just not my heartbeat.

The closer I got to apartment 41, the more tense I became. The soft scent of blood was now beginning to perfume the air, but there didn’t seem to be any unusual noises coming from the apartment. No sounds of fighting, nothing to indicate anything was out of order.

Maybe Ben’s friend had simply gotten a little paranoid about living amongst all these vampires. Or maybe he’d cut himself shaving and had panicked about the consequences.

I stopped when I reached the door, then flexed my fingers and raised a hand to knock.

That’s when I heard it. A soft, hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-raising moan.

The sort of moan that came from the dying.

I stepped back, raised a foot, and kicked the door open. It smashed back against the wall, sending dust and plaster flying. The thick smell of wrongness and vampire rushed out, overwhelming my senses and making me want to gag. Or maybe that was a reaction to the sight before me.

A naked man hung from a ceiling rafter—not from his neck but from rope around his wrists. Rope as bloody as his shredded back and butt.

The man causing all the damage was the source of both the vampire scent and the wrongness. And his scent was one I recognized.

“I told you—” he began, as he swung around, then stopped. His expression changed from one of annoyance to surprise, then, without the barest flicker in his bloodshot brown eyes to warn me, he turned and bolted for a doorway at the rear of the living room.

I sprinted after him, the smell of blood, sweat, and fear heavy in my nostrils as I ran past the naked man. The wrong-smelling vamp had disappeared into what looked like a bedroom.

I ran into the room just in time to see him leap for the window. Glass shattered, spraying outward into the night as he plunged through and down.

The drop wouldn’t kill a vamp. It might damage him, but vamps were a resilient lot. Unfortunately, in this case.

I cursed and spun around. I might be able to take a seagull’s shape, but hitting the ground from the height of a fourth-floor window would be a hell of a lot harder than hitting it from the top branches of a tree. And while I had flown briefly—and successfully—today, I didn’t feel like putting my life on the line to test out my new-found skills. As I ran past the bloodied and still-bound Ivan, I said, “He’s running. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Wait,” he said, voice hoarse. “Wait—”

I didn’t. The vamps out in the corridor had drawn closer, perhaps lured by the sharper scent of blood.

“Touch him and you all pay the price!” I dragged my badge out of my pocket again and thrust it in front of me. I didn’t know if it would actually help, and I couldn’t afford to hang around and find out. Not if I wanted to stop the vamp.

Because a vamp willing to go to such extremes of torture before tasting his victim’s blood was a vamp who would not stop at just one victim.

Once upon a time, I might have taken care of the living before chasing after the dead, but I’d learned the hard way that such actions generally only resulted in more deaths—and I had enough of those on my conscience right now.

I just had to hope the vamps in this building feared the Directorate more than they wanted to taste Ivan’s blood.

I pounded down the stairs and out the shattered glass doors. Even against the thick reek of vampire that clung to the night, the odd scent of my quarry was easy enough to pick up. I raced across the barren ground of what once might have been a playground, and out onto the street. The vamp was nowhere to be seen, but his scent pulled me on.

“Sal, the vamp is on the run.” Headlights swept across the darkness, tearing away the shadows. The vamp became briefly visible—stringy hair flying, his legs almost a blur, arms pumping. “He’s about half a block ahead of me. If Talvin’s near, can you call him in as backup?”

“Will do.”

The car moved past, the headlights sweeping onto me. I threw up a hand to protect my eyes and kept on running. I was getting closer. Slowly but surely.

He swung right into a side street. I reached for more speed, not wanting him out of my sight for long, and felt the twinge of protest in my bruised and battered leg muscles.

I ran into the side street. The rich smell of barbequing meat filled the night, making my mouth water. The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but his lingering scent suggested he’d crossed the road and wasn’t that far ahead. I flicked to infrared, and realized the strength of the scent was misleading. His body was a fading blur up ahead. Fuck, he was fast.

I upped my own speed again, and the twinges in my legs became outright pain. I ignored them and ran on.

The vamp swung left into another side street. It was almost thirty seconds later before I skidded around the corner. Who’d have thought a vampire with such skinny little legs could have so much sustained speed?

Under the glow of infrared, the street was empty of life. I frowned, looking left and right, seeing the glimpses of life in the houses along either side of the street, but nothing that indicated my would-be murderous vampire was anywhere near.

I couldn’t have just lost him. No vampire could move that fast.

Yet his scent was not only fading fast, but dispersing in all directions. As if he’d stopped, and something had scattered the smell of him.

I looked upward. No vampire in the nearby trees, no unusual shape in the sky. Not that vampires could actually fly—not unless they’d been a bird-shifter in life, anyway.

Though with the sheer wrongness of his scent overwhelming everything else, it was possible for me to have missed the scent of shifter on him.

But if he was a bird-shifter, why hadn’t he taken flight when he’d jumped out the window? He could have gotten away much easier and cleaner.

Unless his intention all along had been to drag me far enough away so he could go back and finish what he’d started?

“Sal,” I said, as I turned and ran back as fast as my aching legs would allow. “My target has flown the coop and I’ve lost him.”

“Well, shit, Riley, that’s slack.”

No doubting that. “He’s five ten, gaunt build, with brown eyes and stringy hair. Can you put out a bulletin? I’ve got a bleeder in an apartment block of vamps to attend to. Send an ambulance ASAP.”

“What about Talvin?”

“Can you ask him to patrol the building’s grounds? Just in case our rogue decides to return?”

“Will do.”

The graffiti-strewn building felt no safer going in the second time than it had the first. The vamps still hovered, their hunger stinging the air.

At least there was no sense of a feeding frenzy. No overwhelming aroma of blood filling the air.

I pounded back up the stairs, wondering if I was even going to be able to walk tomorrow after everything my poor muscles had been through today.

The vamps on the fourth floor had stayed back, as ordered. I slowed as I neared the end apartment again, my breathing short, sharp gasps that filled the air. I raised an arm to swipe at the sweat trickling down my cheeks and entered the apartment.

Ben’s bloodied friend still hung by his wrists, and the odd-smelling vampire was nowhere nearby. Relief filtered through me. For once, fate hadn’t chucked me a curveball.

“Please,” he croaked, “get me down.”

“There’s a knife in the kitchen?”

He shook his head, sending droplets of blood flying from the cut on his cheek. “Not strong enough. Bedroom.”

I raised an eyebrow, though given his living arrangements, I guess it wasn’t such a bad idea. Personally, I’d be keeping a few handy stakes within reaching distance, too.

I found several large hunting knives in the bedside table, along with several smaller throwing knives. I picked the biggest and headed back out.

To find we were no longer alone.

“Fuck,” Ben said, his expression both shocked and angry as he stopped just inside the doorway. “I didn’t expect this.”

“No,” I agreed. I waved the knife in the direction of his friend. “You want to support his weight while I cut him down?”

He moved forward quickly, his big arms going around the waist of his smaller friend and taking the weight off Ivan’s torn and bloody wrists.

Ivan groaned, though I wasn’t sure whether it was in relief or pain. I dragged a kitchen chair up to them both and climbed up.

“There’s an ambulance coming. It should only be a few minutes.”

“Good,” Ben muttered. “But what about the vamp who did this?”

“Lost him.”

“Shit.”

“Putting it politely, yes.”

I raised the knife and began to cut. The blade was razor sharp, and sliced through the thickly twined layers of rope with little effort. Ivan didn’t say anything, and his gaze seemed a little unfocused. Maybe shock was starting to set in, either through blood loss or the sheer trauma of what he’d been through. His body had been shredded front and back, the rents jagged and uneven. No knife had caused them, that’s for sure.

The last of the rope strands gave way. Ben carried his friend over to the ratty-looking sofa and gently put him down. Ivan hissed, his expression contorting with pain.

“Sorry, mate,” Ben said, then looked at me. “You think he’s going into shock?”

“Yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “The ambulance shouldn’t be far, but maybe we should give him some water to sip. If it’s the blood loss causing the shock, we need to replace some of his fluids.”

“I’ll go get some.” He rose and walked past me, smelling of blood and anger.

I knelt down in front of Ivan. He didn’t react, so I touched his swollen fingers. He jumped, and his gaze swung to mine, momentarily filled with fear before he realized who it was and that he was still safe.

“I need to know what happened,” I said softly.

He licked his lips and swallowed heavily. “He came in about an hour ago. Said he needed to talk.”

“So you know him?”

He shook his head. “But he looked vaguely familiar, and Vinny had cleared him, so I thought he’d be fine.”

I frowned. “Who’s Vinny?”

“The head of the vampire group living here,” Ben said, as he came back into the room. He squatted down beside me, the heat of him rolling over me, thick with the scent of barely controlled anger. He dribbled some water onto Ivan’s lips, then looked at me. “Ivan’s undergone the blood ceremony to become a vampire, which is why he’s living here with Vinny and the vamps.”

Confusion swirled through me. “Taking the ceremony doesn’t mean he’s going to die straightaway. Not unless he intends suicide.”

And I very much doubt that had been his intent here. He wouldn’t have called Ben for help, if that were the case.

“He’s got cancer. Inoperable. He’s been given a year to live, at most.”

“Ah.” At least that explained his living arrangements. It made sense to be close to his maker if he went sooner than expected. I glanced at Ivan. “So Vinny might know who the vampire is?”

He closed his eyes, took a shuddery breath, then whispered, “I don’t know. But there was no intervention.”

And that was the cruncher.

The majority of vamps tended to be protective of their young—or soon-to-be young—at least until they were old enough to control the bloodlust and know the tricks of the trade, so to speak. They had to be, because the Directorate held them accountable for their young’s actions. It was only once they had a handle on being a vampire that the young were let loose into the big wide world. Vampires tended to be territorial, and two fully grown vamps generally couldn’t live together. Which made what was going on here a whole lot stranger. They simply couldn’t be all young ones. No vampire alive could control this many young.

Or so I’d thought.

Ben gave Ivan a few more drops of water. I waited until he’d swallowed, then asked, “Why did you invite him over the threshold if you didn’t know him?”

“Because he went through Vinny. I thought he was okay.”

Seems Vinny had a few answers to provide. And maybe it was Vinny, rather than my badge, that had kept the younger vamps at bay. Which meant, given the number of vampires living in this old building, he had to be fairly powerful.

But it was interesting that our rogue vamp had known enough about this building and its occupants to go through the protocol. Unlike me, who’d just charged in.

Of course, that’s what we guardians were supposed to do. Charge into places the dead feared to tread. Lucky us.

“Has Vinny got a last name?”

“Castillo.”

Hopefully, Sal hadn’t become bored by proceedings and was now doing a check to see what we had on one Vincent Castillo.

“Did your attacker say what he wanted to talk about?”

“No, he just started attacking, telling me he’d make me pay for hurting him.”

I raised my eyebrows. “So you do know him?”

“No. He was fucking crazy. I’ve never seen him before in my life, I swear.”

I could sense no lie in his words, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t. I mean, why would a vamp go to so much trouble to get in here just to attack a complete stranger?

“So if he attacked you straightaway, when did you get the chance to call Ben?”

He closed his eyes. “I didn’t.”

I looked at Ben, who said, “Maybe the shock and blood loss is affecting his memory.”

Maybe. And maybe he was telling the truth and something strange was going on.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and as I looked toward the doorway, a voice said, “Ambulance officers. Who needs the help?”

“Down here,” I shouted.

The footsteps drew closer, and a second later two men appeared. “Well, that was a hairy experience,” the first man said. “Never been in a place where so many vamps haunted the shadows.” He glanced at Ivan and clicked his tongue. “The vamps do this?”

“No. They just didn’t stop it.”

“Vamps tend to be like that,” he said philosophically. “It’s all about their needs, not others’.”

And that, I thought, as I rose to get out of his way, was the best summation I’d heard of vamps in quite a while.

I followed Ben across the living room. He crossed his bare arms, his blue T-shirt straining across his chest as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. He must have left the bike leathers at home in his haste to get here, but the T and the jeans were a damn fine look.

I tried to concentrate on the business at hand. “Does Ivan work at Nonpareil as well?”

Ben shook his head. In the bright living room light, his blue eyes looked almost sapphire with the anger that still overwhelmed his scent. “He’s an investment advisor.”

“Then how did you two meet?”

“We go to the same gym, and became friends a few years ago.” He hesitated. “Why?”

“Because I think it’s odd that two people you know have now been attacked in an identical way.”

He frowned. “Why would either of the attacks be related, let alone related to me?”

“Well, you’d have to tell me. Why would someone want to get back at you by attacking your friends? Because one thing I’m sure of is the fact that they’re related.”

His frown deepened. “Impossible. I mean, Ivan and Denny didn’t even know each other. And why do you think it was the same killer going after them both?”

“Because I recognized the vampire’s scent. The vampire who was in Denny’s bedroom—and who might well have killed him—is the same vampire responsible for stringing Ivan up by his wrists and slicing him open.”