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Wednesday, December 29, 1:30 a.m.
Lore’s condo building
Talia’s anger and determination had careened into a brick wall.
She hid in the stairwell, the fire door open just enough to give her a crack to peer through. Carefully, she’d opened the noisy push bar without anyone hearing it. She’d assumed that late at night, the cops would have gone home. She had been wrong. There had to be a dozen still scouring the condo for clues. A few stood just feet away, almost close enough to touch.
If she let go of the door, the mechanism would close with a clatter and reveal her presence. A vampire could run faster than human cops, but she wasn’t exactly sure where she was going to run to. All her ID, her money, her car keys, and her warm clothes were in her condo. Leaving Lore’s bedroom hadn’t improved her circumstances very much at all.
She couldn’t go forward. She couldn’t go back. She was stuck. Talia’s skin shivered with the tension screaming through her muscles.
A uniformed cop walked out of the condo, interrupting someone who looked like a plainclothes detective. The latter was talking to a guy whose jacket was dusted with melting snow.
“Freaking vampires.” The uniform was stowing a camera in his shoulder bag. “That was something else, eh?”
“Just wait till you see a werewolf kill,” said the man with the snow on his coat. “I needed a wet vac to collect the remains.”
The detective snorted. “Nice mental image, Bob. I’m going to remember that next time I have chili.”
“Up yours, too, Baines.”
“It’s not funny,” snapped the cop with the camera. “What’s in there is not freaking funny. Sir.” He added the last with a baleful glance at Baines.
The detective looked sympathetic. “Murder is never funny.”
Bob lifted his voice, yelling into the condo, “You guys done yet? Can I bring in the gurney?”
With a jolt, Talia realized Bob was a paramedic. Or maybe a morgue attendant. He’d come to take Michelle’s body.
“Just about!” came the reply.
No! Talia hadn’t said goodbye. I’m not done. I haven’t had any time with her!
The uniform was still rambling on. “Things are getting worse. It didn’t used to be like this. Not before the monsters came out and started pretending to be all nice and normal. Their ordinary clothes and jobs and homes are just like the feathers on a decoy. Camouflage.”
Bob murmured agreement.
“The nonhumans are not going away,” Baines pointed out. “We know they exist now.”
Bob folded his arms. “Then we should kill them. Plain and simple.”
Talia shuddered, the hand gripping the door handle giving a slight twitch. It rattled faintly, making her still heart give a single thump of alarm.
“Whoa, Bob.” Baines held up his hands, palms out. “Don’t hold back. Seriously, though, is this any worse than a human kill?”
“That’s a fair fight, sir,” said camera cop. “The monsters are too strong for one of us.”
That was true. Even without Undead strength, how could a human best the pure animal hunger in a vampire? Our thirst is a ravenous, selfish monster. Destroying others to slake it? Natural as breathing. From the first moment she woke to the night, Talia had learned how flimsy inhibitions were. Beneath that tissue-paper layer of reason was pure, bestial id.
“Okay, Bob,” someone yelled from inside the condo. “Come and get it!”
“Just wait till they get themselves elected.” The paramedic’s voice was dour with warning. “They’ll turn our own laws against us, and even monster lovers like you will start to see just how helpless we are.”
Baines frowned. “Part of me wants to agree with you, but the evidence doesn’t support that way of thinking.”
The paramedic gave a short laugh. “Then I’ll bring her out so you can take a good look.” With that, he collected his gurney from farther down the hallway and pushed it into the condo.
Talia’s eyes blurred with tears. She’s not evidence. She’s not a thing—she was a warm, living woman! A wave of hatred for the men rose in Talia’s belly, followed by a flood of shame.
She was the monster. It was her presence in Michelle’s life that had caused an ugly, violent death. Talia deserved whatever low opinion they had of her kind.
Baines turned to the uniformed cop. “All right, you want to arrest a vampire, here’s a reason I’ll buy into. I checked the registry for rogue vampires.”
Registry? What registry?
“And?”
“The dead woman’s cousin, Talia Rostova, is on there. A big-shot vampire from down east was her sire, and he’s looking for her. Apparently, she’s trouble. A thief, among other things.”
Crap! Why did I keep my own name? What an idiot! Of course the sires had a registry. It was a simple way of finding rogues so that they could be returned to their clans for punishment. And why wouldn’t they enlist the human police to help out?
Suddenly, switching identities seemed like a basic precaution. Naturally, there would be forgers, people who made new identities—but she didn’t know who any of them were. That was way too James Bond. She’d counted on sheer distance to hide her, and the fact no vampire king would dare to enter Queen Omara’s domain— especially not Belenos. He’d learned that the hard way.
She’d counted wrong.
I’m such an incompetent fool. The Hunters had trained her to fight, but not to hide. Now she would pay the price for that oversight.
No, Michelle’s memory would pay the price, because they’d be looking for Talia instead of the real killer. Suddenly, making sure justice was served seemed more important than anything else.
It was the only thing she could do for Michelle.
The gurney came rattling out of the condo. All that was left of her cousin was a misshapen lump in a zippered bag. Talia felt a scream building in her throat. She began to shake so violently, she had to brace the door with her foot. Her shuddering rattled the safety bar.
Oh, God, Michelle. There were no tears. She was beyond that. It was more as if her body couldn’t contain what she was feeling anymore. Any strength she possessed leaked from her body.
All that existed was the sight of her dead cousin.
She didn’t hear Lore approach. Suddenly, she felt him like a hot wall behind her, and was drowning in the scent of him. He reached around her and put his hand on the door. She stared at it, barely comprehending what his presence meant. Dully, she noticed his knuckles were scuffed as if he’d been fighting.
“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “Hellhounds have power over doorways and the places between places. I can close it without anyone noticing.”
Talia hesitated, unable to tear her eyes from the last glimpse of the gurney as it rattled toward the elevator. At last, though, she stepped back, colliding with the solid wall of his body. She stiffened as if she’d encountered an
