Chapter Four
“He’s not going to become a vampire.” Dr. Bob Heider took off his tortoiseshell glasses and rubbed the lenses. “The guy’s blood showed no signs of any mutation. You don’t have to worry about this one.” He put his glasses back in place then gestured toward the body on the slab. “He’s not rising.”
Some of the tension left Jane’s shoulders. She and Dr. Bob hadn’t always gotten along so well, but now things were going much better between them. He wasn’t bullshitting her on the paranormal cases—after all, word had come down that she was the lucky detective who got to handle the monsters—and she was slowly finding her footing in the land of the supernatural.
“Have you been able to tell what killed him?” Jane leaned closer to the body. “Any puncture wounds to show that a vamp attacked?” Because a vampire could have attacked the guy, but not transformed him. In order for a normal human to become a vampire, the human had to get the vampire’s blood so the transformation would occur. No blood, no new vamp.
Unless you happened to be born waiting to be a vamp…like me.
Dr. Bob nervously cleared his throat. She looked up at him. The overhead lighting reflected off the guy’s very high forehead. His hair was receding fast, despite the sweep-over attempt that he’d tried this week.
But he didn’t meet her stare. Instead, he kept looking down at the clipboard in his hands, as if every secret in the world were written there.
Maybe the secrets were.
“Dr. Bob?” Jane prompted.
Sweat beaded on his forehead.
Crap.
“Y-you saw the claw marks on him,” he said.
“Hard to miss them. But I wondered if maybe the killer was just trying to throw us off—make us think a werewolf had attacked.”
Dr. Bob shook his head. “I measured the wounds. They’re all are the same.” He put his clipboard down. She realized that his fingers were shaking. He eased closer to her. His gaze nervously swept toward the closed door, then back to her. “The measurements are all the same.” He lifted his shaking fingers, spreading them just a bit as he curled his fingers. Then he made a clawing motion at her.
Her brows shot up. “What in the hell are you doing?”
“Werewolf attack,” he whispered, then threw another nervous glance toward the door. “Oh, shit, do you think your guards can hear me? I don’t want to get my throat ripped out.”
She grabbed his hand before he could do one of those annoying-ass claw motions again. “No one is ripping out your throat. You work for the werewolf alpha, remember?” He’d been on Aidan’s payroll long before she came into the game. Aidan paid the ME well to make sure that paranormal murders didn’t leak to the press.
Most humans didn’t know about the paranormals. Aidan wanted to keep things that way.
“Aidan doesn’t like it when his own kind kill.” Dr. Bob licked his lips and beetled his bushy eyebrows at her. “You know what happened the last time a werewolf turned on him.”
Yes, she did. Death. But Aidan hadn’t been the one to kill the wolf who’d betrayed him.
“I think this human…his name is Alan Thatcher—I think he was killed by a werewolf.”
“Alan?”
“His prints turned up in the system. Guy had a charge of marijuana possession when he was eighteen. The charges were later dropped, but his prints were still on file.”
She nodded.
“I don’t think our vic was killed at the scene.” Dr. Bob tapped his chin. “There wasn’t enough blood at the scene, not based on the type of injuries he received. A werewolf killed him, then took his body to the cemetery.”
“The scene was staged,” she murmured, dropping his hand. And that wasn’t good. A werewolf killer on the loose, one who wanted people to know about his crimes? Aidan definitely won’t like this.
And I don’t like it damn much, either.
Jane’s gaze slid back to the victim. Alan Thatcher. “Why you?” She would find out. That was her job. To give justice to the victims. That was why she’d wanted to become a homicide detective in the first place. Sadness filled her as she stared at all of his wounds. “This sure looks like a whole lot of rage to me.”
Dr. Bob gave a grunting sound of agreement. “Seems to me as if the perp didn’t just want to kill the vic…the attacker wanted to destroy him completely.”
“Disfigure him,” she whispered. Alan had been so handsome. Before. “A whole lot of rage,” she said again. “And maybe hate.” Jane rubbed the back of her neck. “Run every blood analysis and test that you can think of on the guy, okay? If he was special to the killer, maybe there was a reason why. Something that we don’t see, not yet.” And while he did that, Jane would learn every detail she could about Alan Thatcher’s personal life.
She turned and headed for the door.
“Are you…all right, Jane?”
Dr. Bob’s question made her pause. A wry smile curled her lips as she looked back at him. “You sound worried about me.”
He puffed up his chest. “No. Not at all.”
She waited.
His chest deflated. “You’re human.”
Not according to Aidan.
“You have to be careful in their world. I’m in it only as little as I can be.”
He was warning her. That was almost cute. “And here I didn’t think you cared.”
No humor glinted in his eyes. “They use humans. We do their dirty work.” His stare trekked to the body on the slab. “We clean up their messes.”
“This isn’t a mess. It’s a man’s life. And I will find his killer.”
“Even if that killer is in Aidan’s pack? Because he controls all the werewolves in the city. Once word gets out that a wolf did this…” He exhaled. “Those two outside probably already heard us. You know wolves have that freakish hearing.”
Jane just shook her head.
“They’re probably calling him right now—”
Okay, he might be right on that point. She shoved open the door and strode into the hallway. Sure enough, her guards were there. Garrison was easy to spot with his messy mop of bright red hair. The guy was generally her lead guard. Mostly because he’d sworn some blood oath to protect her after she’d saved his ass. Only he was currently on his phone, hunched over and—
Jane grabbed the phone from him. “Aidan? Yeah, it’s me. And what Garrison was trying to tell you is true.” She glared at Garrison. Seriously, I wasn’t even done with Dr. Bob. “We’ve got a werewolf killing in the city. And we need to stop him.”
***
Jane strode down the New Orleans street, her steps fast and angry. She could hear her guards behind her. Keeping their careful distance. Was this really supposed to be her life? Constant guards? Aidan needed to back off with this shit. She was—
A sharp cry sounded behind her. Jane whirled around. Her blond guard was on the ground, unconscious. A street lamp’s light fell on him, clearly showing his slumped form.
“Jane, run!” That was Garrison’s yell. Her head whipped toward him. Garrison’s claws were out and he was facing off against a shadowy figure. “Get out of here!”
The figure lunged for Garrison. The shadow picked up Garrison and held him at least a foot in the air, like the werewolf was some kind of rag doll.
“Stop!” Jane yelled. She yanked out her gun. “Let him go!”
The figure threw Garrison. The redheaded werewolf hit the lamp post with a hard thud. He didn’t get back up.
And the shadow turned to face Jane.
She kept her gun up and aimed right at his heart.
He stepped toward her and illumination from a nearby street lamp hit his face. Not the face of some hideous monster, but a man. Strong features. Sensual lips. A small cleft in his chin. Thick hair. Intense eyes.
“Hello, Mary Jane. I’ve been looking for you, for a very long time.” He took another step toward her.
“Move again, and I will shoot.” Both of her guards were unconscious. And this joker—he thought he was just going to stride right up to her?
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Right. You’re just here to hurt the two guys who were with me.”
He shrugged. “They were following you. I was afraid they meant you harm.”
His voice held no accent, and he had a deep, rumbly tone. Rather like Aidan’s.
The guy was about Aidan’s height, his shoulders were almost as broad, but he didn’t carry the raw, animalistic edge that Aidan did. This man—he was more suave. Controlled power. But the danger was still there. Plain to see.
“I was trying to protect you,” he said. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”
Was he telling the truth? Doubtful. “I don’t know who you are, buddy, but around here, if you attack first, that’s a one-way ticket to jail. You just assaulted two men.”
“They aren’t men.”
Her hold on the gun tightened. It was way after midnight and the street that housed the ME’s office wasn’t exactly booming with traffic right then. In fact, they were the only ones around. She’d intended to rush over to the police station and do a background search on her victim.
That’s not happening now.
“You’re under arrest,” Jane said.
His gaze swept over her. “You aren’t alone.”
Uh, no, she wasn’t. But her guards were currently unconscious. “You have the right to remain silent.”
“I know that you think you are alone. You think that you don’t have options. You’re scared, and you have to be tired of the fear.”
“Listen, buddy—”
“Vincent. My name is Vincent Connor.” He smiled.
There was no flash of fang, but his smile still unsettled her. Mostly because it looked far too intimate. As if the two of them shared some special secret.
“You don’t belong with the wolves,” Vincent said.
Crap. He knows way too much about me and about this town. “Put your hands up, now!” Jane barked at him.
His hands slowly rose. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
“Obviously—you’re just a crazy man. You’re out here, spouting about wolves and attacking innocent men. Maybe you don’t belong in jail. Maybe I need to find you a nice psych ward for the rest of the night.” It was a good thing she’d brought along her cuffs. Jane inched toward him. He wasn’t moving. His hands were still up. For the moment, he seemed to be following her orders. She grabbed one of his wrists and locked the cuff around him.
His head turned as he stared down at her. “Don’t pretend with me. You don’t have to do that. I know exactly what is happening in this town.”
She went behind him, caught his other wrist, and cuffed him. With his hands behind his back, she felt a bit more secure.
Okay, not really.
“Garrison!” She called to the fallen man. “Garrison, get up!”
He didn’t move. So much for werewolf back-up. If her guards were just going to get their asses handed to them at the first sign of a fight, what good were they?
“If you stay with him,” Vincent told her quietly, “he will kill you.”
A cold chill slid over Jane’s body.
The man—Vincent—glanced over his shoulder at her. “A vampire isn’t meant to stay with a werewolf.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Stop.” No anger was in his voice. He said the word almost as if it were a caress. “Don’t pretend with me. You never have to do that. I’m not here to judge you. Or to hurt you. I want to help.”
Garrison groaned.
“Y-you were the one outside of the cemetery, weren’t you?” She hadn’t been able to see the vampire’s face, not clearly. He’d been running toward her, a big, menacing shadow. Because he’s a big guy. Then he’d just…vanished.
“I was there for you.”
“You need to stay the hell away from me.” She pressed her gun into his back. “Because my last meeting with a vampire didn’t go so well.”
“We’re not all the same. Humans are good and evil. Werewolves, too. Why would you think that vampires would be any different?”
Because—
He snapped the cuffs. Just ripped them straight apart. She’d only seen one other guy ever do a move like that—Aidan.
The vampire whirled toward her. Her finger squeezed the trigger because she was not about to let him attack her. If he thought she would be his meal for the night, he needed to think again.
The bullet slammed into him, hitting his chest as he turned, at nearly point-blank range. He grunted at the impact, but didn’t so much as stumble back.
Because I hit him with silver. A silver bullet won’t take out a vampire. But blood loss would hurt him. So she’d just keep shooting—
He grabbed the gun, his fingers curling over hers. “It hurts like a bitch to get shot.”
She stared at him. He was right, it did. She’d been shot before so she knew that truth.
He smiled. This time, she could see his fangs.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
So he kept saying.
“Your lover…he’s the one you have to fear.”
What?
“And he’s coming…”
Vamps had enhanced senses. So if the guy said Aidan was coming…then he is. “You need to get your ass out of here.”
“You’ll need me, Jane. When he turns on you, I’ll be the one to help you.”
“Aidan won’t turn on me.”
“Yes, he will.” Vincent sounded so absolutely certain of that fact. “It’s his nature. The beast lives to destroy us.”
“There is no ‘us’ here. I’m not like you.” She was still talking to him for one reason—to buy time. Because if Aidan was coming, she wanted to keep the vampire there with her. Together, she and Aidan could stop him. “I’m not a vampire.”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever.”
He laughed. “You sure about that? If you want to know what your future holds, then perhaps you should pay a visit to the voodoo queen in town.”
He’s talking about Annette Benoit. Because when it came to voodoo in New Orleans, Annette was the real power. Everyone else was just a sideshow for the tourists.
“Ask her to scry and see what the future holds.” His voice turned into a whisper. “Though I don’t think you’ll like what you find.”
“Jane!” Her name was a roar that seemed to shake the street.
“And here’s the lover, rushing to the rescue…” Vincent didn’t seem at all worried.
He should have been.
She looked to the right and saw Aidan rushing toward them. He was little more than a blur, so fast, so—
He hit the vampire. Just slammed his body into Vincent’s. They both went hurtling to the ground. Aidan lifted his claws, aiming them for the vampire’s throat. He’s going to take Vincent’s head.
But…the vampire wasn’t fighting back. And he hadn’t hurt me. He hadn’t killed Garrison or her other guard, even though he’d had the chance. Garrison was rising slowly to his feet right then. The other guard was groaning.
And the vamp isn’t fighting. Something was very wrong with that scene.
“Aidan, stop!’ Jane yelled.
His claws sliced toward the vampire’s throat. Blood spilled. The vampire still didn’t fight back.
Jane grabbed Aidan’s arm, yanking as hard as she could. “Don’t kill him!”
Aidan’s head turned. His gaze met hers, and Jane had to swallow down her fear. He was still in the form of a man. He was her Aidan, but his gaze—that bright blue stare was pure beast. So much rage and hate blazed in his eyes.
“He’s not fighting back,” she said.
Aidan’s expression didn’t alter.
“He doesn’t care,” Vincent snarled, still on the ground. “I came to this town to help you. He doesn’t care. Take a long hard look at him, Mary Jane. This is what he is. He’s the killer. He’s the beast. And soon enough, you’ll just be his prey.”
A snarl broke from Aidan. She felt the rush of power in his body. His muscles jerked beneath her touch. His bones snapped.
He’s transforming. Right here. Right now.
“Get…away…Jane…” Aidan ordered, each word a dark rumble. “Get…”
Fur burst from his skin. His body seemed to double in size.
She stumbled back.
“See…him…” The vampire blasted at her as he rose. Blood dripped from his throat. “See what he really is.”
Aidan was on all fours now. Transforming fully.
Garrison grabbed her arm. “You need to get away from them.”
Aidan was going to kill the vampire. “Why aren’t you defending yourself?” Jane asked Vincent, truly confused. He was strong, they all knew it.
Vincent gave her a sad smile. He acted as if his blood wasn’t currently soaking his shirt. “Because you need to see that we aren’t all evil. We aren’t what he says. You aren’t.”
She shook her head.
Garrison wrapped his arms around her stomach and lifted her up. “Come on, Jane!”
Aidan wasn’t a man any longer. His shift was complete. A giant wolf had taken the place of the man. He tossed back his head and howled.
“No.” This was wrong. Something just didn’t fit. The vampire wasn’t trying to save himself. He was just standing there. Defenseless.
She broke from Garrison’s arms. “Aidan, stop!”
He froze, just inches from the vampire. Froze for the briefest of seconds, and then he leapt forward, slicing out with his powerful claws.
But the vampire vanished before those claws could rip into him.
The wolf howled. Frustration and fury fueled the long, echoing cry.
Like even the people in New Orleans can ignore that cry. She glanced around the street, but it was still empty. Thankfully.
Garrison grabbed Jane once more. He sure was grabby that night. He pushed her behind his back, putting his body between her and Aidan.
The wolf pawed at the ground before Garrison.
“Aidan.” Garrison’s voice broke a bit. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Tell me that you have control in there. Tell me—”
The wolf’s head butted against Garrison’s leg.
“Shit, shit,” Garrison rasped. “Jane, you’re gonna need to walk away. Slowly. Do not run. That will just make him want to chase you. That’s what happens when the wolf is in charge. It’s all animal. You run, he chases you down. You—”
“His animal isn’t in control. He’s Aidan. Wolf or man, he’s Aidan.” Jane sounded a whole lot more confident than she felt. The wolf had circled around them and now he was right by her side. Jane slowly lifted her hand toward the beast. “He’s Aidan.”
Aidan with some very, very big teeth.
He sniffed her hand. His eyes—those same brilliant blue eyes—gleamed up at her.
“Aidan,” Jane said his name again, only stronger this time. More determined. “Get your ass back into human form before you start to freak out some tourists.”
The wolf stared up at her.
Her heart drummed in her chest. She knew he could smell her fear. Aidan had told her once that he didn’t like it when she was afraid. That the scent was wrong, coming from her.
She stared at him.
He licked her hand then he slid back onto his haunches. He stared up at her as the change swept over him again. Hard. Brutal. The snapping of bones was a sound she’d never be able to forget. The fur seemed to melt away. Smooth muscle was revealed. Powerful shoulders. Naked skin.
And soon Aidan crouched before her. He rose, slowly, never taking his gaze from her.
“Aidan…”
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her tightly against him, and held her there, right against his heart. “I was afraid…” His voice still sounded more like a beast’s growl than a man’s rumble. “Afraid I wouldn’t get to you in time.”
A bit hesitant, her arms curled around him. “It’s all right. I’m fine.”
A shudder slid along his body. “This time.”
A vehicle’s headlights suddenly lit up the street. Jane stiffened. Humans, coming now? Oh, jeez—
“It’s just Paris. Get in the SUV, Jane.” His voice was still rough but, more Aidan. “I don’t know where that vampire went, and I need to get you out of here.”
She wasn’t about to argue. The night had been more than weird enough, thank you very much. She was ready for it to end. When the SUV rolled to a stop, she jumped in the back, and a naked Aidan followed right behind her. “Scout the area,” Aidan ordered Garrison through the open back door. “See if you can catch the bastard’s scent.”
“I didn’t catch it before,” Garrison admitted glumly as he rubbed his forehead. “The guy just—attacked. No warning. He came from fucking nowhere.”
And that was where he’d gone, too. Just vanished. Disappeared.
Garrison slammed the SUV’s back door shut, sealing them inside.
“Take us to the apartment, Paris,” Aidan said. “As fast as you can.” Then his fingers caught hers. He squeezed her. “You’re safe now.”
But…was she?
Jane looked at his fingers. The claws were gone, but they’d be back. With Aidan, they always were. His beast stayed close.
***
Vincent smiled as he watched the SUV’s tail lights vanish when the vehicle turned the corner.
A successful night.
He’d been able to get a little one-on-one time with Jane. Sure, she’d shot him, but the wound had been worth it.
And as for Aidan Locke…
Now maybe she’ll start to see just what you really are. The guy pretended to be a hero, but he wasn’t. There was nothing heroic about the werewolf. Vincent knew the man’s secrets. Soon enough, he’d make sure that Jane knew them, too.
Vincent swiped his hand over his bleeding throat. He didn’t feel weak, not yet, but the blood loss—both from the bullet wound and Aidan’s attack—wasn’t acceptable. He had to always be at full power, at least while he was in New Orleans.
He slipped down the street, making sure to stay in the shadows. Some of the wolves were searching for him, but they’d gone one way and he’d gone another. Vincent wasn’t about to be captured. If they got too close, well, he could always eliminate them.
Another few turns and he saw a small tour group huddled together. One person stood before the group, wearing a long black cloak.
“This is the LaLaurie Mansion,” the figure in the cloak announced with a dramatic wave of his hands. “Terrible, horrible crimes were committed here by Dr. Louis LaLaurie and his wife Delphine. They tortured their slaves. Performed fiendish experiments…”
A few gasps came from the group as they eyed the house.
They were all busy staring up at the imposing structure. No one noticed him when he slipped toward the group.
There are always stragglers in a group like this…
“Madame LaLaurie was rumored to be the ringleader, the one who ordered one of her servants to have her mouth sewn shut! Madame and her doctor husband created human spiders, they chained their victims to operating room tables…” The tour guide turned away, telling more of his grisly tales as he headed down the street.
The small group followed him.
All except…one woman. She stopped. She tilted up her camera and snapped pictures of the house.
Vincent smiled. “You like…scary stories.”
She gave a little jerk, then turned toward him in surprise. He was still in the shadows. The better for him to hide the blood soaking him. The woman’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving him a delectably tempting view of her neck. She laughed, the sound high and nervous, before she said, “Isn’t that why we’re all on the paranormal tour? Because we like to be scared?”
He wasn’t on any tour.
She turned away. “Better hurry up. The others are getting ahead of us.”
He moved quickly, catching her arm. “I want them to get ahead.”
“G-get your hand off me.”
“I’m sorry.” He was. He didn’t normally feed this way. “But I have a need…”
She twisted against him. The woman opened her mouth to scream—
His left hand clamped over her lips. He bit her, his fangs sinking deep, and her blood spilled onto his tongue.