Chapter Nine
In New Orleans, the cemeteries were called Cities of the Dead. They’d earned that moniker for a good reason—with the tall, rising crypts and mausoleums that filled the cemeteries, the places actually did look like cities. Cities populated by ghosts and phantoms.
The dead weren’t under the ground. They couldn’t be, not with the flooding that the city had to endure—and had endured—for centuries. The dead slept in their crypts. The tourists flocked to their cemeteries looking for a paranormal thrill, and a killer…
Well, it seemed that a killer had marked one of the cemeteries as his own private hunting grounds.
Jane’s gun was in her hands as she crept between the crypts. Before she’d gone in the cemetery, she’d taken the liberty of putting silver bullets in her gun and ditching the wooden ones. For the time being. Since all signs were pointing to the killer being a werewolf—Dr. Bob sure was convinced of that fact—she’d wanted to have the best possible weapon for this fight. Aidan was at her side. They’d just entered the cemetery—
“I smell blood,” he said.
Dammit. “Lead the way.” Because she didn’t want to waste time searching. If he could track their victim, that would just make things easier. “Get to him. If he’s still alive, he needs our help.”
Aidan rushed forward, but he moved too fast. She scrambled to keep up with him. She hurried to—
“Jane…”
A low whisper, one that froze her in her tracks.
She spun around with her gun up. She knew she’d heard that voice, just as she’d heard it the last time she’d been in this damn cemetery. Was it the same voice that had called to her then? Jane wasn’t sure and she didn’t see anyone. She could hear the thud of Aidan’s footsteps. He was rushing to the victim.
But I think the killer is watching me. “Show yourself!” Jane snarled.
He didn’t. He…
“What are you, Jane?”
Was it Vincent? He’d been outside of the cemetery before. Was the vamp the killer she sought?
Jane saw a shadow move to the right of a tall, crucifix statue. She lunged forward. “Freeze!”
It was so dark. She caught the outline of a man’s back. Strong. Muscled. Bare?
He took a step forward, moving away from her.
“I said, freeze!” Jane yelled at him.
***
The scent of blood was overwhelming. Fresh. Fresh blood. Aidan ran to the victim, following that thick scent and then…
Arms spread, as if reaching out to heaven. Body twisted. Blood all the fuck everywhere.
Aidan staggered to a stop. The guy hadn’t just been killed. Deep claw marks covered his face and body. So much blood. This wasn’t just a kill. This was…
Sadistic. Out of control.
A beast playing with his prey.
He’d heard talk of this before, but during his time as alpha, Aidan had never come across anything quite like this.
Travis Maller, you poor bastard. The guy’s blood was still dripping onto the crypt beneath him. The kill was so fresh, it—
Travis’s body jerked.
Fuck, he’s still alive. Aidan leapt toward him. He shoved his hand on the worst of the guy’s wounds, trying to staunch that terrible flow of blood.
Travis’s eyes rolled as he glanced around, crazed. His body jerked, spasmed. He tried to talk, but spittle and blood just burst from his lips.
“We’ll get you help,” Aidan promised him. “Stay calm, okay? Just stay calm.” The human wasn’t going to live long. Not on his own. But Aidan knew how to help him.
My blood. It can give him strength. It might even help him to survive this hell.
Aidan lifted his hands away from the gaping wound. Not like I was doing much good there, anyway.
He let his claws out. Then he took one long, lethal claw and sliced it across his forearm.
“M-monster!” Travis screamed.
Now he managed to talk?
“Yeah, well, I’m the monster trying to save you. So just calm the hell down, got it? Take my blood and—”
But Travis was fighting him now. Frantic, desperate and—
He stilled.
“No,” Aidan snarled. He grabbed the guy’s head. Tried to force his blood into Travis’s mouth. “You don’t die yet, you hear me? Take a few fucking sips. Drink, come on, you asshole, try to live!”
But Travis’s head just sagged back. The last bit of strength he’d had was gone. That last scream—
Monster.
That scream had been his death cry.
Aidan’s teeth ground together. His head sagged forward. And then he realized…as some of the desperation faded…
Where is Jane?
Fear came then, coiling around him like a snake, and he surged away from the body. “Jane!”
***
When Jane heard Aidan bellowing her name, she tensed. The unknown assailant was still just a few steps in front of her, his face shielded by shadows. Had Aidan found the victim? Was Travis all right?
“Jane!” Another roar of her name, only this time, it was much closer. She knew Aidan was tracking her by scent. But she still called out, “I’m here, and I’m not alone! I’ve got the bastard who—”
The dark shadow flew at her. Fast. Too fast…Aidan fast. And something hit her hard in the stomach even as she fired her weapon. Once, twice, three times.
The bullets slammed into her attacker’s chest. He let out a terrible howl and then he seemed to leap right over her as she fell to the ground. It took a stunned moment for Jane to feel the pain. It didn’t register at first. The adrenaline was too strong. She was still trying to shoot the bastard who’d knocked her out and—
Blood. Her blood pumped from the wounds in her stomach.
“Jane!”
She tried to rise, but couldn’t. Then Aidan was there. Crouching over her, his blue eyes wild and desperate, glowing with his beast.
“Get him,” Jane whispered as she shoved her hand over the wound. Damn, but it hurt. And it was deep. The bastard clawed me. “I shot him with silver, so he’s going to be weak. You get him—”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Aidan.”
He lifted her hand. Stared at her wound. The glow of his eyes shined even brighter.
“You…can’t hurt.”
Yeah, well, she could. She was. “He’s getting away! I need you…to stop him…” Talking was getting harder and her head seemed to be spinning. She would get up and give chase on her own, in just a few moments. When a bit of the weakness passed.
When…
Aidan lifted her into his arms. “I won’t lose you, Jane.”
He wasn’t…was he? The pain had faded. That had to be a good sign.
Or maybe…maybe she just couldn’t feel anything right then. His arms were around her, but her body seemed numb and—
“You need my blood. You’re taking my blood.”
The hell she was. She wasn’t some vampire. That was her nightmare. She would not—
“It will help heal you.” He was lifting his arm to her mouth. She tried to turn away because there was no way she was going all vamp and drinking his blood.
“Jane…you will die.”
What? No, it was just a flesh wound.
“He carved you up, sweetheart. Deep. And I will kill him for it.”
Her lashes were trying to sag closed.
“Just take a little of my blood. A little…” His forearm was near her mouth. He had to be holding her with one arm. Typical werewolf strength. She would have made some smart ass comment about that but…
Too hard to talk.
“Travis Maller is dead.”
She jerked at those words.
“You’re not dying, Jane. Drink. Take my fucking blood. Save us both…”
Save them both? What—
Her lips parted.
Something warm, wet…oddly sweet touched her lips. She shuddered because she knew it was his blood. This was so wrong. She should be revolted. She should fight him but…
I like it.
Then her eyes closed and a cold darkness pulled at her.
I like it too much.
***
Jane sagged in his arms. Aidan forced his blood past her lips. She didn’t realize how bad the wound was, but he did. She would take his blood, she would heal. She would live.
And the sonofabitch who’d hurt her would pay.
He stood with Jane in his arms, holding her tightly. The SOB had fled, but Aidan could still hear the echo of his pounding feet. It would have been so easy to give chase. To stop the killer. To rip out his throat.
But then I might lose Jane. And that wasn’t a risk he could take. If she died this way, such a violent death, then she’d come back as a vampire.
I’d be the one sent to kill her. It would be on me. It would be—
Sirens screamed in the distance. His head jerked up as he listened—those cop cars were racing their way. The killer had called Jane, had baited her into coming after him. Had he also called other cops?
Was he staging some kind of scene? It sure looked that way.
Aidan growled as he held her tighter. The cop cars were coming in fast, and they were nearing the entrance to the cemetery. If they saw Jane, they’d take her to their human doctors. Those doctors would try to fix her.
She wasn’t ready to be fixed yet, not by their science.
So he didn’t go to the entrance. He just ran straight for the big, stone wall that surrounded the cemetery. He ran faster and faster and when he got to that wall…
He held Jane against his heart and he jumped right the fuck over the wall.
***
She’d shot him. And the shots freaking burned.
He ducked behind an old building, one with boarded up windows and the scent of rats clinging to its exterior. He huddled low and gritted his teeth as the pain seemed to roll through his body.
The bitch, the bitch. He’d been distracted by her because her scent…it kept messing with his head. So he’d lingered at the cemetery. He’d gone closer to her.
And she’d shot him.
His claws were out. His fingers were trembling. And he seemed to be growing weaker with every single moment that passed.
What in the fuck?
He was supposed to be invincible. A god among the stupid humans but that cop, she’d brought him down. His eyes squeezed shut as he battled the pain. He hoped that bitch was dying in that cemetery. Another body to join the dead. He’d sliced her as hard and deep as he could.
Sirens echoed through the night. The other cops, rushing in. He’d intended for them to find Travis’s body and the pretty detective’s corpse. A double kill like that—no way would it not make the news.
Only he hadn’t been able to stay around and make sure the detective died. Her scent—shit, it had messed with his head.
She shot me.
The burning wasn’t stopping. He just seemed to be getting weaker and weaker and…
He lifted his trembling hand. One of the bullets had hit him near his heart. He started clawing at his chest, wanting that terrible pain to stop. That burning…he was burning from the inside, out. He clawed and clawed and—
His claws scraped over the bullet. He pulled it out, clenching his teeth to hold back his scream of pain.
This shouldn’t happen! No one hurts me! No one!
If the cop wasn’t dead, he’d get her…he’d make her suffer. Torture, so much torture. She’d beg him to end her suffering. She. Would. Beg.
His fingers burned when the bullet touched the skin there. Small tendrils of smoke rose from his hand, but he didn’t drop the oddly heavy bullet. He lifted it up, squinting his eyes.
Silver.
She’d shot him with silver.
He threw the bullet away and began clawing at the wound on his left shoulder. A few moments later, with smoke trailing from his fingers, the second bullet was out.
Time to get the third…
Silver. Detective Hart had known the score about the paranormal world. She’d used silver on him.
He couldn’t wait to use his claws on her again.
***
Annette Benoit didn’t like the werewolf mansion in the swamp. When a woman almost died at a particular spot, well, it wasn’t as if it left the best impression on her.
But the werewolf alpha had summoned her out to his place and when a werewolf like Aidan issued an invitation…
No one has the option of refusing.
She slammed the car door shut and glanced over at her driver, the always too handsome Paris. He’d been very stoic during the drive. He’d appeared at her shop and only said that Aidan needed her.
She wondered just what the emergency was that waited inside the mansion, but before she could even take a step toward the house, another car was rushing up behind her. She turned her head, blinded a moment by the vehicle’s bright lights. She didn’t have any kind of enhanced vision, so the lights made it hard for her to see anything beyond the big bulk of the SUV.
Someone jumped out of the driver’s side of that SUV. “Hurry the hell up!’
Ah, she knew that voice. Garrison. One of Aidan’s younger minions.
At his order, someone did hurry the hell up—the passenger side opened and a man with slightly stooped shoulders hopped out. He rushed for the mansion’s front door, a small bag gripped tightly in his hands.
Paris put his fingers at the small of Annette’s back and gave her a light push toward the house. She hadn’t even heard the guy move toward her.
“Aidan needs science and magic tonight,” Paris said.
Her stomach was twisting with fear. “What kind of magic?”
They crept up the steps that led to the entrance.
“The kind that will save the woman he loves.”
Annette sucked in a sharp breath. Jane. She’d feared this, especially after her last scry. “There isn’t anything I can do.”
“Yeah, well…” Paris’s voice was grim. “I wouldn’t tell Aidan that shit. I’d think of something. You’re the strongest voodoo queen that’s ever lived, right?”
She wouldn’t say that. She might think it, but she wouldn’t—
“So use whatever mojo you can, and make sure that Jane lives through the night.”
Through the night. Her breath eased out. “I’ll see what I can do.” But she wasn’t about to make any promises. Annette headed into the house. Werewolves were everywhere, and the tension in that place was thick enough to suffocate her.
“Upstairs,” Paris said. “She’s in his bedroom and—”
“I remember where his bedroom is.” Because during her last memorable visit to the mansion, she’d snuck Jane out of that bedroom. Annette had thought that she was saving Jane.
I wasn’t.
The guy with the bag had already started climbing the stairs. He was an older guy, balding, and wearing a white lab coat. He wasn’t hesitating at all as he rushed to the higher floor. In fact, his movements were jerky, tense. Worried?
She climbed quickly, too, her mind whirling. The guy up there had to be a doctor and from the way he was acting, he certainly knew the werewolf score. He seemed to either personally care what happened to Aidan or…
The doctor threw open the door that led to Aidan’s bedroom. “Jane!” His voice was hoarse. Scared.
The doctor disappeared inside. Annette squared her shoulders. She didn’t know what she’d find in that room, but she knew that if Jane slipped away that night, Aidan Locke quite possibly would go mad.
***
Jane was too pale. Too still.
“What in the hell happened to her?” Dr. Bob Heider demanded as he rushed toward the bed—and Jane. But as he neared the bed and got a better view of Jane…he swore. “Claw marks. Wolves!” He whirled toward Aidan. “Did you do this shit to her? I told her it was a mistake to get involved with someone like you! You aren’t meant to be with humans! You’re too wild, too rough, too—”
“Sew her up,” Aidan said, his voice flat and cold. Emotions were ripping him apart on the inside and it took all of his self-control not to let his beast out. Only this wasn’t a time for the beast’s fury and rage. This was a time for the man. Jane needed him.
He would be strong for her.
Bob had flushed a dark red. His eyes were watering. “She needs a hospital!”
“Sew. Her. Up.”
Bob whirled away from him and stomped to the bed. “Jane…” He touched her cheek with a trembling hand. Jane didn’t stir.
She’d taken Aidan’s blood, both at the cemetery, then here at his house. He’d made her drink. The wound was already healing, not nearly as deep. But still…bad. “Clean the wound. Make sure there is no chance of infection, then sew her up.”
“I heard you the first time!” Bob snapped back at him.
Aidan’s fists clenched. Don’t attack the doctor. You need him, for the moment.
“I deal with the dead! I’m not supposed to work on living humans!” But Bob had opened his bag. “I need to sterilize first…dammit, dammit…” Then he rushed in the bathroom.
The bedroom door opened once more. Aidan’s gaze flew to land on the new visitor. Annette. The voodoo queen looked nervous, too hesitant. Paris stood just behind her.
Annette’s gaze darted to Jane, then back to him. “What happened to her?”
“Ambush.” Don’t let the rage escape. The beast can’t come forward now. Jane needs the man. “Bastard werewolf in the cemetery. He killed again. Another human victim. Then he attacked Jane. She shot him, but he clawed her.” Nearly ripped out her insides.
“Did you kill him?” Annette asked.
I wish. “My priority was Jane. I had to get her to safety.”
There was a little gasp from the general area of the bathroom. “You…you didn’t do this.” Dr. Bob. Getting on his fucking nerves. “I-I thought…”
“If you don’t get to work on Jane in the next five seconds,” Aidan told him, rage cracking through his words. “I will start peeling off your skin.”
The room went dead silent.
Dr. Bob ran for the bed.
Aidan stood there, his whole body aching because Jane was hurt. She’d come too close to death. He needed her to open her eyes. To look at him and smile. Or to just look at him and give him hell. He liked it when she did that, too.
Annette crept toward the bed.
Paris took up a position near Aidan’s side. “You think threatening the doctor is the best idea? I mean, you weren’t really going to…” His words trailed off when Aidan looked at him. Just looked. Then Paris gave a low whistle. “That close to the edge, are you?”
He was already over the edge.
Annette stood at the foot of the bed. Her hands were twisted in front of her. “This isn’t what I saw.”
Aidan wasn’t sure what the fuck that meant. He marched toward her. “Use a spell. Get one of those damn dolls that I’ve seen you manipulate. Make her survive.”
“Survive the night?” Her stare darted from him to Paris. “That what you want?”
“I want her always.”
“Be careful what you wish for…” she murmured.
Jane was the only thing he’d ever wished for. “I do not have time for the bullshit that keeps coming my way.” He wanted to be clear. “Jane. She matters. Make it so that she lives.”
“So that she survives the night?” Annette asked carefully.
“Why the hell do you keep saying that?” Aidan shouted.
Everyone jumped.
Bob jumped, then stilled, his gloved fingers poised over Jane’s stomach.
Annette swallowed. “I just want to be sure I understand what you’re asking for. Spells are very particular. One wrong word can bring a world of hurt.”
He leaned in toward her. “I am already in a world of hurt. So is Jane. That’s why I need you. I need her pain to stop. I need her to pull through. Survive the night? Hell, yes, I want that. If she makes it through tonight, then she’ll just keep getting stronger. I gave her my blood to make sure of that.”
Her lips parted. “You…you gave her your blood? But she’s human…”
No, not technically true. Vamp-in-waiting.
“I’ve done it before, and if she needs it, I’ll do it again. Alpha blood heals, and I wasn’t just going to let Jane die in my arms.” He gave a hard, negative shake of his head. “That isn’t an option.”
“It may be.”
Breathing was hard. The wolf clawed at his skin, demanding his freedom from the inside.
“She’ll survive the night,” Annette told him. “Beyond that, I can promise nothing.”
He wanted her to promise him everything. That Jane would recover fully. That Jane would have a long, happy life. That Jane would live to be ninety-eight and surrounded by a giant family that loved her and needed her and—
“Drew…”
Jane’s soft whisper cut right through him. He spun to face the bed. Jane’s eyes were still closed, but she’d definitely spoken that one word.
“Drew…” Again, her brother’s name came from her. So soft. So desperate. “H-help…me…”
Aidan locked his gaze on Paris. “Find the brother. Bring him to me.” Because anything Jane wanted, he would get for her.
Annette started chanting. Bob was working with his surgical instruments. Jane was bleeding and Aidan…he did something he hadn’t done before in his entire life.
He prayed.
Survive the night.
***
Police Captain Vivian Harris stared at the body. Another human, slashed and tortured and left to die in a New Orleans cemetery.
This was bad. So freaking bad.
“Cover the body,” she ordered a nearby cop, a young guy in uniform. What was his name? Something Mitchell. Michael? Mason? Jane had worked with the guy before, had spoken pretty highly of him…
So maybe they could count on him right now. “I want the scene secured. No reporters get in here, got me? Not a single one is to photograph the body. I’ll get the ME out here immediately, and I don’t want this crime scene contaminated. We have a killer to stop, and we will stop him.”
The young cop’s gaze was on the dead man. “What…what kind of knife do you think the killer used?”
She didn’t think the killer had used a knife.
Vivian recognized claw marks when she saw them. After all, she had her own set of claws that sprang out when the time was right.
A wolf, hiding in plain sight among the humans. It was the way most of her kind lived.
“Not normal stab wounds,” the young cop continued. “They’re more slashes, spaced out just the same and—”
“No reporters,” Vivian interrupted him, her voice clipped. “If I see a shot of this scene on tomorrow’s news, I will hold you personally responsible.”
He snapped to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now I’m going to call Detective Hart.” Again. “She’ll be lead on this case, and I want her ass down here.” She’d been trying to call Jane all during the ride to the cemetery. Where the hell was the woman? Vivian paced away from the scene, yanking out her phone. She waited impatiently for the call to connect and then…
Music. Hard rock. The music reached her ears, a sound that others at the scene didn’t seem to notice.
Because they aren’t werewolves. Sure, she wasn’t an alpha. Vivian couldn’t do a full-on shift like Aidan, but her senses were enhanced, and there was no fight she hadn’t ever won. Superior strength was always a plus.
But that music…
Vivian slowly followed the sound. It was her favorite band. She loved rock, the harder, the better. And Jane knew that. For her birthday, Jane had given Vivian tickets to that band’s latest concert. The band had made a pit-stop in New Orleans, and, though she hadn’t let on, Vivian had been touched by the gift. Jane actually paid attention to people. To what mattered to them.
Vivian rounded another crypt. Her steps were faster now. She still had her phone to her left ear. It kept ringing.
And the music kept playing.
A quick twist around another crypt and—
The phone was on the ground. Its screen was smashed to hell and back.
Vivian ended her call. The music instantly stopped playing, and, there on the screen, beneath all of the spider-web like cracks, she saw…
Missed Call. Vivian Harris.
The scent of blood was strong around her. Vivian sucked in a deep breath, then she made another phone call. Only this time, she called her alpha.
The phone rang once. Twice…
The call was answered and a gruff voice said, “He can’t talk now.”
She immediately bristled. “Put Aidan Locke on the phone, now. This is Police Captain Vivian Harris, and I have to speak with him about Detective Mary Jane Hart—”
“This is Paris, Viv.” The voice had softened. “And he’s with Jane now. That’s why he can’t talk.”
Her nostrils flared as she pulled in that heavy scent of blood. “How bad is it?”
“She’ll make it.” Though he didn’t sound so sure. “She has to make it.”