Chapter Eight
Aidan watched as the cop car sped away from the scene, then he turned on his heel and headed back into the old BDSM club. The place reeked. It fucking reminded him of hell, and his best friend was chained up in that place?
This can’t go on.
He marched to the back of the building and found Annette still crouched beside Paris. The voodoo queen was whispering softly to him, and Aidan could have sworn he saw the spark of magic in the air.
At the sound of his approaching footsteps, Annette whirled around. Fear flashed on her face as she stared at him. “No!” Annette yelled. “You said you wouldn’t kill him! You said—”
“I’m not here to kill him.” Aidan strode toward her and he stepped over the line of dirt she’d carefully cast on the floor. “I’m here to help him.” Yeah, they could sit there all day, twiddling their thumbs and waiting on Vincent’s witch to arrive, and with every moment that passed, Paris would get worse or…
Or we can try to fix him. “When he had my blood before, Paris had a moment of clarity. I saw it.”
“You mean the moment when he asked you to kill him?” Annette cried.
Yeah, that fucking moment. “He wasn’t a blood-crazed monster then.”
“He was a suicidal fool!”
“He needs more clarity.” Clarity equaled strength, right? “He needs more blood. My blood.”
“Aidan…”
“I keep a supply of my blood on hand for any injured wolves. He’s injured.” In the worst possible way. “I’ll call Garrison and get him to bring it here. The blood can help him.” It had to help him. “And that blood…it isn’t tainted.”
“Tainted?”
Aidan swallowed. “The blood I have stored at the werewolf compound was taken before I gave Jane my blood.” He paused and had to starkly confess, “And before I took hers.”
He heard the sharp inhalation of her breath. “You’ve been drinking from Jane?”
He knew that Annette had seen more paranormal creatures and events than most people could imagine. And, well, if anyone could help him…
My money isn’t on Vincent’s witch. I’ll always bet on the voodoo queen. He smiled at her, baring what he knew were vampire fangs.
She backed up a step.
“Seems I’ve developed an appetite for blood.” No denying it. No pretending. “But I’m still an alpha werewolf.” The change at the ME’s lab had proved that. Only an alpha werewolf could shift into the form of the beast. Other werewolves got some nice bonuses—increased strength, claws—but they couldn’t fully shift. That gift was reserved for alphas alone.
Gift, curse…all in the way you look at it.
When he’d been younger, Aidan had thought it was a gift. When he’d met Jane…
Curse. Because being an alpha had just been another reason for them to stay apart.
“You’re definitely not a full-on vamp,” Annette mused as she cocked her head, studying him. “If you were, you could never cross the dirt of the dead.”
Maybe but… “Darkness is growing within me.” He could feel it. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold it in check.” One thing was for certain—he knew an alpha wasn’t ever meant to be a vampire. Not even some fucking partial vamp like he seemed to be. “It’s like the two halves are battling inside of me.” Tearing him apart. “And I don’t know which side is going to win.”
Fear flashed on her face, and he knew Annette wasn’t afraid of many things. “Aidan…”
“I think the fire was the tipping point for me.” For him, for Paris. “Jane thought she saved me, that she got me out in time…”
But…
The fire was eating my flesh. The pain was destroying me.
Her hand reached out and her fingers lightly feathered over his shoulder. “But you died, didn’t you?”
He just stared at her. “Wherever I went,” and he wasn’t going to touch that, “Jane brought me back.”
“Aidan…the things that are happening…they aren’t natural.”
He had to laugh as his gaze cut once more to his friend. “Like any of us have ever been natural.” Aidan turned from her. The bloodlust had built within him again. It was there now, almost constant. But he was fighting it. He was controlling it.
For the moment.
How long will my control last?
“Werewolves are natural. You weren’t made, you were born to be a wolf,” Annette said softly.
His lips twisted. “By that logic, Jane was born to be a vampire.” The bullshit line that Vincent had once told him.
“Yes.” Annette nodded. “I think she was. But then Jane met you and everything changed.”
He looked back at Paris. His friend was still out cold. “He didn’t want this change. It should never have happened to him.” Rage pushed inside of Aidan. “I want you to scry, Annette. Go back to the fire. See everything—see what in the hell happened to him.” Because death alone—no, that wouldn’t have changed Paris. Something else had.
Someone else?
Annette gave a bitter laugh. “If only I could.” Then she pointed to a few broken chunks of black glass. “Those are all that remain of my mirror. I can barely see the danger around us, much less look into the past. That’s why I arrived too late to help Paris.” Her voice thickened. “If there had been a way, if I’d known what was coming, I never would have let him have this end.”
This end…The end.
Aidan exhaled slowly. “I’ll get Garrison to bring the blood for him. It will tide Paris over, for the time being. Maybe he can become coherent enough to tell us what the hell happened to him.”
Aidan whirled and headed for the door.
“You…are a good friend to him.”
He stiffened at her words. “Bullshit.” Aidan glanced back over his shoulder. “A good friend would have done what he asked. A good friend would have ended his torment.” He gave a bitter laugh. “I’m just the selfish bastard who doesn’t want to lose the only true brother he’s ever known. I won’t give him up, not without a fight.”
And he wouldn’t give in to the darkness growing inside of him, he wouldn’t lose his fucking self. He’d fight, for as long as it took.
He’d fight.
***
There was blood staining the floor at the Hathway Psychiatric Facility. Jane paced in what had been her brother’s room, but her gaze kept darting to that giant stain of red.
I broke the mirror. I gave him a weapon.
And he hadn’t hesitated to use it.
“It’s a miracle the guard is alive,” Mason said.
Jane glanced over at him. They’d been briefed at the station, and then they’d rushed over to the psychiatric hospital because Jane had wanted to see the scene firsthand. With her enhanced senses, she’d thought that maybe she’d discover something the crime scene techs had overlooked.
“A wound like that,” Mason continued, his gaze on the blood stain, “it should’ve killed him.”
If the guard had been human, it would’ve killed him.
Mason’s gaze rose to hold hers. “Lucky him, huh?”
There was a faint edge to his words. Jane’s eyes narrowed. She’d brought Mason with her because the kid genuinely seemed to have strong instincts, but there was something about his voice, his body language…
Does Mason know? Had he realized just what was really happening in this city? Aidan hadn’t exactly been subtle during their last chat. Jane cleared her throat. “I doubt he feels particularly lucky. I mean, the guy’s throat was sliced open and he was left for dead. I doubt that will go down as his best day ever.”
She paced toward the bathroom. The broken shards of the mirror were all gone now. No doubt, they’d been carefully bagged and tagged. She’d already read the report about Drew’s escape. He’d attacked the poor guard, nearly killed him. Then Drew had used the guard’s keys to gain access to the man’s locker. Her brother had stolen the clothes from that locker right before he’d vanished.
Drew was clever, she’d give him that.
Clever and quite possibly insane.
“So how’d you turn out so normal,” Mason asked as Jane crouched down to study the floor of the bathroom. “And your brother is…well, not?”
She rose. “Don’t be too sure I’m the normal one.” If only. Dammit, there was nothing to see in that room. No new clue for her to pounce on. Jane headed for the door.
But then she stilled. For just an instant, she could hear her brother raging at her again.
I didn’t leave you! When the vampire had you in our basement. When he was burning your skin and you were crying, I didn’t leave you. I got you out of there. I saved your life.
“He wasn’t always a monster,” she whispered. Once, he’d been a hero, but that had been very, very long ago.
Mason’s footsteps shuffled closer to her. “In my experience,” he said quietly, “no one is born a monster. Folks just…they become monsters. They can’t deal with the world around them. They change. Not always for the better.”
She looked back at him. Mason had been involved with several of her cases. She could still remember the way the poor guy had vomited when he’d found a young woman’s body on Bourbon Street. He’d been so horrified. “Why’d you become a cop, Mason?”
He gave her a quick, nervous smile. “Because I want to save the world.”
She stared at him. Hard. Looking for the truth, searching for lies.
“I know it’s stupid,” he continued, running a nervous hand over his jaw. “But…I do. I want to help. When my parents were killed, cops helped me.”
Jane blinked. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t know about your parents.”
“I was sixteen.” He spoke without emotion. “We were all in the bank—my dad’s payday. He was cashing his check and then we were going out for dinner. We did that, you see. Had our weekly family dinners. They were mom’s idea. Said they gave us quality time.” That smile of his was bittersweet. “No one could have predicted the bank robbery. Or the security guard who panicked. No one knew that the guy in the ski mask would start shooting. No one knew my parents…they’d be the first ones hit.”
He spoke with so little emotion, but she saw the grief in his eyes.
“The cops came before anyone else could be hurt. They came in there and they saved me. They killed that shooter—and you know what, Detective Hart?”
She shook her head.
“He was a teen, just like me. Beneath that ski mask, he was a kid.” His lips pulled down. “He was crying when he died. And I was crying when I buried my parents.”
Okay, Mason was making her heart hurt.
“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes,” he murmured. “You should remember that.”
Jane’s brows rose.
“Humans…” He inhaled deeply. “I think we’re the worst of the lot.”
Did he know? Or was he just—shit, was he just speaking in general?
“So, that’s why I’m a cop. Because I know how dangerous the world can be and I want to protect people. I want to help.” His head cocked as he studied her. “What about you?”
I’m a cop because I saw the monsters in this world when I was just eleven. And, believe me, Mason, humans are not the worst ones out there. The worst ones out there were the vamps who ripped out the throats of their prey or the werewolves who lost their sanity and slashed their prey into pieces. While working in New Orleans, she’d faced both of those monsters.
“Same reason,” Jane mumbled. “I want to help.” But she was helping no one by just standing there. Her brother had been far smarter than she realized—the guy had snuck away clean and vanished into the city. Had he fled New Orleans? Was he long gone? Or was he lurking around, planning an attack?
Jane’s lips thinned as she marched out of Hathway. She paused just long enough to pick up her gun from the guard at the check-in desk. Where the hell had the guard been last night? Why hadn’t someone seen her brother slipping away?
She secured her weapon and muttered her thanks as she exited. Her money was on Drew staying in the city, planning an attack. On her. On Aidan. Shit, as if she needed this extra pressure right then. Jane paused on the street outside. The light was too bright. Gleaming sunlight. Not that it hurt her. She wasn’t yelling and burning to ash or anything weird like that. She just felt…weaker.
Jane lifted her hand, shielding her eyes, and when she did, her head tilted back. She found herself staring up at a small video camera. One that was perched on what looked like the second floor of the building across the street.
A building that should have been empty. There was a big FOR SALE sign in front of that building. But…
Mason gave a low whistle. “Security camera!”
So it would seem.
“Owners must have set it up to protect their investment,” he said, voice excited. “Maybe they got footage of your brother leaving on there. We can at least see which direction he took!”
Protecting an investment, yes, that was one idea. But Jane hadn’t exactly been having the best of luck with security cameras lately, and this…it just seemed like too much of a coincidence.
Her hand went to her weapon as she hurried across the street.
“Uh, Detective Hart?” Mason called. “Are we—are we going to contact the owners?”
She headed straight to the front door. A chain was in place there, and sure, she wasn’t at her full vamp strength but…
Jane jerked the chain, a quick, hard tug that she hid with her body. “No need, it’s open.”
“B-but a search warrant—”
“You’re right.” Jane looked over at him and nodded once, decisively. “You don’t have a search warrant. Stay outside.”
He blinked. “Wait—what?”
“Stay outside.” Her hand went to her holster. “I’ll be right back.” Her instincts were screaming at her. That video camera, perched so perfectly in order to catch the comings and goings at Hathway…
Someone has been watching me. Testing me. Is that same someone keeping an eye on my brother?
Jane had her gun drawn as she hurried up the steps. The building was deserted, as quiet as a tomb inside. Her heartbeat raced in her chest, and she kept thinking about Aidan and Garrison and Paris. They’d been searching an apartment, looking for her mysterious watcher.
And the place had been booby trapped for them. That’s why I told Mason to stay outside. I don’t want him getting pulled into this mess. I don’t want him getting blown to hell and back because he’s following my lead.
When she reached the top of the stairs, three doors waited…but all of them were wide open. Jane peered inside the first door and saw nothing. An empty office space. The second door also led to a vacant room, one covered with a layer of dust. But the third room…
Jane walked inside. And her breath froze in her lungs.
The floor of the third room was covered in spray paint—a big, looping design. A red paint image of the Greek letter Omega.
The same symbol that had been burned into her right side so many years before.
Jane crept into that room, her gaze darting from the spray paint design to the surveillance camera that was attached to the window.
The watcher did this. He was keeping an eye on me and on my brother.
But why? Why the hell was she so important to him? And who the hell was he? Jane paced closer to the window. No green light glowed from that camera. It was off now…because there was nothing left to watch? She needed that camera bagged and tagged. Maybe the crime scene techs could find some evidence on it, something that she could use. Something that…
A phone was ringing.
Jane stilled. Her gaze darted to the right, to the far corner of the room, and she saw a small phone on the floor. It vibrated, shaking against the wooden floor as it rang again.
Her breath blew slowly from her lungs. Was this another trap? She inched toward the phone. If she picked it up, was the place going to blow up? Would she blow up? For all she knew, the whole building could be wired to explode and the cell phone was some sort of detonation trigger. Just in case…
Jane raced toward the phone, moving with her vamp speed—or as much of it as she could muster right then. She snatched it up and rushed out of that building in mere seconds. When she left—she slammed into Mason because he’d been lurking far too close to the building’s entrance. She drove the breath from him with that impact. Jane heard the loud oof he gave as he slammed to the ground.
She jerked him up and hauled him away from the building, her hand still tight around the phone. Jane glanced back. The place hadn’t blown…yet.
“You were, um, sure moving fast,” Mason blurted.
The phone had stopped ringing.
“Get some techs out here,” Jane ordered him. “And some bomb sniffing dogs, too.”
His eyes widened. He nodded once, then whirled away as he ran back to the patrol car.
The phone in her hand began to ring again. Since she was clear of the building, Jane answered. “Who the hell is this?”
Laughter. Deep. Rumbling. “Are you missing something, Detective Hart? Or maybe…someone?”
She nearly shattered that phone in her tight grip. “Yeah, I’m missing you. Some jerk who thinks it is funny to play with people’s lives.”
“You’re not a person. We both know that.”
Her shoulders hunched as she paced away from Mason. “I get it. You think I’m some unholy beast that needs to be put down, right? Some big, bad monster that has to be stopped, huh? Then come out—stop me. Stop me.”
“I know where your brother is.”
Jane stilled.
“And I’m going to tell you…because I do like to watch you work.”
You are a sick bastard and I will end you.
“It’s not you he hates so much, is it? It’s your lover.” A sigh slipped over the line. “Poor Jane. You thought you’d found a happy ending. You don’t even realize what you’ve done.”
Jane spun around, her gaze searching the street. “Are you watching me right now?” Because she thought he was. After all, that phone had rang right on cue, just as she’d entered that room upstairs and then again—right when she’d cleared the building. He’d left her a burner phone—one that she was sure was going to prove untraceable—and the SOB was hiding in the shadows. Watching her.
“I’ve discovered that I rather like watching you, Jane. More than a job, it’s a downright passion now.”
His voice…it was distorted. Why? Why distort the voice unless…unless he thought she would recognize him.
“You should hurry, Jane. Your brother is going to strike soon. This time, I’m not the one you have to worry about.”
Then he hung up. Sonofabitch.
***
Garrison handed the bagged blood to Annette, his gaze darting nervously around the old club. “Is he…is Paris really a vamp?”
Annette took the blood—the bags were cold because Garrison had just pulled them out of an ice chest. Nausea rolled in her stomach, but she fought it down. Now wasn’t the time for fear or squeamishness.
She didn’t answer Garrison as she turned away and stalked to the back room. The place seemed to whisper to her, dark and twisted secrets spilling from its walls. There had been pain in this place, and not just the kind that was invited at a BDSM club. The building had an old history, as did most of the places in New Orleans. Ghosts lingered. Pain and heartbreak pierced the air.
Those ghosts wanted to talk to her. She could feel them pulling at her, and, normally, she’d listen to them. Maybe she’d even try to help them.
Not today. Today wasn’t for the dead.
Today was for Paris.
She shoved open the door to the back room. Aidan was there, staring down at his friend. Paris was rousing, blinking his eyes. His fangs were already out.
“Give me the blood,” Aidan ordered darkly. “Then you’ll need to get back.”
It wasn’t as if she wanted to get bitten, so that plan sounded pretty good to her. Annette crept closer, then she put one bag of blood in his outstretched hand. She set the others nearby, then backed up.
“Paris.” Aidan said his name, his voice rumbling with the cold power of an alpha wolf.
Paris looked up at him…and then he was snapping his fangs. One instant, Paris had been slumped on the floor, and in the next second, he’d lunged up, going right for Aidan’s throat.
But Aidan was fast—deadly, wickedly fast. Paris missed the alpha’s throat and instead, a bag of blood was shoved into his mouth. His fangs punctured the bag and blood began to trickle out of his mouth.
But he’s drinking it. I can see him swallowing.
Annette wrapped her arms around her middle as she stood there. Paris sucked that bag dry and he didn’t vomit the blood back up.
That was good…wasn’t it? Or was it very, very bad?
Aidan shoved another bag at Paris’s mouth. Then another…another…Paris drained four bags of blood before his body sagged back against the wall, his hands hanging limply in the chains that bound him.
The ragged sound of Paris’s breathing seemed to fill the room.
Aidan stared at him, and the alpha’s face was impassive.
Paris had closed his eyes.
Annette inched forward. Come back to us, Paris. Just come—
His eyes opened—and his golden stare locked straight on her. Hunger flared in his gaze. Lust. And…shame.
Annette’s lips parted in shock. “Paris?” Was he really coming back to them?
“Get…her…out.” His words were a growl.
Pain iced her heart.
“No,” Aidan fired right back. “Annette isn’t going anywhere. You need her. I need her.”
Paris squeezed his eyes shut. “You…were…s-supposed…to—”
“Don’t even start that kill me shit right now,” Aidan blasted. “You have no idea what I’m dealing with, got it? And I will not lose you like this. You’re talking to me. You’re sane again, you’re—”
“Feel it…clawing at me…” Paris gasped. His eyes flew open. She could see the battle in his bright gaze. “Can’t…hold…back…”
“Then we’ll get you more blood,” Aidan said. “We’ll get you whatever you need, but you keep fighting, understand?”
“Werewolves…k-kill…vamps…”
“Don’t tell me the rules,” Aidan snapped at him. “I’m the alpha. I fucking make the rules.”
Yes, he did.
Annette tip-toed closer.
“How the hell did this happen?” Aidan demanded. “How did you change? You didn’t have Jane’s blood. You didn’t even have my blood in the days leading up to this shit. You—”
“Ambulance,” he rasped the word. His gaze slid to Annette, and Paris licked his lips. The terrible burns on his body were finally starting to fade. “G-gave…blood…m-made…drink…”
“What?”
Annette shivered at Aidan’s voice. So quiet. So cold. So deadly.
“Man…r-remember…” Each word seemed a struggle for Paris. His teeth snapped together again.
My, what sharp fangs you have.
The better to drink his prey dry.
And he looks at me as if I’m the prey he wants.
“H-he was there…poured blood…down…throat…” Paris yanked at the chains that held him, giving a guttural cry.
Annette jumped.
“It hurts!” Paris screamed. “R-ripping me apart! I feel it! Inside—ripping me apart!”
“I know,” Aidan said, his voice dipping so low now that Annette had to strain in order to hear him. “I feel the same fucking way.” His hand clamped on Paris’s shoulder. “You fight, you understand? You keep fighting. You—”
Paris went for his throat again, the moment of sanity seeming to fade.
But once more, Aidan dodged those biting teeth. He shoved another bag of blood at Paris. “Tell Garrison we’re going to need more,” he ordered. “A whole lot damn more.”
Annette stared at the two men, her heart aching. Breaking. Paris had come back, but only for a few moments before the madness claimed him again. She stumbled away, gave the order to a dazed Garrison for more blood, then she stood there, a dull buzzing filling her ears.
Garrison rushed to get more blood. And she…
Annette lifted her hand to her cheek. Why was it wet? She didn’t cry. She never cried. She didn’t let herself feel enough to cry. She always hid her emotions. You had to hide when you cared. Because if others found out what she cared about…
They’d destroy what she loved.
Only…
Another guttural cry seemed to echo through the building.
The man she’d secretly started to love…he was already being destroyed. But…by his own words, someone had done this to him. Paris had said that someone had given him blood. Some bastard out there…some fool she didn’t know…
He’d dared to fuck with the voodoo queen. With someone who was hers.
She was going to find the bastard. And she’d make him pay for that crime with his life.