Blood and Kisses (8 page)
“I’m sorry, Everett.” Gideon stepped forward, intending to carry out Everett’s sentence as quickly and as mercifully as he could, but Everett had grown in guile.
With reflexes augmented with stolen power, Everett plunged the sharp wooden stake he’d hidden behind his back toward Gideon’s heart. But Gideon needed no augmentation. At a speed invisible to human eyes, he parried Everett’s thrust, drove his hand into Everett’s chest and removed his heart.
The fight took no more than a second. Everett was still striking out with the stake as he crumpled to his knees, dead. This time for good.
Gideon never knew how long he’d held Everett’s lifeless body while the sky lightened toward the dawn. Grief for the boy he’d known strafed his large frame with bone-rattling shudders.
The monster had destroyed another innocent life.
It would have been better to permit Everett to die the night they’d met, to allow him to meet his god peacefully, with a clean conscience. But the demon was always there, in disguise, ceaselessly searching for new victims.
He was no better than Everett.
He should have faced the justice of the dawn long ago.
But as the sun had peered over the horizon, and the first cruel rays branded his skin, the demon had taken control. It refused to allow him to surrender his life, forcing him to rise to his feet and return to the safety of his room in the basement while Everett’s frail body withered into a pile of ash and swirled away on the indifferent wind.
“Gideon?” Thalia’s voice was husky with concern, and he realized he’d been lost in the past for several minutes.
“There are only a few ways to kill a vampire,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “Beheading, draining all the blood, and even then, if he makes it to the dawn, the healing sleep will save him. Others, such as destroying the heart through the use of a stake or other instrument, fire, and sunlight, are permanent. Garlic, holy water, crosses,”—he shook his head—“all useless. We can recover from almost any injury, including a broken neck. As for fire, only a complete burn will do. We reflect light, so we do have a reflection. We have amazing vision and hearing. We’re incredibly fast and strong, and some of us can even fly and change our shape.”
“Can you?”
Gideon nodded. “I’ve even learned to change my mass. I could be as small as a bat or as large as an elephant.”
He locked her eyes with his. He had to make her understand exactly what she intended to confront. “A vampire that has gone rogue has nothing left to lose. The Claiming is a madness that poisons the mind. He will use any weapon, mental or physical, to get what he needs. He will lie and cheat and manipulate. He will play on your weaknesses, and he will kill anyone who gets in his way.”
“Let me do the talking,” Thalia said as she slammed the car door and headed up the brick front walkway of one of the Victorian houses that crowded Park Avenue.
Moths danced in the fuzzy light of a nearby street lamp. Their fluttering wings reflected the light and cast the shadows of their tiny, fragile bodies on the ground.
The night was warm and sweet. Flowers perfumed the air. Fireflies glowed and faded over the tiny front garden. It seemed impossible that somewhere a killer hunted.
She caught her heel on a crack, and Gideon put a hand under her elbow to steady her. The touch of his hand on her bare arm stirred her senses, sparking a fire that coursed up her arm and through her body like a bolt of lightening.
She smoothed her blue silk sundress to regain her composure, but it didn’t help. It only reminded her of Spirit’s surprise when she’d come down wearing the dress. She’d assured him she’d worn the garment because some of the older witches were conservative in matters of dress. He hadn’t said a word, but she could tell he hadn’t believed her. Why should he? She hadn’t believed it herself.
She had dressed for Gideon.
She might not be pretty, but she was proud of her body. She couldn’t help wanting his approval.
Gideon fell silently into step with her, his aspect dark and closed. He dropped her elbow and put his hands in his pockets, but Thalia got the sense that he was on high alert and could spring into action in seconds should the need arise. It was rather like taking a pet leopard for a walk. She scanned the flawless lines of his face under the cover of her lashes.
He turned to her, onyx eyes glinting. Scratch that, Gideon was no one’s pet.
“These houses are beautiful, aren’t they?” she said, following some inner need to banish the heavy quiet that had descended over them. She indicated the string of elegant, well-maintained hundred-year-old houses with her head.
Gideon shrugged, a gleam in his eye. “I don’t care much for new construction.”
A smile spilt Thalia’s face. He was joking. Who knew he had a sense of humor? “Yeah, well, for you the pyramids are probably new construction.” They shared the smile for a moment, and Thalia realized she had never seen him smile. It lightened his face, making him even more stunningly attractive.
Something fluttered in her stomach, butterflies that had nothing to do with nerves. She sucked in a gulp of night air. She had to stop thinking of him in that way. This was just business, and he was just a different kind of consultant. There was no way it could be anything else.
As they climbed the dark green wooden steps that led to the porch, the frosted glass-paneled door opened. A tall man wearing a tan T-shirt and brown khaki shorts stood in the doorway. He was completely bald with a neat, close-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, mustache, and olive skin. He stepped back, inviting them in. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Heath Gordon, this is Gideon Damek,” Thalia introduced as they stepped inside.
Heath led them into the front parlor. The centerpiece of the room, a large fireplace with a sculpted marble mantle, was flanked by a loveseat, couch and chair suite in distressed brown leather. “Please have a seat.”
“You know why we’re here?” Thalia settled into the overstuffed armchair. Gideon and Heath still stood. Heath reminded her of a terrier challenging a Doberman. She considered standing, but changed her mind. If there was going to be a fight, she might as well have a good seat.
She fingered the cording that covered the seams of the chair as she waited for Heath’s reply.
“I read the newspaper,” he said at last, his features stiff, his gaze glued to Gideon, as if Gideon would pounce if he turned away. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to interrogate the magic community when it’s clear a vampire is to blame.” He crossed his arms over his stocky chest.
Thalia’s eyes flicked between Heath and Gideon. Heath’s hostility was unexpected. He was one of the most respected mages in the community and their relationship had always been good. He’d also been at the bar that night. “Now, Heath—”
“We’re speaking with anyone who was at the tavern that night. Vampire or witch.” Gideon’s rich voice seemed to fill the small room. Most mortals would have been hard-pressed to maintain their animosity in the face of that heavenly voice, but Heath was apparently made of sterner stuff.
“We prefer mage, or sorcerer. Witch has such a negative connotation.” Heath rocked back on his heels.
Thalia was taken aback by Heath’s sudden pomposity. She never gave a thought to using the word witch.
She sent a mental apology in Gideon’s direction.
There’s no need to apologize. He’s acting out of fear.
As she received Gideon’s response in her head, Thalia let her eyes widen questioningly.
You can hear my thoughts?
she sent back.
I’d always heard it was impossible to read the thoughts of witches, but I could hear you clearly when the thought was directed toward me. The mage’s thoughts are closed to me. However, I can smell his fear.
Thalia turned her attention back to Heath. “All we want to know is if you saw Lily the night of her murder? Or if you’ve heard anything from someone who did?”
Heath shook his head. The light from the chandelier reflected off his tanned scalp. “I saw Lily when she came in, but I never saw her leave. As for hearing anything, I can’t say I have...exactly.”
Thalia leaned forward, her fingers digging into the fabric-covered arm. “What do you mean?”
He paused, as if reluctant to speak. “I don’t know if it has anything to do with the murders, but there has been an increase in bad omens, and there’s talk of something coming, something evil.”
“Why am I just hearing about this now?” Thalia had always been the first to hear about anything of this nature. A feeling of disquiet sparked in her stomach.
Heath avoided her eyes. “It’s nothing specific. Just rumors. They started a few days ago.” Right around the time that Lily died.
Thalia let the subject drop and got to her feet. Clearly, he’d told her as much as he was going to. “Thank you for your time, Heath. Keep your eyes open. Whoever is responsible for these murders, I don’t think he’s done. He may not be able to feed on mages, but I doubt he’d hesitate to kill one, if he got in his way. If you should think of anything else, or hear any more rumors, I expect you to let me know immediately.” Thalia let a hint of magic creep into her voice, turning the words from a suggestion into a command. She was the Champion and keeping secrets from her was more than just ill-considered; it was dangerous.
After he saw them out, Heath paced for a moment, then went to the telephone. He dialed, tapping his sandaled foot while the line connected.
“Hello?”
“It’s Heath. I thought you should know, the Champion was just here. She had that vampire with her.” Distaste tinged his voice.
“As expected.” The soft female voice on the other end was calm and even. “You told her about the omens?”
“It was necessary.” Heath rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s bound to find out and wonder why I hadn’t mentioned them. Her powers may be weak, but she uses what she has wisely,” he said grudgingly.
“Yes.” There was a weighty silence, before the woman continued, “But can she handle what’s coming?”
Heath took a deep breath. The rumors and Thalia’s preoccupation with Lily’s death had given him a long awaited opportunity. He hoped his proposal would be well-received. “I don’t think we should wait to find out.”
Thalia slid into the seat of Gideon’s car and pulled out the list of witches she’d compiled. Before she could open it, her cell phone rang. She glanced at Gideon as she flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Thalia? It’s Ursula.” Thalia sat straighter in her seat. Ursula was a local psychic who had helped her in cases before.
“Ursula? I thought you were out of town.”
“Something called me back early. I heard about Lily. Maybe I can help.”
The ancient smiled as he closed the cell phone. He stepped over the blonde’s body, kicked her legs inside the closet, and closed the door. He walked over to the hall mirror and focused his mind. His features blurred and melted before reforming. Leaning forward, he checked his make-up, fluffed his newly blond hair. Perfect. He’d have the Butcher and the witch exactly where he wanted them.
Minutes later, Thalia and Gideon pulled up outside a small contemporary ranch. A pink neon sign in the window read, Psychic Readings. Some pains had been taken to soften the uncompromisingly linear façade of the house, mounds of purple and pink petunias lined the drive, ivy clung to the blond brick above the foundation. A fledgling clematis grew up a small trellis beside the front door.
Ursula met them on the concrete stoop. Slender, blonde, and young, she had a trendy razored haircut and shiny red lips that curved up at the sight of Gideon. She barely looked at Thalia.