Eveillez: Deny Your Blood Lust (9 page)

The thought was ridiculous. She needed to convince him to take a Donor, not become one. After this afternoon, that seemed like an impossible task. She hoped exposure to the coven would soften his prejudice.

"Maybe." She rose, relieved when she was able to remove her hand from his. "Would you like to help me set up for tonight? I could definitely use your assistance."

His expression was pained. "Of course I'll help. I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I know." She hesitated a moment before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "I admire you for doing the right thing. You are a good man. I just need to change my clothes and I'll be right down."

Turning away, she retrieved her purse before heading upstairs to her apartment. She didn't look back at him. She couldn't. If she did, he'd see her tears. As angry as she was, she didn't want to hurt him further.

Chapter Nine

There was so much crap stacked up in the living room, the front door didn't fully open. Boxes, bags of trash, clothing, toys, and God only knows what else were stacked chest high. The room was filled with so much stuff only a tiny portion of the floor was visible between the couch and TV. Paths had been created through the forest of junk. One leading to the kitchen and one leading toward the bedrooms.

The house was dark.

"Mr. Lutz?" Kevin called out, his shout muffled by the wall of crap before him.

A barking dog was the only answer.

"I'll check the back," Fitzpatrick said, shoving past him and heading for the kitchen. His tone was cool but not hateful. "You check the bedrooms."

Kevin watched his partner's back disappear behind a mountain of trash, swallowing against the guilt building in his throat. Turning, he weaved down the opposite path, stopping in the filthy bathroom first. Finding it empty, he went to the next door. It was Daniel Lutz's room. Animal feces clung to the carpet in charred black clumps. Toys were scattered on the bare mattress: dinosaurs, some army men, a fighter jet…

Thank God they got the kid out.

The TV was still on in the room at the end of the hall. There was no one in it. A dozen Colt 45 cans were strewn about the floor. It was hard to tell how long they'd been there, but the room smelled strongly of beer.

"Backyard's clear." He heard Fitz call out.

Holstering his gun and rejoining Fitz in the living room, he replied, "So are the bedrooms." Fitz didn't look him in the eye. "So nothing at all?" Kevin pressed.

"Nope. Just a dog on a too-short chain. I've already called animal control."

"Fuck." Once again, he strained to contain his rapidly rising guilt. "Frank Lutz has got family in Duluth. Think he's running there?"

"It's a place to start." Fitz walked past him and shoved through the screen door.

He followed him onto the front porch. "Sean, I —"

"Save it McCoy. Shit happens. Let's just find this asshole."

When Kevin came to full consciousness, it took him a minute to realize he'd fallen asleep in his car, right outside
La Luxure
. Pushing the St. Paul memories to the back of his brain, he rubbed his eyes vigorously in a desperate attempt to wipe the sleep from them. Without some chemical help, it was an impossible task.

Rummaging through the glove box, he pulled out a warm energy drink and popped the top, downing it in three swallows. Crumpling the can, he tossed it onto the passenger floorboard and pulled out his other addiction: disposable, waterless toothbrushes. With all the coffee he downed (and sometimes whiskey), he needed a way to keep his breath fresh. Gum and breath mints only went so far.

After the single-use toothbrush joined the discarded can, he glanced at his watch. Eleven-twenty p.m.

He was half tempted to head back into the vampire bar for a minute before heading to Angel's little party. But he hadn't gotten shit there earlier. Why would this time be any different?

The bartender, Kindle, had seemed normal enough. Like Slade, he was another man made of solid muscle. He'd recounted the events at The Forever Dark Vampire Ball with calm professionalism. Full names were hard to come by, but Kevin was sure it was honest. And since his story hadn't differed from anyone else's, including Angel's, he had little reason to doubt the big man.

He'd been able to track down half of Darus' list at
La Luxure
, but they gave him nothing. Absolutely nothing. Reserved and distrustful, they'd given him minimal details. What he did get was the same story over and over. Lohr had parties. Yes, there was blood. No one ever fessed up to using drugs, but they'd all heard rumors they were common. Rituals, candles … and consenting participants.

Lohr was also rarely in town, so coven members barely seemed to know him. They knew he believed himself immortal, or close to it, and many found him intriguing, if not a little frightening. One of the bar waitresses, Onyx, even admitted she wouldn't be surprised if she found out Lohr could only be killed with a wooden stake.

The only semi-productive conversation he'd had was with the weirdo Hail. But that had been more disturbing than anything. After introducing himself with the standard, "I'm investigating the murder of Tina Spalling and Melanie Young. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about Lohr Varius," Hail had given him a mouthful.

"I can't believe he shot Satin. I wonder what she did?"

The
La
Luxure
patrons seemed to know more than Angel or Darus had the night before. Word must've spread. "Why do you think she
did
anything?"

Hail gave him a condescending look. "Come on man, why else would Lohr shoot her unless she pissed him off somehow. He's not stupid."

No. Just crazy. "What about Melanie? Did she somehow piss Lohr off too?"

Hail took a swig of his drink. "Honestly, I'm not surprised things got carried away with that one. I spent the night before with her and she
begged
me to drink her blood." He shook his head. "She was kinda asking for it."

It'd taken a considerable amount of will to keep from knocking the bleached blond senseless. Not that it would be a difficult task; the man didn't seem to have much sense.

"Do you really think there's enough evidence to convict Lohr?" Hail continued. "I mean, Melanie willingly partied with him at Forever Dark and didn't she die of alcohol poisoning? It wasn't like he forced her. And everyone knows Kate was messing around with Slade in the blood room here and she went to Forever Dark under Lohr's invitation."

"She was knocked unconscious and tied to a bed."

"Lots of girls like to get tied up."

"And the knocked unconscious part?"

"Sure she didn't slip and fall?"

This was incredulous. Hail was the first
vampire
Kevin had met that seemed to want to defend Lohr, but was also the only one with zero connection to the bastard. "Pretty sure."

Hail took another drink. "Well, I guess as long as the jurors are sure…"

Fuck, the asshole had a point. With no fingerprints on the gun besides Satin's, they'd have to rely on Kate's statement that she saw Lohr shoot Satin. And since Kate was admittedly out of it, it wasn't 100% credible. Even with the photos they'd pulled from Lohr's camera—the ones of Kate tied to the bed, fear in her light blue eyes—they still only had her word condemning Lohr. She'd gone willingly to his place, she'd accepted his invitation to Forever Dark, and according to her ex-boss at Gallery
La Prochaine
, she'd thrown herself all over the artist.

If the idiot sitting across from him had strung all this together, Lohr's lawyer no doubt would. Kevin needed to find the body of the other victim—or at least reasonable evidence she was dead—if he wanted to guarantee Lohr was going to spend the rest of his creepy little life behind bars.

Staring at his car's headliner, Kevin sighed, giving up any idea of going back into
La Luxure
. The evening had proven fruitless. Nothing. He was getting absolutely nothing of substance on Lohr.

There was more. He knew it. Tina Spalling and Melanie Young were not Lohr's first victims and
someone
knew more than they were letting on. He had a feeling she was a blonde with a great figure, perfect face and unbelievably flexible limbs.

* * * *

Hail stared unbelieving at his phone as the screen faded into darkness. The request had been clear, but it caught him off guard.

Lohr Varius wanted him to come to the hospital. Lohr. Varius. Presumably to Donate. It wasn't Lohr who'd made the request though. It was his lawyer. Hail was to meet the lawyer in the hospital parking lot at two a.m. for some scrubs and badge to get him into the hospital and access to Lohr's room.

He glanced around
Luxure
. The detective had just left but uneasiness still hung in the air. He was thankful he hadn't received the phone call
before
Detective McCoy questioned him. Even though he hadn't committed to helping Lohr yet, he was already feeling a little nervous and guilty. The cop surely would have picked up on it.

He didn't have to think about Lohr's request long. He was going to do it. It was risky and he wasn't 100% sure about the decision, but he'd been trying to find a way into Lohr's coven for over a year—ever since he came to New Orleans and found the Sang Community.

If sneaking into the hospital to
feed
Lohr didn't grant Hail some sort of favoritism in his eyes, nothing would.

It was only about eleven-thirty. He decided to pay his tab and get the hell out of there. He could kill some time at The Cell, but there was no way he was hanging around
Luxure
. Slade or someone would surely notice a case of the jitters had engulfed him and he sure as shit didn't need that kind of scrutiny.

Chapter Ten

Angel's studio was only a few blocks from
La Luxure
. Kevin ended up spending more time searching for a new parking space than it would have taken him to just walk over. He still hadn't gotten used to how much of a pain in the ass it was to drive in this city, especially the downtown/French Quarter area.

As it was, he had to walk a little over two blocks to reach the studio door. He passed a liquor store on the way and made a mental note of its location, pretty sure he'd need a drink after this hoopla.

A lanky, raven-haired man stood behind the sleek black desk in the lobby. The door was locked, so he knocked sharply against the glass. The man glanced at him, narrowed his eyes, and then mouthed, "We're closed."

He pressed his badge against the glass and mouthed back, "No, you're not."

Lanky's eyes got a little wide and what little color he had in his face drained away. After twisting the deadbolt he pulled open the door. "Can I help you, Officer?"

"I'm here to see Angel," Kevin replied, pushing past him and into the lobby.

The air smelled of jasmine and lavender. Black and white images of people in various yoga poses and several photos of Angel dangling from the silk fabric she'd performed on the other night hung neatly on brick colored walls. A plush couch and matching chair sat opposite the reception desk, yoga, fitness, and natural healing magazines spread on the adjacent end tables.

"Where is she?" he asked, turning to Lanky.

The man's eyes darted to a closed door with a frosted glass centerpiece.

"You can't go in there," he said as Kevin headed for the door.

"Watch me."

A dozen candles in wall-mounted, wrought iron holders cast warm light over bodies scattered like corpses on the floor. Incense burned on a small table shoved against one deep red wall and soft music floated with the smoke in the air. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Angel immediately held a finger up to her lips when he stepped into the room. He stopped where he was.

"As we cross the midnight hour and enter All Hallow's Eve in our final Savasana," she said. "I want you to take a moment to reflect upon the previous year, the energy you have gathered, and the energy you have given."

Her voice was a soothing silk melody and what could only be described as
calm
joined the smoke and music drifting through the air. In spite of all the people lying on the floor, the room was eerily still. He felt his muscles relax as he leaned against the door, even as he tried to fight it.

She caught his eye and smiled, her beautiful face glowing in the candlelight. It was hard to imagine her in cahoots with a creep like Lohr. But he knew he had to push past the exterior and not forget she also considered herself a vampire.

"Slowly bring your awareness back your body," she continued. The corpses started to stir. Her eyes were on him again and her expression was a mixture of concern and sadness. He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows in question. Her answer was a small smile and tiny shake of her head.

She turned her attention back to her class, or whatever it was. "As you become ready," she sang. "As your body becomes ready, gently ease to one side." She paused again. Normally, all these deliberate pauses would drive him nuts, but there was something so relaxing about this room, with its candlelight and the incense and Angel's sweet purr. "And when you are ready, when your body deems you are ready, join me at the top of your mat, hands at heart center."

Her legs folded like a pretzel, palms pressed together and centered between her pert breasts, she closed her eyes. "Just as we use our breath to calm our minds and focus our thoughts," she inhaled deeply and the room inhaled with her, "let our exhale carry any and all negative thoughts and negative energy with it." The room exhaled in unison with her. His skin twitched and he scratched at his arms. "As we prepare to welcome the longer nights, let us remember to never forget, or take for granted, the current of life that binds us all as we journey to embrace our
true
nature on the quest for spiritual immortality." Another deep breath. "With your next exhale, I welcome you to share positive energy with each other."

As the collective exhale escaped into the room, the air seemed to grow thick with what felt like static. It crinkled with electricity. He felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck come to attention. When the collective inhale came in again, the electricity fell like glitter to the floor. It wasn't something he saw. It was something he felt.

Liquor store. Right down the street.
Check.

"And I thank each and every one of you for taking this time to share your practice and your energy with me," she continued. "Namaste."

"Namaste," was the echoing response.

After spending a few moments bowing, the former corpses slowly began to roll up their mats, gathered up whatever blocks and straps and bottles of water they possessed, and made their way from the room. The conversation stayed to a minimum and the air in the room retained its quiet calm.

As the corpses passed him in the doorway, they gave him quick, discerning glances. Kevin didn't think he'd ever seen so much black in one room. Black hair, black eyeliner, black yoga clothes… Angel's blond hair was like a spotlight in a midnight sky.

After the last of the undead had filed from the room, he joined her as she shut off the music. She glanced at him in question. "Welcome, Detective. You look confused."

"It's like if Dracula hosted a yoga class," he murmured, his eyes lingering on the now closed door.

A giggle exploded from her mouth. She covered it with her hand, but another giggle followed, escaping through the sides of her palm in an explosive rush. She clamped her other hand over the first.

"I didn't realize it was that funny," he said, but couldn't help smiling. He liked seeing her happy.

She laughed again, and then burying her face in her hands, shook her head. "It isn't," she admitted right before another giggle escaped. A few more seemingly uncontrollable giggles pushed past her hands before she dropped her hands. "I'm sorry," she apologized, looking him directly in the eye, her expression suddenly serious. He wasn't sure why she was apologizing for finding his statement amusing. He'd love to make her laugh like that again. "You're the first person to ever mention it, but it's very true."

His gaze swept the room. Vampire yoga was not what he was expecting when he came here. "Is this really your coven?"

"No. This is the midnight Vinyasa class." She flashed a teasing smile at him. "But many, if not all of the participants, are coven members." She began to walk around the room, blowing out the candles as she went. "This isn't the gathering I invited you to, by the way." She paused at a candle, glancing his direction before pursing her lips and blowing, the flame flickering and going out in a puff of smoke.

There was something about the innocent act that felt completely erotic. Maybe it was the coy way she spied him from the corner of her eyes as she blew out the candle, like her lips would rather be somewhere else…

He cleared his throat, shifting from one foot to another.

"Is something wrong?"

Busted. "Not at all." Everything was wrong.

"Can you get the lights?"

He turned and flipped the switch next to the door just as she extinguished the last candle. He glanced around the room. He'd never done any yoga, but apart from the gothic candleholders and red walls, there was nothing spectacular about the studio. Mirrors lined one wall, a row of painted black cubbies another. The hardwood floors gleamed in the glare from overhead lights, and decorative throw pillows were scattered throughout the room. The only thing extraordinary was the woman walking toward him.

Stopping a mere thirty-six inches from him, she took a drink from a metal water bottle with a large lotus flower etched on the front. He hadn't realized how tiny she was. Barefoot, she couldn't be more than five-foot-three and he doubted she weighed much more than a buck-ten. Once again, she appeared so … fragile.

Licking water droplets from her lips, she paused with her lower lip between her bright white teeth and studied him carefully. There wasn't the thick scent of sex and seduction clouding the air as there had been during their previous encounter, but he was still hit by a wall of desire, especially as her gaze lingered on his mouth.

Regret flashed across her pretty face and he wondered if it had anything to do with the passionate kiss they'd shared in the police station. The thought was disappointing even though he knew
he
should regret it.

She met his gaze. "What is it you hope to find here, Detective?"

The question caught him off guard. Or maybe it was just the sadness in her beautiful brown eyes. "Um." He glanced briefly toward his feet. "Understanding. I'm trying to wrap my brain around this vampire thing you have going on." And you, he added silently. He realized he wanted to understand her,
really
understand her. "For the case against Lohr Varius," he added quickly. But it had little to do with the case.

"If I'm somehow a suspect…"

"No, I…" Was she a suspect?
 

He didn't have an answer prepared and just stood there, staring at her with his mouth agape. Words were trapped somewhere at the back of his throat. He sure as hell couldn't find them.

Their gazes locked for a long moment, and he found himself wishing he could ignore the investigation, ignore the vampire bullshit, and just enjoy
her
. Without suspicion, without distrust, without judgment.

Her fingers wrapped tightly around the water bottle, she smiled sadly. "I need to change my clothes," she told him. "It might be best if you wait in the lobby so I can introduce you to the group."

And suddenly the detective side of him returned. Was she hiding something?

"You are welcome to go in, of course," she said, interrupting his thoughts. "But my peers do not care for outsiders, as you have probably learned by now. You will be better received if you have my blessing."

Fuck, he didn't know what to think and he sure as hell didn't know how to respond, so he just nodded. She led him from the room, clicking off the lights as she closed the door behind them. Gesturing toward the black, micro-suede sofa, she said, "Have a seat. I'll only be a minute," and then disappeared through a door behind the sleek reception desk.

He ran his hand over his face and through his hair. "Jesus," he muttered. What the hell was going on with him? He had no idea what he was doing anymore and he sure as hell didn't know what he was investigating. Lohr was guilty, that much was clear. No one in the vampire community seemed to want to defend him, but they also claimed ignorance, which he knew was a crock. Still, without an additional
victim
and solid alibis concerning the actual victims, there was absolutely nothing for him to investigate.

Maybe he was looking in the wrong places. Maybe he was too fixated on Angel, her relationship with Lohr, and that she was the one who'd delivered Melanie and Kate to him. Maybe Kevin was just fixated on Angel.

Fixated was an understatement. He was obsessed.

She stepped into the lobby, once again interrupting his thoughts. Rising slowly to his feet, he knew he was staring, but couldn't peel his eyes away from her. Her black sleeveless dress looked like liquid metal as it clung to every delicious curve of her trim body, the fishtail skirt hugging her knees and giving her an extreme hourglass figure. The lacing at the front of the keyhole opening did little to hide her cleavage, and the platinum waves falling loosely over her shoulders only seemed to accentuate it.

Back in glossy platform heels, she now at least came up to his chin. Fierce replaced fragile. With her deep red lipstick, heavy black eye makeup, and sharp fangs, she looked like an animal ready to feast on him.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Not remotely.

He nodded.

"Please keep an open mind," she tossed over her shoulder as she led him down a hallway. At this point, his mind was only focused on one thing. Clamping his eyes shut, he forced blood to return to his brain.

He nearly ran into her when she stopped abruptly at a closed door. "Remember, sometimes things are as simple as they appear, and different doesn't mean wrong." She pushed open the door.

The room was about the same size as the yoga studio and similar in many ways: from the mirrors covering the wall, to the gleaming wooden floors, to the lack of dust. Instead of ceiling fans, pairs of the long silky fabric she'd performed on the other night hung from climbing rigging bolted to the exposed second story floor joists. They were draped through the room like shimmering red streamers. The music playing was Goth rock instead of something he expected to hear in a Buddhist temple, and the room was illuminated by Christmas lights lining the perimeter instead of candlelight. A full bar was set up in the corner, complete with an Absinthe fountain. Judging from the drinks clutched in pale hands, Absinthe and red wine were the favorites.

All eyes focused on the pair as they stepped through the door. Red eyes, pale blue eyes, golden eyes … and normal colored ones. He scanned the room, recognizing many of the faces he'd seen in the yoga studio and a few from
La Luxure
. Everyone had changed from workout clothes to outfits similar to the one Angel wore.