Forged in Flame (38 page)

Grace drove her sedan up to the perimeter of the crime scene and shut the engine off. To her left, stood a crowd of lookie-loos, reporters, and photographers all trying to spot a piece of the action from behind the line of blue-clad uniformed officers.
I wonder who got the call first? The press or emergency services?
She approached the yellow tape line and flashed her shield. A uniformed officer nodded and raised the tape for her to enter the area.
 

“What have we got?” she asked without preamble.

“Looks like someone came out here for a good time and ran into the vamp killer instead.”

“Don’t use that name.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Especially where the press can hear you.”

“Copy that, Inspector.” He shrugged, but she knew the name wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. “Besides, paramedics are working on the vic.”

“The vic is still alive?” she asked, breaking a smile when the officer nodded. Grace glanced at the name tag on the officer’s uniform. “Thanks, Scott.”

“Anytime, Inspector,” Scott answered, but Grace had moved on approaching the activity at the end of the alley.
 

As she walked, she pulled out the smartphone Eric had given her and texted him that the last victim was, in fact, alive and she would keep him posted with updates as soon as possible. Once she got the confirmation that the message had been delivered, she turned the phone off and slipped it back into her pocket.

This is not good.
Watching the paramedics wheel a young man on a stretcher, she realized the victim might not make it to the hospital. Hooked up to a portable machine that monitored his vital signs., his neck was covered in bandages and it was obvious he’d been through Hell. She stepped out of the way of one of the medics talking into his two-way radio with the hospital emergency room. Grace couldn’t understand everything the medic said, but she knew from the look on his and his partner’s faces it wasn’t good.

For the first time in her years as a cop and detective, she hoped the person on the gurney didn’t survive.
That would open a Pandora’s Box that no one wants to see inside.
 

She stepped up beside her partner and nodded toward the ambulance. “What have we got?”

“Looks like another one of the vamp killer victims. Though he left this one alive for some reason.”

“Who called it in?”

“The guy over talking to Phelps.” Lassiter nodded toward the new inspector.
 

“What is he saying?”

“Said he heard something that sounded like a loud pop. Saw a flash over here at the end of the alley. Then, apparently a guy was seen being chased by someone in one of those generic touristy type hoodies. The pair of them went racing down the street and our witness lost them when they turned right at the light. I’ve got a tech looking to see if any traffic cams captured footage. Our bright guy witness decided to check out the alley and found our vic, Braden Costa, bleeding out from a wound to the throat. The other guy, who we don’t have an ID on, was dead on scene, shot through the throat and heart. The witness finally decided to call and report it.”
 

I need to get the name of that witness. I’m sure Eric and his people are going to want to have a little chat with him. Is that chat going to be lethal? What am I thinking? I can’t turn a fellow human being over to the vampires.
 

“Inspector, is everything all right?”

She blinked several times in quick succession and shook her head. “Yeah, sorry. This one’s just got me weirded out, you know,” she said, “with talk of vampires and all.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re from New Orleans. Got any insight into vampires?” His tone mocking, but she knew every inspector took each new death as a personal affront.
Sounds like Eric and his people got to Jayson, but why did they leave Braden alive and Jayson’s corpse around for us? There’s something strange about the guy they chased? But what? They’ve left a body behind to be picked up by our medical examiner’s office. Not good. I thought they were supposed to cover this shit up?

“Hello, earth to Inspector Callahan. If you’re not into this tonight, I can have someone else brought in.”

“No. I’m good.” Grace shook her head and shoulders as if removing the fog, and she focused on doing her job.
Which, in this case, is making sure that no one suspects what’s really going on.
Pulling on a pair of blue latex gloves, her eyes roved over the scene, examining it for evidence.

Across town, a woman stepped out of her car and smoothed her black pencil skirt before closing the door and watching as the silent driver pulled away.

The dark, rundown building sent a chill running through her as she stared up at it. She took a deep breath, exhaled and inhaled again before settling her bag on her shoulder. Striding to the door, high heels tapping out a steady staccato rhythm, it sounded more confident than she felt.
 

Lilly stepped up to the double doors and knocked three times, hard, before stepping back to wait. Unable to remain still, she reached up and fluffed her long chestnut hair as time seemed to come to a complete stop. A few seconds later, a short, loud, obnoxious buzzing and loud click broke the silence.

Wrinkling her nose, she pushed open the door with the tips of her well-manicured fingers. She picked her way through the debris that littered the floor, tiptoeing because she didn’t trust her stilettos on the fragile floor. After what seemed like forever, she reached the open door at the end of the hall.
 

The Master,
she thought she’d heard the name Lucian mentioned.

He had promised her the immortality she craved. Sitting with his back to the door, in an antique chair, one hand draped over the arm, he held a mask with an impossibly long, hooked nose. She took three steps into the room and stopped. Knowing she shouldn’t, but unable to stop herself from glancing around the room, her heart sank. The only concessions to luxury or comfort were the chair the Master sat in, and a large flat screen television. Her gaze drifted back where he sat. Lilly’s heart skipped a beat before thundering in her ears as though she’d been running.

Afraid to look beyond the Master in his chair, she hadn’t noticed the man sitting a few feet from him in a basic, straight-backed wooden chair. His arms were bound behind his back, legs lashed together and secured to a rope that ran under the chair locking his ankles to his wrists in a sort of seated hogtie. More rope wrapped around the man’s chest and torso held him in place. Across his face a strip of silver duct tape covered his mouth but failed to conceal bruises and small cuts. His denim blue eyes were wide with a mixture of defiance and fear, his red hair disheveled.
 

The Master stood, dropped the mask to the floor, turned and approached her. Without hesitation, Lilly knelt and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I do hope you have what I sent you out for, little pet.”
 

“I do, Sir,” she said, reaching into her purse to retrieve the camera.
 

“Excellent,” the Master cooed. He took the recorder from her, and strolled to the utilitarian table that held the television. Faster than her eyes could see, he hooked up the camera and started the tape.
 

“Sir?” she asked. Pain blossomed in her knees, but she didn’t dare get up.
 

He didn’t look at Lilly, not acknowledging her presence at all, his eyes focused on the video. She remained in place, eyes closed, chin falling to her chest, numbness in her legs… waiting for him to finish. Telling herself that the pain wouldn’t last and his promise would be fulfilled, she reveled in the idea that she would become a vampire and live forever. Unaware of how much time passed, she waited until she heard the sounds of his footsteps on the carpet, coming closer to her.
 

“You’ve done well, little Lilly,” the Master whispered as he tipped her chin up forcing her to look up at him.

“Thank you, Sir,” she answered.
 

“You did just fine. However, I can’t have anyone around who could lead the Assassin to me and my involvement with this situation.” The evil smile accompanying his words made her blood run cold.

“What?” Lilly’s mind spun.
He knows Nicholas?
Nicholas abandoned me, in spite of the Covenant, choosing to be with another vampire over a living, breathing human.

His hand tightened on her jaw, and her head snapped forward. “I get the feeling you are not paying attention to me, little Lilly.”

“Forgive me, Sir.” Her voice a timid, trembling whisper.
 

“I think not…” … were the last words Lilly ever heard.

34 - San Francisco, CA - November 20, 2012

Morgan strolled through the halls of the hospital, letting her long coat hide the fact that she wasn’t breathing. She hated hospital smells. They were antiseptic death, biting and unnatural to her delicate sense of smell. She sent a thin tendril of power into the surveillance cameras, manipulating the energy to blur the images as she passed. Smiling, she slipped into the stairwell, making her way to the basement. Her footsteps echoed through the empty hall as she crossed to the railing. Looking around her, to assure privacy, Morgan vaulted over the rail and dropped the few floors to the ground below. Feeling the power within her wake, uncoiling like a dragon after a long slumber, she grinned.
 

Pushing through the door, she stepped into another empty hall, the hum of fluorescent lighting and equipment filtering through the walls. When taking a quick breath, the fetid scent of disease and death warred against antiseptics and bleach, creating a witch’s brew in her nose that threatened to make her sneeze. Again holding her breath, Morgan pretended she belonged there even though she wore black head to toe. Following Grace’s directions to the morgue, she found the right door.

Morgan paused and closed her eyes, listening.
 

After several seconds, she smiled, the room held nothing but corpses. She closed and locked the door behind her, blurring the camera with a thought. Morgan walked straight to the metal autopsy table and pulled back the sheet covering the latest body.

The young was handsome; if not for the grayish pallor of his skin, he would have appeared asleep.

Morgan checked her watch and tapped the toe of one foot, impatient. She had to wait for Jayson to finish the transformation before she could truly end him.
 

The erratic heartbeat assaulted her ears, and after several moments the rhythm settled into something fast, but regular. Morgan stepped back as the young man on the table groaned.

“I bet that hurts like a son of a bitch doesn’t it?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Where am I?”

“I’d say you’re about an hour from your autopsy. See, Eric rushed the shots and just missed your spine. Since you’d just fed, your physiology was able to repair the damage, given the proper amount of time.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jayson choked out, his voice rasping through the still healing ruin of his vocal chords.

“Have you ever heard of the cleaners?” she asked, holding out a hand, palm facing up. She tilted her head to the right and smiled, as a small red-gold flame twisted up from the center of it.

“Cleaners?” The newborn vampire sat up frowning.
 

“Yes, in this case it refers to someone who comes in and fixes mistakes left behind by others. Most often employed by organized crime—or as you might know it—the mafia.” The smile that followed touched her eyes.