Golden Anidae (A Blushing Death Novel) (2 page)

I had been comfortable.

Stupid. STUPID!!!

An ice-cold finger grazed across the back of my neck and I jumped up off the stool, knocking it to the ground in a quiet thud. The crash was drowned out by the thumping bass of the club and only a few people immediately surrounding us noticed.

I turned. No one was behind me. I had to get my back against a wall, any wall, and defend myself. As I glanced around, hordes of bodies thrashed about on the dance floor but they were all human. I couldn’t find the twinge of frostbitten power in the crowd that’d swept over me only a moment ago. The power seemed to reach out and touch me in places that power shouldn’t touch, hadn’t touched in months.

I took one deep breath and then another, focusing on the human auras surrounding me and the power signatures beyond. Sweat beaded on my upper lip and embedded in my eyebrows as I concentrated, forcing the power from me. I’d taken that ability for granted and now when I needed it, I was screwed.

“Hey, you okay?” Enza asked, taking the drink from my hand and setting it on the table next to her.

“Maybe someone slipped something into her drink. She looks pale,” Soraida shouted over the bass, placing her hand on my sweat-drenched forehead. She gave Enza a concerned sideways glance and dropped her hand.

“Do you feel all right?” Enza asked, sitting on the edge of her chair.

I couldn’t answer her. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears in a steady
bumbum
. . .
bumbum
. . .
bumbum
. My own voice was loud in my mind, screaming at me.

I can’t get away. They know who I am. I’ve been so careful. I’m all alone, no weapon and they’ve found me.

Turning my attention back to the crowd, I searched for the vampire I knew was there. A male. I’d felt him. I felt his testosterone surge through his power as it touched me. He was old. I’d felt that too. He either wasn’t there anymore or he was too powerful and I couldn’t find him. Or, and this was my fear, I wasn’t powerful enough. That scared the shit out of me. I suddenly felt weak, like someone had cut off my arm and now wanted me to swim the English Channel. I’d cut myself off from my power, leaving the connections back in Columbus.

“We’re gonna leave,” Enza said from what seemed like miles away. “You want to come over, Sori?”

“
Nada
,
Chica
. I’m meeting Everett here after his shift at the Bellagio. Thanks, though,” she said before a brief kiss on the cheek for Enza and a wave of her hand for me. She sauntered away, disappearing into the crowd.

“Later,” Enza called after her, grabbing my arm and guiding me through the crowd. “We’ll go and get some water into you,” she shouted into my ear.

She wrapped her arm around my waist. Supporting me as I stumbled through the crowd, she held on and I searched for that lick of winter.

I was more terrified than sick and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I needed her help. I couldn’t focus on getting through the crowd and trying to find that whisper of ice in the room. My hands trembled at the thought of being discovered and having nothing to protect myself. I’d left everything behind in the rubble of my burned down house and the remnants of my shattered life.

Enza shoved through the thick crowd in the club and the casino until I felt the open, cool air of the desert night on my face. The scent was crisp and clean like fresh linen. I breathed deep and felt the chilled night air fill my lungs. Enza waved at the valet and handed him our ticket.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, examining me, feeling my forehead for what, I didn’t know.

“Yeah, it just got too close in there,” I answered.

She rubbed my back absently as the valet brought the car around.

“Getting too old to party like that, huh?” she said with a devilish grin, trying to goad me.

I perked up at that. I couldn’t help it.

“Excuse me?” I said with attitude. “I’m only five years older than you. Wait until you hit 30 and then we’ll talk about too old,” I said, a snarky bite to my tone.

She laughed at my response. Her levity made my insides cringe. I wanted to join in and forget how terrified I’d been only moments before but that lick of winter up my spine was still too fresh in my mind.

It was out there somewhere, and it knew I was here.

I’d tried to sleep but every time I closed my eyes, it was like a parade of people I loved, Patrick, Danny, Am, Jade, Kurt, Alex, and Dean. I couldn’t take it. I got up before the sun rose. It was already after 8 a.m. back in Ohio. A new day.

I had to shake those thoughts out of my head. They wouldn’t do me any good.

I slipped on my running shoes and crept out of the house on preternatural, silent feet. There was a time when I wouldn’t have been able to sneak out of the house without a sound. That was before Midnight Ash had fed a piece of Danny’s heart to me. I’d picked up a lot of the shapeshifters’ abilities since then; light feet, strength beyond what any normal human should have, incredible night vision, accelerated healing, better hearing, and a sense of smell that scared me.

The air was still cool and dry as I ran, chilling the sweat beading on my skin. The neighborhood was quiet as I rounded the corner and headed toward the highway, leading away from all the homes and cul-de-sacs of suburban Vegas. I’d heard Wayne Newton had a house somewhere out here but I wasn’t going to look for it. No matter how much I wanted to.

The highway was deserted as I ran along the white line on Highway 159 west into the desert. I was alone for miles, listening to the pounding of my feet on pavement, echoing in the wasteland of the desert. Out here, I was alone. My lungs burned as I covered my first mile and my thighs ached with each step beyond. I pushed through the pain and shifted into a sprint leaving stones shifting beneath my feet and dust in my wake.

I imagined a russet-colored wolf running beside me and I felt better somehow, imagining Danny still alive and beside me. I didn’t feel so alone. Danny would have loved it out here, plenty of places to run. It had been more than ten months since Danny’s death, but who was counting? Five months, since my power had coalesced with Patrick and Dean and the gaping hole I’d felt for so long had lessened. It didn’t consume me anymore but I still grieved. What was left was the sick twinge of guilt that still haunted me. If I looked too quick out of the corner of my eye, I imagined that I could see him running.

After the third mile, I stopped, caught my breath, and took a few long stretches to relieve some of the tension in my muscles. The sun was starting to rise and the early morning light shimmered over the city. The dawn was still a promise off in the distance as the first indication of the day peeked over the mountains on the other side of the city. The clouds were wispy and thin in the cool morning air, absorbing some of the orange glow sparking in the mostly clear morning sky. As the sun came up over the mountains, I stretched before I had to start the three-mile run back.

The light danced across the desert floor, making the ground sparkle like it was covered in diamonds. I smiled. Danny really would’ve loved it out here.

I froze, skidding to a stop across loose gravel. Not my most graceful moment.

A large golden lump stared back at me with two glowing orbs, focused on me in question and caution. Those two amber glimmers seemed to follow me as I ran. About a hundred yards out, it moved not only left and right but up and down. I started the long jog back to town, keeping those amber glowing orbs in my peripheral vision. After about half a mile, the sun was up high enough that I could make out larger shapes farther out from the highway’s edge.

A coyote. Sitting prim as can be, it watched me. His head tilted in that questioning gesture I’d seen a million times on Danny in his wolf form.

The coyote was close, closer than it should have been as a wild animal. It had closed the distance between us in that half-mile. It was only about fifty yards out from me now but it didn’t give any indication I was prey. It helped that I didn’t show fear. I’d learned from the werewolves that showing fear was a deadly mistake and invited trouble. I wasn’t about to make that mistake, especially when there could be more coyotes off in the distance. Even if they were solitary creatures, I didn’t want to take the chance that more were not far off.

I started jogging again, watching from the corner of my eye as the coyote kept pace with me, never getting closer, just keeping pace. It ran for another mile with me until I got close enough to the city that the hum of electricity pulsed through my body. I kept running, leaving the coyote and the off-putting encounter behind me until I turned the corner of Enza’s street.

I opened the front door, trying not to wake Enza if she wasn’t already up. I closed the door behind me, easing the door into the frame, waiting for the soft click of the lock.

“Dahlia?” Enza called from the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, giving up and shutting the door. I kicked my shoes off and slid them into the hall closet. The rich bitter scent of strong, dark-roasted Kona coffee filled my nose and I was happy.

“Hey,” I said with a smile as she handed me a cup.

She looked like hell. Her hair stood on end on one side and she was wrapped in her big fluffy white terry robe with Harley Davidson symbols all over it.

“I would have gone with you,” she said, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Uh huh,” I agreed, sarcasm dripping from each syllable.

I took a sip of the dark, hot liquid and felt the bitter jolt fill me. “I needed this.”

“Yeah, me, too. I was hoping it would stop my head from pounding but Petron is a BITCH!” she spat.

“I saw the oddest thing this morning,” I said, sitting at the breakfast bar.

Enza sliced an onion bagel and slipped it in the toaster before turning.

“Wayne Newton in a sparkling pink running suit jogging in the opposite direction?” she asked with a quirk of her lips.

“No, smartass,” I said, taking another sip of coffee. “There was a coyote out in the desert this morning. It followed me.”

“It was probably a dog,” she said, turning back to the toaster as the bagel popped up.

“Enza, I’m from the country. I know what a coyote looks like. Hell, I’ve even shot a few,” I said, a little annoyed that she would dismiss me like I was some stupid city girl.

“There’s no way that a coyote would get close enough for you to see it not even if it was starving. You outweigh it by a hundred and fifty pounds,” she rattled off, spreading Nutella over her bagel.

That was just disgusting and I fought the urge to gag. She was right about the other though. And normally, I’d have agreed with her but I was positive about what I’d seen. That coyote had followed me.

“You’re probably right,” I conceded, taking a deep breath of the coffee aroma before I took another sip. No use arguing. “So what are you doing today?” I asked as I shook the thought of the coyote from my mind.

Cadenza glanced at her phone on the charger.

“I don’t see anything from Soraida,” she said almost to herself, ignoring my question.

“Were you expecting her to call?”

“We usually text each other or leave a message to let the other know we got home all right,” she said, glancing up at me, worry furrowing her brow.

“Maybe she didn’t go home. She did say she was meeting Everett, right?” I asked, trying to soothe over her concern. It was entirely possible that Soraida had hooked up with someone last night and was still sleeping it off. It was possible.

“Yeah,” she said, sounding as if she didn’t believe it.

“Did you call?”

“Yeah,” Enza said, running her hands through her stiff, unwashed hair. “No answer.”

“You gotta key?” I asked as Enza’s alarm spread to me, tightening my stomach in a familiar dread.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna go shower. Get ready. We’ll go over there and check on her.”

“Thank you,” she said with a sigh of relief.

“She’s probably just sleeping it off and still in bed with some hot guy. She’ll be pissed at us for disturbing Round Two,” I joked.

She smiled weakly back at me and then ran off down the hall to her room.

I stalked into the hall bathroom and closed the door behind me. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that was all too familiar.

Chapter 2

Soraida lived in North Las Vegas in a mostly Hispanic neighborhood. Small ranch houses, built to satisfy the urban sprawl following World War II with cheap housing, lined the street. We passed house after house of Spanish tiled roofs and cinderblock walls. Enza parked her SUV in front of a cute beige ranch on Berg Street. The property had a two-foot high brick retaining wall bordering the sidewalk and neatly trimmed shrubs hiding the dirt front lawn behind them. The property was well kept, almost quaint in the early morning light.

“Is that her car in the drive?” I asked, my voice soft in the heavy silence.

“Yes,” Enza answered, her voice shaky.

“See,” I said with a warm smile. “She’s probably still sleeping.”

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right,” Enza answered, feigning relief but tension tightened the corners of her soft brown eyes and stiffened her shoulders.

I got out of her SUV and waited as Enza made her way around the front to meet me on the walk. I let Enza go first, since she had the key, and lead me to the front door. She knocked once, twice, and then a third time. Her fist banged on the door in growing agitation when no one answered. Other than the soft pounding of Enza’s fists echoing inside the house, there were no other sounds inside.

I took a step back, eyeing the quiet house.

The harsh desert wind blew dirt around, drifting and dusting the ground. If there had been tracks in the
lawn
at one time, they were gone now.

“Soraida? Are you in there?” Enza called. Panic gave her voice an edge it didn’t usually have as she continued pounding on the door.

“Use your key,” I ordered softly.

Enza slipped a key into the lock and cracked the door open.

I caught her arm in my grip and dragged her back before she had a chance to step inside.

“I go in first,” I said. My voice was sharp, carrying a certainty, an authority I hadn’t felt or needed in months.

She nodded, holding back a gasp of fear as she let me go by.

I elbowed the door open and stepped inside.

Dread sat front and center in my mind, churning my gut as anxiety made my palms sweat. I was hit with a pungent smell of lilacs as a timed air freshener plugged into the wall near the front door sprayed the foul chemical into the air. Hiding under the manufactured floral scent was the rich, metallic smell of blood. Sweet copper was unmistakable to my nose but the lingering scent of sulfur mixed in was something new.

Each vampire carried its own scent. Patrick’s smelled of sweet copper mixed with sage and musty old books like he’d spent his many years of existence in an ancient library. Alex smelled vaguely of cotton candy. I have no idea why. This one, however, was repugnant, smelling of the grave and ritual magic.

The smell of blood was too thick and heavy to be a small splatter or a few drops. “Don’t come in here,” I barked over my shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Enza asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“Nothing, just stay outside,” I snapped. If there was something still in that house, I wanted Enza out in the sunshine. Safe.

The front door opened into the living room. The floor was covered in cheap neutral beige carpet throughout. The couches looked like hand-me-downs. One was green with little ducks littering the fabric and the other was a black and white plaid. Shoved up against opposite walls, the mismatched couches were covered in debris and cushions were strewn everywhere. One or two of the cushions had been slit, exposing the battered yellow foam inside. The floor was scattered with knickknacks, clothes, books, dishes, and shoes. The place had been tossed.
But for what?

I trudged through the mess on the floors, trying not to disturb anything as I made the turn to the kitchen.

I stopped.

The kitchen was the same beige texturized paint as the rest of the house with white linoleum tile covering the floor. Claret-colored splotches splattered blood in a steady pattern that spread from the white refrigerator across the room to cover the walls. The cabinets, appliances, and finally the ceiling were all covered with a splash of
almost
dried blood. On the floor, blood pooled in a rich deep burgundy, spreading out as it seeped beneath the cabinet baseboards. There was at least a pint or two congealing. It was too much for any one person to lose and still be conscious at the very least. I didn’t need to see any more. This was bad. This was really bad.

I turned.

Enza stepped over the threshold, and I shouted, “Stop!” She froze mid-step at the harshness of my voice. “Back up and call 9-1-1.”

“Is she in there?” she asked, tears flooded her eyes.

Aw shit!

“No. Please call and get the police out here,” I said in a more subdued, comforting voice. Enza was already scared and worried. I didn’t need to help by filling her head with ideas. I took another look around the living room as Enza dialed 9-1-1. “Tell the dispatcher there’s blood,” I added.

Enza’s jaw trembled as she recited the address and told the person on the other end of the phone what I’d said.

I knelt in-between the debris in the living room and evaluated the sliced cushion’s fabric. Glancing over my shoulder to the entertainment center, I searched the room. All of the electronics were still there, the Blu-ray, the giant flatscreen TV, and her iPod were all still plugged in and ready to go. Soraida hadn’t been robbed.
So, what were they looking for?

Enza dropped the phone, her heavy exhale of breath filled my sensitive ears as she waited outside. Slumping on the front stoop, she cradled her head in her hands with her elbows resting on her knees. Her slim shoulders shook as she cried silent tears.

I strode out of the house into the sunshine and sat down beside her. Slipping my arm around her, I pulled her into my arms and hugged her. I understood what she felt, the dread of not knowing and I didn’t want to tell her that sometimes knowing was worse.

She turned into my embrace and wrapped her arms around my middle. She squeezed me tight as if I was the last thing she had to hold on to. I almost laughed to myself as she clung to me.

Once I’d been uncomfortable with physical contact. Jade had even made a point to sneak up behind me and hug me just because she knew it bothered me. Jade wasn’t able to sneak up on me anymore which had taken all the fun out of it for her. But since Amblan’s and Danny’s deaths, I’d give anything to have both of them back, even if for only a moment, to hug them and tell them how much I loved and missed them. I wasn’t uncomfortable with a hug anymore.

“Shh,” I said.

“What happened to her?” Enza asked, blubbering into my shoulder.

“We don’t know that anything happened to her yet,” I said in a soft, placating tone. “She could have hurt herself and may already be at the hospital.”

Enza stopped crying and was quiet for a moment. She turned red, grief-stricken eyes up to me.

“You don’t believe that, do you?” she asked.

I wanted to tell her that I did believe it, that Soraida was probably fine and we were both over reacting. I didn’t, however, want to tell her that the blood was fresh and if Soraida had already called for help, there would be police tape everywhere. I also couldn’t tell her about the faint smell of death and the strong smell of vampire that lingered in the stale air of the house. I had the very distinct feeling that Soraida was beyond Enza’s reach. Soraida, however, was most definitely not out of mine.

I tucked her head back against my shoulder and stroked her hair as Patrick had once done to me. I whispered the only reassurance I could give her, “We’ll find her.” I hugged Enza just a little tighter as I heard the sirens in the distance. “I promise. We’ll find her.”

The uniformed police officers had called in the crime scene techs once they’d seen the blood. They ushered Enza and I to the curb and taped off the house. At first, the questions were easy and no pressure. After a while, the tone changed and it was clear to me that they were wasting time with us.

“How do you know Ms. Ramirez?” the uniform asked.

“She’s my best friend,” Enza answered, her voice just a hair higher than normal and quaking with each syllable.

“When was the last time you saw Ms. Ramirez?” the uniformed officer followed, jotting down something in his notepad.

“Last night at the Voodoo Lounge,” Enza said. Another tear trailed down her bronze cheek.

“What time was that?”

“Around 2 a.m., I think,” Enza answered. This was the second uniform we’d spoken to since they’d arrived in a blaze of flashing lights and blaring sirens like cowboys on the range, riding to the rescue. Enza had lost her patience an hour ago. I had definitely lost mine. “We’ve been through all of this already,” she snapped.

“Why did you arrive at the scene this morning?” he continued, ignoring Enza’s frustration.

I’d, however, had plenty of experience with cops. I took Enza’s hand in mine, squeezing just a bit in reassurance as she answered, again.

“Soraida never called me to tell me she got home. I was worried.”

“Is that something she does often?” he asked.

“Yes,” she snapped, belligerent.

He raised his eyes from the notebook and glared at her over the rim of his pretentious aviator sunglasses.

Asshole,
I thought as I rolled my eyes.

“Ma’am, I would hate to think that you were being uncooperative,” he warned, pushing the sunglasses back up his nose with his middle finger.

Enza’s posture tightened beside me. Digging her fingernails into my hand, she opened her mouth to speak. I jerked her hand closer to me and placed my other hand on her shoulder. Whatever she was going to say, she stopped.

She glanced over at my hand resting on her shoulder and knew to keep her mouth shut. Smart girl. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, turning pain-filled eyes up to me.

Ahh hell.

I smiled at the uniformed officer and took a deep breath.

“Officer,” I said sweetly, a pleading smile on my face. He didn’t notice that my eyes were hard and empty. “We have been more than cooperative. We’re the ones who called you in to begin with. We answered the same questions going on four times now so unless you are going to press charges,” I said with a warning in my tone and stopped. I was caught off guard by the smell of leather mixed with pheromone rich cologne. Under all that was the thick, enticing scent of male.

I shifted, turning my face into the wind carrying the scent. He approached, still yards away. Tall, almost Dean’s height and Dean pushed 6’4”, the man was Hispanic, with dark skin, bronzed in the shade that Enza worked so hard to mimic with tanning. His hair was jet black and slicked away from his face like it was 1940.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said in a rich, accented voice that purred in my ear. Meeting my eyes, something very few did any more, his eyes twinkled in the morning light, filled with confidence.

I’d intimidated people before. Now I just scared them and he met my eyes as if he was just a man and I was just a woman.

His eyes were a soft brown with gold flecks around the edges that reminded me of a sunburst as he gazed at me. He stood almost six inches taller than me with a quiet intensity, making him an imposing figure. The warmth of his gaze and his smile set me at ease and made my heart thump a half-beat faster.

“Ms. . . .?” he asked, waiting for me to fill in the blank.

“Dahila,” I answered.

He held out his hand to me and I took it in a firm handshake. I glanced down at the difference in our skin tones, watching the muscles of his hand and wrist jump. I noticed the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under the cuff of his dress shirt, probably going all the way up his arm, his very muscular and attractive arm. My pulse raced at the thought of his muscular body bare before me.

Jesus. What is wrong with me?

“Well, Dahlia,” he said with a bright, winning smile.

This guy definitely didn’t have to work hard to get laid.

Focus!

“Do you have a last name?” he asked, a devilish grin making the gold flecks in his eyes brighten.

If I gave him my name, it would end up in the police report, becoming public record.

SHIT!
Jade would be able to find me before the day was out with a simple computer search, if she was still looking. I didn’t want to tell him but I couldn’t lie with Enza right there either.

“Sabin. Her name is Dahlia Sabin,” Enza answered before I could stop her.

She sure took care of that.

“She’s my cousin from Ohio,” she added.

God damn it!
They would probably run my name for warrants which would flag Derek. This was getting better and better by the minute.

“Well, Ms. Sabin, you are a long way from home,” he said with that same devilish grin, his thick long eyelashes framing delicious, dark eyes.

“You’re telling me,” I replied under my breath.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I clipped, jerking back up to meet his gaze with a smile that never quite reached my eyes.

“She’s visiting me. She’s been here for almost a month,” Enza finished.

“Stop helping me,” I hissed through clenched teeth as I turned my smile back to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I caught your name.” I took a step back from him, putting some distance between us.

“Detective Cordero Salazan, the lead investigator on this case.” He glanced down at a notebook of his own. “I realize you have been asked several questions already,” he said, raising his soft brown eyes to me in apology. “But I have just a few more.”

I nodded, taking Enza’s hand again.

“For you, Ms. Sabin,” he added, ushering the uniform policeman away.

My gaze shot up in surprise. I then schooled my features and shoved my surprise back down before he noticed, showing him only my willingness to cooperate. I couldn’t call Derek to bail me out if I was arrested.