Keeper Chronicles: Awakening (11 page)

Gabe didn’t really see how closing his eyes was going to help, but he did as the man asked. For the next half hour, Nicholas probed his memory, drawing up observations and details Gabe didn’t even remember having at the time—like a magician pulling rabbit after rabbit out of his silk hat. The more he relived the memories, the more certain he became that it had been a first-order that killed Lorek and not a lesser demon as he had thought. His mind clung to the detail, as if it made the old man’s death somehow better to have been caused by a more advanced demon. The worst thing about knowing was that he couldn’t tell Beks her father had died a hero. Instead, she went on believing that her father had been an old loon and his death served no purpose.

Gabe’s father may have tried to force this station on him in the hopes of rekindling the relationship Gabe used to have with Rebekah and bring her into the Keeper life, but he was absolutely determined never to let that happen. He cared for Beks too much to let her live this life.

Chapter Ten

Warm, slippery, blood tasted like thick chocolate on his tongue. Chocolate. That wasn’t something he’d known about long, but he understood enough about human desire to appreciate the delicate sweetness for himself. Himself. Yes, him felt...right. Not entirely a person; not entirely a demon. Transitioning. At will. The ecstasy of blood. The irritating fragility of human form.

Licking his lips, he sucked out the last drop of blood from the aorta before devouring the heart in one bite. Memories and knowledge momentarily inundated him. Childhood dreams and awkwardness. Feet covered by surf. Building sandcastles. She had a collection of shells in a jar beneath her bed, each one special, each one linked to a specific time she went to the ocean with her family and, later, her boyfriends. Sex. Those memories were the most delightful. The shiver of pleasure at his touch, the soft longing of expectation and hope, the release of completion. He dwelled in those longest, learning from her conquests. What she liked. What she didn’t. It would be useful.

He left his victim’s crumpled body behind the bar wedged between the dumpster and fence. No one would find her for hours, and they’d be gone by then. Where other demons were messy eaters, he was fastidious. His first kill had shown him the importance of deception and hiding in plain sight.

That Keeper’s heart tasted better than chocolate. Better than sex.

He sunk back into the bar and headed for the bathroom, where he’d told her he’d gone, and checked his reflection in the mirror. Blood clumped in a piece of blonde highlight in his carefully messy chestnut hair. A little water took care of the stain, and he washed his hands, so she’d feel the residual clamminess and not suspect his little side mission.

Perfect.

She waited at the table, a shot of whisky in front of her. Next to it was more than one empty. If he weren’t planning on killing her eventually and eating her heart, he might come to admire her. Like a particularly beautiful cut of meat severed from the living animal with precision. His strategy might be long-term, but it was almost a pity she’d have to die. Almost.

Once the demon and human worlds were united once more, he’d have need of some female slaves to service him. Breaking this girl until she begged him to kill her would be a treat; her screams, he bet, would sound like Mozart.

“Did I miss anything?” He sat back down next to her with a kiss on the cheek. He couldn’t stop grinning as he imagined her on her knees before him, rivers of blood sliding down her supple naked body, tears darkening her lovely eyes, the last vestige of spark in them fading as she finally submitted. She would be the centerpiece of his shelf.

“I ordered us another round. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course.”

She lifted her shot glass and grinned mischievously. “What shall we drink to this time?”

“To a good meal and even better company.”

Licking her lips, she chinked her glass against his. “To good company.”

He tossed back his shot of whisky, smiling as she did the same, and before she could set the glass down, he inched forward and kissed her. As he licked the smoky sweet liquid off her tongue, letting his hands grab her hips and pull her closer, he fed her a steady stream of images. Everything she loved most, image after image, song after song, in cresting waves of pleasure. She moaned from the joy of it, from the gift he offered her, and yearned for more.

A scream echoed in from outside the bar, but she didn’t hear it.

PART II: SECRETS

Chapter Eleven

Being with Dylan was easy. Like finding a new glove that fit so smoothly and so perfectly she forgot it was even on her hand. Though they’d originally come to the bar in Florence in the hopes of finding him some work singing, he’d talked her into staying for a drink. Which turned into two. Then three.

At this rate, she’d have to call them a cab.

“Can you believe them?” She gestured to a couple sucking face across the bar.

Dylan, his arm around her shoulder, gave a small squeeze. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” he whispered, his eyes glancing over to the window where red and blue lights swirled in silent panic. “The police are here; they’ll handle it. Let’s not let it ruin our night. Why don’t we go back to the b-n-b?”

“In a hurry to leave, Mr. Hurley?”

Great. The voice, coming up from behind them belonged to the last person she wanted to see that night: Gabe. Why did he have to show up here? Park Rangers didn’t have any jurisdiction in the cities, not with anything that would cause a girl to scream. And he wasn’t alone. Behind him stood a bookish-looking man with thick glasses and possibly the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen.

Dylan tensed. “Of course not. I just thought Rebekah might want to get home is all. It is late, and we’ve got guests coming in for the Halloween party tomorrow.”

She liked the way he said
we.
From his scowl, Gabe did not. Served him right. It’d been almost a week since her father’s funeral and still he hadn’t apologized for the nasty things he said to her the next day. She’d caught glimpses of him at the lighthouse from time to time, it was difficult to avoid it, but they hadn’t spoken. Dylan, on the other hand, became indispensable. He was kind and helpful and considerate and sexy as hell. Even Mia liked him.

“He’s right. There’s still a lot to do before the party.” Rebekah started to stand up, but a gesture from Gabe stopped her.

“No one’s going anywhere, not until we’ve questioned everyone.”

“You?” she snorted. “Since when do Park Rangers question people at bars? Shouldn’t you be out, I don’t know, tracking something? Did someone lose their pet rock?”

He winced.

“We are hunting a dangerous killer,” said the beautiful woman, her French accent light and sweet. She didn’t direct her statement toward Rebekah but rather to the room itself. “And until we’ve questioned everyone and cleared the area, no one’s leaving.”

The other patrons had begun to move over to where the five of them were arguing. The word
killer
echoed around the room in hushed tones. Even the couple that had been kissing stopped and leaned over.

“Who, exactly, are you?”

The leggy blonde did a mock curtsey. “Colette, bounty hunter. My husband and I have been tracking this murderer for a while.”

Everyone began asking questions at once:

“Someone was killed?”

“What happened?”

“Are we in any danger here?”

“When can we leave?”

Gabe held up his hands for silence. “It’ll take as long as it takes. Colette and Joseph are going to question everyone while the cops handle the forensics. Once you’ve answered, you’ll be free to go. I’d advise everyone to head straight home and lock your doors. Don’t open up to anyone you don’t know well for the next few days.”

A hum of conversation commenced the moment he stopped speaking, making it difficult to think. The bookish-looking Joseph pointed to Dylan. “We’ll start with you, since you’re closest.”

Kissing her on the cheek one last time, Dylan stood and began to follow the two bounty hunters. Rebekah started to follow. “I’m going with you,” she insisted. This wasn’t the first time Gabe had tried to drag Dylan away, and she wasn’t about to let him get railroaded.

Gabe took her arm and tried to pull her to the side. “A word, please?”

She looked over at Dylan. He smiled. “It’s fine. The sooner we do this, the sooner it’s over and we can go home.”

Yanking her arm away from Gabe, she followed him to the opposite side of the room from where they’d taken Dylan.

Something like anguish flashed across his features. “When I got the call and saw your car in the parking lot, I thought...that is, are you okay? Were you hurt at all?”

“No,” she whispered.

Gabe ran a hand through his dark, curly hair and sighed. “Good. If anything happened to you...”

Now he was just making her mad. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I was just worri...”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to be worried. Worried is something family or friends feel. Something you do for a person you love. You’ve made it abundantly clear that I mean nothing to you.”

“Beks...”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. Never could she forget the horrible things he’d said to her the morning after the funeral, and she wouldn’t let him forget either. “Unless you have a legitimate question, I’ll be going now.”

“How long have you been here tonight?” he asked, the emotion draining from his face so quickly she almost forgot she’d seen it. He took out a pad of paper and pen.

“Since about 8 pm.”

“And why did you come here? Was it your idea or his?”

“Mine. Well, his and mine. Since he’s staying around for a while, he wanted to find some work to help bring in some income. He’s a musician. I recommended this place, and we came to check it out.”

His pen scratched something into the pad. “And why didn’t you leave after talking with the manager? Whose idea was that?”

Rebekah glanced over at Dylan, expecting him to look miserable. Instead, he had a relaxed posture and smile on his face. Things must be going well there. “We stayed to relax. Mia’s looking after the house, and I thought it’d be nice to go on a real date. It’s been a while since someone’s been gentlemanly enough to buy me dinner.”

If he cared that they were on a date, he didn’t show it. “And at any point tonight did he leave you alone?”

“No.”

“Think again. Be certain.”

Sighing, she replayed the night in her mind. “Well, he did go to the bathroom once. But he came right back.”

“How long would you say he was gone?”

“Maybe two minutes. Why?”

He ignored her question. “And did you watch him enter and leave the restroom?”

“That’s ridiculous. Of course not.” She wasn’t a stalker.

“So how do you know that’s where he really went?”

“Well, I don’t know, because it’s where he said he was going. Where could he get to in two minutes? Besides, his hands were a little damp still when he returned. He must have washed them, right?” She hesitated. “I went to the restroom, too, you know? Why aren’t you grilling me on the duration of my pee? About eight seconds, by the way. Add another minute to check my makeup. Thirty seconds to pull my pants down and back up. Satisfied? Why are you so intent on linking him to some kind of criminal activity?”

He shut the little black book with a snap. “I don’t trust Dylan, that’s why.”

“Because he’s nice to me?”

“No. Because his arrival is a little suspicious, don’t you think? He came here the day your father died. The day someone attacked Moore in her patrol car. Now, he’s here where a murder happened, making himself all cozy with you. Doesn’t it strike you as a bit too coincidental?”

She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with him. The absurdity of his accusations was beyond imagining: her father had been killed by an animal, so why did it matter that Dylan arrived the same day? And if he had just committed a murder, how could he sit here so calmly? Guilty people didn’t kiss like that. Couldn’t sit here and laugh with a body out in the street. She didn’t know what his problem was, but she knew she was tired of dealing with him. “Whatever
this
is,” she gestured with a hiss, “needs to stop. You can’t sleep with me one day, run away in the morning, insult me, and then try to interrogate my boyfriend. Dylan is a good man, and unlike you, he’s not a creep. Since his first night here, he’s been nothing but helpful.”

“Yeah, and why would a stranger do that? Why be so
helpful
if he didn’t want something out of it?”

“Not everyone’s an asshole like you, Gabe.” Rebekah slapped Gabe, a quick, firm strike on the cheek. “Stay away from us.”

Not waiting to hear his rebuttal or see a reaction, she turned and walked over to Dylan, sitting next to him and taking his hand in hers.

The bookworm and his wife exchanged looks, a quick glance that only people long intimate with each other’s habits and thoughts can have. “I think that’s about it for now,” the man said.

Rebekah tried to remember his name but couldn’t.

“Please, if there’s anything I can do to help...” Dylan offered, holding out his hand.