The Power (37 page)

Chapter thirty

When Nicole awoke alone and found her front door standi
ng wide open, her first thought was that something had happened to Ewan. Worried, she ran to her phone to dial his number only to remember that he had told her he didn’t have a phone in this city. No, he had always called her. Who did that, didn’t have a cell phone these days? It didn’t make sense. Why had she believed him! That wasn’t like her.

She had slept with him; after the third date
she had slept with the man. She didn’t do that either, but when she was with Ewan Derringer, she couldn’t control her thoughts, her feelings, the heated desire that pulled her to him with an unseen force. Standing there now in nothing but her bed sheet, she couldn’t remember what she had ever seen in the man. Yes, he was handsome. She would give him that, but what else was there? He sold art. He traveled the world. That was interesting, but not nearly as impressive as she had originally thought. Locking up, she plopped down on her sofa and arranged the sheet more comfortably around her. God, what had she been thinking last night? She had thought that she was in love, had been lost in the heat of the moment, had given herself fully to a man that she barely knew! Why? It wasn’t like her. No. It wasn’t like her at all.

“Where did you go
, Ewan?” she asked the thin air before Mr. Freckles jumped into her lap. Gingerly, Nicole pet the cat from head to tail in slow, even strokes as her mind worked the puzzle in her head. “Ewan.” She whispered, and suddenly, she was thinking of Lillian’s Ewan. The vampire had been cold-blooded and evil. He had hurt Lillian. He had tormented and killed an innocent cabin boy. Lillian had written in her journal that they, Ewan and his followers, had been having fun with the boy, playing with the child like a cat would a mouse. What sort of monster could do such a thing? He had fooled Lillian. He had made her believe that she was falling in love with him. It had taken Lillian catching the vampire in the act of cruelty for whatever spell he had had over her to be broken.

“Don’t you see? It’s his power.” Gina had said to Lillian. Nicole swallowed the lump rising in her throat. It couldn’t be! Could it? How many men did she know by the name of Ewan? One! Just one! Bolting forward, she looked down at her coffee table in search of the journal, but all that she saw were copies of her favorite magazines. “Damn it! Where are you?” she hissed fervently, and she bent to look under the coffee table. Not there. Had she taken it to her bedroom? She didn’t
recall doing so. When she read it was most always right there on this very sofa, she reasoned, but she got up anyway and searched her bedroom.

Thirty minutes later, through tears of frustration, she realized that the journal was gone. She also realized who had taken it, and why. He had played her, had used his power against her! And she had believed him! God, she had believed him, had sl
ept with him too, and all along the man had been the very same vampire who had destroyed Lillian Saint Rose’s life all those years ago! Betrayed, and feeling as stupid and as dense as hell, Nicole ran for the shower, but her stomach churned and bubbled over before she got there. The bile rose in her throat, and she found herself on her knees, hugging her toilet as she vomited violently into the bowl. All these years she had been searching for proof of their existence. All these years, she had been looking so hard, and at last she had found one, had come into contact with one. Sitting up, she wiped the bile from her lips with a hand towel. Her blue eyes growing wide on her face, she whispered, “I just spent the night with a vampire.”

Shaking violently, Nicole rose, and climbed into the shower. Turning on the hot water, she slipped to the tiled shower floor, and sobbed into her hands. She had meant to avenge her parents, not to offer herself to the beast! If only she had known! If only she had known!

Jack was a mess when he got to work that next day. He hadn’t slept a wink since Lilly had walked out on him. He had tried calling her earlier, but had gotten Reginald instead. “Miss
. Lillian is out, sir. Shall I inform her that you called?”

“Yes. Please do so.” Jack had returned, and had hung up the phone feeling like a fool. She had asked for a few days. He should give her the space she needed to work out whatever she was going through, but damn it! She needed him! He could feel it. Somehow, he just knew it. She was out there somewhere, lost and vulnerable, and she needed him! He couldn’t help but to feel that he was letting her down.

“Jack. I think we got another one.” Bordello said, slapping his big, olive-skinned hand down on Jack’s messy desk.

“What?” Jack rubbed his sleepy eyes. Bordello couldn’t be serious!

“Yep. Get your shit. This one’s bad, a real blood fest!” Bordello tapped Jack’s desk to get his attention. Jack groaned in complaint. He didn’t want to have to deal with this right now. He should be out there, searching for Lilly, but the city needed him too, probably more than Lilly did right now, he reasoned. Bordello had said a blood fest?

The scene that Jack walked upon fifteen minutes later was a bloody massacre. On a rooftop of a local club, The Inferno, bodies were scattered like broken rag dolls. A severed arm lay tangled in inch-thick, steel wire. Its owner lay face down in a pool of her own blood about thirty or so feet away, the petite body laying half over the edge of the building. Jack covered his mouth with his hand, shocked at what he was seeing. The murder scenes had never been this bad. He had never in his life seen anything like this!

There were three more bodies tonight, Jack counted, two more
women, one without a head, and a man who was naked and drenched in his own blood.

“My God.” he breathed out slowly.

“I don’t think God was anywhere near this place last night, Stone.” Bordello claimed in an eerie voice that made Jack’s heart stick in his chest in pained silence.

Blood was strewn everywhere as if someone had filled buckets with the thick, red-black liquid, and thrown it haphazardly all over the
roof top. The stench of blood and of bodies that were starting to rot in the sun and the air was almost too much to bear. Shit! He didn’t even know where to start with this one! He looked to Bordello, who shook his head. “We got to call them in, Jack. This is too much. God, this is too much.”

Agent Darcy arrived on the scene forty-five minutes later, took one look at the scene, and promptly announced. “Someone or something has upset our guy.”

“No shit.” Jack growled, watching as the crime scene photographer snapped picture after picture on his thirty-five millimeter camera. Dr Harold was waiting below to take the bodies to the morgue. Her men were down there now, probably trying to decipher how to get the four victims off of the damned, third-story roof. How had no one heard this? Seen this? Jack was anxious to discover what time the murders had actually taken place. He had asked below while they were waiting on Darcy, to what time the club stayed open. It had closed at two a.m. last night. Whoever had done this had either done so under the camouflage of the loud, thumping, hip-hop music that had played in the club below, or had come back after the club had closed down. That would put them pretty close to sunrise. Did that put to rest Dr. Harold’s vampire theory? Jack grabbed the bridge of his nose. He had a headache the size of Montana, and his temples ached and throbbed.

“He didn’t do this alone.” Jack stated more than asked. “How could he?”

“He could have had a gun.” Agent Darcy suggested. “Had three terrified people at his mercy. He would enjoy that.”

“And no one heard this, or saw anything?” Jack scoffed in disbelief.

“That’s your job to figure out, Jack. You interrogated the club-owner?”

“He’s on his way.” Jack spi
t out furiously. “It’s going to be a long fucking day.”

“You got that right. Need any help?” Agent Darcy offered.

“All you can give and more.” Jack met the Agent’s gaze, and he shook his head in disgust. “Shit!” He growled out, furious with himself for not having this damned case solved by now. “Nine victims, Darcy. This makes nine fucking people murdered in my vicinity in the last two months!”

“Jack. Dr. Harold’s anxious to get up here.” Bordello stepped back up onto the roof to announce. Fuck her, Jack thought angrily, but then he looked around him at the mess the rooftop was in.
Forensics had already been up and done their thing. Darcy had observed the situation as well and the photographer was finishing up.

“Tell her it won’t be much longer.” Jack snapped fitfully, and then he turned and forced his eyes to take in everything. There was so much blood. It was mostly dry, and coagulated now. It stunk to high heaven.

Silently, Jack wished that Dr. Harold was up on the rooftop with him now, ready with her crisp white sheet to pull back over the horror that he saw before him. But then his eyes stopped short. There in a puddle of blood near the ledge of the roof that would lead straight down into the alley below, was a shoe print. “Bordello, get back here!” Jack called, and carefully, he walked to the edge of the roof where he stared down at what looked to be a size eleven or twelve dress shoe.

“Well hell. It’s about time.” Bordello actually grinned. “It’s about fucking time!”

Chapter thirty-one

Dr. Harold stared at the three covered bodies in her examining room. She had help today if she wanted it, but she was good at working alone. It helped her to think more clearly. Her heart beating swiftly in her chest, she stepped to the first, stainless steel table, and gently peeled back the crisp, white sheet. What she saw beneath, the bloodied bite marks that had sunk into the pale cheek of the young woman on her table caused Nicole to hyperventilate. He had done this! She knew that now! They had been looking for him all along. She had been examining his handiwork for months. She had blamed Detective Stone for not listening to her, but it wasn’t Jack’s fault. No. Jack hadn’t invited the beast into his bed! She had.

Grabbing a small, paper bag that she had brought her lunch in, she dumped the contents onto the ground and swiftly brought the bag to her mouth, and closed her eyes, breathing in and out, in and out until her breathing returned to normal. “Calm down, Nic.” she told herself in a soothing tone as she finally set the helpful bag aside, and opened her eyes. It was all still there though,
everything that she feared. Three bodies this time. Three! An arm had been severed, and so had a head! It was disgusting. It was inhuman! It was what she had slept with! A monster!

Her heart was pounding in her chest now. She was trying to work up the courage to get to work when the door opened. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Detective Jack Stone standing there. It was getting on in the afternoon, past three at least. Why was he there? What did he want?

“Can I help you?” he asked lowly, his eyes dead of emotion, his face growing green in disgust.

“Are you sure you won’t throw up?” Nicole asked skeptically.

“I’ll do my best. If I start to lose it, I’ll get out of here.” he promised, and she nodded her head.

“Believe it o
r not, Jack. This one is hard for even me to bear.” she confessed as Jack came around the other side of the table. “There are some gloves on the shelf over there.” she nodded behind him. Jack nodded that he understood and he turned his back to darn the gloves. When he turned back to her his face was as hard and as unfeeling as stone when his amber gaze lowered to the body on the table.

“This case is getting to you, Jack.” Nicole acknowledged sympathetically.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Jack bit out.

“Me too, Jack. It’s getting to me too.” Nicole tried not to take offense at Detective Stone’s harsh words. “You talked to the club owner?”

“Yep.” Jack nodded confirmation. “The guy gave me a list of everyone who worked their last night. Bordello and I split the list, talked to everyone of the bastards, and no one, no one heard or saw a damn thing!”  Jack scoffed angrily.

“But you found a shoe print.” Nicole reminded. “That’s something.”

“A needle in a haystack. Right now, all we know is our guy likes expensive, Italian loafers in a size twelve. Maybe tomorrow we’ll discover his shirt size.” Jack growled. “Are we going to do this, or not?” he barked, and Nicole frowned. Removing the sheet from the body of the twenty-something blonde she began to cut away the cheap, cotton fabric that was the girl’s shirt. Beneath the shirt, the girl was braless. Her breasts were small, underdeveloped, but what they were both staring wide eyed at were the tens of bite marks that scattered across the girl’s sternum, her ribs, and even her soft stomach. Dried blood covered the belly. The navel had been ripped upward where a bite mark had sank into the belly button, and yanked back out. Nicole gasped.

“This is bad.” she tried not to whimper, but it was difficult to hold her emotions at bay. Jack glanced up, meeting her gaze.

“Loss of blood?” he asked over the cause of death.

“No shit, Sherlock!” Nicole returned his early spoken sentiment.

After autopsying the second body, Nicole came to the conclusion that this kill had not been about blood. It had been raged and violent. There was plenty of blood left in the bodies too, just not enough to sustain life. The victims had been cut, bitten, and maimed, and had been left on that rooftop to bleed to death. Body number three was the headless body, Nicole thought wearily as she looked over at Jack who had managed to stay with her through the entire procedure. It was nearing on ten p.m. He had stamina, Nicole admired as she met his amber gaze. Peeling back the sheet, she revealed the naked body of the woman on the table. Where her head used to be, now lay a stubby, decapitated neck.