Frostbound Part 8

"Mich.e.l.le-"

Stripes of blood blossomed on her hands.

"No!" He s.h.i.+elded her with both his arms, using his size and bulk to ward off the horror that only she could see.

She screamed again, so loudly that Darak squeezed his eyes shut.

In that split second, she was gone. He crouched in the parking lot, his skull still splitting from the noise.

The cop didn't come running. He hadn't heard a thing. It was Darak's special curse to see and hear the dead. One he loathed violently each and every day.

He picked up his jacket and stuffed his arms through the sleeves, sending the buckles and zippers jangling. Darak turned toward the back door with its single guard. It would be easy enough to hypnotize the human into letting him have a quiet look through the building. Odds were there would be no clues to the necromancer's ident.i.ty, but he had to look.

Slowly, he got to his feet, swallowing hard as if he were choking something down. He rested his hand for a moment on the hood of the truck, taking a long breath of the icy air.

Pluto's b.a.l.l.s, he hated these encounters. A hard ache lurked where his heart should have beaten. This jacka.s.s with a spell book had ruined Darak's evening. He had completely messed with Mich.e.l.le's.

The jacka.s.s had to die.

Wednesday, December 29, 12:05 p.m.

Lore's condo

Once he was through scoping out the crime scene, Lore left the building, walking into the steadily falling snow. He'd learned a few things, including how the police intended to proceed. They were looking for evidence of who came and went from the building and when. They were looking for witnesses. They wanted to know about Mich.e.l.le's and Talia's lives, whom they a.s.sociated with, and why anyone would wish them harm. Mostly, they were looking for Talia.

Lore already had a head start on the last item. He needed to catch up on the rest, now that he had a road map to follow. It would have been more efficient to share information with Baines-the man was obviously no fool-but the h.e.l.lhounds hadn't survived by trusting anyone else. He wanted solid proof of Talia's guilt before he left her to the mercy of the human cops.

He crossed the street, fascinated by the dizzying, swirling snow. It left cold kisses on his skin, chill and ephemeral as a ghost. Or a vampire.

Not that their flesh was that cold. It was cool and smooth as silk, enticing as half-forgotten wishes. No, it wasn't the temperature, but the odd, hushed melancholy of the snow that made him think of the Undead.

Or perhaps it was the silence. Talia was too new to have that eerie calm. Instead, the chill, pure air reminded him of another Undead beauty.

Constance Moore and her son had lived in the Castle, the prison where Lore had grown up. Because Lore was a friend to her boy, almost a big brother, she'd included him in their daily lessons. She had taught Lore to read and write-rare skills for a lowly h.e.l.lhound. His people had been little better than slaves, but Constance had never been anything but kind. Now her gift of knowledge gave him an edge for survival in the human world.

Perhaps it was the memory of Constance that made him protective of Talia. Foolish. They were entirely different people. More than that, he was a different person now, a grown Alpha with no time for sentimentality. Which was why he was standing in the snow with his cell phone, running interference for a pretty vampire he had no business helping.

Nah, he'd been suckered since the moment she'd tried to kick him in the head. He had a weakness for girls with some spirit. Idiot.

Lore began punching in a number. He'd gone outside because he was too wary to risk being overheard by the cops. Now he began pacing, impatient to get answers.

Fortunately, Perry was still up.

"Miss me?" the werewolf said dryly. "Or do you think I'm such a crack researcher I've found your answer to the floaty evil already?"

"Have you?"

"No."

"Too bad. Something else has happened."

"I heard about the clinic building burning. The vamps have gone bat-s.h.i.+t crazy about the campaign office."

Lore ignored the not-so-subtle bat joke. His mind was on a straight road that he hoped led to confirming Talia's innocence. "There was a murder in my condo building."

After a stunned silence, Perry made a noise that wasn't quite a laugh. "What?"

"I'm not making this up."

The wolf swore. "What the h.e.l.l is going on tonight?"

Lore looked up and down the street, his eyes searching the front of each neighboring building. The dusting of snow made everything look deceptively charming, like one of the humans' greeting cards. "My building doesn't have security cameras covering the entrances. Are there any around here that you can hack into?"

"I dunno. Depends on their setup. Are you trying to get me arrested?"

"You're too good for that."

"Says you. What's nearby?"

Lore named the businesses.

"Hm. The bank and the corner market are good bets. There's probably a traffic cam around there, too. Are we looking for anyone in particular?"

"The killer."

"We need more words than that, dog-boy."

"I don't have a description," Lore said, irritated. "Possibly two people-one to control and one to strike. Or else someone strong enough to hack off a head on his or her own."

There was silence at the other end of the line. "They took the head? That's an execution. Who died?"

"The woman we saw walk into the building tonight. The one who made you want to bake cookies."

He heard Perry's breathing quicken with anger. "I'll get back to you when I have something."

"Good luck." A puff of steamy breath followed the last words like a prayer.

Lore snapped the phone shut and considered his next move. First, he wanted to ask Talia about the Latin word on the wall. Maybe it meant something to her. Would she admit it if it did?

A car rushed by, skidding because the driver didn't know how to handle the slippery road. Lore stepped back, avoiding the clumps of snow kicked up by the tires.

Once he'd talked to Talia, then he'd visit some of the vamp clubs and bars. This wasn't the work of a local troublemaker. He was looking for a new face, and someone there would have gossip.

Normally, a newcomer asked permission of the ruling monarch to hunt in their territory. It was a means of keeping track of who was where. Sires owned the members of their clan; deserters were punished. Rogues on the run-like Talia-tried to stay off everybody's radar.

Come to think of it, the ugly vampire he'd arrested earlier was an unknown, too. Interesting. Was Mr. Ugly just another bloodsucker dropping in to cheer on the first-ever fanged candidate? With election fever in high gear, plenty of Undead had come to see history in the making. It would be easy for a murderer to get lost in the crowd.

Great. Just great.

Lore headed back toward his building and Talia, his protective instincts on alert. He went around to the back door, planning to use the stairs. As soon as he rounded the corner into the parking lot, he stopped dead. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air, plain as a billboard to a h.e.l.lhound's sense of smell.

Lore's shoulders hunched, instinctively protecting his neck from attack. The presence was vampire. Male. Dominant. Enemy.

Lore searched the shadows of the parking lot, scanning for a darker shadow, a flutter of movement. Nothing. Even as he stood there, the scent trail began to dull in the cool, wet wind.

The stranger had pa.s.sed through recently, but hadn't stayed. That was something to be thankful for. Still focused on Talia, Lore approached the cop standing outside the stairwell door.

"Did anyone come past here in the last few minutes?" Lore asked as he pulled out his driver's license to prove he lived there.

The cop shook his head. "No."

Lore pulled open the door and began the climb to his floor. With a low growl, he found the male had gone all the way up to his floor and beyond. Here the scent was fresh.

The cop was out to lunch. Or hypnotized. Vampires could wipe memories from a human's mind.

It didn't matter. He would find the source of the stink and remove it from his territory. There was no way a strange vampire was going to roam Lore's building. Even the big ones taste like chicken. Rotten, disgusting chicken, but whatever.

Shoulders aching with tension, Lore forced himself to stay on task. Talia first. Vampire after. He pushed out of the sixth-floor stairwell door and crossed to his suite.

When he turned the door handle, it was unlocked. A jolt of anxiety raised the hair on his arms. Intruder!

Lore burst into his condo. Empty. He slammed open the bedroom door, chest heaving.

The room was empty.

Talia was gone.

With a snarl, Lore wheeled and ran back into the hall.

Chapter 10.

Wednesday, December 29, 1:25 a.m.

101.5 FM.

Are you a nonhuman new to Fairview? Call the Good Hearth Cauldron Company for your complimentary welcome pack! No matter your species, we'll call on you with one of our lovely mini-cauldrons brimful of goodies! Coupons to local businesses! Treats from the Wily Wolf Delicatessen and Baba Yaga's Restaurant! Even an appetizer platter absolutely free with your first visit to Cthulu's Sus.h.i.+ House!

If you're a member of the vampire community, we have representatives standing by to arrange an appointment with Fairview's Undead registry. With many election visitors in town, appointment times are filling up fast. See us, and secure legal feeding privileges now. Bite safe; don't bite sorry!

Wednesday, December 29, 1:30 a.m.

Lore's condo building

Talia's anger and determination had careened into a brick wall.

She hid in the stairwell, the fire door open just enough to give her a crack to peer through. Carefully, she'd opened the noisy push bar without anyone hearing it. She'd a.s.sumed that late at night, the cops would have gone home. She had been wrong. There had to be a dozen still scouring the condo for clues. A few stood just feet away, almost close enough to touch.

If she let go of the door, the mechanism would close with a clatter and reveal her presence. A vampire could run faster than human cops, but she wasn't exactly sure where she was going to run to. All her ID, her money, her car keys, and her warm clothes were in her condo. Leaving Lore's bedroom hadn't improved her circ.u.mstances very much at all.

She couldn't go forward. She couldn't go back. She was stuck. Talia's skin s.h.i.+vered with the tension screaming through her muscles.

A uniformed cop walked out of the condo, interrupting someone who looked like a plainclothes detective. The latter was talking to a guy whose jacket was dusted with melting snow.

"Freaking vampires." The uniform was stowing a camera in his shoulder bag. "That was something else, eh?"

"Just wait till you see a werewolf kill," said the man with the snow on his coat. "I needed a wet vac to collect the remains."

The detective snorted. "Nice mental image, Bob. I'm going to remember that next time I have chili."

"Up yours, too, Baines."

"It's not funny," snapped the cop with the camera. "What's in there is not freaking funny. Sir." He added the last with a baleful glance at Baines.

The detective looked sympathetic. "Murder is never funny."

Bob lifted his voice, yelling into the condo, "You guys done yet? Can I bring in the gurney?"