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  Moving into the living room, bare white walls surrounded him on all sides, and the furniture consisted of the sofa and a side table with a lamp. A television sat in the far corner on a rolling stand that also housed electronic equipment.

  Two bookcases flanked the television and drew his interest. One case was empty, but the other held a mix of books, DVDs, and CDs. Judging from the water spots and warping of book covers, he guessed these were items salvaged from Alex’s other apartment. He glanced over the book titles, mostly mysteries and a few romances. There’d been a time when the mere mention of a romance novel would send Alex screaming from the room.

  He moved on to the DVDs and smiled. At least some things never changed. The films were mostly black-and-white classics starring Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, and Vincent Price. The music was a little more eclectic than he remembered, featuring everything from Beethoven to Rob Zombie.

  The sound of running water stopped, and he settled into a corner of the sofa to wait. His gaze continued to roam around the apartment. The only decorative item in the room aside from the shoji screen blocking his view of the bed was the small half-geode on top of the television. Amethyst crystals glittered from within the depths of the split stone sphere. He recognized it as a prized possession that had belonged to Alex’s father.

  A large black-and-tan cat jumped onto the back of the sofa and stared at him. Its golden eyes were rimmed in green, reminding him of Alex’s eyes when she was facing blood-hunger or really pissed off, which seemed to be most of the time when he was around. The cat yawned and stretched before hopping to the cushion next to him.

  Varik remained motionless while the cat sniffed his fingers and jeans. It climbed into his lap and smelled its way up his shirt to his face. Whiskers tickled his chin as the cat investigated his hair. It blinked at him, licked its nose, and then settled onto the cushion beside him, front paws on his thigh and head held high with closed eyes, purring contentedly.

  “I see you’ve met Dweezil.” Alex entered the room carrying a hairbrush, a cordless phone, and trailing the scent of soap. She had changed into a pair of black jogging shorts covered by an oversized University of Louisville T-shirt, and a dark-blue towel wrapped around her head like a turban.

  “I think I’ve been claimed.” He brushed at the trail of hairs left on his shirt.

  “Dweezil would claim a skunk if he thought he could get food out of the deal.” Alex tucked one leg beneath her as she sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and laid the brush and phone on the coffee table.

  “How’s your arm?”

  She rolled up her sleeve. Emergency-room doctors had removed Doc Hancock’s stitches. An angry red welt sliced across the outer edge of her biceps, but it was healing well and would be just another scar in a few days. “Much better. At least I can move it now without it hurting too much.”

  “And your chest?”

  “Bruised but manageable.”

  “That’s good.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes. The only sounds within the apartment were the faint rush of heated air from the overhead vents and Dweezil’s contented purring.

  Varik tried not to stare at Alex’s bare legs, tried not to acknowledge that his body was responding to her presence the same way it had years ago. The kiss they’d shared, followed by the renewing of the blood-bond, had stirred the memories locked within his mind. Sitting in her apartment, immersed in her scent, made him want to pull her into his lap, cradle her in his arms, and feel her heart beating in time with his.

  “Stop it,” she hissed, massaging her temples.

  “What?”

  “Thinking about us. Just having you here is distracting enough. I don’t want to hear your lewd thoughts as well.”

  He chuckled. “If you find my presence distracting, that must mean you’ve thought about me.”

  “Thought of how to get rid of you.”

  “Ouch, that hurt.”

  Alex rolled her eyes and pulled her turban loose, releasing the scent of jasmine and vanilla along with her damp hair. She folded the towel, dropped it into her lap, and grabbed the brush from the coffee table. “You’ll mend.”

  “You want to tell me about your vision during the autopsy review?”

  “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

  Varik’s hand dropped to Dweezil’s head and scratched behind the cat’s ears as he waited for her to continue.

  “It was the body.” She tossed the brush and towel onto the coffee table. “It sat up, but it’s what came after that I don’t know how to explain.”

  “There is another way for you to tell me,” he said softly.

  “The blood-bond.”

  He nodded, stroking Dweezil’s back and smiling wryly when the cat lifted its haunches to follow the curve of his hand.

  Alex chewed her bottom lip, flashing her small fangs.

  He watched her draw her knees up to her chest and wrap her arms around her legs, curling her body into the upright fetal position he recognized as her way of trying to protect herself from unpleasant memories. He could sense the fear and doubt hanging around her like storm clouds.

  “All right, I’ll show you,” she said, and then muttered, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “What—I mean, how do we do this?”

  Varik picked up Dweezil and gently set the cat on the floor. He shifted on the sofa until he faced Alex fully. “I’m not certain. I’ve never been blood-bound before.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “It’s your memories that you want to share, so you should be the one to open the bond.” He moved closer to her. “Remember when we were at the morgue?”

  “I’m not kissing you.”

  “No, but I think it may help if we’re touching.”

  Alex hesitated and then shifted so her knees were no longer drawn to her chest. She folded her legs into a lotus position, and he mirrored her. They inched toward each other until their knees touched. He held out his hands, and after a moment’s pause, she laid hers in his.

  “Close your eyes,” he instructed. “Think of what you saw in the morgue and then lower your mental shields. I should be able to see what you saw.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes.

  He could feel her trembling and knew she was anxious. His natural instinct was one of protection. He wanted to shelter her from what frightened her, but the source was within her, out of his reach.

  When he lowered the barriers dividing his mind from hers, he felt no welcoming warmth. Her memories remained locked.

  “It’s not working,” she said, and pulled away. “I can sense your mind. I know you lowered your shields, but something is blocking me.”

  “Try again.”

  “This isn’t going to work, Varik.”

  “Yes, it will.”

  “No.” She unfolded her legs and rose. “I think you should just leave.”

  He grabbed her waist, pulled her into his lap, and kissed her.

  Alex broke the kiss. “You son of a bitch!” Her eyes were a swirling maelstrom of emerald and amber. She pushed against him, but he held her fast and wouldn’t let her escape. “Let me go!”

  Varik kept one arm around her waist and used the other to halt the blow she aimed at his face. “Not until you try again,” he growled. He couldn’t force his way into her mind. To do so would be the equivalent of rape under vampiric law. She had to share her memories willingly, but nothing prevented him from manipulating her. “If I have to piss you off in order for you to do that, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  She stopped struggling but continued to glare at him, breathing heavily. “You’ll leave if it doesn’t work?”

  “The apartment, yes. Jefferson, no.”

  “Promise you’ll forget this whole bond business if this doesn’t work?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “You’re a lot of things, Varik, but a scout isn’t one of them.”

  “No, but I am
a man of my word.” He released his hold on her waist, but when she sprang to her feet, he stopped her from returning to her seat on the sofa. “I think we need to be closer this time.”

  “Closer? How the hell do you expect—” Her voice died as he stood, and she began shaking her head. “No way. Forget it.”

  “Alex, it’s—”

  “I’m not kissing you, Varik!”

  “Would you rather sit on my lap again?”

  “No.”

  “Then I suggest you get used to seeing me here, because I’m not leaving until you try again. That’s our agreement.”

  “You said nothing about—”

  “I’m not saying we have to kiss, Alex, but think of when we were at the morgue, how easy it was for you to open the bond when we were that physically close.”

  Color painted her cheeks red. “Don’t remind me.” Her head rolled back, and she stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at him again. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Varik spread his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. Her arms slipped around his neck. A tremor ran the length of his body when her fingers brushed the bandage covering the wound where she’d bitten him.

  The desire to kiss her again nearly overwhelmed him, but he resisted the urge and tried to ignore the swelling erection trapped in his jeans. Gazing into her eyes from only a few inches away, a painful stab of regret speared his heart, and she winced, having felt it through the blood-bond.

  She stiffened and tried to pull back. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good—”

  The barriers separating their psyches vanished. Varik gasped as images filled his mind. He was part of the scenes playing out across his consciousness but was also distant. He saw three headless corpses reaching for him and Alex simultaneously. He both ran through and flew over the erupting monolith maze. He watched as Bernard and Alex ran to evade a massive tornado and also ran alongside them. He and Alex were swept away by the twister and carried into a brightening sky.

  “Varik,” Alex whispered against his chest and in his mind.

  Jasmine and vanilla combined with sandalwood and cinnamon, rocking his senses. The blood-bond forged deeper into their minds, parading memories before them.

  Alex’s fifth birthday, only months before her father’s murder.

  Varik lying in wait for a rogue Hunter, his grip tight on a knife’s handle.

  Alex in her teens visiting her father’s grave, kneeling beside the headstone and weeping.

  Varik standing on a river’s edge, watching the flow drag a body downstream.

  Part of his mind awoke, suddenly aware that he and Alex were no longer standing. He slumped on the sofa while she straddled him, kissing him passionately, and him her. Panic seized his brain for an instant until the blood-bond offered up new images, thoughts dredged from one of their subconsciousnesses.

  He lay naked on the floor as she moved over him with her head back in the throes of ecstasy. The vision shifted. He moved over her with her hips bucking to counter his every thrust, never breaking contact.

  The still-conscious part of him stirred again as his hands slipped beneath Alex’s shirt to cup her breasts. His palms caressed her hardened nipples, and she moaned, his name rolling from her lips to set his skin aflame.

  This isn’t right, his mind screamed. He felt Alex pause, and it was the refuge he needed to break the blood-bond’s hold on them.

  She cried out as he slammed shut the barriers between their minds, cutting off the bond’s flow of memories, emotions, and desires. She clawed at the side of her head, then stilled. Her body fell limp, and she slumped against him.

  “Alex?” His voice sounded harsh in the quiet of her apartment. “Baby?”

  She groaned and rolled off him. “What happened?”

  “The blood-bond,” he replied. “It overwhelmed us.”

  She groaned again. “My head. It tingles.”

  A prickly sensation similar to what he felt when his foot fell asleep and returned to life throbbed in his head, making his eyes tear. “Mine, too.”

  Alex curled up on one end of the sofa. “Is this supposed to happen?”

  He slid to the opposite side, putting as much distance between them as possible, and massaged his forehead. “I don’t know.”

  Minutes passed in silence, and Varik worked to keep his mind free of all thought. Thinking hurt his brain. His eyelids drooped with weariness. His head lolled on his shoulders, and he jerked awake. Yawning, he forced himself to stand. “I should leave.”

  Alex didn’t answer.

  Alarmed, he turned to her and then relaxed. The sound of her steady breathing let him know she’d fallen asleep. He gently lifted her into his arms.

  She mumbled incoherently as he carried her to the bed.

  He laid her down, and she rolled onto her side and once more curled into a tight ball. He covered her with a blanket and, as an afterthought, he kissed her cheek.

  She sighed in her sleep.

  Dweezil jumped onto the half-wall serving as a headboard and blinked at him.

  “Take care of her for me,” Varik whispered, stroking the cat’s head.

  Dweezil warbled softly and leapt onto the bed. He placed his paws on the curve of Alex’s waist between her ribs and hip. He rested his head on his paws, and his golden eyes closed.

  Varik watched the cat guarding the woman they both loved. He crept to the door, opened it, exited, and then reached through a small crack to turn off the light before closing the door fully. He tested the knob and was satisfied to find it locked automatically.

  His footsteps echoed heavily in the tower’s stairwell. He stepped into the alley behind Crimson Swan, and the cold night air wrapped around him, bit his exposed flesh, as he recalled the shared memory of Alex’s vision.

  Warm air rushed from his Corvette’s vents but didn’t alleviate the chill that continued to make him shiver as he watched the tower fade into the darkness behind him.

  Tires screeched on pavement as Tasha braked hard in front of her home at 231 Mimosa Street. She sprang from the car as a marked unit slid to a stop behind her vehicle. Drawing her Beretta, she motioned for the two uniformed officers to circle around to the back of the single-story bungalow.

  She had to resist the urge to rush up the front steps and throw open the door. No lights burned within the house’s interior. She frowned. She always left the porch light burning and a lamp on in the living room.

  Moving rapidly but with caution, she mounted the front steps and crossed the small porch. Glass crunched underfoot. She glanced up. Someone had shattered the overhead fixture and bulb. Not good. She pressed her back to the wall beside the door’s hinges. From her vantage point she could see that the door was slightly ajar.

  Panic threatened to overtake her senses. She stilled her breath, willing herself to be calm. She eased the door open with her foot while raising her arms in front of her to bring her weapon into a ready position.

  Silence filled the house, and shadows enshrouded the foyer. Tasha stepped into the gloom, hugging the walls. She methodically moved through the small entryway and deeper into the interior. She met up with the uniformed officers in the kitchen at the rear of the house. Seconds ticked away as they searched each room before declaring it empty.

  Tasha sighed heavily, removed her handheld radio from her belt, and signaled an all-clear with dispatch. She thanked the uniformed officers for responding, said it was probably some neighborhood kids playing a prank. She didn’t believe it, but there was no evidence that anyone had been in the house. Aside from the broken porch light, nothing was missing or appeared out of place.

  The uniformed officers left reluctantly. She promised to call if anything happened and thanked them again. As she closed and locked the front door, a mirror that had been obscured by the door when she entered caught her eye.

  Tasha saw the writing scrawled on the glass surface, but her brain refused to process the information. She stepped closer, and the words seemed to spread
across her face. Finally, her brain awoke and the words on the mirror became clear.

  JUDGMENT DAY COMES. COOPERATE AND LIVE. INTERFERE AND DIE.

  He’d killed the security guard at the high school. It hadn’t been his intention to kill her, but she’d seen his face. If he simply knocked her out and left her locked up somewhere, she’d eventually be found and would identify him. He couldn’t let that happen. He’d beaten her with a crowbar and stashed her body in an equipment shed.

  Once that was done, he’d positioned the vamp’s corpse behind the top row of the football-field bleachers. Using a hose behind the equipment shed, he’d washed the blood from his hands, cleaned the gory bits from the crowbar, and gathered the tarps. He changed into his uniform and drove to work.

  Now the game was getting interesting.

  He cruised Jefferson’s streets, humming along with the music in his head, waiting. He checked his watch. Any time now the show would start.

  eleven

  STROBING BLUE AND WHITE LIGHTS DANCED OVER THE manicured lawns of Mimosa Street. Neatly trimmed hedges transformed into menacing blobs behind which shadows darted, chased by the lights. Curious faces pressed against windows. Braver souls congregated in driveways and beneath sprawling bare oak tree branches.

  Tasha sat at the circular dining table in a home she once considered her haven from the madness of the outside world, with a cup of herbal tea clamped between her hands to keep them from shaking. One uniformed officer stood in the doorway between the dining room and the hallway leading to the foyer, where forensic techs worked.

  She wanted to run screaming from the house that someone had violated. It took all her strength to not break into hysterics, but falling apart wouldn’t help find who’d threatened her. She had to remain calm.

  A hand brushed her shoulder. “Lieutenant?”

  Tasha followed the line of the arm attached to the hand and was greeted with Harvey Manser’s grim face.

  Harvey pulled out the chair beside her and sat. He folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Tasha,” he said gently, “I’m real sorry about all this, but I want you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to find the bastards.”