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  She wondered, not for the first time, if her father had visited her mother in the same way after his death. Had he come to her? She remembered the bizarre dreams that had plagued her sleep soon after her father’s funeral. Endless mazes. Hallways filled with doors. Strangers begging for her help. Then one night, the dreams stopped.

  “I don’t understand how this happened,” Natalie whispered, pulling Alex’s thoughts back to the present. “Why would someone do this to Eric? He worked hard. He was kind and gentle. He never harmed anyone!”

  Alex watched the cloud slip from the sofa and drift on an invisible breeze to hover over her and Natalie’s heads.

  “Eric was a good man,” Natalie said, anger creeping in to replace the sorrow. “He was a terrific father—oh, God.” Her anger evaporated as quickly as it had manifested. “Marshall.”

  “That’s your son?”

  “He’s at Mississippi State studying engineering.” Natalie’s head dropped into her hands once more. “What do I tell him? How do you tell a child his father is dead, murdered?”

  Alex clenched her teeth as the memories surfaced. Sunshine. Butterflies. Blood-splattered tombstones. A child’s scream.

  She forced the memories into the darkness of the past and focused on the spirit of Eric Stromheimer floating overhead. The mist pulsed, thinned, and finally dissipated, leaving her alone with a sobbing widow in what was once a cheery family room, and desperately trying to hold back her own tears.

  “Whoo-eee,” a brunette waitress whooped. “Are you single?”

  Varik Baudelaire groaned inwardly, and the two men entering the Waffle House diner behind him snickered. They’d been driving for several hours straight and had finally reached the southern side of Memphis, but they still had a long way to go.

  After Damian’s visit, he’d packed and left a message with a neighbor that he would be out of town for several days. He’d then driven to FBPI headquarters to meet the mobile lab and the forensic techs, Freddy Haver and Reyes Cott, a duo he’d quickly nicknamed “Beavis and Butt-Head.”

  Freddy had displayed a level of hero worship upon meeting Varik by stating he’d read all of Varik’s case files—a statement he’d found hard to believe, since most of the cases he’d worked before his retirement in 2004 were still considered classified, according to FBPI standards. Despite his fondness for gushing, Freddy seemed to recognize that his behavior overstepped boundaries and had backed off.

  However, Reyes had annoyed him from the start by drooling over Varik’s Corvette and asking, “Dude, how many hoochies have you scored with this thing?” when they were introduced. His behavior progressively worsened during their travels, to the point that Varik found himself entertaining violent thoughts toward the younger vampire.

  Damian assured him that Reyes was one of the Bureau’s best trace evidence and latent print analysts. He was willing to trust Damian’s judgment, but his patience was wearing thin and he wasn’t in the mood for the aggressive flirtations of a middle-aged human waitress. Nonetheless, he continued to the elevated bar, eyes on the woman who’d addressed him. The other men settled in a booth on the opposite side of the small diner.

  The waitress grinned as he approached, folding her arms on the bar and leaning forward, which effectively tightened her gray uniform’s too-small shirt over her too-large bosom.

  He mirrored her stance, glancing at her prominently displayed name tag. “Well, Rachel, that depends on who’s asking.”

  She puffed out her chest to the point that Varik believed the buttons on her shirt would litter the floor. “Oh, that would be me, dahlin’,” she drawled.

  “I see.” He slowly removed his denim jacket, aware of the way she stared at his flexing biceps beneath his black button-down shirt. He laid the jacket on one of the raised stools beside him and ran a hand through his long ebony hair, draping it over his shoulder so it brushed the top of his jeans.

  Rachel’s gaze followed his movements and drifted over his chest, down to his waist, and stopped. “Hey, are you a cop or something?”

  He patted the silver badge clipped to the front of his belt. “Enforcer, actually.”

  Her eyes widened, and her spine straightened.

  Varik smiled, showing a hint of fang.

  Rachel blanched and fell back two steps.

  Freddy and Reyes in the booth across the diner roared with laughter.

  Varik snapped his fingers and pointed at them without taking his eyes off the frightened waitress. The laughter ceased, and he picked up his jacket. “So, Rachel, how about a round of coffee, black, for my friends and me?”

  She nodded silently.

  The forensic techs snickered when he slid onto the bench opposite them a moment later. “Shut up.”

  “Sorry, sir.” Freddy coughed and grew somber.

  “First it was those hoochies in the Porsche in Louisville,” Reyes said, and used his fingers to keep count. “Then it was the clerk at the gas station in Nashville. Now the waitress here.” He shook his head. “Dude, does this happen every time you go somewhere?”

  Varik studied the laminated menu on the table before him and tried to ignore the thought of slamming Reyes’s head through the plate-glass window, which played through his mind like a film reel.

  “I bet it’s the hair,” Reyes whispered to Freddy, nudging him in the ribs. “Chicks dig the hair.”

  “Shut up, Reyes.” Freddy nudged him back.

  “Have you noticed that Monsieur Baudelaire still has a hint of Paris in his Kentucky drawl? Between the hair, the accent, and the car, he’s got to be getting laid regularly.”

  “You’re talking out of your ass again.”

  “What do you think, Freddy? I could grow out my hair and fake the accent. Then all I need is the car.”

  Varik sighed. It was time to end the madness. “You can do all that, but you still won’t get the attention.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, to put it bluntly, Reyes, you’re just plain ugly.”

  Reyes’s jaw dropped, revealing a crooked left fang, and his overly large eyes bulged out farther from their sockets.

  Varik shrugged. “Sorry, dude.”

  Freddy cackled, and Reyes slumped in the booth like a man who’d been dealt a death blow.

  Rachel arrived with their coffee. She hurriedly set three steaming mugs in front of them and scurried away.

  Satisfied to have silenced Reyes at least for a time, Varik sipped his coffee and reveled in the warmth the bitter liquid infused in him as it slid down his throat.

  Freddy settled into the corner of the booth as he slurped his coffee, winced, and reached for the container of sugar. He kept his eyes on Varik while pouring sugar into his coffee. “So, what do we know about this case?”

  “Not much at this point,” Varik answered. “Jefferson is a small town, roughly six thousand in population, and an estimated third to half that number are vampires. The forensic team is limited to a few trained members of the local police department.” He took another drink and leaned back with a sigh before continuing.

  “At approximately five thirty a.m. on October ninth, the body of Grant Williams was found in one of the loading bays of a hardware store. The positioning of the corpse suggested a ritualistic-style slaying. A similar scenario played out at a rest stop on September thirtieth, only that victim has yet to be identified. Due to the limitations of the local forensic team and now the discovery of a third body, Enforcer Sabian has requested additional personnel in order to conduct a proper investigation. That’s where you two lab rats come in.”

  “Enforcer Sabian?” Reyes echoed, reviving from his momentary stupor. “As in Alexandra Sabian? Bernard Sabian’s daughter?”

  Varik nodded.

  Reyes whistled softly.

  Varik folded his arms in front of him. “Do you know her?”

  “Only by reputation, and I saw her picture in a Bureau newsletter once. It was part of an article on how she’d busted up a major Midnight ring in Jefferson.�
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  Varik sipped his coffee. He remembered seeing the article. Midnight was a powerful drug that had plagued the vampire population for years. A combination of the human street drug Ecstasy, aspirin, garlic, and animal blood, vampires addicted to Midnight were often violent and highly erratic in their behavior. No one knew how the drug first came to be created, but its effects were undeniable. Aspirin and garlic thinned a vampire’s blood and allowed for the Ecstasy to have a greater hallucinogenic effect.

  However, it was the animal blood that posed the greatest threat. A genetic quirk left vampires unable to generate enough psychic energy to sustain themselves. Thus, they relied on the residual psychic energy within human blood to keep them from going insane. Animal blood, because its residual energy was more primitive and instinctual in nature, could transform an otherwise healthy vampire into a horror-story lunatic. Combining it with a hallucinogen like Ecstasy was the equivalent of standing in the center of a bonfire while playing Russian roulette. The outcome was guaranteed not to be pretty.

  Reyes continued to speak of Alex and slapped Freddy on the shoulder. “Wait until you see her. She’s smoking-hot, dude. Red hair, green eyes.” He shook his head. “I’ve always been a sucker for redheads. I may just have to—”

  Varik’s hand seized the front of Reyes’s shirt and pulled him forward. Hot coffee spilled from Reyes’s overturned mug and poured over the side of the table. Varik tightened his grip, and his voice was a low snarl. “Let’s get something straight here and now. You will show Enforcer Sabian the proper respect once we arrive in Jefferson. If I hear you make any inappropriate remarks, I’ll rip your fangs out with my bare hands.”

  Reyes gulped loudly, and Freddy stared at them both with wide eyes.

  “Do we understand one another?”

  “Yes, sir,” Reyes gasped.

  Varik shoved him back in his seat. He noticed the diner’s employees watching them with a combination of shock and terror. He drained the rest of his coffee and grabbed his jacket as he slid out of the booth. Placing a twenty-dollar bill on the counter beside the register, more than enough to cover the price of their order, he left the diner without saying another word.

  Cold air slammed into him, sucking his breath away. He shrugged into his jacket and crossed the empty lot to his black Corvette parked next to a large tour bus–sized RV that served as the FBPI’s mobile forensic lab. He leaned against the car’s trunk and bowed his head.

  Another breeze rustled the dried leaves of a nearby sycamore tree and whipped through his hair. Thoughts of the past swirled through his mind. Memories of his and Alex’s life together, the life they should’ve had, taunted him.

  He remembered the hours they had spent with each other during her training. The thrill he’d felt with their first kiss was as fresh to him now fifteen years later as if it’d happened only moments ago. He smiled at the memory of her reaction when he’d asked her to be his wife.

  He turned his attention to the night sky. A waning crescent floated in the dark heavens, casting little illumination on the world. Streetlights flooded the darkness and drowned the natural glow of the stars, and he sighed. He and Alex had once enjoyed stargazing as they made plans for their future—a future that had ended six years ago when Alex left Louisville.

  The wind continued to whirl around him and for a moment he thought he could still smell her scent, a heady combination of jasmine and vanilla. His skin prickled as he remembered the brush of her fingertips along his back as they made love.

  Raised voices from across the parking lot interrupted his thoughts and signaled the approach of Freddy and Reyes.

  He pushed the remote button to deactivate the Corvette’s alarm. Sliding behind the wheel, he consulted the global positioning display on his cell phone. They were south of Memphis, a few miles into Mississippi, in the town of Horn Lake. From there, the journey was a straight drive south on Interstate 55 to Jefferson, about five to six hours.

  Tossing his cell phone onto the passenger seat, his gaze met his own eyes in the rearview mirror, and he sighed.

  “You screwed up. She moved on. Deal with it,” he said to his reflection.

  Freddy and Reyes waved to him to indicate their readiness to depart as they boarded the mobile lab. Moments later, the rumble of the RV’s engine penetrated the Corvette’s interior, and the muscle car’s engine roared to life.

  Varik pulled out of the parking lot in front of the mobile lab, gunning his engine as he headed toward the interstate. The car responded, announcing its confidence to all. As he pulled onto the interstate, his only wish was for the butterflies in his stomach to cease their mad dancing long enough for his own confidence to return.

  Stephen Sabian’s bright blue Dodge pickup glowed beneath the halogen bulb of a streetlamp outside Crimson Swan. Alex hadn’t been certain he’d returned from his business trip to Natchez, a town about fifty miles to the west. Seeing his truck eased the rising tension in her shoulders. She could always rely on her brother to chase away the demons that haunted her after visiting a victim’s family.

  Natalie Stromheimer had been in no condition to be left alone. After asking her a few more questions, Alex waited until a family friend arrived to stay with the widow before leaving. She’d made her way through the quiet town, barely aware of the homes and businesses she passed. Now she killed the Jeep’s engine and paused to stare at the brown-and-redbrick structure before her.

  Jefferson’s only blood bar was designed to resemble a neo-Gothic church and was the vampire community’s sanctuary. No humans were allowed inside except for the on-staff donors, a few employees, and those serving as private donors to vampires. The first floor was the actual bar, but the second floor was Stephen’s spacious loft-style apartment.

  The central cathedral, which would’ve normally housed the sanctuary and altar within a church, sported a high peak and heavy red-and-black double doors. Two narrow arched windows flanked the entrance and allowed for the only natural light within the bar. Above the entrance, a large round rosette window fed light into the interior of Stephen’s apartment. A smaller single-story cathedral stood to the left and held the bar’s storeroom, office, and the private blood donor rooms.

  The nonfunctional bell tower to the right of the central cathedral held another smaller apartment that Stephen often rented to donors but which she’d occupied for the past two weeks since a fire at her apartment complex had left her homeless. While her unit hadn’t been burned, it had sustained heavy smoke and water damage. The complex’s manager estimated it would be at least a month before she could return home.

  Alex locked up the Jeep and shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. Aside from her vehicle and Stephen’s truck, the bar’s lot was deserted, as were the lots of the two adjacent restaurants and the strip mall across the street. Her footsteps echoed in the darkness, punctuating the emptiness she felt within her soul.

  She opened one of the massive wooden doors and entered Crimson Swan. High-backed booths with red-and-black leather-upholstered cushions lined the walls. Wooden tables with cherry- and mahogany-inlaid tops were clustered throughout the space. Stained-glass chandeliers hung over every booth, and smaller matching lamps sat in the center of each freestanding table, adding a warm glow to the wood when lit. The large common room was dark and still, with only a single light shining behind the bar opposite the doors.

  The vampire behind the bar watched her intently as she strode toward him, eager to satisfy the craving that now consumed her thoughts. He raised one blond eyebrow when she sat down in front of him. “You look like shit.”

  “Bite me.”

  Stephen laughed and produced a glass vial filled with blood from beneath the counter. He poured the thick liquid into a shot glass. “Freshly squeezed, just the way you like it.”

  Alex seized the glass and swallowed the tepid blood in a single gulp. A shudder ran through her as its warmth slid down her throat and across her chest. Her fingertips tingled, and she felt a slow bl
ush warm her cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat, then began to race as adrenaline pumped into her system. She closed her eyes as the flood of memories locked within the blood washed over her.

  She heard the laughter of friends and family at a child’s birthday party. She smelled the sweet dampness of hay mingled with manure as hands bigger than her own groomed a large gray horse. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as the memory of the unknown donor’s first kiss filtered through her mind.

  The images faded, and Alex licked the last traces of blood from her lips, savoring the salty metallic taste.

  “Been a while, huh?” Stephen’s drawling voice acted like a balm to her irritated mind and brought her back to the present.

  “Three days,” she whispered hoarsely, grinding the heels of her palms against her eyes.

  “I’m surprised you made it that long.”

  “I was using Vlad’s Tears.” Alex folded her arms on the bar and rested her forehead against them. The surge of adrenaline from the blood was already fading. Sleep pulled at her, enticing her to follow it.

  “Vlad’s Tears is synthetic blood, Alex. It won’t stop the hunger, only delay it.”

  Sleep danced away with his words. Sitting up, she glared at her brother. “I’m well aware of that, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “You need to take better care of yourself. Take a break once in a while.”

  “Tell that to the three bodies lying in the morgue.”

  “Three?”

  She nodded.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” Alex sighed. “My thoughts exactly.”

  “All the same as Dad?”

  “Nearly identical.”

  The siblings lapsed into silence, lost in their own memories.

  Stephen finally shook himself and asked, “Have you been to see the family?”

  “Wife and a son in college. She doesn’t know how she’s going to tell the son.”

  “She’ll figure it out. Mom did.”

  “I don’t like this, Stephen. I’ve got a really bad feeling about these murders.”