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“You think they’re related to Dad’s?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t rule it out, can I? There are simply too many coincidences, and you know how I feel about coincidences.”

  Stephen grabbed the drained glass and turned his back. The glass rattled loudly as he dropped it into a small sink. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

  Resting her chin in the palm of one hand, she yawned and drummed the fingers of her other hand on the bar. She didn’t believe in coincidences. She’d seen too much in her career as an Enforcer to accept chance as a rationalization for events. Combine experience with her innate talents and coincidence swiftly became an invalid explanation for her.

  Despite her efforts to maintain a tight control of the facts regarding the murders, rumors had spread quickly through the vampire community. Even though news of Grant Williams’s decapitation had spread throughout the town, speculation surrounding the similarities to her father’s murder had remained within the vampire population. While they shared media outlets with humans, vampires were not as forthcoming with details of community happenings, especially crime. Only the populace’s intense desire for privacy kept it from spreading. Vampires were like Las Vegas: what happened in the community stayed within the community. She counted on their private nature to keep the information from the human media, at least for now.

  Her gaze slid along the bar’s gleaming black granite top to the far wall. A black-and-white poster of Bela Lugosi, dressed as Count Dracula, descending a winding stone stairway, hung over the silent coin-operated jukebox. Other framed images of classic movie monsters—a shared love between her and Stephen—decorated the Swan’s walls, but Lugosi was her favorite. The tuxedo-wearing actor reminded Alex of her father. Her eyes drooped closed as she thought of him.

  Bernard Sabian had smelled of the chalk he used during his history lectures at the University of Louisville, tobacco from the cigars he smoked in his campus office but never at home, and coffee, which he drank black. He’d been born in southern Ireland in the early 1400s, and even after centuries of living in the United States, he’d never lost his accent.

  Like many older vampires, especially those who worked closely with humans, her father had filed down and capped his fangs so as to appear human. She remembered the weekly trips to the local hospital to obtain a covert blood supply drawn from patients and when he passed out at the hospital’s back door. While he’d never worn a tux or an opera cape that Alex could remember, her father had possessed the same grace and charismatic presence captured in the classic Lugosi image, and she’d loved him unconditionally.

  “Hey,” Stephen said, gently shaking her shoulder.

  “Hmm?” Alex glanced at her surroundings, momentarily forgetting where she was.

  “If you’re going to snore, you should go up to bed.”

  “I don’t snore.” Alex hid a yawn behind her hand and then checked her watch. “You’re up late.”

  “That’s because I didn’t get back from Natchez until about an hour ago.”

  “A meeting with potential investors ran until the wee hours of the morning?” Stephen worked hard to build Crimson Swan into a success and was now looking to expand it into a franchise. Investors would go a long way in helping him realize his newfound dream.

  “It does when the investors want to negotiate over the blackjack table at a casino.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Five hundred bucks and three investors lucky.”

  “That’s great,” Alex yawned.

  “Dealer was cute, but I guess my luck ran out.”

  “Lucky for Janet.”

  He grinned, and his pale blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “She thought so when I left her place.”

  Stephen had been dating one of the part-time bartenders at Crimson Swan, Janet Klein, for only a few months, but Alex thought her brother was truly smitten with the dark-haired human, despite his jests. He visited her regularly and even picked her up and drove her home most nights she worked, just to spend a few minutes “off the clock” with her.

  Alex rolled her eyes and slipped off her stool. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

  Stephen began wiping down the bar. “All right. I’ll be up soon. Just need to finish a few things in the office.”

  She nodded, trying unsuccessfully to stifle another yawn. “G’night.”

  He waved to her as she rounded the bar and entered a restricted area of the building.

  Two staircases branched from a central foyer accessible from a back door in the bell tower. The stairs to the left led to Stephen’s loft, and those to the right to the tower apartment. Alex trudged up the tower stairs, removing her jacket as she climbed. Four flights of steps twisted back on themselves before revealing a single door at the top. She fished her keys from her pocket and entered the apartment.

  She draped her jacket over the back of a rented leather sofa and hung her keys on a peg beside the door. The switch for the floor lamp she’d borrowed from Stephen clicked on. She squinted against the light and looked around at her temporary home.

  Clothes spilled from boxes strewn around the combination living and dining room. A folding card table and two collapsible metal-and-cloth chairs in the dining area separated the living space from the tiny galley kitchen. Her bed—another rental, with the head abutted to the half-wall separating the kitchen from the bedroom—was half hidden by a shoji screen. The only other walls in the studio-style apartment encased the bathroom on the far side of the bedroom.

  A warm, furry body brushed against her legs, followed by a large black-and-tan Maine coon cat appearing on the back of the sofa beside her. He brushed his head against her belly, leaving a swath of stray hairs across her black shirt.

  “Hey, Dweezil.” She scratched behind his ears with one hand and brushed at the hairs with the other. The cat leaned into her hand and purred in response. “Did you hold down the fort while I was gone?”

  Dweezil yawned and stretched before jumping off the sofa and trotting behind the screen.

  Alex followed, shedding clothes as she walked. Depositing her sidearm and badge on the table beside the bed, she noted the cat’s obvious comfort as he lay curled in a tight ball on her pillow. “Keep it warm for me,” she said, as she padded naked into the bathroom.

  Dweezil half opened one eye and flicked an ear in her direction.

  She brushed out her auburn hair and prepared for bed. Slipping an old University of Louisville T-shirt over her head, her hand grazed the long jagged scar on her neck. Her fingers traced the old wound where it ran diagonally from her left ear to her collarbone. The edges nearest her collarbone were puckered, but the remainder was a slick hardness, a constant reminder of a past better left forgotten.

  She forced her hand away and exited the room. She turned off the floor lamp and crept through the darkness to the bed.

  Dweezil chirped his annoyance at having to share the space.

  Alex wrapped the cat in her arms and curled her body around him. His warmth and the vibrations of his purring relaxed her, driving away the memories that threatened the edges of her consciousness. She released her breath in an explosive puff, and sleep claimed her as soon as she closed her eyes.

  three

  THE NASSAU COUNTY MUNICIPAL CENTER COVERED AN entire city block in the heart of downtown Jefferson. The multibuilding complex housed the metro police force as well as the sheriff’s department and the central jail, although county and metro detainees were housed in separate areas. In addition to law enforcement, all courts and official government offices for the city and county were encompassed by the multiplex. The sun’s morning rays filtered through the bare branches of the massive live oaks that lined the downtown streets and defined the city center as the green jeweled heart of the growing town. Lieutenant Tasha Lockwood had always loved the charm and grace inherent in the older buildings and wide streets surrounding the Municipal Center.

  Having been born in Jefferson and growing up in the era after the vampires went publ
ic, Tasha considered herself fairly open-minded toward vampires, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t cautious around them. She refused to allow fear to rule her life, which was why she’d volunteered to act as the liaison officer between human law enforcement and the FBPI when Alexandra Sabian moved to Jefferson. Over time she’d gained a great deal of respect for Alex, and the two had settled into a comfortable working relationship.

  She stood alongside several members of both the metro police force and sheriff’s department on the Municipal Center’s steps and watched the largest RV she’d ever seen try to navigate the turn off a side street into the complex’s parking lot. The other officers either watched mutely or laughed and joked about the “crazy damn vamps and their big-assed tour bus.”

  Tasha kept her arms folded in front of her and hoped no one noticed the sweat that beaded her upper lip. Alex had said only two forensic techs were coming, but the mobile lab that settled into a corner of the parking lot looked as though it could easily house a dozen or more.

  She couldn’t help but feel that her job as liaison officer was about to become much more difficult.

  A sleek black Corvette bounced into the lot behind the RV, earning whistles and murmurs of appreciation from many of the men, and pulled into a space near the steps that was reserved for official vehicles. The door swung open, and even from a distance, Tasha could tell the driver was a vampire. She could feel his gaze sweeping the crowd on the steps from behind his dark sunglasses. He seemed to pause when he came to her, and a chill slithered down her spine. Even the officers around her who’d been laughing and talking moments before had grown quiet.

  The mobile lab’s air brakes hissed loudly. Tasha and several others jumped, startled by the sudden fracturing of the silence. The Corvette’s driver smirked and walked toward the lab. His movements were the fluid motions of someone accustomed to authority and power combined with a predator’s grace. Two men emerged from the far side of the RV and met him.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Harvey Manser asked from beside her.

  Tasha glanced up at the balding man. “Beats the hell out of me. Alex said the Bureau was sending techs. She didn’t mention the other one.”

  Harvey took a drag on his cigarette. Smoke billowed from his thin lips as he spoke. “I told you before, Lieutenant, vamps aren’t to be trusted.”

  She waved away the smoke that drifted into her face. “Maybe Alex doesn’t know about him.”

  “Why would they keep one of their own in the dark?”

  Tasha shrugged. She didn’t know how to respond to that.

  “Think about it. Sabian lied about the number of bloodsuckers the feds were sending. Who’s to say she’s not lying about a bunch of other shit?”

  “Well, you’d know a thing or two about lying, wouldn’t you, Harvey?”

  He puffed on his cigarette. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t play innocent with me. The fire at Oak Tree Apartments, the one that damaged Alex’s unit—I know you know more about that than you’ve reported.”

  “I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “You were the first officer on the scene. How is it that you beat both metro and the fire department there?”

  Harvey dropped his cigarette butt to the brick-lined walkway and ground it beneath his heel. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  Tasha’s eyes narrowed. “Lucky, my ass.”

  She’d known Harvey for a long time and had never known him to arrive first on a scene. The fire had broken out in an unoccupied apartment and spread quickly to several surrounding units. Until the fire marshal ruled on a cause for the blaze, Tasha had only suspicions and no evidence to support them.

  “You may want to watch that ass of yours, Lieutenant, because here comes your new vamp.” He winked at her, jogged down the Municipal Center steps, and disappeared around the corner that led to his department’s parking lot.

  Tasha watched the vampire striding toward her. Long black hair fell over one shoulder to brush the waistband of his jeans as he moved. A streak of gray along his left temple marked him as a vampire who’d seen at least one century pass. Alex had told her once that vampires started “going gray” only after they’d reached at least one hundred years. He removed his sunglasses as he mounted the stairs, revealing eyes the color of dark chocolate rimmed in gold, and her breath caught in her throat.

  “Lieutenant Lockwood?” The man’s voice was low and held a seductive silkiness.

  Tasha nodded, unable to speak.

  “I’m Enforcer Varik Baudelaire,” he said, showing his silver badge and identification while extending his opposite hand in greeting. He smiled and showed a hint of fang.

  Shaking herself out of her trance, Tasha clasped his hand. Even though she stood in a public area surrounded by other officers, she could feel her skin crawling in response to an old fear. “I wasn’t aware that Alex was bringing in another Enforcer.”

  “Enforcer Sabian doesn’t know that I’m here.” He dropped her hand. “Yet.”

  Tasha forced herself to look into his eyes and not to stare at his fangs. Her heart rate increased sharply, and she knew he could hear it as well as smell the adrenaline leaking into her bloodstream. “I see.”

  “The FBPI is interested in solving these murders quickly, which I’m certain you can appreciate.”

  The fight-or-flight response gripped her body, and she struggled to remain calm as she nodded.

  “My superiors sent me here to check on the investigation’s progress and lend whatever assistance I can.”

  “You mean they sent you here to spy on Alex.”

  Another smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “That’s one way of looking at it, yes.”

  Tasha didn’t know much about the inner workings of the vampires’ federal watchdog agency, but she’d been a cop long enough to know that sending an unannounced “assistant” to an active investigation meant trouble. She fought through her nerves to ask, “Is the Bureau planning to replace Alex?”

  “Not at the moment, but we do have growing concerns about the case. Due to the nature of death and the obvious violence shown in the commission of the crimes, you can understand why we can’t afford to let this investigation become a political hotbed.”

  “Hate crimes will always be a political hotbed.”

  “All the more reason to resolve the matter quickly.”

  Tasha eyed the Enforcer, making mental notes. She decided that he wasn’t handsome. He was beautiful. His features didn’t hold the rugged look of some men but maintained a youthful softness. The slight graying of his hair gave him the appearance of someone in his mid-thirties, and his physique was that of someone who took pride in his appearance. She could see the muscles rippling beneath his clothing—muscles that could easily tear her limb from limb if he desired. “So, why come to me first?”

  “I was hoping that you could fill me in on the latest before I spoke with Enforcer Sabian. Has an autopsy been performed on the victim found last night?”

  “Not yet, but I doubt that we’ll learn anything beyond what we already know.”

  Varik toyed with the buttons of his denim jacket. “Postmortem decapitation and staking with no discernible cause of death.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How is the killer incapacitating his victims?”

  “That’s the part we don’t know.” Tasha crossed her arms in front of her. “But I have to be honest, Enforcer Baudelaire, I’m not very comfortable with the idea of going behind Alex’s back on this investigation. I would feel better about discussing this with you if I had her approval. She’s put in a hell of a lot of hours, even risking blood-hunger—”

  “Was she on-scene at the time?”

  “Yes.”

  A pained expression crossed his face like a dark cloud. “Would you happen to know where I can find her?”

  “Since her apartment was damaged in a fire—”

  “Any connection to the murders?”

  “None that we�
�ve found. The fire marshal is still investigating it as a possible arson. However, Alex is probably at her brother’s place. He has a small studio apartment he rents out from time to time, and she’s been staying there.”

  His skin paled noticeably. “Her brother’s place?”

  “Crimson Swan. He owns it. You know him?”

  Varik nodded. “I’ve known Alex and Stephen for many years.”

  “So, you and Alex have worked together before?”

  “I was the one who trained Alex when she became an Enforcer.”

  Tasha’s eyebrows rose slightly. The Bureau had sent not only a surprise assistant but Alex’s mentor. Never a good sign.

  Varik pulled a small notepad and pen from his jacket pocket. “I’ve taken up enough of your time, Lieutenant. If I could trouble you for directions, I’ll be on my way.”

  Tasha took the pen and paper and scribbled directions to Crimson Swan. She handed it to him and gestured to the mobile lab with a nod. “What about your friends?”

  Varik glanced over his shoulder. “They need a couple of hours to prep the lab before they can start processing evidence.”

  “You’re just going to leave that thing parked here?”

  “Have you got a better place to put it?”

  Tasha looked from the lab to the Municipal Center and back to Varik, who smiled as he replaced his sunglasses.

  “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. They had blood this morning and have enough on hand in the lab to keep them happy.”

  “I wasn’t—” Tasha allowed her protest to die. She had been thinking of the vampires’ close proximity to the predominantly human workers within the multiplex. She felt her face burning as she looked away.

  “Thanks for the directions,” Varik said, and turned to leave.

  A sudden thought occurred to Tasha. “Wait.” She shuffled her feet as he looked up at her from several steps below. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve known Alex ever since she came to Jefferson, and she’s never mentioned you.”

  “I’m not surprised. We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms.”

  “Professional or personal?”