Dead Of Night

“That’s a spider to the fly invite,” Baxter murmured, glanced at Eve. “You go first.”

She hated that her heart stuttered, that her blood ran cold under her skin. Though her stomach clenched in protest, she crossed the club floor where more fog was begi

Smiling, slowly smiling, Dorian stepped back. And vanished in the mist.

She drew her weapon. An instant later she had to fight not to jolt as he seemed to materialize directly in front of her. His eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell pupil from iris. In them, if she let herself look, were all the horrors of her childhood.

“Nice trick,” she said casually. “And a good way to get stu

“I trust your reflexes. My home.” He gestured again, then led the way through an open door.

Black and red and silver. He’d played up the gothic touches, Eve noted, but didn’t lack for plush. Iron chandeliers held white candles, wall niches showcased statuary of demons or nudes in pornographic poses.

There were curved black divans and black high-backed chairs studded with metal, and a single life-sized painting of a woman in a diaphanous white gown, bent limply over the arm of a black-caped man. Her eyes were wide with terror, her mouth open in a scream, as he bent toward her neck with fangs exposed.

“My humble home,” Dorian said. “I hope you approve.”

“A little too theatrical for my taste.” She turned and looked him directly in the eyes. Eyes that triggered memories and fears she couldn’t completely bury. “I’m going to need another sample, Dorian. I’ll need you to come in for this one.”

“Really? I’d think I gave you more than enough blood…for police purposes. A drink for you or your companions?”

“No.”

“Excuse me while I get one. I’m not used to being up so early in the day.” He moved to a bar, opened the minifridge behind it. He took out a squat black bottle, poured red and thick liquid into a silver cup.

“We’ll arrange your transport, have you back for your morning nap.”

“I’d like to oblige you, but it’s just not possible.” He gestured an apology with one hand. “I’m under no legal obligation, after all.”

“We’ll discuss that at Central.”

“I don’t think so.” Carrying his cup, he walked to a desk. “I have here a document that lists me-quite legally-as unable to tolerate sunlight. Religious reasons.” He passed the document to her. “As to the sample, I’m afraid you’ll need a warrant this time. I did cooperate.”

He sat on the sofa, arranged himself in a lazy sprawl. “If this is about Tiara Kent, I have witnesses putting me here in the club at the time she was killed. You spoke with one yourself just last night.”

Studying the paper, Eve answered without looking up. “Your alibi was killed early this morning.”

“Really?” He sipped negligently. “That’s a great pity. She was an excellent bartender.”

“Where were you between two and four A.M. this morning?”

“Here, of course. I have a business to run and patrons to entertain.”

Now her eyes flashed to his. Let him see, she told herself. Let him see that I know. That I won’t back down. “And witnesses to intimidate?”

“As you like.” He shrugged a shoulder, and there was a laugh on his face now, a gleeful amusement smeared with viciousness. “I find religious prejudice tedious, but understandably…human. Those outside the cult often fear it, or smirk at it. For myself, I enjoy it and find it profitable. And there are other, more intimate benefits.”

He rose again, moved across the room, opened a door. “Kendra, would you come out for a moment?”

She was covered in a robe so thin it might’ve been air, and it showed a generously curved body. Her hair was tumbled, her eyes blurry with sleep, and-Eve was certain-chemicals.

She recognized the blonde that had approached and pawed over Dorian the night before. She moved to him now, wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbed her body suggestively to his. “Come back to bed.”

“Soon. This is Lieutenant Dallas, and her associates. Kendra Lake, a friend of mine. Kendra, the lieutenant would like to know where I was this morning, between two and four.”

She turned her head, aimed eyes with pupils big enough to swim in toward Eve. “Dorian was with me, in bed, having sex. Lots of sex. We’d be having sex now if you’d go away. Unless you want to stay and watch.”

“What are you on, Kendra?” Eve asked.

“I don’t need to be on anything but Dorian.” She rose on her toes, whispered something in Dorian’s ear. He laughed, a low rumble, then shook his head.

“That’s rude. Why don’t you go back in, wait for me. I won’t be long.”

“Kendra,” Eve said as the blonde started back toward the bedroom. “Did he promise you’d live forever?”

Kendra looked over her shoulder, smiled. Then shut the bedroom door behind her.

“Was there something else, Lieutenant?” Dorian asked. “I hate to keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“This might hold up.” She set the document down. “Or it may not. Either way, we’re not done. You shouldn’t have used Gregor Pensky’s DNA, because I’m going to link you to him.” She stepped closer, ignoring the tickle at the back of her throat as those dark eyes pierced hers. “We’ll talk again real soon, Dorian.”

He grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips. She told herself she hadn’t yanked it away to prove a point. But she wasn’t entirely sure.

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Watching him, she dipped a finger in his cup, sucked the liquid off her finger. “Tasty,” she said as his eyes blurred with what she recognized as excitement.

She walked out, down the stairs. With an effort she kept her expression cool as he once again materialized in front of her, in the mists that now clouded the club.

“I always escort my guests to the door. Safe travels, Lieutenant. Until we meet again.”

“How’d he do that?” Even as her eyes tracked the tu

“Elevator, false doors. Smoke and fucking mirrors.” It irritated Eve that he’d nearly made her jump, disturbed her so that her skin crawled as if he’d run his fingers over it.

She had to remind herself she’d bearded him in his own den, and she hadn’t cracked. Her pulse wasn’t steady, but she hadn’t cracked.

“Damn good trick though,” Baxter commented from the rear. “Did you get a load of the blonde? I might try a little blood sucking if you score that kind of action.”

“She’s an idiot, and a lucky one,” Eve tossed back. “He needs to keep her alive, unless he’s bone stupid.”

“She was using. You were right on that one, Lieutenant.” Trueheart’s voice was just a little breathy. “I saw plenty of zoners and chemi-heads when I did sidewalk sleeper detail. She was zoned to the eyeballs.”

“Okay, so he likes his women toked, and plays magic tricks. Not so scary,” Peabody decided. “And the stuff he was drinking? Syrup, right? Just red syrup.”

“No.” Eve avoided a smear of some unidentifiable substance on the tu

“Oh.” Peabody gripped the cross at her neck. “Well.”

On the street, Eve snapped out orders as she moved to her vehicle. “Baxter, I want you and Trueheart to find me a co

She shoved her way into traffic. “I’m going to the PA. I need a damn warrant, and I want to shatter his religious shield into a lot of tiny pieces.”