Dead Of Night

“Why-on the last point?”

“Why didn’t you like him, from the get?”

She could see irritation cross Roarke’s face before he picked up the coffee again. “Because he scoped my wife.”

“Yeah. He’d like to take a bite, not only because I’m the cop looking at him, but because I’m married to you. Be a big ego kick for him to score off you. And if he thinks he has a shot at that, he’ll take it, and I’ll be ready.”

“Eve-”

“Roarke. He’ll kill again and soon. Maybe tonight. He has a taste for it now. You saw that, and so did I, the first time we met him. I’m telling you I saw more of it today. I see what he is.”

This was the core, he knew, whatever she said. Whatever the other truths, this was the heart of it for her. “He’s not your father.”

“No, but there’s a breed, and they’re both of it. The smoke, the blood, the insinuation: Is he or isn’t he an undead, bloodsucking fiend? That may tingle the spine, rouse superstitions, even tease the logical to entertain the illogical. But it’s what’s under it, Roarke. It’s, well, shit, it’s the beast that lives there that has to be stopped.”

“The one you have to face,” he corrected. “How many times?”

“As many as it takes. I want to walk away from it. Hell, I get within five feet of him, I want to run from it. And because I do, I can’t.”

“No.” He traced his thumb down the shallow dent in her chin. “You can’t.” That, he knew, was what he had to face-again and again. Loving her left him no choice. “But this rush-”

“He’s flying on the moment. Whatever drugs he’s on, they’re not as potent as the kill. As the blood. If I don’t try this, and he gets another, how do I live with that?”

He searched her face, then lifted a hand to her cheek. “Being you, you don’t. You can’t. But I still don’t have to like it.”

“Understood. And…” She took his hand, squeezed it briefly. “Appreciated. Let’s just count on me doing my job, and the rest of you doing yours. We’ll shut him down, nail down that lid, before he knows what the hell’s going on.”

“He best not get so much as a nibble of you. That’s my job.” He leaned down, caught her bottom lip between his teeth. After one quick nip, he sank in, drawing her close, taking them both deep.

Her initial amusement slid away into the dreamy until she could float away on the taste of him, glide off on the promise. When she sighed, eased back, her lips curved up.

“Good job,” she told him.

“I do my best.”

“Maybe later you can put in some overtime.”

“Being dedicated to my work, I’ll be available.”

“But for right now, let’s go get the team together for a full briefing. I don’t want any screwups.”

“Lieutenant.” He caught her hand before she reached the door, and tugged her back around. Out of his pocket he drew a silver cross on a silver chain, and dangled it in front of her.

“Knew I forgot something.” But when he draped it over her head, she goggled. “What? You’re serious?”

“Indulge me.” He planted another kiss on her lips, this one brief and firm. “I’m a superstitious man with a logical mind that can entertain the illogical.”

Staring at him, she shook her head. “You’re full of surprises, pal. Just full of them.”

She used a conference room for the briefing. On screen was a diagram of Bloodbath, and a second of the apartment-or the area of the apartment Eve had seen. Both were sketched from memory, with input from the others on the team who’d been inside the club.

As was often the case with underground establishments, no recorded blueprints or work orders could be located.

“There will be alternate exits,” Eve continued. “It’s likely at least some of the staff are aware of them, and will use them. Detaining and arresting waitresses and naked dancers aren’t priorities.”

“Speak for yourself,” Baxter shot out, “on the naked dancers angle.”

“Moving civilians out,” Eve said, ignoring him, “without inciting a riot is a primary goal. Anyone wants to make collars for illegals, that’s a personal decision and can be determined at the time. A couple dozen busts will add weight to the op, and hang on Vadim as manager. Anything and everything we get on him is a plus, but not at the expense of the primary target.”

She sca

She paused, ordered the computer to show the diagram of the club only. “Our warrant covers only this area. No perso

Once more, she switched the screen image. Now Dorian Vadim’s face filled it. “This is primary target. Unless specifically ordered or cleared, he is not to be detained or apprehended. If I can’t pull this off, we have no cause for arrest. Suit up,” she ordered. “Vests all around. Report to squad leaders for transportation to target.”

She laid a hand on her sidearm. “Let’s go kick ass.”

As she bent to check her clutch piece, Baxter tapped her shoulder.

“What?”

“Got something for you.” He held it out as she straightened.

“You’re a laugh a minute, Baxter.”

“Yeah, you gotta admit.” He gave the wooden stake an agile toss.

Because she was amused despite herself, she caught the stake in one hand, then stuck it in her belt. “Thanks.”

He blinked, then roared with laughter. “Eve Dallas, Vampire Slayer. One for the books.”

Ten

She went in alone, the way it had to be, as a cop, as a woman fighting her own demons.

She walked the now-familiar path down from the world to the underground, through the fetid tu

She’d come out of the shadows, Eve thought. So she knew what hid there, what bred there. What thrived there.

Light killed shadows, and it created them. But what loved the dark would always scuttle back from the light. Her badge had given her the light, Eve knew. Then Roarke had simply, irreversibly, blasted that light straight through her.

Nothing could pull her back again, unless she allowed it. Not the nightmares, not the memories, not whatever smear the man who’d made her had left in her blood.

What she did now, for the job, for two women, for herself, was only another way to cast the light.

She moved toward the ugly pulse of red and blue, the bone-rattling thrum of violent music.

The same bouncers flanked the arched door, and this time they sneered.

“Alone this time?”

Still moving, she kicked the one on the left solidly in the groin, smashed her elbow up and out into the bridge of the second’s nose.

“Yeah,” she said as she strode through the path they made as they stumbled back. “Just little old me.”

She walked through the jostling crowd, through the sting of smoke, the crawl of fog. Someone made the mistake of making a playful grab for her and got a boot down hard on his instep for his trouble. And she never broke stride.

She reached the steps, started up their tight curve.

She felt him first, like the dance of sharpened nails along the skin. Then he was there, standing at the top of the stairs, mists swirling dramatically around him.

“Lieutenant Dallas, you’re becoming a regular. No escort tonight?”

“I don’t need an escort.” She stopped on the step below him, knowing it gave him the superior ground. “But I’d like some privacy.”

“Of course. Come with me.” He held out a hand.

She placed hers in it, fought off a jitter of revulsion as his fingers twined with hers. He led her back, away from the crowd, then keyed in a code on his private door. “Enter Dorian,” he said for the voice command, and the locks gave.

Inside candles were lit, dozens of them. Light and shadow, Eve thought again. On the wall screen various sections of the club were displayed, the sound muted, so people danced, groped, screamed, stalked, in absolute silence.