Crimson Debt: Book 1 in the Born to Darkness series (31 page)

She shook her head. “The only way to break
the soul eater’s hold on him would be with another sacrifice—an
even greater one than he has already given.”

“But…” I swiped at my eyes. “But he gave his
life—his
life
for me. How can I top that?”

“You can’t,” Gwendolyn said flatly. Her
grandmother glared at her and she shrugged. “I’m sorry, Grams, but
I don’t see how she can.”

The old lady sighed. “I don’t either but you
could show a little compassion, Gwendolyn. It was by your hand this
tragedy came about. Your magic did this—you should feel bad for
this poor girl.”

“I’m sorry,” the younger witch muttered. “He
acted like it was the only way to save you. I wouldn’t have done it
otherwise.”

I shook my head and looked up at the old
lady. “So…that’s it then? There’s nothing I can do? No way to heal
him or save him?”

“I’m afraid not, child. A sacrifice this
great—the sacrifice of a life—cannot be exceeded.”

“Fine. Thanks for nothing.” I got off the
creaking porch swing and stumbled down the wooden steps, still
half-blinded by tears.

Corbin was going to die—probably as soon as
tomorrow night—and there was nothing I could do about it.

I hadn’t been in my car for more than a
minute when the radio squawked at me.

“Officer Godwin, we have a
one-eight-seven-vee in your sector—do you copy?”

I thought about not answering but a 187 is
homicide and the V tacked on at the end means vampire. Great, what
I really needed right now was to see the gory remains of a vampire
murder. I picked up the radio.

“Get another Auditor, dispatch. I’m not going
to be able to make it.”

“Negative.” The girl on the other end sounded
pissed. “There was a two-seventeen-vee at one of the glam-clubs in
Town and Country a few minutes ago. No other Auditors are
available. The PD is already on the scene—they’re waiting for you
before they can proceed.”

Son of a bitch!
I swiped angrily at my
eyes and struggled to control myself. I wanted to tell the
dispatcher and the whole rest of the world to fuck off and go back
to Corbin that minute. But he hadn’t been too happy to see me
before—not that I blamed him. Maybe he just wanted to die in peace
and forget about me.

The thought made me want to break into a
fresh round of sobbing but I knew I couldn’t afford to give in to
myself like that. I had to go on—even if there was nothing to go on
for. I was on duty and I’ve always had a very strict work ethic—I
had to do my job. At least one more night.

But tomorrow I’m quitting,
I told
myself.

“Officer Godwin, do you copy?”

I picked up the radio again. “Give me the
location. I’m on the way.”

The crime scene was a surprisingly nice upper
middle class house in Carrolwood, one of the tonier areas in the
Tampa Bay area. I parked and showed my badge to the uniform
standing at the door.

“Up the stairs, second bedroom on the right,”
he said with a jerk of his head.

“Thanks.” I climbed the stairs and walked
down the hallway to the second bedroom. The air was heavy with the
sweet, coppery smell of spilled blood. I crossed the yellow crime
scene tape with a sinking feeling in my heart. I really didn’t need
to see this—not tonight.

But as soon as I looked up, there it was.

The person on the bed—I really couldn’t tell
if it had been a man or a woman, though I was betting on woman—had
been torn limb from limb. I mean that literally too—one of the legs
was lying in one corner. The rest of the limbs, along with the
bloody, mauled remains of the torso, were still on the bed. The
head…well, I didn’t see it. Maybe it had rolled under the bed or
forensics had already bagged it up. There was blood spattered on
the walls and sheets but not as much as you’d think considering the
scene. Probably because most of it was inside the vamp who had done
this. It was a gruesome sight and one I was unfortunately familiar
with.

“Pretty ugly, huh?”

I turned to my left and saw Detective O’Meara
from Homicide. I liked him—he never made the job into a pissing
contest, unlike some of the other guys on the force who gave me
shit because I could go after vamps and they couldn’t.

“What have we got?” I asked him, even though
the crime scene was all spread in front of me like a picnic for
hungry lions.

He sighed. “It’s a murder, all right. Looks
pretty open and shut—the perp isn’t even trying to deny it.”

“He’s still here?” I asked in surprise. Most
of the time after a vamp kills someone he skips town and we have to
track him down later with a specially trained squad. The PD are
instructed to just let them go—there’s no sense in trying to take
down a being that can bench press a semi—you’ll get ripped in half.
But a vamp that actually stayed…that was new.

“
She
—perp is a female name of Cynthia
Torez,” O’Meara corrected me. “And yeah, she’s still here—she
called it in herself.” He looked at me more closely. “Hey, you
okay? You don’t mind me saying, you don’t look so good,
Godwin.”

“Long story,” I said. “Where did you say she
was?”

“She’s sobbing her fucking heart out
downstairs in the living room. Swears it was an accident.” He shook
his head. “I almost feel sorry for her.”

“Great,” I muttered. Crap. Just what I
needed—more crying. Like I hadn’t already done enough of it myself
for one night. Still, I had a job to do. I took a deep breath and
went back down the stairs in the direction he pointed me.

I heard her sobbing, low and heartbroken,
well before I found my way into the lovely, well-appointed living
room. She was sitting on a dark brown leather couch with her face
buried in her hands and her shoulders shaking.

“Hey…” I touched her lightly on the arm and
she jumped about a mile.

“Oh…” When she looked at me, her cheeks were
smeared with bloody tears. “Who…who are you?” she whispered.

“I’m Officer Godwin—an Auditor,” I told her,
meeting her eyes. “Want to tell me what happened here tonight,
Cynthia?”

“I…it…he…” She shook her head and I could
tell she was about to start bawling again.

“Hey.” I sat down beside her and put a hand
on her arm. “It’s okay. Just take some deep breaths and do the best
you can. Detective O’Meara upstairs says you told him it was an
accident.”

“It
was,”
she burst out. “I swear I
never meant to hurt him. I begged him not—I told him I couldn’t
control myself but he wouldn’t listen…he
wouldn’t
listen.”

“Okay, start from the beginning.” I rubbed
her arm soothingly. “You begged him not to what?”

“Not to cut himself and try to give me blood
while we were…” She blushed. “You know.”

They shouldn’t have been “you knowing” in the
first place but I was willing to bet she already knew that.

“So why did he do it, then?” I asked. Why
would any human in their right mind do such a thing?

“Because he loved me.” She hung her head.

Oh. Well, that explained it, right there. It
was the only sensible answer to a whole hell of a lot of stupid
questions, it seemed to me. Still, I needed details.

“And he thought it would be, what, more
romantic to do it like that? Both at the same time?” I asked
blandly.

Cynthia shook her head. “No, he thought it
would heal me.”

“Heal you of what—are you sick?”

“No place but here.” She pressed a hand to
her heart. “I suffer from depression and the drugs humans take—they
don’t work on my kind.”

Hmm, I had never heard of a depressed vampire
other than Taylor. She had been plenty depressed while she was with
Celeste, but there was nothing she could do about it. Maybe that
was why you didn’t hear about many vamp suicides—their makers kept
them from doing themselves in.

“What made him think that would cure your
depression?” I asked, still taking it all in stride.

“Jason was doing research about it—that’s how
we met. He’s a professor of Vampire Studies at Tampa U. Or…or he
was,
I guess.” She started crying again. “He…he said he
wanted to study me and then we…we…”

“You fell in love?” I guessed.

She nodded. “It all happened so
fast.
And before I knew it, he was asking me to go farther and farther
with him. I knew I shouldn’t but I’ve always had good control
before and besides, Jason was so gentle and tender and kind. He
just…I couldn’t say no to him.”

“So how long have you had a sexual
relationship?” I asked.

“For almost three months.” She wiped at her
eyes and her fingers came away bloody. “It was going so well. I
wanted to bond him to me—to make him, you know…”

“A little less fragile?” I asked.

Cynthia nodded. “Exactly. Only I didn’t feel
like I could ask him to stay with me forever when I have this
sickness…this depression.”

“You might have tried therapy,” I said.
“There are several practices in town that specialize in vamps.”

“I know. I wanted to do that,
believe
me, I did,” she assured me, her eyes wide and haunted. “But Jason
had been doing his research and he said it would be
better—faster—for him to pay the Crimson Debt.”

My ears perked up at once. Here it was
again—that phrase. I had been an Auditor for six years but until I
had gotten serious with Corbin, I had never heard it.

“What exactly does that mean?” I asked her,
interested to hear her definition.

“It’s what the older vampires call making
love and taking blood at the same time.” Cynthia wiped at her eyes
again, which were still leaking. “My maker did it all the time.
He…he claimed it cured all ills—physical, mental, or emotional—as
long as it is done out of love.”

I arched an eyebrow at her. “And you knew
about this? But you didn’t mention it to Jason?”

“Of course I didn’t mention it to him! I
didn’t want him to try it.” She sounded genuinely distraught. “He
found out about it on his own. I tried to explain to him that it
wasn’t something a vampire and human could do. A vampire and a
were, yes. Or a vampire and another vampire, though we don’t often
take blood from each other. Even a witch with supernatural wards
would be safer than just a human.”

“So what did you tell him when he asked if he
could do this—pay the Crimson Debt—for you?”

“I told him, no, of course!” Cynthia
exclaimed. “I said it was out of the question. That I was already
having a hard enough time keeping control when we…you know, made
love.”

“And what did he say?” I asked.

“He pestered me about it for a long time but
when I kept saying no, he finally seemed to agree with me. He
promised to let the matter drop.” She put a hand to her face. “That
was just yesterday. Then tonight…”

“When you go together…” I prompted.

“Right. We were already, uh, in the middle
and then he suddenly pulled out a knife.” She began to cry again.
“I"ve always been so careful. I wouldn’t even make love with him if
he had so much as an unhealed shaving cut.”

“Oh, honey…” I squeezed her arm gently as she
started to break down again.

“I begged him not to but he was quick. Before
I knew it, he had slashed his arm open. And then…then all I could
see was the…the blood…” She wrapped her arms around herself, the
sobs shaking her. “I loved him,” she gasped, bloody tears pouring
from her eyes. “Oh God, I loved him so much. And I
killed
him.”

“Cynthia…” I shook my head helplessly.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured at last, her sobs
tapering off somewhat. “It’s just…I still can’t believe it. It
seems like a bad dream. Like something that happened to someone
else.”

I nodded. I had heard the same thing from
many bereft loved ones when I had to tell them someone they cared
for was gone.
It’s a bad dream…I just want to wake up…

“I’m afraid we’ll have to take you in,” I
told her gently.

Cynthia nodded dully. “That’s okay—I want you
to. I should be punished for what happened here tonight.”

For once, I wasn’t so sure about that. If
things had really gone down the way she described them, it seemed
to me she was almost a victim of circumstance. Or maybe just a
victim of her lover’s stupidity. I made a mental note to ask the
coroner to see if one of the disembodied hands was holding a knife
and if the opposite arm was slashed with it. If that was the case,
I would be willing to testify in court for Cynthia, though it would
be the first time I had ever testified
for
a vamp rather
than
against
them.

“You want to know something crazy?” she asked
with a broken little laugh that was more than half sob.

“No, what?” I asked, getting out my
velvet-lined, silver alloy cuffs.

“It worked—I’m not depressed anymore.” She
shook her head. “I mean, I’m devastated and distraught and I feel
incredibly guilty but that low level sadness that always seemed to
cloud my mind…it’s gone.”

“Really?” I said neutrally as I fitted the
cuffs on her slender wrists.

Cynthia nodded. “I used to feel like I was at
the bottom of a deep, dark well—a well with glass sides so slick I
couldn’t crawl out of it no matter how hard I tried. Now, for the
first time in over fifty years, I’m out of the well. I’m standing
on the lip of it, looking down.” She buried her face in her cuffed
hands. “And all I want is to go back. To get back in the well and
have Jason be alive again. I’d stay down there forever—for the rest
of my life—if only it would bring him back.”

I shook my head and murmured something I
hoped was soothing before I read her her rights and led her from
the house. This was definitely
not
the kind of case I
usually saw. There was real remorse here—it was clear she would do
anything to take back what she had done.