Hot Demon in the City (Latter Day Demons Book 1) (3 page)

"Anytime," she offered a smile.

Lifting my jacket off the chair, I waved and walked out of her office.

* * *

Kordevik

"A gun's not much help against a vamp," I hissed as Watson slowly reached beneath the bar. "There are three here. They'll have you shredded before you can pull the trigger."

Neither Watson nor I could take our eyes off the scene before us. Three older vamps held a younger one between them, and he'd already been cut and beaten.

"Why the hell are they bringing that in here?" Watson hissed. This was something that should have been played out in a back alley somewhere.

Actually, the younger vamp should have already died, if I read things correctly.

The reason appeared thirty seconds later, when two more vamps hauled the human woman into the bar.

You double-cross your rich vamp boyfriend with a younger, not-rich but better-looking vampire and you both get it.

In paranormal public, I suppose.

Chapter 2

Kordevik

Watson eased the rifle out of its hiding place. This was no shotgun; it was a semiautomatic that looked as if it belonged in a SWAT team's arsenal instead of a nook below the bar.

"Are you suicidal?" I hissed at Watson. I was waiting for the vamps to hear either of us and come running. While Watson might be fast if he changed to wolf, he still couldn't outrun a determined vamp.

"They're gonna kill him and the girl," Watson said. "We have to do something."

"You need to get down behind the bar," I said. "And forget the Rin-Tin-Tin shit."

I had half a second to close my eyes in disbelief when Watson pointed the rifle at the vamps.

Bloody hell
.

* * *

"You're fucking lucky I didn't burn down the bar," I slapped a bag of frozen peas onto the kitchen counter in front of Watson, whose left eye was turning purple.

"What the hell are you, man?" Watson held the bag against his eye and winced at the contact.

"Hmmph," I snorted while a curl of smoke drifted from my nostrils.

"How is he?" Watson asked, turning toward the vampire who lay unconscious on my leather sofa.

"He's still breathing," I muttered, jerking a bottle of Crown off the top of the fridge and filling a glass. "That means he'll be all right. At least we got the girl to the hospital. If Klancy hadn't shown up to help with that," I shook my head.

Klancy was a vamp—a regular who showed up at Clawdia's just for the company. He'd been a professional at martial arts in his human life. He was deadly, as it turned out, since becoming vampire.

I was grateful he was on our side. He was the one to get the girl to the hospital, too, while I hauled Watson and the vamp out of there, each tucked beneath my smaller Thifilathi's arms.

The werewolf bar manager had shown up to take over while I hauled Watson out of there before the police showed up to ask questions. He'd asked me to take the wounded vamp, too.

Questions would be asked; I understood that—about the building on the opposite side of the street and why there were holes in the brick, now.

After I'd tossed vamps through the façade, the place looked as if somebody drove a tank into it.

Clawdia's had no security cameras—for obvious reasons.

I couldn't express how happy I was about that.

"This is a nice place," Watson looked around with his right eye; his left was still covered by the bag of peas.

"Hmmph," I snorted again. Grabbing a second glass, I dumped it in front of the werewolf and poured a generous serving of Crown. At least he wasn't whining about his girlfriend or scratching at the door to be let out.

* * *

Lexsi

"Wear nice jeans. Black is better, but as long as you have a dressier top and jacket," Farin Armstrong, the morning weathergirl, informed me. "For now, Vann and Mike will hog the camera. Count on it."

I'd worn a skirt to work, only to discover that Mike and I were being sent to the Presidio, where several dead seals had washed up on a rocky shore. For now, we were pointed away from the murder/suicide investigation.

Our driver—the same one who'd ferried Vann and me the evening before, waited for us, looking as if he'd had maybe an hour's sleep before coming to work. "You all right?" I asked as he opened the door for Jessie and me.

"I'm fine," he growled, his words clipped and evasive. The door was shut the moment I was inside the car; Kory got Chet's camera bag into the trunk and slid into the driver's seat a few seconds later.

In the rearview mirror, I saw his eyes glance in my direction twice on the way to the location, but they were dark and unreadable from where I sat. Maybe he had a hangover. I sure didn't want to push him to find out.

* * *

An investigative team from Marine Animal Sanctuary met us at the shore where the seals had been found. Mike poked a microphone in the lead investigator's face and started asking questions.

"We sometimes see them die from bullet wounds," the man shrugged. "That was the first thing we looked for."

"Did you find anything?" Mike asked.

"No bullet wounds. We found they'd been killed by some sort of predator. We suspected sharks, of course, but the teeth marks aren't those of a shark."

"Do you know what kind of predator it was, then?"

"We're still investigating," the man replied.

"You have to know something," Mike responded.

"Cut off the camera, this is off the record," the investigator said. Mike made a motion with his free hand, indicating to Chet to shut off the camera. Chet lowered it with a nod.

With the mic held loosely in his right hand, which rested near his hip, Mike nodded for the investigator to continue.

"The teeth marks are sharp and deep," the man shrugged. "But the size of the mouth is roughly the size of a human's. Now, I don't know about you, but I've never seen something that could place a bite like that. It didn't look as if a meal were what the predator was looking for, either."

"Will you contact us if you get more information?" Mike asked.

"If I can hand you proof," the man shrugged.

"Do you have photographs of the dead animals—that are safe to show on the news?"

"I'll send something this afternoon."

* * *

"Gerta Britt is on the phone for Vann," a production assistant informed Mike the moment we walked inside the station. "The e-mail from Marine Animal Sanctuary is here, too."

"Silver, take the old biddy's call. I'll check the images in the e-mail," Mike barked. "Make sure she knows not to bother us with inconsequential shit."

I blinked at Mike twice before hunching my shoulders and heading toward my cubicle to take the call.

"Line three," the PA called out.

"Ms. Britt?" I answered the phone. "This is Lexsi Silver. How can I help you?"

"I found them on my camera footage," Gerta crowed. "The night I saw them leave."

"The last time you saw the Ravens?" I asked.

"Yes. I didn't think my security camera was pointed in that direction, but I caught Donna getting into the car after Abe backed out of the garage."

"So you only saw Donna. Not Abe."

"No, I saw both of them, but the camera only recorded Donna."

"I see," I said. "Is it possible to get a copy of the recording?"

"I don't know how to do that," Gerta said. "All this electronic stuff just goes right past me. Can you come back to the house and take a look?"

"Let me check my schedule for this afternoon, Ms. Britt. Hold, please."

It took two minutes to find Mike and attempt to tell him what Gerta found. "Check on it," he waved a hand. He was busy sorting through photographs in the e-mail sent by Marine Animal Sanctuary.

That meant I had to find a ride, or drive myself in my TinyCar.

After considering the bad mood Kory was in, I opted for the TinyCar.

* * *

"You have mud and sand on your heels," Kory pointed out as I walked past him in the parking garage to get to my TinyCar.

"Damn." I lifted a foot to look.

He was right.

"I have a pair of athletic shoes in the car," I mumbled. "I'll change."

"Which one's yours?" he asked as I started walking again.

"The blue TinyCar," I muttered without turning.

"A TinyCar?" His laugh grated on my nerves.

"Yeah. It belongs to my aunt," I said and kept walking.

* * *

Kordevik

A TinyCar. I didn't consider them cars. They were glorified skateboards in my opinion. She said it belonged to her aunt. As far as I knew, she only had one aunt—her father's half-sister—and that one had never visited this planet.

Didn't make any sense to me.

"Hey, where are you going?" I trotted after her. She was climbing into the TinyCar when I caught up with her.

"Back to Gerta Britt's," she said. "Claims she found the Ravens on her security camera recording. Has no idea how to transfer the images, so I'm off to take a look."

"Are you sure that's safe?" I asked.

"Gerta Britt isn't dangerous," she said, her blue eyes raking over me, haggard face and all.

"I meant in this thing that isn't a car," I said, suddenly defensive. "A stiff breeze will blow you to Chicago."

"Awesome. I've never been to Chicago." She started the car and put it in gear.

"I can drive you," I offered.

Wait. What kind of difik was I? I hated her
.

"Get in your excessively large car, Kory Wilson, and take a nap. I think you need it," she snapped and drove away.

I cursed as she drove away—not only had she pissed me off—she was right.

* * *

Lexsi

Gerta was right—electronics went right past her. I had to search the recorder for the images again—she'd managed to lose them. After nearly half an hour of her leaning over my shoulder while I watched a small monitor in a closet devoted to her security system, I found the images she'd reported.

"See, that's Donna getting in the car. Normally she'd get in while it was parked in the garage. Maybe she forgot something."

Donna was dressed in a gown and diamonds, I could see that. Gerta had a decent security camera, at least. Donna's evening dress had a bolero jacket dripping in glittery fringe and her hair was swept up in an impressive French pleat, with a comb that matched the glittery fringe.

A lot of money had been spent on that dress—it had
designer exclusive
written all over it.

Before I left Gerta's house, I had a copy of the images on a flash drive to take back to the station. Wherever the Ravens had gone that night, I'd bet it wasn't just to dinner.

* * *

Kordevik

Things had changed when I got home from work; Watson was asleep, the vampire wide awake.

I was surprised Watson trusted the vamp well enough to take a nap on the sofa.

"Name's Mason," he extended his hand. "Thanks for last night. The wolf says you changed into something, but he wasn't sure what it was. Doesn't matter—you saved my ass."

"I only saved it last night," I said, hanging my jacket on the hall tree and studying the vamp who occupied the easy chair in my living room. "You still have to worry about those vamps who wanted to kill you."

"Yeah." He wallowed in gloom and self-pity for a moment. "I was only trying to get her away—she was scared. I can't blame her—Granger tends to murder what he has no use for."

"Granger?"

"Old." Mason shrugged. "Has a bunch of local vamps under his thumb. Figure the law would like to ask him a few questions about missing people."

"You—you were a cop, I'm guessing. Before you developed a taste for blood."

"Good guess," Mason rose and stretched. "Only on the job five years when I got shot in Sacramento. Somebody took pity on me and made the turn."

"Is that what convinced Watson to fall asleep in your presence?"

"Yeah. He remembers the huge flap in Sacramento six years ago when a cop disappeared. Haven't been seen, since," he shrugged.

"You mean Granger didn't bother to place compulsion?" That surprised me.

"Hmmph."

I held back from asking the next question that tickled my brain. It could get both of us in trouble.

"Did it take all five of those vamps to bring you down?" I asked instead.

"Six. One of 'em didn't get back up after I put him down. I hear you took out the rest."

"We won't discuss that," I held up a hand.

"Sounds fine. Wish I could ask for a beer, but it wouldn't do any good. I have bagged blood in the fridge at my place. Better get goin'."

"I think you ought to stay here—at least for now," I said.

"I need to eat," he said. Simple. Direct.

"Great. There's a bar around the corner. Want to satisfy both cravings at once?"

"I don't bite women," he growled. "I hate biting guys."

"Transvestites, then?"

"You know—that almost made me laugh. Come on, we'll find somebody who's had a bath and didn't drown in cologne afterward."

I understood something as I followed Mason out the door—I figured he'd been in his twenties when he joined the Sacramento Police Department. Five years as a cop, followed by six as a vamp had given him wisdom beyond his age.

* * *

Lexsi

"Hey, want to get a drink after work?"

Anita called me first—I figured I'd have to call her if I wanted to make friends.

"That sounds great," I said. "I just have to get this flash drive downloaded for Vann and I'm done for today," I said. "Where?"

"I'm headed in your direction," she said. "There's a place off 101 in Sausalito that serves food, so we can eat and drink."