Immortal (21 page)

“Just Regan,” he said, uncomfortably. If she asked why he hadn’t told anyone else she was a vampire, he wouldn’t know how to answer because he didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because he wanted something or someone to himself for once. Living so communally for so long made him wish sometimes he could have something of his very own. Even if just for a little while. He also hadn’t said anything because he didn’t want anyone jumping to irrational conclusions; Elena and her sister were outsiders. Vampire outsiders. Someone who didn’t know them might think one of them could be the killer.

“And?” she plied. “Was Regan surprised?”

“Nothing surprises him.” Suddenly feeling his twin brother’s presence, he glanced up just in time to see Regan walk through the door. “Speak of the devil.”

Regan gave a wave but took his time, greeting other people as he made his way toward Fin and Elena’s table. He said hello to Malachy, parked next to Sean on a bar stool, then Mungo stopped him to talk about the Orioles, who were on the road this week and losing, as usual. Fin knew from experience that that conversation could be lengthy.

“So what about your sister?” Elena asked, settling her dark-eyed gaze on Fin again.

He hesitated. Elena did not have the ability to read minds: not vampires’, not humans’, not even her own cursed family’s. It was an interesting, unexplainable reality of vampires; different vampires in the world had different supernatural abilities. Some, like Elena’s family, had almost none.

So Fin didn’t have to tell her the truth. Of course, how long could that last in this town? With this crowd?

“You didn’t tell her because you knew she wouldn’t be pleased,” Elena said before he could answer.

He frowned. “I thought you said you couldn’t read my mind.”

She chuckled. “A woman does not have to be psychic to read a man’s face.”

He had to smile. “You have to understand Fia. She’s an FBI agent. She’s…
overprotective
. You know, big sister and all.”

Elena continued to watch him. “I understand. It is always foremost in my mind to protect Celeste and her family.” She drew her fingertip around the rim of her pub glass. “What, exactly, do you think Fia will think she is protecting you from?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Elena. Frankly, I don’t care. Fia never wants advice on
her
personal life; you wouldn’t believe the dickwad human she dated a while back, but she’s always more than willing to offer it to me.”

“What’s Fia done now?” Regan walked toward their table, grabbing a chair from another table. He spun it around and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back of the chair.

He wore shorts, a ratty surf company T-shirt, and a ball cap turned around backward. With his hair a little shaggy, and a tan, he was model-good-looking, despite the faint bruising on his face. Where Fin wore lines of worry around his mouth, Regan’s face was always relaxed and smiling. Fin couldn’t help but be a little jealous. Why did he always have to be the responsible twin? Why couldn’t Fin be the one everyone worried about, took care of, once in a while?

Because he was who he was and Regan was who he was and would be until the end of time or whenever God smiled upon them at long last, whichever came first.

“Fia didn’t do anything,” Fin said. “Not at least that I’m aware of, but it’s still early.”

Regan twisted in his chair to call to Eva walking behind him. “A Coke when you get a chance, sweet britches?”

Eva gave him the finger as she walked by.

He turned back, grinning at Elena. “NA frowns on alcohol use as well as drugs,” he explained. “It’s getting to be a drag.”

She smiled at him and then Fin. “I’m sorry to hear that you have had trouble. I am glad to see that you are healthy now.”

“Trouble? Nah, nothing more than a hiccup. You tell her about that little trouble last week, bro?” Regan punched Fin playfully on the shoulder.

Fin frowned and rubbed his arm. If Regan stayed long, he was going to need another pint. “No.”

At once, Regan turned in his chair to address Elena. “Bunch of badass Vs from New Orleans passed through town. You know them? The Rousseaus?”

“I do not believe we are acquainted.”

“Good thing. Wish I wasn’t. We had a little run-in last year. Well, not last year, but anyway.” Regan tugged on the brim of his ball cap, cocking the hat farther back on his head. “They were headed north on business and apparently thought they’d pay me a little
visit
. Let me tell you.” He hooked his thumb in Fin’s direction. “My best bro here saved me from a serious ass-whipping.”

“I didn’t tell her, Regan,” Fin said slowly, with emphasis, “because I didn’t feel the need to share.”

“Sweet Jesus,” she breathed, reaching across the table to take Fin’s hand. “That is how you were injured that night?”

He looked at Regan.
Thanks
, he telepathed with all the sarcasm he could muster.

Welcome
. Regan grinned. Then,
What, she can’t hear us?

Nope. Not in her family’s bag of tricks.

What can they do?
Regan asked.

Make guys who annoy their boyfriends impotent.

That what you are, now, huh? Her boyfriend?

“All right, you two.” Elena drew her hand back. “I would think that would be rude in the presence of others.”

“What?” Regan asked, playing innocent.

“You know perfectly well what.” She stared him down for a minute and he broke into a grin.

“I like her,” Regan told Fin, pointing at Elena.

Fin found himself touching the puncture marks on his neck. They were fresh from last night. “I like her, too.”

Elena smiled, her fingertips finding her own neck.

Regan looked at her and then at his brother. “Jeez, you two. Could you get a room?”

“Actually, that’s a little tricky,” Fin said, unable to take his gaze off Elena.

“Well, I’m going over to Patrick’s house to play Wii later, so the house is all yours. It’s a Super Mario Bros. tournament, so I doubt I’ll be home before dawn. That ought to give you two enough time to drain each other.” He winked at Elena.

Fin tore his gaze from Elena’s, annoyed with Regan. He was flirting with his girlfriend! Flirting with her while helping them make arrangements to get in the sack. “Patrick? Patrick who?” There were only three Patricks in the Kahill family; two were out of town, the other was pushing eighty.

“Patrick Callahan, my assistant manager.”

“A human? The one who was working at the arcade when Richie was killed?”

“One and the same.”

“He actually came back to work?”

“With some stipulations,” Regan explained. “A raise, and an escort to and from his bicycle. I threw in a date with this cute girl who works at Hilly’s.”

“You got him a date?” Fin was surprised, yet really not surprised. Regan could be a pretty good guy when he wasn’t intoxicated by drugs, alcohol, or love.

“She was too young for me. And human. Bad combo for a V in recovery.” Regan slapped the table. “Hey, I know what I meant to ask you. Have you talked to Mary McCathal in the last couple of days?”

Fin thought for a minute and shook his head. “No.”

“Seen her?”

He thought again. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I just keep getting her voice mail when I call. I needed to talk to her about some maintenance on the air-conditioning. I left messages. Even went by her house, but she wasn’t home.”

“Victor’s maybe?” Fin shrugged.

“Maybe.” Regan glanced back toward the bar. “What’s a man got to do to get a nonalcoholic beverage around here?” He got up. “So I’ll see you around, Elena?”

She smiled. “I do hope so. And thank you. For being such a gentleman and allowing us some privacy in your home.”

Fin could have sworn Regan blushed as he backed away from the table and retreated toward the bar.

Finishing the dregs of his ale, Fin watched his brother go. “I wouldn’t blame you one bit if you got up and walked out of here with him.” He pointed with the empty glass at his brother.

Elena rose from her chair, her long legs unfolding as gracefully as if to be executing a dance move. She held out her hand to him. “I would leave this place with no man but you, Fin.”

He took her hand, thinking,
This has to be too good to be true.

S
traddling Fin, her fingertips on the mattress, Elena arched her back. Her long, midnight hair fell away from her face. Such a beautiful face. Fin couldn’t take his eyes off her, even as she thrust her hips, pushing him closer and closer to the precipice.

When Elena made love to him, the past seemed to slip away. All evidence of the years of her pain, her fears were gone. Sensual lips slightly parted, her eyes half closed, she seemed to be able to find a place with him where there was no pain. Just pleasure.

Fin slid his hands through the tangle of sheets and found her fingertips. Threading his fingers through hers, he raised his hands, taking hers with his. They pressed palms to palms and slowly she opened her eyes.

They were so deep, so dark and full of mystery.

A smile played on her lips as she lifted up and slid down on him again.

Fin groaned and closed his eyes, wanting to make this time they had together last as long as possible. Elena gave him a moment and then flattened her body over his, still holding him deep inside her. She kissed his mouth, his razor-stubbled cheek, and drew her lips lower.

Fin stretched out his neck for her so that she could easily find the puncture wounds. She sensed how close he was and her mouth found its mark. He felt her tongue warm and wet on his flesh, but at this point, it was hard to separate the spreading heat in his groin from the heat on his neck. The anticipation was exquisite.

Fin wrapped his arms around her, moving faster beneath her, matching thrust to thrust. Then, just at the last possible instant, as his body arched, she sank her fangs into his neck.

It was excruciating pain and unfathomable ecstasy all rolled into one. Indescribable. Even among vampires.

Later, as they drifted off to sleep, satiated, naked limbs entwined, Fin wondered what it would be like to have Elena in his bed every night. Every night for all of eternity. Maybe eternal life wouldn’t be so bad then.

Trey felt her lips on his, felt her tongue thrust into his mouth. She tasted like beer. He groaned and fumbled with the tie of her bikini top. God, she was so hot. He hoped he didn’t come in his shorts before they ever got down to business. He was just so pumped…literally. He wanted her so bad. Wanted
this
so bad.

Not that this was his first time or anything; Rachel Carey, senior prom, had been his first. And his last. He’d completed his first year at Salisbury University and managed to probably be the only guy on campus not to score. But he was awkward with girls. He’d only made it with Rachel because she was more awkward than he was.

Then, just when he’d been ready to give up, ready to stop praying to God for a girlfriend and start praying for world peace again, Mandy had walked into his life. Actually, more like bumped into his life. Or maybe he was the one who had bumped into her. He wasn’t really sure how it had happened, and right now he wasn’t thinking clearly enough to figure it out. There just wasn’t enough blood flowing to his brain.

Trey had been walking south along the beach, head down, lost in his own private miseries. She’d been walking north, toward him.

He’d practically run her over. He’d had a crappy day and had gone down to the beach to get away from his family. He’d fought with his dad over his plans to change his major from engineering to psychology. Then his mom had been angry at him for fighting with his dad. Dinner on the rental’s minuscule deck had been painfully awkward; no one was speaking to him, his mother’s chicken piccata had been burnt, and his little sister had talked for twenty minutes about the hermit crab she was buying tomorrow. With one day down and six to go, Trey wasn’t entirely sure he could survive another family vacation at the beach.

Then Mandy had walked into his life…bumped. Whatever. She had laughed at their collision and started up a conversation with him. They had walked for a couple of blocks, talked. The next thing Trey knew, they were sitting in the sand, under the boardwalk, hidden in the shadows. She’d kissed him first. He would never have had the nerve. She was too beautiful. Too sophisticated.

Trey tugged at the tie of her bikini top again. He just couldn’t get the knot untied. Then he felt her hand on his. She untied it for him and her breasts spilled out of the tiny top. Trey pushed her into the sand, his mouth aching to see what it was like to taste a woman’s breast. There had been no nipples with Rachel. She hadn’t even taken her prom dress off.

The feel of her nipple in his mouth was the best thing he had ever experienced in his life. Hands down.

But the problem was, it was too good. He was so hard inside his swim suit that he felt like he was going to burst. If he didn’t hurry, he was going to.

Trey had read things about taking your time with your lady, giving her time to warm up. Fortunately for him, Mandy seemed warm already. Before he got up the nerve to touch the waistband of her shorts, she was yanking his down.

At night, lying in bed alone in his dorm room, doin’ the Han Solo, he had planned for this moment. Strategized. But all his strategy went out the window when she slid her hand into his shorts. Trey didn’t know what heaven was like, but he hoped this was it.

Fin could still feel his blood pulsing in his neck when he woke. He could smell Elena’s scent on his pillow, but she was gone. He opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. His bedroom was dark, but he could sense the impending dawn. He wished she had stayed. He would like to have woken with her in his arms.

Wondering what time it was, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and opened it. Four twenty. He flipped it shut and closed his eyes. Sunday morning. He could sleep in, then go to the office and tackle the mountain of undecipherable, useless crime lab results sitting on his desk. Maybe he would even hit Mass on his way. Mary Kay would be down on her knees on the prayer bench thanking God if he showed up.

Fin opened his eyes and glanced toward the closed bedroom door. He hadn’t heard anything, but he felt someone’s presence. Hoping Elena might still be there, he got up, stepping into his boxers on his way to the door. By the time he opened it, he realized it was not Elena, but Regan. He could feel him in the tiny house.

Fin walked down the short hall and stuck his head around the doorway of the kitchen. He squinted in the bright fluorescent light. Regan had his head in the refrigerator.

“You just getting home?” Fin asked. He could still hear sleep in his voice. He wished now that he hadn’t woken. His dream was way better than the bright light and Regan’s morning breath.

“Hell of a tournament. I won.”

“Great.” Fin scratched his head, entering the kitchen. “You can put that on your résumé when you go back to the General Council and see what kind of job the sept will offer you.”

Regan came out of the refrigerator with a pizza box, a carton of orange juice, and leftover tuna casserole Mary Kay had dropped off days ago.

Trying to avoid the casserole at all cost, Fin snatched the OJ from his brother’s hand. “You didn’t see Elena leaving, did you?”

“Here? No. But I saw her a couple of hours ago, kinda early actually. We were sitting on Pat’s porch as she walked by. Acted like she didn’t see us.” Regan slid the pizza box over the sink and set the glass dish on the tiny section of battered countertop. “So no sleepovers, huh?”

“Nah.” Fin grabbed two glasses. “Family issues.”

“Ah, say no more.” He pulled the foil off the dish, stuck a spoon into it, and stuffed a huge portion into his mouth. “Want some?” His words were garbled by egg noodles and unidentifiable sauce.

“Not if—” Fin stopped mid-sentence. His phone was ringing in his bedroom.

Regan stopped chewing.

For a second, Fin couldn’t move. The call at this time of day could only mean one thing. The other shoe had dropped.

Sailing off the island of Capri. Hiking in the Peruvian mountains. Hang gliding in Brazil. Fin continued to compile his mental list of all the places he’d like to be right now. Scuba diving in Baja, sheep herding in the Grampian Mountains. Hell, digging a ditch for his parents’ new septic system seemed appealing at this moment. Anything was better than this. Better than here.

Fin squatted beside the body and stared at the waxy face. This victim’s eyes were still open. Pale blue. Disregarding more than one rule of crime scene etiquette, he used his gloved hand to close the boy’s eyes. “Go in peace,” Fin whispered and then crossed himself.

He already knew the boy’s name. Trey Cline. Age eighteen. He was a nice-looking young man. Tall, maybe six-three or six-four. His parents had called the station at three-thirty a.m. to report him missing. After checking the usual party houses on First Street where most teens and young adults gravitated when they were up to no good, the two cops on duty had started a genuine search. An Irish greyhound, Sugar, had found him before the cops did. Sugar’s owner, Jim, a local, had said the dog had taken off like a bat out of hell at the south end of the boardwalk. Jim hadn’t seen the pooch again until he found her here between the beach and Gina’s Greek Gyros, sitting under the shower with the dead kid.

Trey’s parents and little sister were in the backseat of a police cruiser on their way to the station. Sugar had finally been coaxed away from the dead boy and she and Jim had continued on their walk with Jim promising to be available the rest of the day for additional questions. The police officers and EMTs were all coming and going. Photos were being snapped, paper bags were being filled with possible evidence, a gurney was being unloaded from an ambulance. It seemed as if everyone had somewhere to go, something to do…except Fin and Trey.

Fin stared at the dead boy for a long time, so long that eventually he got muscle cramps in his legs and had to stand up. But no matter how long he studied him, none of the facts changed. Trey was seated under the shower at the top of the stairs that led down to the beach. There were several identical showerheads placed strategically along the boardwalk; they were good for business. The showers kept sandy feet out of the shops and restaurants and kept tourists happy and sand-free, making them want to go into the shops and restaurants. Though sand-free, Trey hadn’t gone shopping this morning. He hadn’t made it to breakfast, either. He never would.

Not with his neck slit like that.

Fin didn’t bother to take a closer look at the incision. The fang punctures were there. The MO was so identical to the last two that it was almost humorous. Whoever the killer was, he or she was not all that creative. Like Colin Meding, Trey was posed, sitting up. He was shirtless, but wearing swim trunks. His feet were bare. No blood around him. Damn little inside him, from the color and texture of his skin.

Fin heard someone coming up the steps behind him and turned to see one of his officers.

“Found a pair of men’s sandals and a T-shirt under the boardwalk, just over there.” He pointed beyond the stairs. “Mother said the victim was wearing a gray Salisbury University T-shirt and new brown Rainbow sandals. Bought them yesterday at Hilly’s.”

Fin didn’t have to ask if the sandals and shirt matched the mother’s description. He crouched down again until he was eye to eye with Trey. Only Fin had his eyes open; Trey’s were still closed.

“Get laid under the boardwalk, did you?” Fin asked gently. “Sweet.” He nodded. “Then what?” He glanced at the victim’s swimsuit. The killer had rinsed him off, which was why he wasn’t sandy, but not all that well. Fin saw the telltale white stain of seawater. “Then a swim? Is that where she’s doing it? She fucking you, then getting you to go into the water, skinny-dipping maybe?”

John, standing behind Fin, cleared his throat awkwardly. Maybe he didn’t like the idea of his boss talking to dead humans. Not even his temporary boss.

Fin ignored him.

“Thought it was the best night of your life, didn’t you, Trey? Right up until that last second when she bit you and drank your blood?” Fin thought for a moment, then stood, turning to John. He was thankful he was wearing dark glasses so his officer wouldn’t see the moisture that had gathered in the corners of his eyes.

“I want everyone who is not specifically involved in getting this boy off the boardwalk on the beach. I want you looking for drag marks from the ocean to these steps.” He indicated with his hand. “This kid died in the water and someone carried him or dragged him here.”

“I don’t know about that theory,” Jim said slowly. “Beach cleaning machine came through around four-thirty this morning. I already called and checked.”

“At four-thirty, Malachy was either still drunk or at the least hungover. We’re always getting complaints that he’s missed spots, left trash behind, or run over a garbage barrel. Check the beach, anyway. Start here and work your way north and south. It would make sense to bring him up these stairs, but that doesn’t mean that’s the way this played out.”

John nodded and walked away, leaving Fin to gaze out over the beach to the water’s edge. In his mind’s eye, he knew what had happened here. He had had his suspicions. Now there was no doubt in his mind, not with the discovery of Trey’s shoes and shirt. Fin didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before, but he knew now why he had never found a crime scene in the previous murders. It was because they were no longer present. They had been carried out by the tide.