Read Immortal Online

Authors: V.K. Forrest

Immortal (7 page)

BOOK: Immortal
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She watched him for a moment and then relaxed in his lap. She didn’t seem offended. A little surprised, maybe, but not angry or hurt. She reached up and brushed her thumb across the corner of his mouth. “Lipstick. Apologies.”

“What?” His mind was still fuzzy, his heart still racing. He couldn’t believe he had actually considered taking this woman’s blood. He really
did
need some sleep. He obviously wasn’t thinking clearly.

“I got some lipstick on your mouth,” she said, smiling. “You’re a good kisser.”

He laughed. He didn’t know why. Somehow her remark made him feel younger, his position in the world somehow less tragic. “You’re not bad yourself.” Impulsively, he kissed her cheek.

She remained on his lap but leaned back, resting her hands on his shoulders. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Fin, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just a little summer companionship. I’ll be going back to Italy in August. I’ll never see you again.”

She didn’t say she just wanted to have sex with him, but that’s what she meant. She just wanted a sexual relationship, no promises, no commitments. It was perfect for Fin. Forbidden by the sept, obviously, but perfect. Clean. And safe. Emotionally, at least.

So why did he feel disappointed somewhere deep inside?

“I’m sharing a cottage for the summer with my brother,” he told her. “Going there could get a little complicated.”

“I’m sharing a house with my sister, my brother-in-law, and their three children.” She smiled that beautiful smile of hers. “So that could be a little complicated, as well.”

They both laughed. “Let me walk you home,” he said.

She slid off his lap, brushing her fingertips over the bulge in his shorts. It was not accidental. “I don’t need an escort, Fin. Whoever is out there should be afraid of me.” She walked away. “We’re at the Rose Cottage. You know it?”

“I know it.”

Built at the turn of the eighteenth century and well maintained over the years, it was the most expensive rental in Clare Point. It was on the oceanfront block, south of the end of the boardwalk, with a phenomenal view.

“Come by tomorrow night after work,” she told him as she walked away.

“I don’t know how late I’ll be,” he called after her. “Work’s become more complicated than my living arrangements.”

“I’ll wait.”

Her words were almost lost on the ocean breeze that had kicked up. But not her meaning.

 

Rob wove his way through the crowded living room, circumnavigating couples dancing and a beer pong table. It was late and the party was in full swing. From the far side of the room Kaleigh watched him watch her, thinking he was kind of cute, in a geeky kind of way. She liked the way he looked at her. Like he thought she was sexy. Smart. Like he liked her.

When he reached her, he leaned down. He was taller than she was now, though he hadn’t been when he’d been reborn the year before. “How’s the ankle?”

“Fine,” she lied. She’d been ignoring the pain all evening because she wanted to be here, but now she was tired and it was beginning to throb again.

“Done enough
research
on human teens for one night?” he asked.

She could barely hear him over the blare and throb of the Kanye West song. She ran her palm over his chest. “I guess so. I can’t find Katy. I don’t know if she went home or what.”

“You’re not her keeper. She’s fine. She always is. She probably just went home.”

Kaleigh glanced around. “I guess you’re right.”

Rob squeezed by her to head for the door, but she grabbed his arm, stopping him. “You know what’s going on down there?” she asked.

“Where?” He turned back.

“The basement.” She pointed to the door across the room. “Mickey’s boyfriend’s been manning the door all night. He’s letting a few people in and a few people out. I think he’s like a bouncer or something.”

Rob studied Tomboy’s hulking figure.

“What do you think they’re doing down there?” she whispered.

Rob shrugged, not all that interested. “I don’t know. Something they shouldn’t be doing, I guess.”

“Like what?” She glanced around the loud, semidark room in an exaggerated motion. “Underage drinking, gambling, making out on the dance floor. They’re doing that in plain sight. What else could they be doing?”

Rob grabbed her hand and started for the door again. “Drugs, I guess. Sex. I don’t know. Why do you care?”

She took one last look in the direction of the basement door as he led her onto the front porch. “I guess I don’t.” The air felt cooler outside and she could breathe again. “Beppe went down.”

“Who?” Still holding her hand, Rob led Kaleigh down the steps.

“Beppe. That Italian guy Katy met at the arcade.”

Rob halted in the driveway. Some HF girl was hunched over a bush at the corner of the house making puking sounds. Rob grimaced. “You think Katy’s with him in the basement? You want me to check?”

She thought for a minute, wondering where her special powers were when she needed them. If only she could see everything and be everywhere, now that would be some cool powers. “Nah. I saw her and Pete arguing earlier. She probably just went home and didn’t tell me—as usual.” She exhaled. “Let’s go.”

“You call her?”

“She lost her cell again.” Kaleigh gave a wave of dismissal, trying not to limp. “She’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

They walked down the middle of the street, holding hands. Kaleigh could smell the ocean and she breathed deeply. Everyone else in the town still dreamed of their homeland, of Ireland, but she loved Delaware. She loved the ocean. The beach. She loved the hope this new world had brought the sept.

At the end of the street, they turned for home. The streets were empty. Quiet. It was a quaint town. It was no wonder humans liked it here. They felt comfortable here. Safe.

She wondered if Colin Meding had felt safe.

Kaleigh was just turning to Rob to ask him if he’d heard anything more about the murder at the party tonight when she felt someone approaching. Mild panic fluttered in her chest and she immediately took command of her enhanced senses. Her encounter with the werewolf last year had made her less trusting of the world, more aware of her responsibility to others. But the man approaching was not of the genus
Canis
and not
Homo sapiens
. It was one of their own.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath and took off at a hobbling run.

Chapter 7

R
egan knew what was going to happen before he turned the corner off Bourbon Street onto the quieter St. Philip in the French Quarter, yet he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t turn around. It was as if he was in two places at once. He was inside his body, but also following from behind, watching, waiting, knowing the scene that would unfold.

He tipped back the beer and tasted the last of the pungent brew. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he tossed the bottle onto the sidewalk and listened to the satisfying sound of splintering glass.

He was high. High and drunk and feeling pretty damned good. At least the walking Regan felt good. The following Regan, not so much.

Turn around
, he wanted to shout after himself.
Turn around and run
. But of course he couldn’t because this was a nightmare, one he was doomed to relive again and again.

He heard them approaching before he saw them. It was nothing more than a whistle in the wind and the feel of the change in the night air. Maybe he heard the flutter of one of those ridiculous capes they wore.

Half a block farther and he would have been safe. Even at this time of night, there was always traffic on Dauphine. But of course he hadn’t reached Dauphine. He never did, no matter how many times he dreamed the dream again, knowing what would unfold if he
didn’t
make it to Dauphine. But once again, Regan was alone in the alley at two a.m. and they knew it, the evil bastards.

There were three of them, brothers: Zebulun, Asher, and Gad. Which was at least two too many, even if Regan had been sober. They always came from above…or maybe behind. He could never really tell. The first one, the blond, always came at him head-on so Regan would see him coming. The terror factor.

Regan heard himself cry out, startled by the apparition. No matter how many times he relived it, he was still surprised to see those damned Cajuns fly out of the darkness, descending upon him. They couldn’t actually fly, per se, but in his state, it always seemed like it.

Zebulun hit Regan full force in the chest, knocking him to the filthy sidewalk that reeked of rats, vermin, and human urine. His head hit the bricks with a sickening thud and bounced. He smelled his own blood oozing into his hair.

They always let him get to his feet before they knocked him down again. They always let him think there was a chance he could get away. That he might be able to avoid being trapped in the tomb. Regan half crawled, half dragged himself onto the street. The Rousseaus circled him like dogs cornering their prey.

The funny thing was, in the dream, they never said anything. The night it had happened, there had been curses and accusations made in that bizarre French-Cajun talk of theirs. They knew he had stolen the shipment of cocaine. They knew he had sold some of it, lost some of it, snorted a good deal of it.

But in the dream it wasn’t about the drugs. It was about the terror, about the anticipation of what he knew would come. Getting beat up wasn’t so bad. It was the waking up sober, locked in the tomb with the spiders crawling over his face that really got to him.

Just as Regan lifted his head, he saw the tall one’s black boot. He felt the boot connect with his chin. As his head snapped back, he heard the blood spatter on the street and on his new shirt.

One of them squealed with delight at the scent of his blood and lifted him to his feet from behind, pinning his arms against the small of his back. He smelled the sour breath of the blond as the cretin pushed back his cape and bared his pointed canines.

“No,” the Regan being attacked cried out. To be forcibly fed upon by another vampire was the lowest, the most despicable form of subjugation.

“No!” the follower echoed.

“No!” Regan sobbed, thrashing in his narrow bed.

To his relief, he woke in the dark, safe in his bed in the little cottage in Clare Point, far from the streets of New Orleans.

 

Rob ran after her, looking over his shoulder. “Why are we running?”

Ignoring the pain that shot from her ankle, Kaleigh cut between Mary Hill’s rhododendron bushes and raced through her backyard, skirting her fish pond.

“Kaleigh!”

“Go home, Rob,” she told him.

“Kaleigh, what’s going on? You’re hurt. Why are you running? Who’s chasing us?”

“He’s not chasing
us
”—she jumped over a row of marigolds, landing on her good foot on the brick sidewalk that ran along the side of Mary’s house—“just me. Go home, Rob.”

He jogged beside her. He didn’t have to run, she was moving too slowly. “Are we in trouble?”

“No.” She gave him a push. “Just head for home. He’ll follow me. If anyone’s in trouble it’s me.” She came up short in front of a gate between Mary Hill and Mary Kane’s side yards and gave Rob a quick kiss. “Trust me.” She threw open the latch and pushed the gate open. “Go home. Now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Once through the gate, Kaleigh hobbled off as fast as she could go. Rob hesitated in the dark.

Trust me
, she telepathed.

He didn’t always get her messages, as his telepathic abilities weren’t all that hot yet. But after a second, he sprinted in the opposite direction.

Kaleigh almost made it into her house. She was perched on a vine trellis, just reaching for the windowsill on the second story when the window slowly lowered of its own accord and the lock on the inside spun shut.

“Crap,” she muttered. Without looking down, she exhaled in exasperation and shifted her weight, as best she could, to her good foot. “So you going to levitate me down, or just leave me up here?”

“Just leave you up there,” Fin said. “At least for the moment. Where’ve you been?”

She gripped the trellis that now groaned under her weight. “Nowhere.”

“That why you were running from me?”

“I wasn’t running from you.” The wooden trellis shifted and wobbled a little.

“You’re not supposed to be out after curfew, Kaleigh.”

Kaleigh looked for a place to get a better footing. It was a long drop from here to the flowerbed, especially with one bad ankle, but she was afraid she was going to have to go for it. “Could I get a little help here before I fall and break my neck?” she snapped, clinging to the slats of the trellis.

“Let go.”

Trusting Fin completely, Kaleigh let go. For an instant, she felt the same rush she experienced when an elevator dropped, only she didn’t fall, she just drifted downward, the night breeze cool against her sweaty scalp. It was the greatest feeling; she wished it could have lasted longer. She touched down in a bed of purple and yellow pansies.

“Where were you, Kaleigh?” Fin sounded cross now. And tired.

She turned to him, folding her arms over her chest, slumping the way she saw human teens do when cornered by an adult. Fortunately, her stance allowed her to shift most of her weight off her injured ankle. “Why do you care?”

“Hmm. Let’s see.” He crossed his arms and imitated her posture perfectly. “Because you’re breaking the law and hmm, I’m what? An officer of the law?”

“It’s a bogus law. Passed by the town council. It would never stand up in court. And you’re a bogus cop,” she added.

“How about because you’re my niece and it’s my responsibility to keep an eye on you?”

“Only because you don’t want to piss off your mom or mine.”

She was disappointed he didn’t take the bogus-cop bait. It would have been a good way to sidetrack the conversation.

He met her gaze. It was pitch dark, the sky moonless, but they both had keen eyesight. That came in handy when you were a vampire prowling the earth at night for victims. Or trying to sneak back into the house without your parents catching you.

“How about I care because you, Kaleigh Kahill, are the one most responsible for the safety, for the very existence, of our family? All hope of our salvation rests on your shoulders. Without you and your guidance, we would never have come to these shores, we would never have seen God’s light, and our souls would truly be damned.”

She threw back her head and groaned, balling her hands into fists. “Jezus,” she said, imitating the Irish accent they had all once had. “You always have to pull the wisewoman card, don’t you?”

He smiled sadly. “I know it’s hard.”

She dropped her hands to her sides. “You have no idea,” she said drolly.

“So where were you?”

She stepped out of her mother’s flowerbed. “Can’t tell you.”

“Because you’re not a rat.”

“I’m not a rat.”

“Please tell me you’re being careful.”

This time she met his gaze and didn’t look away. She sensed they weren’t just talking about his concern for the safety of some teens sowing their wild oats a little. She tried to read his mind, but he was ready for her. She hit a brick wall, literally. In her mind, she visualized the psychic barriers people put up differently, depending on who it was. With the good ones, it was a brick wall. Solid. Impenetrable. At least to her now, in her current teenage state.

Sometimes, when she couldn’t read people’s minds, she had to resort to the human way of getting information out of people. “What’s up, Fin? It’s the dead guy, isn’t it?”

“Kaleigh, you know I’m not at liberty—”

She laughed. He was cute, her uncle. And he could be so silly. “Fin, you’re talking to the woman responsible for your soul and the souls of the couple hundred of us still left. You’re not at liberty? You can’t pull that crap on me. What did you find out?”

He glanced at the grass between their feet. “Looks like it was one of us.”

It took a moment for what he said to sink in. “Holy shit.”

He looked up, pointing at her. “But you keep that to yourself, okay? I’m serious.”

“Okay,” she breathed, still shocked.

“Now, go to bed.” He pointed to the dark window on the second story.

She looked at the window and frowned. “How do you expect me to get in?”

“Same way you got out.”

“You locked the window. From the inside.”

Fin turned away, but as he did, the window magically lifted.

“You’re not even going to give me a boost up?” she called after him.

“Go to bed.” He walked across the lawn.

“Anything I can do?” She remained where she was standing. She felt sorry for him, him being a cop all of two days. This was bad, a Kahill killing a tourist. Bad. “I mean about the dead guy,” she said. He was nothing more than a shadow now.

“Pray for our sorry souls.”

 

“So, what have you got so far?”

Fin cradled the phone on his shoulder as he sifted through the rising stack of paperwork the Colin Meding case was producing. He hadn’t meant to take over the chief’s desk, or his office, it had just sort of happened. Yesterday, he’d used the office because it was the only one with a door on it and lent some sense of privacy. Here was where he had spoken to Colin’s parents. Alone. Unsupported by the chief of police. Sean had never shown up for the appointment or for work. He’d had his wife call in saying he had a stomach bug. So far, he hadn’t shown up today, either.

The meeting with the victim’s family had been even worse than Fin had thought it would be, if that was possible. Mrs. Meding had done nothing but sob uncontrollably. Mr. Meding had been angry, bordering on violent. The older brother, a law student, was threatening lawsuits. Not that Fin could blame any of them. While talking to them, he had vacillated between wanting to cry and wanting to punch a wall. He
really
didn’t want this job.

“Fin?” Fia said on the other end of the line. “Try to focus, baby brother. What have you learned about the victim’s whereabouts the day he was murdered? Where did he go? Who did he see? You need to take facts to the General Council before you make accusations. You know how defensive some people get.”

Fin had had men on that all day yesterday. Good investigative skills would lead to a killer, be he human or vampire. Start at the moment of the murder and work back, Fia had instructed. Somewhere in that timeline, the victim’s and the perpetrator’s lives had intersected. Something had happened, throwing them on course to the tragic end result. In this case, a posed dead surfer and a Dumpster.

“That didn’t take any real detective work,” he said, making no attempt to hide his frustration. That was one good thing about consulting with his sister on the case. He didn’t have to play the tough, composed cop. “It was info easy enough to find. Everyone and their brother saw him Friday. Vs and Hs. No one acted like they had anything to hide. Colin worked an eight-hour shift at the Hillmans’ caramel corn place on the boardwalk. He had pizza with friends at Sal’s, then went to the arcade and stayed there until it closed. Then he went home. Apparently his roommate had a girl back to the house so Colin went for a walk.”

“Okay,” Fia said.

“So far, we haven’t been able to find anyone who saw him after he left the house on First Street around midnight.”

“And no one noticed when he didn’t return after his walk? Not his roommate, not the other guys living in the house?” she questioned. “What? You said there were a total of six of them in the house?”

BOOK: Immortal
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