Tempting Gray - Untouchables 02 (8 page)

“I don’t know, maybe because yesterday everything
was rushed. Besides, around Zeke, everything chaos. Now I believe I can help find
the two men you’re looking for, but first I need to touch something that the
person you’re looking for touched,” she said.

He thought long and hard. At last, he said, “I
don’t have anything of the Donatos.”

Her shoulders sagged. Then her eyes narrowed in
thought and she grew quiet for a long minute. “I can try to see a vision from
touching almost anything. I can take things over from there, but for now I need
you to give me something to touch.”

“Fine.”

When they arrived at a cemetery after more than
an hour of driving further away from the city, Ara had to say she was
surprised. A cemetery was the last place she’d have expected Grayson to take
her.

“What are we doing in a cemetery?” A horrible
thought hit her. Was this were his
bruid
lie in rest? Usually when vampires
die their bodies are cremated and the ashes either saved or disbursed.

“We’re not here for the cemetery. We’re here
for what’s beneath. Have you ever heard of the Crypts?”

“I can’t say I have.” She followed him over
soggy earth as they trekked through the graveyard. It was eerie to be here
amongst the dead with only the moonlight illuminating their way.

“It’s where vampires of the aristocracy are
cremated. All death ceremonies are performed here, even autopsies.” He led her
to a heavy stone door which he opened and closed behind them. Inside was dark
and cold. She shivered as chills broke out over her skin. A stairway would take
them deep down into the catacombs. Ara had never been in catacombs before. Her
mental picture of them was dark and disturbing and mostly like quite wrong.

“Don’t we need light?” she whispered, her voice
coming out like a loud hiss in the quiet.

His eyebrows rose. “I forget Weres can’t see as
well at night as vampires can.”

Something in the arrogant way he said it made
Ara stiffen. “We can when shapeshifted. Maybe even better than a vampire.”

She thought he’d lead her down the stairs but,
when he didn’t move after a moment, she looked up at him.
Oh shit!
He
was staring down at her, his eyes a fathomless abyss of emotions. When Grayson
Blackmoore looked at you—you noticed. Big time. Grayson was devilishly
handsome. And yet, he acted as if he had no clue as to how kissably perfect his
mouth was, how he had a strong jaw meant to be touched, or how his strong body
made her feminine one swoon. His eyes were trademark Blackmoore—dark as
midnight with a ring of gold surrounding it. She could get lost in those eyes.

He jerked as if shaking himself out of stupor.
Then he led her deep into the Crypts. It smelled of moss and earth down here.
The air became more stagnate the deeper they descended. It became darker too.
Unless she wanted to grab onto Grayson’s hand so she didn’t fall down the steps
she’d need to do something. In her backpack she kept a flashlight, which she
took out and switched on.

“Much better,” she announced as the steps lit
up before her. She grew curious about the Crypts and found herself asking, “How
do you keep humans from coming down here? That is a human cemetery outside, isn’t
it?”

“The human graveyard is merely a hoax for the
catacombs that lie beneath,” he said.

At the end of the staircase a large hallway
split three ways: straight, left, and right. Ara could hardly keep still she
was so excited. A good adventure always got her hyped up. Unable to contain
herself, she burst out with, “Which way do we go?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve only been down here twice.
Both times was to cremate in the auditorium which is to the left. What we’re
looking for is the morgue.”

“I take it you don’t know which direction that
is?” she asked gently.

His jaw flexed but he shook his head in denial.

“Hmm…I think I have an idea.” Ara strolled over
to the wall made up of layered stone. She placed her open palm to the cold
stone and closed her eyes. Some objects she touched would take some coaxing and
she might have to touch it several times to get an impression. The stone wall however
instantly drew an image to mind. She saw an older vampire with thinning white
hair and bagging clothes shuffling right along the corridor. In her mind, she
saw him push past a set of white doors that led to the morgue. “This way!”

She took off running, excitement getting the
better of her. Grayson cursed then she heard him following close behind. They
almost made it look like he was chasing her. Right. As if Grayson would ever
chase her for anything—maybe to give her a stern talking to. Was he always so
rigid and uptight or had his
bruid’s
passing pushed him to be this way?
How far he’d come from the heavy-accented young man she’d once met on a night
long, long ago. The accent was much lighter now and, when she thought on it,
only appeared when he seemed to be angry or frustrated.

When she saw the side-by-side white doors, she
squealed. “Found it!” Inside, she flipped on the switch at the door and fluorescent
lights beamed on.

Grayson came in, his frown a permanent etch on
his mouth. “Did you use your ability?”

“Yes.” She waited for him to elaborate but
apparently he was finished.

The morgue had white wood cabinetry along the
walls holding cotton balls, gauze and other medical supplies. Another door sat
at the back of the room. Ara expected any awaiting bodies would be in there
since this room looked like the antechamber. Ara opened the door, turned on the
light and entered the next room only to freeze. “Oh my god.” Bodies, so many
bodies.

Not one or two but twenty metal gurneys waited
in the room with corpses on them. Some Were, others vampire, each in a
different disarray of death. To keep the smell of death away they’d put
powerful menthol air fresheners around the room—it didn’t work. The stench of
decay, of rotten flesh and dying innards, permeated the room. There was no
getting around it.

Ara sucked in a breath of fresh air from the
antechamber then stepped into the morgue. At the end of each bed was a basket
with a medical chart. In her mind she knew the old vampire with the white hair
was the mortician who oversaw the bodies coming in and out of here. “Which one
is Donato?”

Grayson moved to a man whose head had been
severed with a sharp blade. Ara winced and was thankful a white sheet covered
most of the body—though not the important part—like the severed neck. Of
course, what was the point when all the bodies here either had their heart torn
from their bodies or their head cut off? Never mind, she realized. A vampire at
the end of the line was burnt to a crisp. The poor vamp must have either been
set of fire or caught in the sunlight.

“This is him,” Grayson said. “The one who
started it all.”

Ara looked at Grayson in shock, surprised he’d
share anything so personal with her. “How so?”

His lips pursed like he might not speak, but
then he told her, surprising her even more. “I had an assignment to protect a
known man. Domico came with some of his friends and managed to kill my client.
I failed my duty to protect my client and in doing so, Domico killed him. I
retaliated.”

“So that’s how Domico got here.” And it also
made sense now why his
bruid
ended up murdered. The Donato name was as
famous as the Blackmoore name amongst the supernatural community. Vincent
Donato ran his business with a firm hand. Men of power were a terrifying thing.

“What are you waiting for?” Grayson asked. He
gave her a hard look.

“Okay, I’ll do it. Sheesh, give me a second. I’m
trying to work up to this one. I’ve never had to touch a dead body before. It’s
a little unnerving, that’s all.” The thought of touching this murderer made her
sick to her stomach, but she knew what she had to do.

She touched his hand, palm to palm. His hand
was cold in hers and stiff, fingers unbending from rigor mortis. Closing her
eyes, she let out a deep breath and waited. It was hard to describe to people
about her ability. When she touched objects or people and concentrated then
sometimes she could see visions she was searching for. Usually she was touching
a dog and searching for jewelry much like earlier. Other times, like when she
was searching for a specific person, she’d focus her thoughts on an image of
the person she was looking for. Images would strike her, like flashes of
pictures moving quickly, and it was always a location. Today it’d been the
bush. She’d pet old Tonto’s head and saw a flash of the bush—then it became a
matter of finding that specific bush. Naturally the task grew much more
difficult when it involved people. She may receive a vision of a building—but
then she’d have to find that building and that was the hard part. Because she couldn’t
possibly know every place around the city.

Then it came, but not in a vivid, quick image
like she was used to. This time it was different. The image showed a crowded
room filled with people mulling around. The murky tones hid the bright color of
life. Was this what it was like to see a vision from a dead corpse? She frowned
but clutched tighter to the dead hand. Usually the images were bright but
quick. This murky image, like she was watching a movie through a muddy lenses,
lasted for several long seconds allowing her time to study it. She heard the
dinging of a tune—it reminded her of a slot machine.

I’m in a casino!

She saw Weres, vampires, and humans, though far
fewer humans. Come on, she needed something more than this. Focusing even
harder, she squeezed the stiff, clammy hand in her own. The image moved, like a
video camera surging forward through the muddy crowd. The image flashed left
like a person looking.
Am I actually seeing what Domico saw?
A balcony
up above with one-sided glass, probably a security or VIP room. Then the image
looked right and she saw it.

“I’ve got it!” she said, jerking herself out of
the vision. Only, she sucked in a sharp breath. Grayson was standing directly
in front of her, far too close, his intense gaze watching her.

“Are you well?” His voice had gone deeper, the
accent grown heavier. He sounded very much like an older version of the boy she’d
first met.

“Y-yes,” she said, suddenly more nervous than a
willing virgin on prom night. “Why?”

He stroked her hair back behind her ear in a
move so intimate she blushed; however, he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
Suddenly, his hand dropped leaving her bereft. “You’re quite alarming when you
do that…thing you do. I can feel the energy shift around you like a vortex.”

“I didn’t know that. No one’s mentioned it
before.” Great, now she was furiously blushing and the last thing she wanted
was for Grayson Blackmoore to know he affected her.

“You looked—” he paused as if searching for the
right word.

“How did I look?” she asked again. He wouldn’t
get off the hook for this. Now she had to know.

His eyes alit with a thought. “You looked like
you were about to faint. Very pale, drawn looking. I was going to catch you if
you fell.”

Her jaw dropped and then she spun around to
pace, brows dipped low in thought. “Like I was going to faint? That’s funny. I
never feel like I’m about to faint. Don’t you think I would?” It bothered her
more than she cared to admit. But who would want to look pale and weakly when
using their one so-called ‘incredible ability’? Certainly not her. That ability
was the only thing she had that made her special. It was all she had.

He gave an indolent shrug.

She glared, not liking his attitude one bit. “I
think I saw a casino. There were Weres and vampires intermixed with some
humans.”

“You know where to find it then?” He moved away
from her, since she wasn’t in any danger of ‘fainting’ now.

“No.”

He spun around, his fangs distending with such
anger she threw her hands up in pure instinct. “How can you not know where it
is?” he snapped.

“Because that’s not how it works,” she snapped
right back. Sissy told her to go easy on him, he did just lose a precious loved
one. But dang, it was so
hard
. All she wanted to do was march right over
to him and slap that sleek, stubble-covered jaw with a good whack.

His voice exuded forced patience. “How, pray
tell, does it work? You’ve explained yourself on several occasions and each
time the story changes. Everything rests on you, do you understand that?” He
started coming closer. A spike of fear shot down her spine. “If you cannot find
them then my
bruid’s
murderers will go on living. I cannot allow this. I
need
to find them.” His fangs had fully dropped now. If the harshness in
his tone or aggressive steps weren’t any indication of how angry he was, his
fangs were. A vampire as old as Grayson easily had power to control his fangs,
but everyone had a breaking point. He was at his. How else could you explain
the reason his fangs were flashing now—except out of surprised anger.

“Um, Grayson?” she asked, swallowing over the
lump in her throat.

He’d stopped moving toward her but only after
there was no more space left between them. If she but leaned forward her
nipples would graze his chest.

“I’m waiting for an answer,” he prompted.

Aargh! His attitude set her edge but not in the
way it should. She shouldn’t be looking at this vampire’s lips. He’d just laid
his
bruid
on the pyre; how it must have crushed him to bring the torch
down upon her body. Her heart cried for him. Even now she blinked quickly to
keep from tearing up. Yet, with each arrogant, mean thing he said, she only
wanted to reach up and plant a big, wet kiss on him.

You are in such trouble, girl,
she told herself.