The City Beneath (11 page)

I stared at him a moment, stunned by his sharp tone. He simply stared back. “You're serious,” I murmured, trying to douse the flame under my temper.

“Of course. You're putting yourself at risk.”

“As you can see, I'm walking just fine. Besides, the vampires won't rise again until sunset. I'm safer now than I will be at dusk,” I snapped. “Mind your business.”

“Should I have minded my business last night?” Walker asked coolly.

I bit the inside of my cheek and took my time before answering, so I didn't snap again. “I'm very grateful, Walker, that you did not mind your business last night. Thank you,” I said, meeting his eyes. His own eyes widened in surprise, but I continued before he could respond. “But I still have a life and a career and a reputation, and not one of those things allows taking a sick day.” Walker opened his mouth and I interjected, “Especially the career.”

He pursed his lips, obviously not appeased. “They'll know you haven't fully recuperated. You're the injured antelope to their predator's sense.”

“I understand, but—”

“No, you obviously don't understand, because if you did, you would have called out sick, despite your career. You were already prey, but now you're prey with a flashing target on your back.”

I rolled my eyes. “The target was going to flash at full strength whether or not I called out from work. I'm supposed to be in that cage when Dominic rises at sunset. When he wakes tonight and realizes that I'm gone, do you really think staying in bed all day would make a difference? I doubt that my aching hip or low cell count will be the focus of his attention. He'll find me tonight either way, and he's not going to be happy when he does.”

Walker leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. “Well, the low cell count certainly won't help,” he groused.

“Can't even give an inch,” I chided.

He shrugged. “Not when I know I'm right.”

A sudden burst of anger nearly short-circuited my brain, but then I noticed the dimple in his left cheek deepen as he smirked. He was half-kidding. My anger fizzled out again.

I bumped his shoulder with mine. “Arrogance isn't attractive.”

“Neither is stubbornness, but I had the good manners not to point it out.”

“Just keepin' it real,” I said.

Walker elbowed me back. “I don't suppose it's a coincidence that our paths have crossed again.”

I shook my head. “And with you here, I think it's safe to assume what the medical examiner found.”

He nodded. “They got sloppy, that's for sure.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Vampires are discreet. They rarely leave a fresh kill out for display. After decades of practice, they've developed quite a knack for not getting caught,” he said bitterly. “Frankly, I'm taken aback that they've exposed themselves on such a large scale. I thought they had a ruling class or government of sorts that killed vampires who risked their survival.”

I nodded. “They do. Dominic called their government council members Day Reapers, but he also said that a growing sect of his vampires are rebelling. They don't want to remain a secret, like he does, and despite the threat of punishment from the Day Reapers, they are challenging Dominic as their Master. He loses strength every seven years on the Solstice, but this is the first year that his status as Master is being challenged.”

Walker frowned. “Get to the point, DiRocco.”

“My point is that you think the vampires just got sloppy.”

Walker nodded slowly. “Yes, ma'am, that's my theory. It's not consistent with their normal behavior, but that's the most likely situation.”

“Well, I'm proposing a different situation in which this wasn't just a sloppy mistake. I think the rebels are growing stronger as Dominic's powers weaken, and the rebels are taking full advantage of the situation to enjoy their hunt. Dominic said that—”

Walker suddenly reached out and covered my hand with his own. “Anything Dominic said is a lie to get what he wants from you. He's older than we can imagine, and in that time, I'm sure he's learned a thing or two about persuasion. Since he can't mind-fuck you like he can everyone else, he'll use whatever mind games necessary to convince you that he's more than what he really seems.”

“And what's that?” I asked, sliding my hand away from his to cross my arms.

“A dangerous predator who wants to attack you, drain you, and turn you, if he doesn't kill you first.”

“Why would he lie about this?” I snapped. “He doesn't have anything to gain by lying about an uprising.”

“He's taking the blame of the vampire attacks off himself, so you see him like a victim instead of a predator. And it's working. You're already sympathizing with his situation,” Walker explained patiently. I could tell he was deliberately keeping his temper in check to prevent mine from exploding.

“I don't think he wants to kill me,” I confessed. “If that was his ultimate goal, he would have done that already. Instead, he saved me. I would've been killed by the other vampires last night if it wasn't for him.”

Walker shook his head, disgusted. “There are other ways to steal your life besides killing you. The Master of a coven near my hometown does the same for me. She saves me from other vampire attacks and protects me while I'm tracking large game. Dominic doesn't protect you because he cares about you, like a human feels compassion toward another human.”

Walker met my eyes, and I could read his unspoken implication:
Like I feel toward you.

“He protects you because he's invested,” Walker continued. “He wants you in every way he can't have you. He wants your mind, your body, and eventually your humanity, but you only truly matter to him as a night blood, nothing more. If you were a human, he wouldn't have thought twice about drinking from you, killing you, and continuing on his way.”

I mulled over his explanation, part of me shocked that he'd experienced the same from the Master of his local coven back home. The other part of me was annoyingly disappointed. “How many night bloods are out there?” I asked.

“At least seventy of us exist in the United States, maybe only a hundred total in North America. It's difficult to know for sure. Many humans don't even know what a night blood is, let alone whether they are one,” Walker said, tilting his head at me. “In my life, I've only spoken to one other night blood besides you, my partner from home. I don't know of any others who live nearby.”

Partner
. I thought of Dominic's explanation of the near intimate relationship between vampires and their night bloods, and I wondered if Walker's relationship with his night blood “partner” was any different. Although the dynamics between a night blood and a vampire compared to two night bloods were obviously different, I couldn't help but think of the tension that existed between Walker and me and how easily the high stakes of being a night blood and the danger of interacting with vampires could turn the tension of any relationship more intimate. A sharp twinge I'd rather not identify nagged through my gut.

“Is night blood hereditary?” I asked instead, thinking of my conversation with Nathan.

Walker shrugged. “It must be a recessive gene, but it hasn't been studied.”

“In all these years—a couple thousand years of genetic science—it hasn't been studied by anyone?” I asked, incredulous.

“We're lucky to discover who we are and survive, let alone find other night bloods. I doubt anyone found the time or had the opportunity to perform scientific research.”

“Dominic said something similar about us being rare,” I mused.

Walker's eyes darkened. His accent thickened as he became more frustrated with me. “I just warned you; anythin' that creature tells you is suspect. The best lies are submerged in truth, and everythin' out of his mouth is nothin' but—”

I raised both my hands in surrender. “Back down, hoss. I'm just mulling the possibilities.”

“Mulling is not allowed,” Walker griped, but the corners of his lips tipped up again, revealing that hidden dimple.

I smiled back, helpless not to, and something clicked between us. His eyes were so brown and beautiful, and he smelled fresh, like mint. Suddenly, I was very aware of how close his lips were to mine. I should have turned my head or pulled away or done absolutely anything except nothing, but I couldn't bring myself to move. I knew he felt it, too, because his smile tipped and turned serious. He stared back into my eyes, unblinking and motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his Adam's apple as he swallowed.

He eased closer, and I opened my mouth to say something—God knows what—when the woman at the desk buzzed her microphone.

“The medical examiner will see you now, Ms. DiRocco, Mr. Walker,” she said, her metallic, monotone, machine-like voice cut through the PA system. “Through the double doors and second examination room on the right.”

I jumped away from Walker's lips and from the precipice of insanity. What the hell was I thinking? We were waiting outside a morgue, preparing to examine a body, for heaven's sake. I heard him clear his throat, and when I glanced over, his eyebrows were raised.

“We're being summoned.” I stood, relieved to end the tension and gain a little distance before my skin singed from the heat between us. I snatched my leather satchel from the chair, the same satchel that he'd saved along with my life. I groaned to myself. “Do you have a usual protocol for this kind of thing?”

Walker looped the strap of a black briefcase over his head and stood. The woman buzzed us through, and he strode in step with me out of the waiting room. The tap of the briefcase was rhythmic against his hip. “Protocol for what thing?”

I locked my eyes on his. “Well, you're not going to inform Dr. Chunn and Detective Wahl that, in your expert opinion, this victim suffered from vampire bites.”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly. So what's the usual protocol?”

Walker laughed. “Nothing about this is usual, darlin'.”

“I told you, I'm not your dar—”

“You've made the assumption that because I'm a night blood, I've been in this situation before, but like I said, vampires don't leave evidence. I've never had to examine a vampire victim in an official investigative setting.”

“And it just keeps getting better and better,” I grumbled. “How the hell did Greta pick you out of all the environmental science experts in the state? What are the chances she'd hire a night blood?”

Walker cut me a sharp look. “Just one of many questions, darlin', that probably won't get answered today.”

 

Nine gurneys filled the examination room, eight of which had sheets covering bodies I assumed were the victims from Paerdegat Park. The sheets on the ninth gurney covered something that had the shape of a human head and chest, but the sheet dropped against the bed where it should have flattened over the abdomen. A metal basin had been placed on a table next to that bed. I would be examining both in a moment, and the inevitability of looking into that basin made my heart pound harder.

Greta and Dr. Chunn glanced up from their conversation when we entered. Dr. Chunn was my height. I liked her a little more knowing I wasn't the only five-foot flat woman in the room. She was very slender. Her thick-framed, black glasses seemed severe on her delicate, heart-shaped face, and her hair was cut pixie short. She styled it with the top a little longer than the sides, the closest she could get to being punk and still wear a lab coat.

“Always good to see you, G, despite the circumstances,” I said, forcing a mask of cocky bravado over my anxiety with a smirk. “Thanks for the call.”

Greta frowned at me, but the corners of her lips twitched. “No one likes a smug reporter.”

“No one likes a reporter, smug or not, but when you're right, you're right.”

She sighed. “I hate that you were right.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“No, you're not,” Greta said. “The two of you are obviously well acquainted by now,” she said, gesturing at Walker and me.

Walker nodded. “Yes, ma'am, lobby conversation is becoming quite the pastime.”

I tried not to blush and failed. I could feel the heat flame over my cheeks.

Greta looked from me to Walker and back to me again. She raised an eyebrow. “Dr. Susanna Chunn, I'd like you to meet Ian Walker, environmental science expert, and Cassidy DiRocco, reporter for the
Sun Accord
and my personal friend.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ma'am,” Walker said, shaking hands.

I shook Dr. Chunn's hand and asked, “Why are there nine bodies? I thought we only recovered five from the scene.”

“Four of the seven live victims from the scene died at the hospital,” Dr. Chunn answered.

I groaned. “How are the survivors doing? Has anyone spoken to them?”

Greta nodded. “Of the remaining three, one hasn't regained consciousness, but she's expected to make a full recovery. The other two can't recall a single detail of the attack. The woman only incurred minor lacerations, but her memory is just as compromised as the other victim, who suffered moderate head trauma. The doctors claim that her memory loss could be triggered by shock. Other than Paerdegat Park, her record is spotless, so fortunately for her, but unfortunately for this case, I agree with the doctors. She wasn't involved. In any event, both conscious victims have given us zip in terms of leads, which leaves us with nothing but bodies.”