“Then tell the truth.”
Talia gulped, tasting death on her tongue. “I didn’t do this.”
“All the vampires say that.”
“Wasn’t this your doing?”
“I don’t hunt humans. I go for bigger game.”
The statement made her shiver. His hand was bloody where she’d cut him, but he didn’t smell like food. Not human, but nothing she recognized. The realization came like an extra jolt of electricity. What the hell is he?
“Then why are you here? Who are you?” She struggled to sit up, awkward because her arms were pinned behind her back. He pressed the Ruger hard against her skin, but she barely noticed.
“Who is your sire?” he demanded.
Talia clamped her mouth shut. His dark, angry gaze locked with hers. It wasn’t the cold stare of so many killers she’d known. His eyes were hot with emotion, a righteous, remorseless fury.
“Who made you?” His voice grated with anger.
Talia blinked hard, her heart giving another jerking thump of fright. “No, please, if you send me back to my sire, I’ll be lucky if he only kills me.”
“That’s what happens when a vampire goes rogue.”
Now she was starting to sob, ugly little gasps that caught in her throat. “You can’t send me back. I didn’t kill her. I loved Michelle.” She was begging, and put every ounce of her soul into it, holding his dark, burning stare.
A crease formed between his eyebrows. “Damn you.”
The wail of a police siren ripped the night. Were they coming for Michelle’s murder, or was there another tragedy tonight?
Lore pressed the muzzle of the gun like a cold kiss against her forehead. “I don’t trust you. I can’t tell if you’re the killer or not. But I believe you’re afraid of your sire.”
Her mouth had gone paper dry. “What are you going to do?”
His mouth thinned as if he didn’t like the question. He looked her up and down, all that anger turning to a smoldering frustration. Talia could almost feel it heating her skin.
“The human police will assume you’re guilty and look no further. I’ll give you a choice. Take your chances with them, or . . . ” He trailed off, clearly mulling over his next words.
“Or?” The single syllable came out in a croak.
“Or you’re my prisoner. Take your pick.”
Chapter 6
Tuesday, December 28, 11:00 p.m.
101.5 FM
“Hello, and welcome back to CSUP in the nighttime hours, with your host Errata Jones. Tonight we’re talking love amongst the monsters—especially between the monsters and everyone else.
“One of the best-known stories of unrequited love was found in that good old classic, Dracula. I have it on good authority what happened was nothing like the book, but then where’s the surprise in that? History is usually written by the winner. If Mina and Drac found true love—well, that’s not the story her wimpy human husband wanted to spread far and wide.
“But the truth isn’t hard to find. Think about it: Who was the crazy one in the story? The wealthy vampire making real estate investments, or the wacky Dutch doctor with his black bag of fetish objects and torture devices?
“In other words, context is everything. Before you judge a villain or a hero and especially your lover, it’s a good idea to understand his or her motives.”
Tuesday, December 28, 11:00 p.m.
Talia’s condo
I can always get away.
Talia’s mind was still reeling with shock, with grief, but her father’s lessons came back to her with the cold, hard pragmatism of long training. Drill long enough, and anything could become reflex. Even the art of escape.
It was a desperate gamble, but she’d take her chances with a lone gunman—even this bruiser—over the human police. Humans weren’t strong, but there were too damned many of them. Besides, so far she’d kept out of their data banks. Once you were in their computers, Unlife got infinitely more complicated.
On the other hand, a single attacker couldn’t watch her every second. Until Lore got her to his den of thieves, or spy central, or resistance cell, or wherever the heck he operated from, she had a window of opportunity to break free.
Or so she hoped. He wasn’t letting her stray an inch, keeping a hard grip on her arm. Talia made the trip down the stairs with the Ruger pressed into her ribs and her hands wrenched behind her back, wrists cuffed. The position made her shoulders ache.
It was awkward going, step-by-step, Lore never letting her get more than half a pace ahead. Their feet shuffled and echoed as they passed from landing to landing, neither speaking a word—Talia because she refused to let her voice show her fear. That just turned some bastards on.
Lore was letting the Ruger do his talking for him. Man, she hated the strong, silent, carry-the-big-gun type. Worse, she was fairly sure he wasn’t short on brains. Silent didn’t mean stupid. In his case, she was willing to bet the opposite.
The fluorescent lights in the stairwell hummed and flickered, the harsh glare showing every gum wrapper, every bit of chipped paint. She was starting to get dizzy from staring down so many identical flights of stairs. By her count they were halfway to the parking garage, where she would no doubt be stuffed into the trunk of a car and driven off to whatever new outrage the universe had planned.
But isn’t that what you deserve? If Michelle hadn’t taken you in, she’d still be alive. Just by being there, didn’t you murder her as surely as if you’d swung that sword yourself? And she wasn’t the first casualty, the first loved one you destroyed.
A stab of despair suddenly robbed her knees of strength. She sagged a moment, stumbling. Lore grabbed her arm and heaved her toward the sixth-floor fire-exit door.
“Where are we going?” She should demand answers, proudly rage against him, but instead her voice sounded breathy and weak. She had to fight, but she was drowning in grief.
He paused a moment to make sure the hallway was empty before marching her from the stairwell into the hall. “I’m locking you up, remember?” he muttered.
For a second, incredulity trumped everything else. “In your condo?”
“What do you want? A crypt? Sorry, not available.”
A sick fear jolted through her. Keeping a prisoner took soundproofing, locks, privacy. It wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment project.
She swallowed hard. “Keeping girls locked up is your special hobby?”
“Shut up.” He shoved her against the wall, the gun between her shoulder blades while he unlocked his door. “Don’t even think about making a noise. Vampires are hard to kill, but they still break.”
Her cheek pressed against the wallpaper, Talia gazed longingly down the hallway, willing with all her might for a neighbor to wander into view.
But no one ever rescued her. She just wasn’t that kind of girl. You’re a monster. She could feel a tear leaking down her cheek, but she didn’t dare move. Save me, save me, save me. She could hear Lore breathing, rattling keys in his left hand.
She could hear that his heartbeat was slightly fast, as if taking a captive was the exercise equivalent of a brisk walk. Her window of escape opportunity was closing fast, but there wasn’t a damned thing she could do while the Ruger was still planted firmly against her spine.
She tried to care, but all she could see in her mind’s eye was Michelle’s dead body. Why did I let her try to help me? Why couldn’t I just leave her alone?
“Consider this your formal invite.” He grabbed her above the elbow and pushed her through the door. Talia stumbled. His fingers tightened, keeping her from spilling forward. “Sorry.”