Embrace the Night (4 page)

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Authors: Crystal Jordan

BOOK: Embrace the Night
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Even if it wasn't the All-Magickal Council as a whole, they could have gone to the Fae's Seelie Court, or the Elven Assembly, or the Witch Coven, or even to powerful individual families like the Standishes. Politically dangerous or not, Chloe had picked the Vampire Conclave for two reasons: they had the most money, and they had the technology and experience needed to work with Magickal diseases. Desmodus Industries had patented a serum vamps drank to manage their need to feed. They still sucked blood, but it helped them in a way that Chloe hoped her formula would help werewolves.
Selina frowned. “It seems odd that a vampire would be willing to go to bat for a werewolf project, even if he was sleeping with you.”
Yeah, no kidding.
Chloe fought the urge to snort. It was like being hard-core conservative and screaming liberal in the Normal world. The two sides just never met. There was no common ground between them, and any ground they'd ever shared was blood-soaked from feuding. Except for the obvious abilities instilled by a Magickal virus, the cultures that had developed for each species were diametrically opposed.
The project Chloe had initiated was the first time, for as long as their very long records spanned, that they had set aside their differences for any reason. That someone working on the project had been murdered was bad for more than just Damien. If this project crumbled, it could put the two races at loggerheads. It would drag other races into the mix. It would just be bad for everyone. No, scratch
bad,
it would be catastrophic.
A sardonic smile curved her lips. “It wasn't the sex that convinced Damien. I appealed to his ego. Imagine not only the prestige of being on the team that broke through this formula, but the accolades afforded to someone making peacekeeping strides for the whole Magickal world.”
The detective blinked. “Sounds too good to be true.”
Chloe flicked dismissive fingers. “It's the same argument Damien used to convince his superiors, to convince the Conclave. My aunt and I convinced the rest of the Council, including the werewolf pack leaders, to back the project.”
“Your aunt.” It was obvious Selina knew who Chloe was related to. Then again, you couldn't be Magickal in Seattle and not know the Standish name. They'd helped settle Magickals in America back in colonial days and had come West during the gold rush. There'd been a Standish on the All-Magickal Council in this city since the day the Council was founded. “Mildred Standish.”
“Aunt Millie, yes. She's actually my great-great aunt, but she doesn't like to be reminded of that.” For the first time, Chloe relaxed. No matter how bad this got, Millie would always be there to help her. The Standish family stood together against outsiders, and Millie led the local coven and represented the witch race on the Council. She had more than enough clout to fix any mess. A sigh eased past Chloe's lips, and she surreptitiously wiped her clammy palms off on her skirt.
Selina's gaze swept over her again, assessing and reassessing. “You're quite the mover and shaker.”
“Coming from the Standish family has a lot of duties and strings attached. Lots of expectation. But it also affords me influence most people my age wouldn't dream of having. The least I can do is use it to try to help my friends, lobby for causes I believe in. So I did.” Her shoulder dipped in a shrug, a wry grin curving her mouth. She waved a hand around the interrogation room. “And here I am.”
“Here you are,” Selina agreed.
 
“Son of a bitch,” he breathed. Merek closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the glass of the two-way mirror in the observation room. It had to be her. Of course, it had to be. It wasn't his memory he'd seen in Raines's apartment, but a vision of the actual Chloe who had actually dated the vampire. She'd been there before. He was damn grateful he hadn't “seen” her fucking the other man. His gut burned at the thought.
“What's up?” An FBI agent stood beside him, hands in pockets. Agent Rogers.
Merek already didn't like him. As soon as Selina was done, this asshole was yanking the case away from them. He was just seeing what Merek's partner could pull from their suspect. Why the FBI was interested, Merek didn't know. Likely, he would never know. It rankled, but he set that aside and refocused on the interrogation room.
The expression in those wide hazel eyes kicked him in the solar plexus. It was trapped, nervous, worried. Scared. He'd never wanted to see such vulnerability on her face. He'd seen her passionate, joyful, her eyes reflecting a wicked greed that made his blood heat to remember it. He didn't like seeing her afraid.
He cleared his throat and glanced away from Chloe to the man beside him. “I'm afraid I can't help in this situation.”
“No?” The slight points to Rogers's ears declared him an elf, but the officious tone was pure red tape bureaucrat. One of Merek's least favorite kind of people. “Why is that, Detective Kingston?”
“I can't read her. It happens occasionally.” It wasn't strictly true, but he'd be damned if he admitted anything to this pencil-pushing prick.
Because the truth was enough to break him out in cold sweat. The
only
people Merek couldn't read were those who would have the deepest impact on his life. Sometimes that meant a close friend or a lover . . . It had definitely included his wife and his parents. And look where that had landed all of them. In the morgue. Because when they'd been in danger, when it had really mattered, Merek hadn't been able to do shit to help them. He hadn't known about it, hadn't sensed a thing. His powers were fallow when it came to them—the only time his abilities could truly rest, the only time he didn't have to tightly leash his precognition.
A light knock sounded on the door to the observation room. Merek didn't even bother to look away from the scene before him. “Come on in, Cavalli.”
“You know, having a creepy sense of who's nearby is supposed to be the purview of howlers and bloodsuckers.” The tall vampire shut the door and settled his shoulder against the wall beside it, crossing his arms over his chest as he, too, watched Selina question Chloe.
Merek flicked his gaze over the other man and grinned. Cavalli was tall, taller than Merek's six foot three by at least an inch, maybe two. He was whipcord lean, dark haired, dark eyed, olive complexioned, and other than the soul patch decorating his chin, he looked like he'd just stepped out of a catalog for Armani. Or a corporate meeting for a Fortune 500 company. Family money. Vampire money. The kind of man that oozed centuries of charm, good breeding, good looks, excess income, and had women crawling all over him.
Merek arched an eyebrow. “Should I even bother to ask what brings you down to the pedestrian side of law enforcement ?”
The vampire snorted. “What? Your precog doesn't tell you every little detail of why I'm here?”
Focusing on the other man, Merek tried to get a better bead on the situation. He might not be able to read Chloe, but Cavalli shouldn't be a problem. Images flashed in his mind, future events, past events, shadowy possibilities, crystal clear certainties. The threads that connected to Luca Cavalli's near future hit a blank wall, full stop. There didn't seem to be any getting around his inability to read Chloe's future. Merek rubbed his forehead and sighed. “This isn't just about Damien Raines's death.”
“Got it in one.”
“Do I even want to know what interest the FBI's Magickal Crimes Unit has in one little scientist?” He shot the vampire a narrow-eyed look.
Cavalli pushed away from the wall, opened the door, and waved an elegant hand at the pencil pusher. “Agent Rogers, thank you so much for looking in on this case for me, but I think my team can handle things from here.”
An ugly flush mottled the little man's face, and his mouth moved stiffly when he spoke. “Of course, sir. Good luck.”
Merek turned back to the interrogation room to hide his smirk. The bureaucrat didn't like when someone else pulled rank on him, did he? Served him right. Merek slid his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as Cavalli shut the door behind the other agent. “So . . . care to share? Off the record, of course.”
“Of course.” The vampire grinned, and a bit of fang showed. “The murder was only the start of something we think is much bigger.”
If it wasn't personal issues that motivated the murder, then it was professional. “Something about the werewolf project both of them are working on.”
“Yes.” Cavalli sighed and copied Merek's pose, hands in pockets, half his attention on Chloe's questioning and half on the conversation at hand. “I just got back from Desmodus Industries. The third lead in their project—Ivan Nemov—didn't show up to work today. He hasn't missed a single day for the entire length of the project—no vacation, not even a sick day.”
Obsessed, just as Chloe had said. “That's more information than they gave us about anything.”
“I'm a vampire.” That elegant wave again. “They're owned by the Conclave.”
Merek grunted. “What else?”
With a tired sigh, Cavalli shrugged. “Maybe nothing. Someone tried to hack your little scientist's project files . . . unsuccessfully, but that's apparently not unusual when a company is involved in multi-billion dollar research. My tech geniuses are impressed with Desmodus's encryption and security.”
Which also fit with the information Chloe had revealed in her interview. “Why kill Dr. Raines if they're just wanting access to the research?”
“Hell if I know,” Cavalli's voice roughened, showing a hint of the Italian accent of the vampire's homeland. “What I do know is that this is involved with Leonard Smith and his network.”
The blood froze in Merek's veins, and the hair rose on the back of his neck. No one in Magickal law enforcement hadn't heard that name. The werewolf terrorist had been trying to start a revolution in pack politics—hell,
all
Magickal politics—for the better part of a century. Rumor was he had people planted in every Magickal branch of every government agency. With the number of times he'd slipped between their fingers, Merek wouldn't be surprised if that rumor were true.
And somehow, someway, Chloe was now involved with one of the most wanted men alive.
Merek's stomach did a slow pitch and roll. “Shit.”
“Yeah, that was my thought, too.” The fangs were fully bared this time, and pure predatory hunter flashed in the vampire's eyes.
“How does she figure into this?” Merek didn't want to ask the question, didn't want the answer. He'd thought of her too often in the last couple of months, and his mind absolutely rebelled at thinking she might be the only person left standing on the project's R & D team for a reason. A cop couldn't help but be a cynic, and while he knew the possibility was there, he damn well didn't want to consider it, which wasn't like him. He didn't like his knee-jerk reactions to this woman.
The vampire cast a glance in his direction, but he avoided it. “We don't think she has any ties with Smith, if that's what you're asking. The woman is squeaky clean, and a Standish witch on top of that. More likely the connection is this missing Nemov werewolf. He's fanatical, spent every waking moment since his wife died trying to find a way to manage lycanthropy. His coworkers say he's constantly pushing things faster than their regulations can go, gets irate about red tape.” Cavalli nodded toward Chloe. “As far as we know, she just happens to be working on a project that Smith wants to control.”
“If they haven't
found
a treatment yet . . .
shit.
” They'd found a treatment or were close enough to it that someone—maybe Nemov—jumped the gun. Gods, but a treatment for lycanthropy. What werewolf wouldn't give damn near anything to be rid of the life-threatening aspects of the disease? And that was why Smith had to want it. With that drug, he could trump every leader of every pack on the planet, create total revolution or anarchy, if he wanted. The idea of rampaging werewolves unchecked by the packs and the All-Magickal Council sent a shudder through Merek. Smith could be more powerful than any one person should ever be.
“My techs have confirmed the company files were not accessed. Because Smith couldn't get the files, he appears to have gone the human route. So. We have to assume Smith got the information he wanted, what with Nemov unaccounted for and Raines dead.... Dr. Standish is the only thing standing between Smith and the lycanthropy treatment.”
A hot burst of relief ran through Merek that he hadn't been fixating on someone who'd sell out to a terrorist cell, but the thought that she was the only one between Leonard Smith and what he wanted turned that hot burst to a frigid chill.
“We're putting her in protective custody, of course. The last thing we want is Smith getting his hands on her, but the fact that we know he wants her so badly could prove very useful to us. I'll exploit any advantage I can get.” Cavalli ran a finger down his little soul patch. “One of my men—Peyton—is handling arrangements for her now.”

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