Lycan Unleashed (7 page)

“What sort of business,” Mason shot back.

“The private kind,” Isaiah said, voice still full of good humor. The vampire, it would seem, was not easy to anger. A good quality, I supposed, in a professional killer.

The conversation faded around me as I focused more closely on my other senses. Isaiah’s power proved as staggering as I’d expected. And I had the sudden urge to put him in a room with the Magister just so I could determine who was more powerful.

I closed my eyes as his aura rolled around me, and I could hear the voices that had faded to murmurs, pause. Mason touched my shoulder. I glanced at him and there were questions in his eyes. “I’m fine,” I muttered, and then I closed my eyes again. Not something I’d normally do with a powerful vampire assassin in the room with me, but I trusted Mason to keep me safe.

I only knew one other vampire who I’d match against Luc—and I knew that Claude had his own reasons for staying in Chicago and serving the Magister. But I wondered why Isaiah didn’t run his own little vampire world somewhere. A certain amount of vampire standing was gained through politicking, but much could be gained with pure brute strength.

And Isaiah had plenty of it.

I took a deep breath and wiped my brow against the arm of my jacket. Sweat coated my forehead and built between my breasts and down my back. A consequence of ignoring my body’s order to run from Isaiah’s aura of fear.

Could Isaiah be the owner of the coin that had gone missing from evidence? He certainly possessed the power to so fully coat the coin, but then, most vampires could have done the same if they had held onto it long enough. Nothing about his aura was particularly familiar, but that didn’t mean much. Despite what I’d told Mason, I couldn’t identify the killer from that power signature. It hadn’t really felt any more specific than a vampire who carried a hefty fear aura.

I wanted to yell in frustration. I’d hoped for his signature to be familiar, at least. It would give me something to tell Mason, something to make my lie into the truth.

But I had zilch. And after tonight, Mason was going to know I’d lied.

“I’ve heard that you’ve had a bit of trouble holding on to your evidence,” Isaiah was saying as I picked back up on the conversation. He smiled at me, and my stomach clenched and my breath came faster. It took everything I had not to back out into the hall and run away from the vampire in front of me. The smile was like that of a shark, and it disappeared quickly.

Mason stiffened and took a single short step to his side, placing himself slightly between Isaiah and me. “I’m sure we don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mason said, a warning in his voice.

Isaiah continued, as if he hadn’t noticed the tension the lycan now emanated. “An unfortunate loss, that coin.”

“What do you know about it?” Mason asked.

I forced my expression to stay even, but I almost started at Mason’s admission. But pretending the coin didn’t exist wouldn’t get us anywhere. The vampire obviously had sources of information, either with the police or more likely in the local vamp community.

Isaiah’s gaze flashed to me before returning to Mason. “I’ve heard things—rumors. Managing things so recklessly, you’re lucky no one has gotten hurt.” A slight grin touched his lips. “Then again, your investigation is still young. And I suppose accidents are inevitable in your line of work.” Again, his gaze slid to me. It was subtle, but the threat was as clear as if he’d slid his finger across his throat, in a macabre imitation of a knife.

Mason shoved Isaiah against the wall, his forearm under the vampire’s neck, and their faces only inches apart. I blinked at them before reaching for my gun. I’d known that lycans were fast—even in their fully human form—but I hadn’t known they were
that
fast.

“Was that some kind of fucking threat, you undead piece of shit?” Mason’s hard voice was low and controlled, despite his words. “Because you look at her again with a threat on your tongue and I will rip your fucking head off.”

I gaped at his words, and my hand found nothing. Shit. I didn’t have a sidearm. Great. All I could do was stand and stare and pretend that I had a holster on my back. Doing my best to smooth my expression, I hoped I looked convincingly unaffected and ready to pull my weapon at any second.

But neither man seemed to remember I was in the room, and as the seconds ticked by, the tension was so thick it choked me. The power rolled off them, mixing with the violence to create a room set to explode.

I couldn’t think about what Mason had said and what it might mean, but the possibilities kicked my heart rate up a notch. And looking at the dead, deep eyes of the vampire, the professional killer who had murdered his own kind for years, I wasn’t entirely sure which side would come out on top if it came down to it.

I had to diffuse the anger, before the balance tipped. “Thank you for answering our questions, Isaiah,” I said in the most civil and disinterested voice I could manage. “We’ll be in touch. It would be best if you didn’t leave town for a few days.”

Like the fuse fizzling out on a bomb, the tension dissipated, and Mason released the vampire.

Chapter Six

“W
ell?” Mason asked when we were safely in his SUV.

“Can we talk when we get to my place, please?” I rubbed my temples and wished that I was just asking in order to postpone the inevitable, but the power and menace rolling off of that vamp had been overwhelming, especially with Mason’s energy jockeying for my attention. Trying to push it away to actually pay attention to the conversation and then jump back into the swirl in the inane hope of matching Isaiah to the coin had given me a splitting headache.

“Sure,” Mason said.

“And I’m bringing my personal sidearm from now on.” If Mason wasn’t going to bring up the close call we’d just had, neither was I. But I’d be damned if I’d go in to question a suspect like Isaiah without a gun again. Legality be damned.

Mason grunted his agreement.

I pulled a small bottle of Advil from my purse and tossed a couple in my mouth. I chewed them, an old trick to make them work faster, but the taste made me grimace. Part of me wanted to ask if his reaction to what he perceived as a threat against me from Isaiah meant anything. But how did I start the conversation? And what if he would have done the same for any coworker who’d been standing in my place? The whole thing made my head pound harder.

“There’s a bottle of water in there.” Mason nodded toward the glove box. “It’s old, but unopened, so it should still be okay.”

I flipped down the glove box door and grabbed the water. I swallowed the remnants of the pills with a large gulp, thankful I didn’t have to choke them down dry.

“Thanks,” I said after I’d dislodged the crushed pieces of the pills from my throat.

“Sure.”

We drove to my townhouse in silence. Mason parked on the street in front of my building and followed me up the sidewalk to my house. But he stopped in the doorway. I turned to see his face scrunched in concentration.

“What is it?” I asked, glancing around my foyer. Nothing appeared disturbed.

“Your cat never comes out to say hello.” He shut the door.

My headache had started to fade—probably more from the time away from Isaiah’s energy than from the Advil kicking in—which left me in an almost good mood from the relief. I grinned. “Yes well, I’m sure he doesn’t particularly want to meet you. His name is Charlie. And this is his house more than mine, so you’ll have to show him some respect.”

“Respectable people have dogs, you know,” he informed me as we walked to the kitchen.

“Do they? Guess I’m not respectable.”

He just snorted and sat at my small eat-in table.

“Want something to drink?” I asked, suddenly nervous again. I couldn’t put this conversation off. There was no way to avoid Mason finding out that I’d been dishonest without lying further. And I couldn’t lie about Isaiah’s signature. If I said it was his coin, the vampire could get in trouble for something he may not have done—his past history as an assassin notwithstanding. Besides, that kind of deceit would be so morally wrong that just thinking about it made my stomach turn.

And I couldn’t tell Mason that I didn’t recognize Isaiah’s aura and still pretend that I could ID the vamp off of the coin. That would make Mason think that Isaiah definitely wasn’t responsible, which he might very well be.

I’d backed myself into a corner.

I opened my refrigerator and peered inside. “I’ve got orange juice and Coke. Or beer.”

“Beer, please.”

Of course. I grabbed a Heineken and a Coke and poured them into glasses, avoiding Mason as long as I could.

“What’s wrong, Astrid?” Mason asked.

I set his drink down and then sat in the seat next to him. His face had softened, and his concern was apparent. Crap. Of course he’d look at me like that right before he was going to be out of my life for good.

I drank a swallow of my Coke and for once wished it had something alcoholic in it. “I don’t know if Isaiah is the killer. I can’t tell.” I kept my eyes firmly affixed to the glass and tensed in preparation for the explosion I knew was coming.

Mason sipped his beer and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. When he spoke, his voice was low, but something in the air had changed. Electrified. “Because you can’t get as good a read as you thought you’d be able to, or because you knew you’d never be able to ID the killer from what you felt on that coin?”

It was a question we both already knew the answer to, and it hurt my heart that he thought enough of me to even consider the other possibility. Part of me wanted to take the out he’d given me. But I’d lied enough. “I can’t ID the owner off the aura I felt on the coin. It wasn’t distinct enough.”

“And you knew that from the beginning?” he growled.

I steeled my spine and met his gaze. “Yes.”

“So you lied to my face.”

“I omitted.”

“You omitted?” His voice rose, harsh against my ears.

I jutted my chin out. “I never actually said—”

“The hell you didn’t! Near enough.”

“I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. I lied. I deceived you on purpose. And maybe that makes me a total bitch but I don’t care.”
Talk like a lady or no one will treat you like one.
Like my mother’s rules mattered now. I was a liar, and deserved every bit of Mason’s ire.

“You don’t care?” He asked. His voice returned to a low growl, but somehow sounded even more dangerous. And filled with more anger.

“It’s my badge on the line! I had to be in on the investigation.”

He stared at me for a second, intense gaze never leaving my own, then he shook his head.

“I didn’t have a choice.” My voice thinned and I swallowed hard, dangerously close to tears. I didn’t, did I? No. I’d had to have at least some control over this. Some control over keeping my job.

“You could have told me the truth.” Voice flat, he seemed deflated. As if the anger had drained out of him.

“You wouldn’t have let me in,” I insisted. Would he? Even the possibility hadn’t occurred to me. Why would he?

He barked out a short laugh and dropped his eyes to his glass. “You don’t have any fucking idea what I’d do for you.”

My mouth dropped open, and before I could think of anything to say, he pushed up from the table and left.

S
now fell silently outside of my bedroom, adding to the ten-inch pile already on the balcony. I rolled over, pulling my down comforter closer around my neck, and met Charlie’s unblinking eyes.

I reached out and scratched his chin, and the bit of light leaking from the sliding glass doors reflected off of his black fur. “Think I messed up big time, buddy.”

Charlie yawned and his eyes closed. I sat up and glanced at the clock. One fifteen. Great. The way I was going, I’d be up the rest of the night.

Mason’s words reverberated through my mind, and despite my best efforts to sleep, my brain insisted on examining each and every potential meaning behind them. And for once, I wished for the familiarity of my mother’s voice in my head, instead of the foreignness of his voice and intent.

You don’t have any fucking idea what I’d do for you
.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? If he cared about me, why couldn’t he just say it? Why had he called our kiss a mistake, and why had he avoided me ever since? The words seemed to mean that he cared about me. A lot. But that was tough to wrap my mind around. And I was scared to think about it too much. Scared to hope. What if I was wrong? What if he meant something else entirely by those words, something more akin to the loyalty shared by cops, not the caring shared by lovers. I couldn’t take the chance. If my own family couldn’t—no, I wasn’t going there. Sure, he’d kissed me. But only once. A year ago.

Oh there’d been looks before that. Times when I would feel his gaze burning into me. But when I’d turn to look at him, his eyes would be elsewhere. I’d convinced myself that I’d imagined his interest. And we had talked, but it had been just friendly chatting. Granted, I hadn’t noticed Mason talking to others in such an easy manner, but I’d always figured it was because—unlike most of the tough macho cops I worked with—I was quiet, and maybe easier to talk to. I’d thought that simple friendliness was all it was.

Until that night.

Two days before Christmas. I’d gone outside to get a breather from the mostly oh-dub crowd at the party. Snow had covered the ground, so similar to what the outside looked like right now. His gaze had been hot against my back. I’d whipped my head around to stare at him. His eyes had reflected the moonlight that bounced up off the snow in a way only a lycan’s could and he’d closed the gap between us without a word.

Then he had kissed me.

I’d lost a bit of myself in that kiss. Maybe Mason had too.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, firmly banishing thoughts of him from my mind. My hand slid down Charlie’s fur, and the cat leaned against me. I could feel vampiric energy faintly, like seeing a flash in my peripheral vision. For a moment, I thought I’d fallen into a dream. But as Charlie purred loudly my eyes flew open.

A soft scratching sound touched my ears faintly. My stomach dropped. Someone picking the lock?

I hadn’t dreamed the vampiric energy; it was still there, on the edge of my ability to feel it. The slightest smell of burnt coffee, and shadows lurking just beyond where I could see them. If I stayed put a few more seconds, let them get closer, I might be able to determine who the vampire was. If it was one I’d met before. But if whoever was scratching at my lock got through my door, once they got in they’d be too fast for me to escape. I wouldn’t have enough time to get away.

And like a prize idiot, I’d left my gun downstairs in my car.

Charlie jumped off the bed and pattered down the hall. I opened my mouth to hiss at him to come back, but snapped it shut before a sound could escape.

A vampire would hear such a sound. Maybe. I couldn’t chance it. Charlie wasn’t one to obey orders regardless. And if I pursued him, I would undoubtedly be caught. Charlie would probably be fine. My intruder wouldn’t be interested in a pet.
I
would not be so lucky.

Blinking back tears at the thought of them hurting Charlie, I gave the room one last desperate glance before I opened the sliding glass door that led to my balcony.

Stay hidden
, I told the cat silently.

The cold air bit into my skin, which was protected only by a T-shirt and cotton shorts. The door slid quietly behind me, and I heard the click of my front door opening a split second before the sliding glass moved into place.

The first two feet of the balcony from the house were free of most of the snow piling the last foot or so, protected by a short awning in the roof. Wincing, I walked barefoot into the crisply-edged snow and stepped over the balcony. The edge was only a couple of inches between the banister and the gaping darkness to my backyard below. My toes were on fire, and I knew I’d have only minutes before they would numb. I held onto the top of the balcony with one hand and then bent down and gripped the bottom of the railing with the other. I slid my hand from the top down to grip the railing next to my other hand.

Freezing air rushed into my lungs when I took a deep breath. Was the vampire getting closer? I didn’t dare drop my concentration from what I was doing to feel out with my senses. Had he or she seen me yet? I didn’t risk a glance at the sliding glass door. Instead, I slid one foot, then the next off the railing, wincing as the wood scraped at my legs and arms. Dangling, I knew I was likely to hurt myself—even dropping from only the second story while already hanging several feet closer to the ground. But I didn’t have a choice.

I released the railing and fire bit at my inner arms as they slid against the wood. I hit the ground, crunching the snow beneath my feet. Shock rushed up through my ankles and knees. Then I slid, my feet rushed out from under me and I fell to my butt with a
whump
.

Coldness surrounded me. Panic coursed through me. Had I cried out when I hit the ground? I thought I might have. The walls in my townhouse were thick, and with the doors shut and the noise of a train passing, I hoped the vampire hadn’t heard me.

I forced myself up, thankful that the bit of snow on the ground had at least cushioned me a little, and rushed to the fence. Nothing seemed broken, and while I could feel a slight ache from my ankle, the adrenaline running through me pushed it all to the back of my awareness.

The privacy fence cut into my hands when I pulled myself over it and dropped onto the street behind my home. Where to? My mind rebelled at offering any logical location to run to, it was as if I’d forgotten the layout of my own neighborhood.

I loped toward the main street running alongside my subdivision and tried to breathe. My brain finally slowed enough for me to think. A neighbor’s house wouldn’t work. That would just put them in danger. Somewhere public and well lit would be better. The 7-11 right down the street was open twenty-four hours. I’d head there.

Somewhere along the quarter mile between me and the convenience store, my aches started to press their way through the adrenaline. My right ankle was the worst. It pulsed painfully with every heartbeat. And the cold made my whole body shiver and shake, slowing my progress.

But I couldn’t feel a vampire behind me. And I clung to that knowledge, and the bit of hope it offered. Finally, after what felt like hours—but was probably only minutes later—I found myself blinking at the bright lights of the 7-11. My haven. I trotted up to the front doors and shoved them open.

A clerk stared at me, jaw dropping. Young, she couldn’t have been far out of high school. What was she doing working the graveyard shift alone?

“Lock the front door,” I told her. When she didn’t move, I yelled, “I’m a cop. Lock that door immediately. We could both be in danger. Where’s your phone?”

My words were stilted, I couldn’t seem to talk right through the cold, but the authority in my tone, or maybe the word
cop
, pulled her out of her shock. She grabbed a cordless phone out from under the counter and handed it to me. Then the girl shuffled to the front door, hands shakily searching through a key ring while I dialed 911.