Guardian's Joy #3 Read online

  “Who attacked you?” She raised her eyebrows. “Stranger, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband? And you can save us both some time by telling the truth.” She glanced at JJ’s left hand which was bandaged to the size of a baseball mitt.

  JJ smirked and snorted in her head. You want the truth? Well you see, ma’am, in my spare time, I hunt monsters, not the beastly human kind, but the real kind and I was out scouting and came across this good looking guy, but when he saw me leaning over the body of a dead girl, he thought I killed her, but it was really a vampire who killed her because I saw him and this good looking guy, who’s also some fangy sort of fellow, with this fancy sort of name that sounded like it came from some Latin class chased me because he was going to kill me and then he caught me and held me up against the wall and, well, we’ll just skip ahead to when the monster came over the wall and I zapped it with the electric blue fire that comes off of my fingertips and then I ran. Got that or would you like me to repeat it? JJ felt hysterical laughter welling up inside and she stuffed it back down.

  “I already told the nurse what happened,” she said instead.

  The woman pursed her lips over to the side. Her “Humph” said exactly what she thought of the story JJ gave the nurse. She pointed her pen at the broken wrist.

  “That’s a spiral fracture, honey. Somebody twisted your arm. Your face is bruised and you look like you’ve been dragged though shit. You didn’t get that way falling on the ice.”

  JJ caught herself just before she rolled her eyes. How many times had she seen a perp do the same thing? “Look, it’s pretty simple. I lost my footing on the ice when I was getting in my car. I guess I didn’t let go of the handle when I fell and twisted and landed in a pile of glass at the curb. Maybe I hit my face when I fell. God knows what I rolled in when I was picking myself up out of the gutter.”

  The woman jotted a few notes on her clip board before looking up. “No, you look. It doesn’t matter how you earn your living. No one has the right to do this to you. It’s a crime. I don’t care what you’ve heard; no john has the right…”

  “John? You think I’m a …?”

  This was rich. The woman thought she was in the life, a prostitute. JJ shook her head. Once again, she was way over dressed and had she ever seen a hooker wearing utility boots? The laughter, this time painful laughter, bubbled up again. Her sex life had been bone dry for three years, though she’d never been that good at it anyway and so far she hadn’t really missed it. How ironic that this woman thought she peddled it for a living.

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it,” she said, “Now, are they going to cast this fucking thing or do I just go home and wrap it myself.”

  “Fine,” the woman huffed. “I have other people to see who really want help.” She reached into the pocket of her baggy purple cardigan and pulled out a card, checked both sides and handed it to JJ. “If you ever change your mind or need a way out, call that number. They’ll help you.”

  The social worker gathered her things and left as quickly as she’d come.

  JJ checked the card, front and back, as the social worker did. It was for an R and R, not rest and relaxation, but recovery and retraining. She’d dropped more than one pro at its doors.

  They wanted to take more X-rays, of her head this time, ‘just to be safe’, but she refused.

  “My head is fine. Just fix the damn wrist and let me get out of here.”

  Her arm was cast by a young, earnest looking intern who patted her hand when he finished.

  “You be careful out there,” he said.

  JJ nodded her thanks. Yep, cops, prostitutes and monster hunters, you be careful out there.

  It took her forever to drive home. She was so tired her eyes were crossed and she couldn’t get the car out of second gear. It was too damn painful and she couldn’t wait to get home to take the painkillers she’d refused at the hospital.

  She used her teeth to open the stapled bag as soon as she reached the kitchen only to find the idiots had sealed them in child-proof bottles. She wanted to scream, but instead, wedged the three bottles, one at a time, between two butter knives and smashed them open with a hammer from the junk drawer. Bits of brown plastic and pills scattered everywhere. She didn’t know what pills belonged to which bottle, so she took two of each, went back to the living room, wiggled out of her pants and vest and fell onto the sofa, where she covered herself with the afghan that was always draped over the back because she was always so cold.

  JJ settled herself against one of the sofa’s matching pillows, closed her eyes and found two eyes staring back; his eyes, with the tiny flecks of silver in the hazel of the iris, the crinkles in the corner from strain or worry. They couldn’t be laugh lines. He was too serious for those. His lashes were thick, thicker than hers when she piled on the mascara. Why did men have all the luck? His brows were full and straight; serious brows for a serious face.

  His teeth were straight, too, and sparkling white like when you first walked out of the dentist’s. Did Paenitentia go to the dentist? She giggled a little. She liked his teeth. Okay, face it, she liked the whole package. Without the fangs and the bulging hardness, the guy was hot. With them, he was super-hot.

  Whoa. She tried to lift up from the pillow, but her head was too damn heavy. Must be the drugs. Must be the drugs that were talking in her head, too, and she didn’t like where this conversation was going.

  Okay, so she found him sexually attractive. It was nothing more than a visceral reaction and was only surprising because she’d been without those kinds of thoughts for so long. It had to be some kind of vampire whammy. Or maybe it was the drugs.

  JJ yawned. It was all moot anyway. She’d never see this guy again. In a city this size…

  The cat leapt to the sofa to curl up at JJ’s feet and kept watch while the young woman slept.

  *****

  “The facility was not as secure as we hoped, Sir.”

  Salvador held the phone out from his ear while the High Lord ranted on the other end. This whole operation had been a disaster waiting to happen from the moment he arrived, a cluster fuck of incompetence.

  “If you remember, Father, I suggested at the very beginning the operation should remain within the confines of the Sanctuary.” He winced. “Yes, Sir, I realize money is important.”

  Salvador wanted to lay the law down with that prissy Director from the beginning. The man needed to learn who was in charge. But he was ordered to tread softly. The movement needed money and Director ad Doren had plenty to spare as well as access to others who had plenty more.

  “Witnesses?” Shit. He hadn’t planned to mention that. The High Lord must have someone else reporting. “There was only one to the test subject, a woman. The Guardian arrived after the subject escaped. Yes Sir, it’ll be in my report. Yes Sir, I’ll see to it.”

  Salvador clicked his phone shut, lifted his foot and shoved the small table in front of him across the room. The High Lord had a spy in the lab, one who thought it necessary to report the woman who shot lightning from her fingers. He’d have to re-interview the guard who saw it. The man claimed to have only glimpsed the event while chasing down the subject, the subject he had allowed to escape. Why then, had he repeated it to someone else?

  The woman with the blue lightning was a distraction the High Lord didn’t need. It would lead to the same place the other reports had led; nowhere. She was an old wound that never properly healed and some dumb fuck had just picked off the scab. Now it would be Salvador’s job to bandage it back up.

  If the witch woman found out, she wouldn’t be happy about it either. Salvador knew she had great plans for their triumphant return. She thought the High Lord would finally take notice and place her by his side. Salvador knew it wouldn’t happen. The High Lord liked his meat younger and tenderer, but that was a problem to be dealt with later.

  Chapter 6

  “It wasn’t a demon.”

  All heads at the table snapped up at Canaan’s words. He
’d refused to talk about his day at Moonlight Sanctuary until after supper, when they’d all adjourned to the War Room, so christened because of Nardo’s bank of computer terminals and the large conference table around which they all sat. Enlarged street maps of the city lined the walls.

  “Murder? By a human? Could that happen?” Dov looked around the table for confirmation.

  “Of course it could,” Col answered. “Remember that time the snatcher grabbed Mom’s purse. If he’d had a knife…” He shrugged.

  “When was this?” asked Canaan, momentarily distracted. The twins’ mother was his sister.

  Dov waved his hand. “Long time ago. Took her two blocks to run him down. Beat the crap out of him and took her purse back.” He laughed. “Don’t mess with Mom.”

  “I really, really want to meet this woman,” Grace whispered to Hope sitting beside her. “I’ve only talked to her on the phone.”

  Canaan nodded at Dov, but he didn’t laugh. He addressed the table again.

  “We don’t think it was a human murder either. It was one of us. We may have ourselves a vampire.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Do we know who it is?” This was Broadbent, quietly tamping tobacco into his pipe. “Surely someone would have reported a turning in the family.”

  “Why? Canaan didn’t,” Dov waved at Uncle Otto who sat at the far end, “At least not until he had you contained.”

  Canaan stared out across the table, took a deep breath and slowly let it out between clenched teeth. “Dov ad Willem, you will not speak again unless it is to acknowledge orders. Are we clear?”

  “Okay, sorry.” Dov slumped in his chair.

  Canaan continued to stare. “Are. We. Clear?”

  He didn’t shout, but the room seemed to reverberate with his voice. Everyone sat up a little straighter, Dov much straighter than the others.

  “I serve at my Liege Lord’s command,” Dov said, his voice loud and his face red. He’d gone too far with his clowning.

  “Could be he’s a loner, an Independent. Could be his family doesn’t know or doesn’t want to admit,” the Liege Lord continued as if the interruption hadn’t occurred.

  “He’s from the Sanctuary, my lord. You know it. I know it. They know it.” Nico’s face was hard and his teeth were clenched, but when his mate, Hope, reached over to pat his hand affectionately, he visibly calmed.

  Hope was tall for a human woman and buxom with a narrow waist and broad hips. She wore plain dresses and had an abundance of dark auburn hair that fell to her waist on its rare release from the tightly controlled bun at the back of her head. A year ago, no one would have matched her with the suave, unsmiling Nico, but they’d clearly been mistaken. You could practically see his batteries charge every time he looked at her and her shy smile and blushing cheeked response told a story all its own.

  “Go on Canaan. We’re listening,” she said quietly.

  “There’s nothing to prove the vampire originated in Moonlight Sanctuary or if it’s a vampire at all for that matter.” He raised his hand to halt Nico’s protest. “Hell’s damnation, will you let me finish. Yes, the wounds were consistent with a vampire attack and yes, there was a definite feeling at the Sanctuary that they weren’t telling us everything, but that doesn’t mean they’re protecting him. Their pride may be getting in the way of good sense. They have their own police force out there, such as it is, and those guys resent the hell out of our being called in.”

  “They were insulting,” Nico snarled. “They offered you a cell in which to spend the day.”

  Ah, Nardo thought, and there lies the source of Nico’s anger. The sophisticated Guardian, with his expensive clothes and dark, Eastern European good looks, was usually a model of control and diplomacy. It was the insult to his Liege Lord that set him off. He was close to Canaan in age and abilities. Discipline and loyalty made him a natural to serve as Canaan’s Second. His blood bond with Hope almost guaranteed he would remain part of the family well beyond the three years of his pledged service. This was the only House that allowed its Guardians to keep their women within its walls and Nardo couldn’t see his comrade going anywhere without his mate.

  “We weren’t exactly dressed for dinner,” Canaan laughed.

  Nico started to protest, but Grace interrupted.

  “What did you mean when you said if it’s a vampire at all? Can’t you tell?” she asked.

  “There was too much blood,” he explained, “A vampire would have drained her dry. And there were other things…” He looked apologetically at Otto who sat quietly at the other end of the table, holding the hand of his mate, Manon.

  Uncle Otto nodded in acknowledgement of Canaan’s consideration and motioned with his free hand to continue.

  “Non, Mon Coeur,” Manon stopped him, “This isn’t necessary.”

  “It is, my love. The girls need to know.” Otto smiled to reassure her. “There’s no secret to what I was, what I am.”

  The baby monitor that sat between two computer stations issued the soft rustle of someone moving and Hope jumped up.

  “She’s awake. I need to go.”

  Broadbent was already on his feet and motioning her to sit. “I think it more important that you be here. Uncomfortable subjects should only be spoken of once. I shall get her a glass of milk and a plate of that delicious shortbread and Faith and I will continue with chapter six of “Sense and Sensibility”. I think she’s enjoying Miss Austin. Have no fear. I will summon you straight away if you’re needed.”

  “Sit, precious. Faith will be in good hands,” Nico added.

  Faith had been held been held captive by a demon who had devastated her body and her mind. Through gentle care and good nutrition, her body had recovered. Unfortunately, she was still largely unresponsive. She followed commands to eat, drink, or attend to personal hygiene, but never did these things of her own accord. Hope’s days revolved around her sister’s care and she became a tigress defending her cub if anyone disturbed Faith’s carefully controlled world.

  The group sat in silence, watching the monitor until they heard the professor’s cheerful greeting and the unit at his end click off. Canaan cleared his throat.

  “The Sanctuary physician isn’t cooperating, but we think the girl was sexually molested. It’s not uncommon. When the bloodlust strikes, most of the turned will seek to satisfy other lusts as well. Rape is part of the pattern.”

  The men at the table stared straight ahead, their faces blank. Hope shrank down in her seat and clutched at Nico’s hand.

  “Non, non! It wasn’t thus with Otto,” Manon pleaded, her French accent more pronounced than usual. “Tell them, Otto, please. Tell them it was not so with you.”

  Otto leaned forward on his elbows and tented his face with his hands. His thumbs were braced on his cheeks and his fingers rubbed his temples in slow, even circles. When he spoke through the gap between his palms, his voice was quiet and firm.

  “I don’t remember much of those first days, only the constant thirst. I killed two while in the Blood Rage and would have killed a third if Canaan hadn’t stopped me. All three were men and I’ve never bent that way. Maybe it was that or maybe it was because I was blood bound to Manon.” He breathed deeply and let it slowly out on a sigh of resignation. “But maybe, it was only because the opportunity never presented itself. I’ll never know.”

  “Well I know, Uncle Otto,” Grace said confidently. “The day we met, you were in a blood rage. You didn’t want to hurt me. You only wanted blood and not my blood, I might add. You’re a good man, Otto ad Timmson, and no one will ever make me believe differently.” The fierce look she gave each person sitting at the table dared them to contradict her. “Turning vampire is an infection of insanity, a curse. What you did, you did while you were crazed and someday you’ll have to answer for that, but it won’t be me that condemns you. None of us will.”

  None of them could. Being Guardians increased their chances of violent death and it was violent death that trigge
red the turn to vampirism. Otto had been one of them and it was in battle he was turned. It was a constant threat both they and their women had to live with.

  Canaan gave a nod and the meeting broke up. Everyone started heading for the door.

  “Wait,” Nardo called the others back, “We’re not finished. It was a vampire. There was a witness,” he confessed. He told them about the leather clad woman.

  “She stood out from the pack. She was standing on a chair looking out over the crowd. That’s the first thing I missed. She was hunting for someone, something. I should have seen that right away.” He wouldn’t tell them he was too busy checking out those long legs to pay attention to what she was actually doing.

  “That’s not fair, Nardo. Don’t do this to yourself,” Grace cut in. “I don’t think anyone here would find it noteworthy to see someone on a crowded dance floor using a chair to look over the crowd. I imagine it happens a lot.”

  “Hey, girls are asking to climb up on my shoulders all the time at those things. How were you supposed to know this one wasn’t looking for a lost boyfriend?” Col agreed.

  “She was overdressed. Dov mentioned it before we went in and I noticed it, but didn’t ask myself why, in a place like that, she was wearing leather.” Instead of wondering what she would look like without it.

  “You noticed a girl with too many clothes on?” Dov shook his head sadly. “You really do need to get out more.” He saw Canaan frown and shrank back in his chair.

  Nardo told them about seeing her leaning over the body, chasing her between the warehouses and cornering her. He didn’t tell them about the stalking; his attempt to terrorize her.

  “She thought I was a vampire.” He watched their eyes widen. “I was angry, okay? I thought she was the killer. She said it was one of us, a vampire I mean, who killed the girl. She interrupted the kill, that’s probably why there was so much blood.” He explained how he covered her when the demon came over the wall.