J. Robb - Dead Of Night

Once more, she switched the screen image. Now Dorian Vadim’s face filled it. “This is primary target. Unless specifically ordered or cleared, he is not to be detained or apprehended. If I can’t pull this off, we have no cause for arrest. Suit up,” she ordered. “Vests all around. Report to squad leaders for transportation to target.”

She laid a hand on her sidearm. “Let’s go kick ass.”

As she bent to check her clutch piece, Baxter tapped her shoulder.

“What?”

“Got something for you.” He held it out as she straightened.

“You’re a laugh a minute, Baxter.”

“Yeah, you gotta admit.” He gave the wooden stake an agile toss.

Because she was amused despite herself, she caught the stake in one hand, then stuck it in her belt. “Thanks.”

He blinked, then roared with laughter. “Eve Dallas, Vampire Slayer. One for the books.”

Ten

She went in alone, the way it had to be, as a cop, as a woman fighting her own demons.

She walked the now-familiar path down from the world to the underground, through the fetid tunnels with misery skulking in dirty shadows.

She’d come out of the shadows, Eve thought. So she knew what hid there, what bred there. What thrived there.

Light killed shadows, and it created them. But what loved the dark would always scuttle back from the light. Her badge had given her the light, Eve knew. Then Roarke had simply, irreversibly, blasted that light straight through her.

Nothing could pull her back again, unless she allowed it. Not the nightmares, not the memories, not whatever smear the man who’d made her had left in her blood.

What she did now, for the job, for two women, for herself, was only another way to cast the light.

She moved toward the ugly pulse of red and blue, the bone-rattling thrum of violent music.

The same bouncers flanked the arched door, and this time they sneered.

“Alone this time?”

Still moving, she kicked the one on the left solidly in the groin, smashed her elbow up and out into the bridge of the second’s nose.

“Yeah,” she said as she strode through the path they made as they stumbled back. “Just little old me.”

She walked through the jostling crowd, through the sting of smoke, the crawl of fog. Someone made the mistake of making a playful grab for her and got a boot down hard on his instep for his trouble. And she never broke stride.

She reached the steps, started up their tight curve.

She felt him first, like the dance of sharpened nails along the skin. Then he was there, standing at the top of the stairs, mists swirling dramatically around him.

“Lieutenant Dallas, you’re becoming a regular. No escort tonight?”

“I don’t need an escort.” She stopped on the step below him, knowing it gave him the superior ground. “But I’d like some privacy.”

“Of course. Come with me.” He held out a hand.

She placed hers in it, fought off a jitter of revulsion as his fingers twined with hers. He led her back, away from the crowd, then keyed in a code on his private door. “Enter Dorian,” he said for the voice command, and the locks gave.

Inside candles were lit, dozens of them. Light and shadow, Eve thought again. On the wall screen various sections of the club were displayed, the sound muted, so people danced, groped, screamed, stalked, in absolute silence.

“Some view.” Casually, she stepped away from him and stepped over as if to study the action on screen.

“My way of being surrounded and alone at the same time.” His hand brushed lightly over her shoulder as he walked behind her and over to his bar. “You’d understand that.”

“You talk as if you know me. You look at me as though you do. But you don’t.”

“Oh, I think I do. I saw the understanding of violence, of power, and the taste for it in you. We have that in common. Wine?”

“No. Are you alone here, Dorian?”

“I am.” Despite her answer, he poured two glasses. “Though I planned to entertain a woman later.” This time his gaze traveled over her, boldly intimate. “How interesting it should be you. Tell me, Eve, is this a professional or a personal call?”

She let herself stare at him, into those eyes. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out. I know you killed those women.”

He smiled slowly. “Do you? How?”

“I feel it. I see it when I look at you. Tell me how you did it.”

“Why should I? Why would I? Lieutenant.”

As if impatient, she shook her head. “I don’t have a warrant. You know that. I haven’t given you your rights. I can’t use anything you tell me. You know that, too. I just need to know what you are. Why I feel the way I do around you. I don’t believe in…”

There was no mistaking the hunger on his face as he walked toward her. “In what?”

She could hear her father’s voice whispering in her mind. There are things in the dark, little girl. Terrible things in the dark.

“In the sort of thing you’re selling out there.” She gestured toward the screen. “Turn that off, will you? It feels crowded in here.”

“You don’t like to watch?” he said, silkily. “Or be watched?”

“Depends,” she answered with what she hoped sounded like false bravado.

“Screen off,” he ordered, and smiled again. “Better?”

“Yeah. It’s better with it off.”

“That’s the signal.” Feeney nodded to Roarke. “All units, move in. Move in. She’s playing him,” he said to Roarke. “She’ll walk him right into it.”

“Or he’s playing her.” With Eve’s voice in his ear, Roarke rushed into the dark.

Into the terrible things.

“Hold it.” There was the slightest hesitation in her order as she slapped a hand against Dorian’s chest and shoved. “I have obligations. I have loyalties.”

“None of which fill your needs.”

“You don’t know my needs.”

“Give me five minutes to do as I like with you, and you’ll know differently. You came to me.” He trailed his fingers over her cheek. “You came to me alone. You want to know what I can give you.”

She shook her head, stepped away. “I came because I need to understand. I can’t settle, I can’t focus. I feel like something’s trying to crawl out of my skin.”

“I can help you with that.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Yeah, I bet you could. But I’m not like Tiara Kent. I’m not looking for cheap thrills. And I’m not like Allesseria Carter. I don’t need your goodwill. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Aren’t you? Aren’t you afraid of what I could make you?”

She looked at the portrait. “Like that?” Her voice was just a little breathless. “I’m not that gullible.”

He lifted one of the wineglasses, drank deeply. “There’s more in the world that slips in and out of what’s deemed reality.”

“Such as?”

He drank again, and his eyes went even darker. “Such as powers, and hungers beyond the human. I’ll take you there. I can show you a glimpse without causing you harm. You should drink. Relax. Nothing will happen to you here. It’s not my way.”

“No, you go to them. Kent practically spread rose petals on a path to her bed for you.”

“Hypothetically, invitations are required.”

“In an occupied building,” Eve agreed. “Not in an abandoned one. Like the one where you dragged Allesseria, where you killed her.”

“Does it excite you to think so, to look at me and see her death?”

“Maybe it does.”

“You seek death.” He laid his fingertips under hers, lifted her hand. “Surround yourself with it. Isn’t that what I sensed, what I saw, in you that first moment our eyes met? It connects us, this…fondness for death in a way the man you give yourself to can never understand. He can’t reach that dark bloom inside you. I can.”