Watchers in the Night Read online

  Gray’s stomach turned and he forced his mind away from the memory Drake’s words evoked. He nodded an agreement, although as far as he was concerned there was still a vast gulf between himself and Drake. How many had Drake killed over his unnaturally long life? And had all of them really deserved it? It seemed to Gray that a Killer such as Drake wasn’t in a position to throw stones.

  The basement door opened and Jules peeked his head around the corner. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Drake turned on his heel and left without a word. Gray figured his request to speak with Carolyn had just been denied, but a couple minutes later she ventured down the stairs. Her face was pale, her eyes troubled.

  Before he had a chance to think better of it, he’d crossed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. She was so small and delicate that her head only came up to his shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his waist, accepting his embrace with an ease that shamed him. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Against his shoulder, he felt her nod. “Yeah. Just a little shaken up is all. You warned me about meeting his eyes, but I did it anyway, like an idiot.”

  He tightened his arms around her, wishing he could just hold her like this forever. “Don’t blame yourself. Drake is probably powerful enough that he doesn’t even need any eye contact.”

  Carolyn pulled away and looked up into his face. “He’s more powerful than Jules, then?”

  Gray nodded, debating how much to tell her about Drake. Then he almost laughed at himself—what he didn’t tell her, she would no doubt discover on her own somehow. “Unlike the Guardians and myself, Drake doesn’t feed on lamb’s blood.”

  Carolyn’s face turned a shade paler. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s a Killer, Carolyn. Very dangerous, although he does follow his own moral code. The Guardians tolerate him because they often find his powers useful, and because he only kills people he thinks deserve it. A vigilante, I guess you could call him.”

  Carolyn shuddered. “And this is one of the good guys?”

  “You could say that, I guess. But anyway, Drake isn’t the reason I asked to speak with you before you left. He’s dangerous, but I doubt he’s dangerous to you. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get any funny ideas about coming back and ‘rescuing’ me.”

  She reached up and touched his face, a gentle smile on her lips. “Don’t worry, Gray. I won’t break into your house again. If leaving you locked up for a couple of days will clear you of suspicion, then I suppose it’s for the best.”

  He should have known she would be pragmatic about this. He turned his head and kissed her palm. The scent of her skin awakened a deep longing in his chest, and he pulled away before it could overpower him.

  Gray knew that his memories would haunt him relentlessly when Carolyn was gone and the door to his prison closed. Memories of the last time he’d been locked in this basement. But worst of all, memories of what had once been his, memories of the joys of life he would never taste again.

  Swallowing his bitterness, hoping Carolyn didn’t see it on his face, he straightened his shoulders. “You’d better go.”

  The look in her eyes suggested she, too, was struggling against the memories. “All right.”

  “You’ll stay with Hannah, right? And you’ll be very careful, knowing what you’re up against.” He had to fight the instinct to try to talk her out of investigating, but arguing would only serve to make her angry. And more determined.

  “Yes and yes.” She took a step closer to him, and he thought she might be planning to give him a hug or a kiss goodbye. She visibly stopped herself. “Take care,” she said. Then she fled up the stairs as though being chased.

  13

  CAROLYN WAS REALLY STARTING to doubt that it was necessary to stay with Hannah indefinitely, but Hannah wouldn’t hear of her leaving, so she supposed she was stuck. The first day after leaving Gray locked in his basement, she’d called one of her old friends from the department and casually pumped him for information about the Banger case. What she learned only cemented her conviction that the Banger was a vampire.

  One of the pieces of information the police had not revealed to the press was that in not one of the Banger’s victims was there any sign of a struggle. No skin under the fingernails, no bruises, no abrasions. Nothing. The best guess was that the victims were subdued with chloroform, which was very hard to detect after the fact. Even so, one would have thought there’d be some sign of struggle. But of course, if the killer was a vampire, all it took was a touch of glamour, and the victim would let him do whatever he pleased without a peep of protest. The thought made Carolyn shudder with revulsion.

  The other interesting detail she learned was that the police had been unsuccessful in their attempts to obtain the Banger’s fingerprints. It appeared he wore gloves to perform his gruesome murders. Carolyn thought that very telling—why would he bother with gloves unless he thought his prints were on file? Mortal killers would do it to avoid prosecution, but she suspected prosecution wasn’t the Banger’s greatest threat. Her heart leapt with hope, and she put in a call to Ted at the fingerprint lab. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any results for her yet.

  After that, with Gray locked in his basement, and Jules refusing to talk, there wasn’t a damn thing Carolyn could do. It wasn’t a situation she took to with much grace, and she was lucky Hannah didn’t throw her out, considering how crabby she was becoming.

  The Banger was still out there, no doubt ready for his next kill. And the only thing that stood between him and his next victim were a group of amateur sleuths whose only qualification for hunting down a murderer was that they were vampires.

  How many more would have to die before the Guardians managed to find the killer?

  GRAY’S FEET HURT FROM pacing, so he forced himself to sit on the faded, dusty divan he’d dug out from under a pile of boxes. The divan had served as his bed for the last three interminable days, and he was royally sick of the thing. However, most of the other furniture in this hell-hole of a basement was broken, so unless he wanted to sleep on the floor, he had few choices.

  At the end of his first night, he’d uncovered a box full of books. He’d eagerly torn the box open, hoping for something to distract him from the sheer boredom of his imprisonment. Unfortunately, Kate’s taste had run to lurid romance and erotica, and Gray had shoved the box away in disappointment.

  He’d avoided even looking at them last night, but by now the boredom was so overpowering he couldn’t stand it anymore. Grimacing in distaste, he picked through the box looking for a book with a cover that didn’t make him want to barf. He found one that didn’t look too bad, then settled on the divan to read.

  Two hours later, he shut the book with a groan and flung it away from him.

  The sex scene had snuck up on him from out of nowhere. He’d been reading along, finding the story surprisingly engrossing, until suddenly the lovers found themselves alone and in perfect privacy for the first time in the entire book. For some reason, he’d expected the author to draw the curtains on the ecstatic lovers and let them do their business in private. But the scene had gone on and on, describing in scintillating detail every touch, every kiss, every heated breath. The lovers in the book reached a mind-bending release, but Gray was left breathless and hard and lonely.

  He covered his face and tried to take a few deep breaths, tried to dispel the images the book had created in his mind, but it was no use. In his mind’s eye, he saw Carolyn, stretched out on her cosy double bed. She was naked and perfect, the sheets twined around her legs while hiding nothing from his hungry gaze. Her cheeks were flushed with desire, her dusky pink nipples hardened into tempting nubs, begging for the rasp of his tongue.

  Gray hadn’t thought he could grow any harder, but the image, so real he could almost taste her skin, made his groin ache.

  Damn that stupid romance book! He readjusted his pants in a futile effo
rt to get comfortable. As if his imprisonment weren’t miserable enough already!

  He had to stop thinking of Carolyn. No matter how much he ached for her, no matter how desperately he wanted her, she was a figure from his past.

  With a pop that made him jump a mile, the overhead light burned out. Gray wanted to scream in frustration. His vampire eyes could see better in the dark than a mortal’s, but even he needed some light. This basement was pitch black, and all he could see were the images his horny mind kept conjuring.

  Knowing it was the only release he was likely to find, Gray reached down and slid open the zipper on his pants.

  HE STOOD NAKED BEFORE her, his pale, pale skin warmed by candlelight, his deep gray eyes dark with desire. Carolyn wanted to reach for him, but her hands wouldn’t move. She craned her neck and saw the gleaming silver cuffs that encircled her wrists, chaining her to the bed.

  Gray smiled at her, an expression that bared his fangs. Her breath caught in her throat, and she couldn’t tell if the adrenaline that pumped through her was fear or lust or a little of both. The light of countless candles danced and flickered in the room, revealing and concealing in equal measure. She glanced down at herself and saw that she, too, was naked, stretched out on the geometric comforter that covered Gray’s bed.

  Gray’s eyes traveled her body from head to toe, his gaze like a caress burning her skin wherever it landed. He stared at her nipples, and they hardened as though he’d sucked them into his mouth. A moan escaped her, and once more she struggled against the handcuffs. She wanted his touch more than anything in the world, and yet he didn’t come any closer, merely stood beside the bed and devoured her with his eyes.

  “Please,” she gasped, straining toward him, but he just smiled.

  His gaze lowered at a leisurely pace, tracing her ribs, then skimming over her belly, lingering at her navel. Then it dipped lower, and another moan rose from her throat. She opened her legs, beckoning to him, wondering what he was waiting for. The tip of his tongue emerged and he slowly licked his lips. Her back arched and she cried out, her body almost feeling that sensuous caress in the place she most wanted it. Her heart hammered beneath her ribs and she could hardly draw breath. If he didn’t touch her soon, she was going to scream! He started toward her, eyes gleaming with erotic intent. She spread her legs wider in desperation. Any moment now, he was going to take her and end her suffering.

  The heat of his body singed the delicate skin of her inner thighs. “Yes!” she cried. “Now!”

  Carolyn woke with a wail of longing on her lips.. Her heart was racing, her skin clammy. Her body craved release, but there was none to be had. She pressed her thighs tightly together. Why oh why had she had to wake up at that moment?

  She took a deep, slow breath, willing her heart to calm. But that wasn’t enough. She slipped out of bed and padded through the darkened room to the bathroom. A splash of cold water on her face helped a little. She met her own eyes in the mirror above the sink and shook her head at herself. Her cheeks were flushed red, and the dream hovered with frightening clarity in the front of her mind. The frustration of wanting him so desperately, and of not being able to have him, brought a wave of despair.

  Even her subconscious was telling her she couldn’t have him! As Hannah, and Jules, and practically everyone on the planet had told her, she had to let him go.

  But oh, how she wished she could stop wanting what she couldn’t have.

  GRAY SAT UP ABRUPTLY in the dark. He’d thought he heard the front door open. He closed his eyes and concentrated, sensing the presence of a vampire upstairs.

  Please, let it be Drake! he asked the powers that be. Jules had come by just before dawn last night but had not felt it necessary to replace the burnt-out bulb that left Gray in total darkness. Maybe Drake would be more reasonable. Gray felt like he was holding on to his sanity by a thread, and though he fully understood the circumstances under which he’d been locked up, he had had quite enough of it.

  The sound of a deadbolt sliding open echoed down the stairway. Gray stood, but he didn’t dare try to find his way to the stairs. Too many boxes and other obstacles in the way. His shins had obtained many a bruise from his previous forays, and though they healed in a matter of minutes, they were still a nuisance.

  “Drake?” he asked hopefully. “The light’s burned out down here, but there’s a flashlight in the top right drawer in the kitchen.”

  The top step creaked, but no voice answered Gray’s greeting. The hair on the back of his neck prickled. There was no reason for either Jules or Drake to refuse to speak to him. He might almost have thought he was hearing things, but he unmistakably felt that psychic footprint.

  “Hello?” he called, taking a careful step backward and crouching in preparation for an attack.

  He thought he heard a faint laugh. Then he felt his mind sliding helplessly into oblivion.

  GRAY AWOKE WITH A start, his head aching as though he had a hangover. He groaned and pressed his palms against his eye sockets, fragments of thoughts fluttering through his mind. The world seemed to spin beneath him and for a moment he was afraid he was about to hurl. What the hell … ?

  He swallowed down the bile and cracked his eyes open.

  His first coherent thought was that he wasn’t in his basement prison anymore. His second was that he smelled blood in the air. He staggered to his feet, still reeling dizzily.

  “Are you back in the land of the semi-living?”

  Gray’s heart almost leapt out of his chest as he whirled to see Drake standing beside him. The older vampire’s expression was dark and hooded, and a hint of memory flitted through Gray’s mind. It was Drake’s voice that had awakened him.

  Awakened him? Had he been asleep? He blinked rapidly, wondering what the hell was the matter with him. He wiped a hand over his face, finding a patch of sticky wetness at the corner of his mouth. His stomach plummeted as he slowly pulled his hand away and saw the blood that streaked his palm. The scent of blood turned into a reek and reluctantly he looked around him.

  He was in an unfamiliar bedroom, and he had no idea how he’d gotten here. On the bed lay two bodies, a man and a woman. The woman lay on her back, spread-eagled, her throat slashed. Beside her, the man also lay naked on his back. His mouth was open in what looked like a cry of pain, and his dead eyes stared in horror at the ceiling. His hands were clasped around the length of wood that protruded from his chest.

  For the second time, Gray’s stomach revolted. If it weren’t for the fact that he hadn’t fed in days, he probably would have vomited. He drew in a shuddering breath and stared at Drake.

  Drake looked impassive, his face giving away nothing as he examined the carnage on the bed.

  “That’s Thomas Freeman there with the stake through his heart,” he said in a bland voice. “He’s a Guardian. I don’t know his girlfriend’s name.”

  Gray scrubbed at his mouth convulsively, trying to erase every trace of blood. He didn’t know what had happened, how he’d come here, but one thing he did know. “I didn’t kill them!”

  Drake nodded. “I know. It’s supposed to look like you did, but despite the blood on your mouth your face isn’t flushed like it would be after a kill.” He moved to the bed and pulled the sheet up to cover the girl’s body. The stake in Freeman’s chest made it impossible to cover him completely, but Drake did the best he could.

  Gray put a hand on the wall to support himself. His mind was beginning to clear, and he remembered being in the basement, hearing someone start down the stairs. Then nothing.

  Glamour. Very powerful glamour. Stronger than anything he’d experienced with Jules. His hands clenched into fists and he looked more closely at Drake. A rosy tint colored the killer’s cheeks.

  Drake shook his head, looking down at the bodies. “Fifteen minutes ago, Thomas called my cell phone. He said he had to talk to me right away. He sounded scared to death and the call ended abruptly. I came as fast as I could. When I got here, I found the front door open
, and you were sitting against the wall with your eyes glazed over.”

  “Is that so?” Gray asked with obvious skepticism, though a rational part of his brain told him it was unbearably stupid to antagonize a vampire who could squash him like a bug.

  Drake cast him an irritated glance. “Don’t be an ass. If I were the killer, I’d be gone by now. No, I suspect I was called here to put me under the same blanket of suspicion you’re under.”

  “You said yourself I didn’t have the flush of a recent kill. Well, you do.”

  Drake’s nostrils flared and anger stirred in his eyes, but he answered mildly. “I’ve fed tonight, but not on her.” He nodded toward the poor dead girl. He shook his head. “Whoever did this, I didn’t sense him when I came in. Considering he was powerful enough to hold you under his glamour when he’s long gone, I’d say we’re in a lot of trouble.”

  The doorbell rang, repeatedly. Drake moved quickly to the bedside table, picking up the phone and hitting a couple keys. “Damn it!” he said, slamming down the phone and meeting Gray’s eyes. “Thomas’s last call was to Michael.”

  “Michael?”

  “His twin brother. Also a Guardian.”

  The doorbell rang more urgently, followed by the sound of a fist pounding on the door. Drake closed his eyes a moment, then shook his head. “There are four of than—Michael must have called in reinforcements.”

  The pounding sounded more violent, and Gray suspected the door would soon give way. “What are the chances Michael’s going to calmly listen to us deny we killed his brother?”

  Drake snorted and moved to the window, pushing it open. “I suggest you run for it.” He glanced out at the sidewalk below. “You should be able to make the jump without breaking your legs.”

  Gray really hated to make himself look even guiltier than he already did by running, but he knew from experience just how fierce vampire tempers were. If he hung around, the angry Guardians would kill him first and ask questions later. “What about you?” he asked Drake as he sat on the window sill and swung his legs out.