Ill so fucking do that, he said darkly. Everything.
When he stared at her as if he knew secrets she couldnt begin to guess at, she realized, even with the paralysis, that this was worth living for. This connection and excitement were worth more than her legs, and she had a sudden, stark terror that she had nearly missed this.
She had to thank her twin properly. But however could she balance this gift?
Let me take you back to your room. Her healer stood up smoothly, in spite of her weight. After Im cleaned off, well start with a sponge bath for you.
Her nose crinkled in distaste. How clinical.
There was more of that secret smile of his. Not the way Im going to do it. Trust me. He paused. Hey, any chance you can hit the lights for me so I dont bump us into something? Youre glowing, but Im not sure its enough to go by.
Payne had a moment of confusionuntil she lifted her arm. Her healer was right. She was softly aglow, her skin casting a faint phosphorescence. . . . Perhaps this was her sexual response?
Logical, she thought. For the way he made her feel on the inside was as uncontainable as happiness and as luminous as hope.
When she willed the lights back on and unlocked the doors, he shook his head and started walking. Damn. Youve got some fancy tricks there, woman.
Perhaps, but not the ones she wanted. She would love to give him back what he had shared with her . . . but she had no secrets to teach him and no blood to gift him with, as not only did humans not require such a thing, but it was capable of killing them.
I wish I could repay you, she murmured.
For what?
Coming herein and showing me . . .
My buddy? Yeah, hes an inspiration.
For truth, twas more about the man in the flesh than the one on the screen. Indeed, Payne demurred.
Back in the recovery room, he took her to the bed and laid her out with such care, arranging the sheeting and blankets so that no part of her was bare . . . taking the time to resettle the equipment that dealt with her bodily functions . . . plumping the pillows behind her head.
Whilst he worked, he always covered his hips with something. A part of the bedding. The two halves of his coat. And then he stood on the far side of the rolling table.
Comfortable? When she nodded, he said, Ill be right back. Holler if you need me, okay?
Her healer disappeared into the bathroom and the door shut most of the waybut not completely. A shaft of light pierced through into the stall of the falling water and she saw clearly his white-coated arm reach in, turn a handle, and call forth the warm rain.
Clothes were removed. All of them.
And then there was a brief glimpse of glorious flesh as he stepped under the spray and closed the glass partition. As the auditory rhythm of the water changed, she knew his naked form was breaking up the free fall.
What did he look like, sluiced with water, slick and warm and so very male?
Pushing herself up off the pillows, she leaned to the side . . . and leaned a little more . . . and leaned more still until she was all but hanging off....
Ah, yeeees. His body was in profile, but she saw plenty: Carved with musculature, his chest and arms were heavy over tight hips and long, powerful legs. A dusting of dark hair sat upon his pectorals and formed a line that went oer his abdomen and down, down . . . so far down....
Damn it, she could not see enough, and her curiosity was too desperate and driving to ignore.
What did his sex look like? Feel like . . .
With a curse, she awkwardly shuffled herself around so that she was on the end of the bed. Angling her head, she made the very best of the limited exposure of that crack in the doorway. But as she had moved, so had he, and he was now facing away from her, his back and his . . . lower body . . .
She swallowed hard and stretched upward to see even more. As he unwrapped the cleansing bar, water streamed across his shoulder blades and rivered oer his spine, flowing onto his buttocks and the backs of his thighs. And then his hand appeared on the nape of his neck, the frothy suds he had called up in his palms going the way of the water as he washed his body.
Turn about . . . she whispered. Let me see all of you. . . .
The desire for her eyes to get greater access only increased as his soapy ministrations went below his waist. Lifting one leg, and then the other, his hands were tragically efficient as they went oer his thighs and calves.
She knew when he tended to his sex. Because his head fell back and his hips curled up tight.
He was thinking of her. She was sure of it.
And then he spun around.
It happened so fast that as their eyes met, both of them recoiled.
Even though she had been caught and then some, she shambled back against the pillows, and resumed her former position, restraightening the blankets he had been so careful with. With her face aflame, she wanted to hide
A sharp squeak echoed through the room, and she glanced up. He had burst forth from the bathroom, the shower left open and running, soap still clinging to his abdominals and dripping from off . . .
His sex was a magnificent shock. Standing out from his body, the rod of him was hard and thick and proud.
You . . .
He said something further, but she was too captivated to care, too enthralled to notice. Deep within her, a wellspring was released, her sex swelling and preparing itself to accept him.
Payne, he demanded, covering himself with his hands.
Instantly, she was ashamed and put her palms to her hot cheeks. Verily, I am sorry I spied upon you.
Her human gripped the edge of the doorway. Not that . . . He shook his head as if to clear it. Are you aware of what you were doing?
She had to laugh. Yes. Believe in this, my healerI was totally aware of what I was regarding so thoroughly.
You were sitting up, Payne. You were up on your knees at the end of the bed.
Her heart stopped. Surely she could not have heard him right.
Surely.
As Payne frowned, Manny lurched forwardand then realized he was really fucking naked. Which was a condition that occurred when a guy didnt just have his ass in the breeze, but was totally and completely, ball-numbingly erect as he pulled a birthday suit. Reaching into the bathroom, he snagged a towel, wrapped it around his hips, and then went over to the bed.
I . . . no, you must be wrong, Payne said. I couldnt have
You did
I had merely stretched upon
How did you get to the end of the bed, then. And how did you get back where you are?
Her eyes went to the short footboard, confusion drawing her brows in tight. I do not know. I was . . . watching you and you were all I knew.
The man in him was astounded and . . . strangely transformed. To be wanted that much by someone like her?
But then the physician in him took over. Here, let me see whats doing, okay?
He untucked the sheets and blanket from the end of the bed and rolled them up to the tops of her thighs. Using his finger, he ran it across the sole of her pretty foot.
He expected it to twitch. It didnt.
Anything? he said.
When she shook her head, he repeated on the other side. Then he moved higher, wrapping his palms around her slender ankles. Anything?
Her eyes were tragic as they met his. I feel nothing. And I do not understand what you think you saw.
He moved higher, to her calves. You were on your knees. I swear to it.
Higher still, to her taut thighs.
Nothing.
Christ, he thought. She had to have had some control over her legs. There was no other explanation. Unless . . . hed been seeing things.
I do not understand, she repeated.
Neither did he, but he was going to damn well figure it out. Im going to go review your scans. Ill be right back.
Out in the exam room, he got some help from the nurse and accessed Paynes medical record via the computer. With practiced efficiency, he went through everything: vitals, exam notes, X-rayshe even found the stuff hed done to her at St. Francis, which was a surprise. He hadnt a clue how theyd gotten access to that original MRIhed erased the file nearly as soon as it had gone into the medical centers system. But he was glad to see it again, that was for sure.
When he was finished, he sat back in the chair, and the band of coldness that shot across his shoulder blades reminded him he was in nothing but a towel.
Kind of explained that nurses walleyed look when hed spoken with her.
What the hell, he muttered, staring at the latest X-ray.
Her spine was perfectly in order, the vertebrae lined up nice and square, their ghostly glow against the black background giving him a perfect snapshot of what was going on down her back.
Everything, from the medical record to the exam hed just given her on the bed, suggested that his original conclusion upon seeing her again was the correct one: Hed done the best technical work of his life, but the spinal cord had been irreparably damaged and that was that.
And abruptly, he remembered the expression on Goldbergs face as it had become obvious that the difference between night and day had escaped his notice.
Rubbing his eyes, he wondered if he was, yet again, going crazy. He knew what hed seen, however. . . . Didnt he?
And then it dawned on him.
Twisting around, he looked to the ceiling. Sure enough, all the way up in the corner there was a pod attached to a panel. Which meant the security camera inside could see every square inch of the place.
Had to be one in the recovery room. Had to be.
Getting to his feet, he went over to the door and peered out into the corridor, hoping that nice blond nurse was somewhere to be found. Hello?
His voice echoed down the hall, but there was no reply, so he had no choice except to barefoot it around. Without an instinct as to which way to head, he choose right and walked fast. At all of the doors, he knocked and then tried to open them. Most were locked, but those that werent revealed . . . classrooms. And more classrooms. And a huge, professional-size gym.
When he got to one marked WEIGHT ROOM, he heard the pounding of someone trying to break a treadmill with some Nikes and decided to keep going. He was a half-naked human in a world of vampires, and somehow he doubted that nurse would be marathoning it if she were on duty.
Besides, going by how hard and heavy that footfall was? He was liable to open up a can of whoop-ass, instead of just a doorand whereas he was suicidal enough to fight anything that rode up on him, this was about helping Payne, not his ego or his boxing skills.
Doubling back, he headed in the opposite direction. Knocking. Opening when he could. The farther he went, the less classroom-y it was and the more police-station-interrogation-y shit became. Down at the far end, there was a massive door that was right out of the movies, with its reinforced, bolted panels.
Outside world, he thought.
Going right up to it, he threw his weight against the bar, andsurprise! He burst out into the parking garage, where his Porsche was parked at the curb.
What the fuck do you think youre doing?
His eyes snapped over to a blacked-out Escalade: windows, rims, grille, everything was tinted. Standing next to it was the guy hed seen that first night, the one hed thought hed recognized . . .
Ive seen you somewhere, Manny said as the door shut behind him.
From his pocket, the vampire took out a baseball cap and put it on. Red Sox. Of course, given the Boston accent.
Although the big question was, how in the hell did a vampire end up sounding like he was from Southie?
Nice Jesus piece, the guy muttered, glancing at Mannys cross. Are you looking for your clothes?
Manny rolled his eyes. Yeah. Someone stole them.
So they could impersonate a doctor?
Maybe its your Halloweenhow the fuck do I know?
From under the dark blue brim, a smile cranked into place, revealing a cap on one of his front teeth . . . as well as a set of fangs.
As Mannys brain cramped, the conclusion it struggled with was unassailable : Hed been a human once, this guy. And how did that happen?
Do yourself a favor, the male said. Stop thinking, go back to the clinic, and get dressed before Vishous shows up.
I know Ive seen you, and eventually Im going to put it all together. But whateverright now, I need access to the feeds from the security cameras down here.
That snarky half smile evaporated. And why the hell is that.
Because my patient just sat herself upand Im not talking about her raising her torso off the damn pillows. I wasnt there when she did it and I need to see how it happened.
Red Sox seemed to stop breathing. What . . . Im sorry. What the fuck are you saying.
Do I need to reenact it in charades or some shit?
Ill pass on thatI so dont need you on your knees in front of me with only a towel on.
Which makes two of us.
Wait, are you serious?
Yeah. Im really not interested in blowing you, either.
There was a pause. And then the bastard barked out a laugh. Youve got a smart mouth on you, Ill give you thatand yeah, I can help you, but you got to get your clothes on, my man. V catches you like that around his sister and youre going to need to operate on your own legs.
As the guy started to walk back to the door, Manny put it together. It wasnt from the hospital. St. Patricks. Thats where Ive seen you. You sit in the back pews during the midnight Masses alone, and you always wear that hat.
The guy threw open the entrance and stood to the side. No telling where his eyes were because of that brim, but Manny was willing to bet they werent on him.
Dont know what youre talking about, buddy.
Bull. Shit, Manny thought.
TWENTY-FOUR
Welcome to the New World.
As Xcor stepped out into the night, everything was different: The smell was not of the woods around his castle, but a citys musk of smog and sewer, and the sounds were not of distant deer soft-footing about the underbrush, but of cars and sirens and shouted talk.
Verily, Throe, you have found us stellar accommodations, he drawled.
The estate should be ready tomorrow.
And am I to think it shall be an improvement? He glanced back at the row house theyd spent the day holed up in. Or will you surprise us with even lesser grandeur.
You will find it more than suitable. I assure you.
In truth, considering all the variables of getting them over here, the vampire had done a superb job. They had had to take two overnight flights to ensure that no daylight problems occurred, and once they finally arrived in this Caldwell, Throe had somehow arranged everything: That decrepit house nevertheless had a solid basement, and there had been a doggen to serve them meals. The permanent solution to their residence had yet to make its appearance, but it was likely going to be what they needed.
It had better be out of this urban filth.
Worry not. I know your preferences.
Xcor did not like being in cities. Humans were stupid cows, but a stampede with no brains was more dangerous than one with intelligenceyou could never predict the clueless. Although there was one benefit: He wanted to case the city before announcing his arrival to the Brotherhood and his king, and there was no greater proximity than the one they had.
The house was in the thick of the downtown.
We walk this way, he said, striding off, his band of bastards falling into formation behind him.
Caldwell, New York, would no doubt offer few revelations. As he had learned from both olden times and this well-lit present, cities at night were all the same, regardless of geography: The people out were not the plodding law abiders, but the truants and misfits and malcontents. And sure enough, as they progressed block by block, he saw humans sitting on the pavement in their own excrement, or packs of scum striding with aggression, or seedy females seeking even seedier males.
None thought to take on his group of six strong backs, howeverand he almost wished they would. A fight would burn off their energyalthough with luck, they would come upon the enemy and face a worthy opponent for the first time in two decades.
As he and his males turned a corner, they came upon a human infestation: Several barlike establishments set on either side of the road were lit up brightly and had lines of half-dressed people waiting to get into their confines. He could not read the signs that oerhung the openings, but the way the men and women stamped their feet and twitched and talked, it was obvious that temporary oblivion waited on the far side of their hapless patience.
He was of a mind to slaughter them all, and he became acutely aware of his scythe: The weapon was at rest upon his back, folded in two, nestled in its harness and hidden under his floor-length leather duster.
To keep it in its place, he mollified the blade with the promise of slayers.
Im hungry, Zypher said. Characteristically, the male was not talking about food, and his timing was not a mistake: The cue for sex was in the lineup of human females they walked past. Indeed, the women presented themselves for using, painted eyes locking on the males they mistakenly believed were of their race.
Well, locking on the faces of the males who were other than Xcor. Him they took one look at and glanced away with alacrity.
Later, he said. I shall see that you get what you need.
Although he doubted he would partake, he was well aware that his soldiers required sustenance of the fucking variety, and he was more than willing to grant itfighters fought better if they were serviced; he had learned that long ago. And who knew, mayhap he would take something himself if his eye was caughtassuming she could get past what he looked like. Then again, that was what they made money for. Many was the time he had paid for females to put up with his being within their sex. Twas far better than forcing them to submit, which he hadnt the stomach forthough he would admit such weakness to no one.
Such dalliances would not be until the end of the night, however. First, they needed to survey their new environment.
After they passed through the choked thicket of clubs, they came out into precisely what he had hoped to find . . . utter urban emptiness : whole blocks of buildings that were unoccupied for the evening, or perhaps even longer; roads that were bereft of traffic; alleys that were dark and cloistered with good space to fight in.
The enemy would be herein. He just knew it: The one affinity among both parties to the war was secrecy. And here, fights could happen with less fear of interruption.
With his body itching for a conflict and the sounds of the heels of his band of bastards behind him, Xcor smiled into the night. This was going to be
Rounding yet another corner, he halted. A block up on the left, there was a gaggle of black-and-white cars parked in a loose circle around the opening of an alley . . . rather as if they were a necklace about the throat of a female. He couldnt read the patterns on the doors, but the blue lights atop their roofs told him they were human police.
Inhaling, he caught the scent of death.
Fairly recent killing, he decided, but not as juicy as an immediate one.
Humans, he sneered. If only they were more efficient and would kill each other off completely.
Aye, someone agreed.
Onward, he demanded, proceeding forth.
As they stalked by the crime scene, Xcor looked into the alley. Human men with queasy expressions and fidgety hands stood around a large box of some kind, as if they expected something to jump out at any moment and seize them by the cocks with a taloned grip.
How typical. Vampires would be delving in and dominatingat least, any vampire worth his nature. Humans only seemed to find their mettle when the Omega interceded, however.
Standing over a cardboard box that was stained through in places and big enough to fit a refrigerator in, José de la Cruz flicked his flashlight on and ran the beam over another mutilated body. It was hard to get much of an impression of the corpse, given that gravity had done its job and sucked the victim down into a tangle of limbs, but the savagely shaved-off hair and the gouged patch on the upper arm suggested that this was number two for his team.
Straightening, he glanced around the empty alley. Same MO as the first, he was willing to bet: Do the work elsewhere, dump the remains in downtown Caldwell, go trolling for another victim.
They had to catch this motherfucker.
Clicking off his beam, he checked his digital watch. Forensics had been doing their nitpicking job, and the photographer had clicked her shit, so it was time to take a good look at the body.
Coroners ready to see her, Veck said from behind him, and hed like some help.
José pivoted on his heel. Have you got gloves . . .
He paused and stared over his partners broad shoulder. On the street beyond, a group of men walked by in triangular formation, one in the lead, two behind him, three behind them. The arrangement was so precise and their footfalls in such synchronization that at first, all José noticed was the militarylike marching and the fact that they were all wearing black leather.
Then he got a sense of their size. They were absolutely huge, and he had to wonder what kind of weapons they were packing under their identical long coats: The law, however, forbade police officers from strip-searching civilians just because they looked deadly.
The one in the lead cranked his head around and José took a mental snapshot of a face only a mother could love: angular and lean, with hollowed cheeks, the upper lip malformed by a cleft palate that hadnt been fixed.
The man resumed looking straight ahead and the unit continued onward.
Detective?
José shook himself. Sorry. Distracted. You got gloves?
Im holding them out to you.
Right. Thanks. José took the set of latex and snapped them on. Youve got the
Bag? Yup.
Veck was grim and focused, which, José had learned, was the mans cruising speed: He was on the young side, only in his late twenties, but he handled shit like a veteran.
Verdict thus far: He did not suck as a partner.
But it had been only a week and a half since theyd really started working together.
At any crime scene, who moved the bodies depended on a host of variables. Sometimes Search and Rescue handled it. With others, like this sitch, it was a combination of whoever was around who had a strong stomach.
Lets cut open the front of the box, Veck said. Everythings been dusted and photographed, and itll be better than trying to tip it forward and have the bottom rip free.
José glanced over at the CSI guy. You sure you got everything?
Roger that, Detective. And thats what I was thinking, too.
The three of them worked together, Veck and José holding the front side while the other man used a box cutternatch. And then José and his partner carefully lowered the panel.
She was another young woman.
Damn, the coroner muttered. Not again.
More like damned, José thought. The poor girl had been done just as the others had, which meant shed been tortured first.
Fucking hell, Veck muttered under his breath.
The three of them were careful with her, as if even in her deceased state, her battered body registered the rearrangement of her limbs. Carrying her a mere two feet, they placed her in the opened black bag so the coroner and photographer could do their things.
Veck stayed crouched down with her. His face was utterly composed, but he nonetheless gave off the vibe of a man who was angered by what he saw
The brilliant flare of a camera flash broke out through the dim alley, sure as a scream through a church. Before the shit even faded, Josés head ripped around to see who the hell was taking pictures, and he wasnt the only one. The other officers who were standing about all snapped to attention.
But Veck was the one who exploded up and took off at a hard run.
The camera guy didnt stand a chance. In a totally brazen move, the bastard had ducked under the police tape and taken advantage of the fact that everyone had been focusing on the victim. And in his escape, he got snared in what hed violated, tripping and falling before he recovered and gunned for the open door of his car.
Veck, on the other hand, had the legs of a sprinter and way more lift than your average white boy: No scurrying under the yellow for him; he vaulted over the bitch and launched himself onto the hood of the sedan, pulling his weight up by the lip of the hood. And then everything went slow-mo. While the other officers rushed forward to help, the photographer floored it, and the tires squealed as he panicked and tried to peel off
Right in the direction of the crime scene.
Fuck! José yelled, wondering how in the hell they were going to protect the body.
Vecks legs fishtailed around as the car snapped through the yellow tape and came arrowing right for the cardboard box. But that son of a bitch DelVecchio not only stayed put like glue; he managed to reach in through the open window, grab the wheel, and crash the sedan into a Dumpster four feet in front of the goddamned victim.
As the air bags exploded and the engine let out a vicious hiss, Veck was thrown up and over the trash binand José knew he was going to remember the sight of that man airborne for the rest of his life, the guys suit jacket blown open, his gun on one side and his badge on the other flashing as he flew without wings.
He landed flat on his back. Hard.
Officer down! José hollered as he ran for his partner.
But there was no telling that SOB to stay still or even a chance to help him up. Veck jumped onto his feet like the fucking Energizer bunny and lurched over to the knot of officers who had surrounded the driver with guns drawn. Shoving the others out of the way, he ripped open the drivers-side door and pulled out a partially conscious photo poacher who was one last pastrami and rye away from a heart attack: The bastard was as fat as Santa Claus and had the ruddy coloring of an alkie.
He was also having trouble breathingalthough it wasnt clear whether that was from inhaling the powder of the air bag or the fact that hed made eye contact with Veck and clearly knew he was about to get a beat-down.
Except Veck just dropped him and dived into the car, pawing his way through the deflated bags. Before he could get hold of the camera and bust it to dust, José jumped in.
We need that for evidence, he barked, as Veck outted himself and lifted his arm over his head like he was going to slam the Nikon down on the pavement.
Hey! José two-handed the guys wrist and threw all his weight into his partners chest. Christ, the fucker was a big bastardnot just tall, but jackedand for a split second, he had to wonder whether he was going to get anywhere with this manhandling bullshit.
Momentum turned the tide, however, and Vecks back slammed into the side of the car.
José kept his voice calm in spite of the fact that he had to use all his strength to keep the guy in place. Think about it. You kill the camera, we cant use the picture he took against him. You hear me? Think, damn you . . . think.
Vecks eyes shifted over and locked on the perp, and frankly, the lack of crazy in them was a little disturbing. Even in the midst of manic, physical exertion, DelVecchio was strangely relaxed, utterly focused . . . and undeniably deadly: José got the sense that if he let the other detective go, the camera wasnt the only thing that was going to be irreparably damaged.
Veck looked entirely capable of killing in a very calm, competent way.
Veck, buddy, snap out of it.
There was a moment or two of nothing-doing, and José knew damn well that everyone in the alley was as unsure as he was about how this was going to go. Including the photog.
Hey. Look at me, my man.
Vecks baby blues slowly shifted over and he blinked. Gradually, the tension in that arm loosened and José escorted the thing down until he could take the Nikonno way of knowing whether the storm was truly over.
You okay? José asked.
Veck nodded and pulled his jacket back into place. When he nodded a second time, José stepped back.