I'll Be Slaying You(20)

But she hadn’t been a vamp.

The movies and TV shows had vampire killings all wrong. When vamps were staked, they didn’t age or shrivel or explode into dust.

Nothing so fancy.

But the change was there. You just had to know what you were looking for to see it.

At death, well, their second death, anyway, a vamp’s elongated fangs retracted. The darkness in their eyes—the darkness that came when they hunted—faded away.

Their bodies stiffened, hardening immediately so that when an ME looked later, the TOD was never right. No way could you determine the time of death for a vamp, just couldn’t happen.

Their skin whitened, not slowly turning ashy and yellow like a human’s. No, the skin drained of color until the flesh was the starkest of whites, and the drain was nearly instantaneous.

Those signs were always dead giveaways that you were dealing with a vamp. Those indicators, and the wooden stake that was generally lodged in the chest. Hard to miss the stake.

“Oh, man, is that who I think it is?” The uniform next to Antonio pressed in a bit too close.

Antonio slapped his hand against his chest. “Don’t even think about screwing up my crime scene.” Like things weren’t screwed up enough. That tip they’d received…“Two women fighting, screaming, someone needs help at Belmont and Queens. The crazy bitch was screaming about vampires.”

Screaming about vampires—and now the victim had been staked.

“Captain, don’t you recognize her?”

He turned to stare at the uniform. Red spots blotched the kid’s face. “Should I?” Another body. Another case that would give him heartburn. Couldn’t the supernaturals ever back off?

A quick swipe of the cop’s tongue. “She’s Lisa Durant. You know, Senator Durant’s niece. I saw—I saw her on TV a few weeks back. She was…” His gaze fell to the body. “Hot.”

Not anymore.

Antonio’s back teeth locked. Senator’s niece. Oh, hell. Keeping this quiet would be a bitch.

He glanced back at the stake. His eyes narrowed. “Jon…is that what I think it is?” Not enough light to tell for sure from this angle, but that looked like—

The crime scene tech who’d crouched beside the body shot him a grin. “Bloody fingerprints. Hell, yes.”

Antonio’s hand ran over his face. “Run ’em, and give the report to me.” His eyes held Jon’s. “Only me, you got that?”

Jon gave a grim nod.

“Good.” Because he had a feeling the supernatural shit was about to hit the fan in his city.



“Dee.”

Somebody shook her. Hard.

“You’ve got to wake up. That hit you took to the head left you concussed. You can’t sleep.”

But she really wanted to, just a little longer anyway.

“Dee!” Another shake. One hard enough to rattle her teeth.

She managed to crack open one eye. “Should you really…shake a woman with a…concussion?”

A brief grin turned up his lips. “It was either shake you or maybe let you slide into a coma.”

Something wet and cold pressed against the back of her neck and Dee sucked in a fast breath. “What the hell?”

The grin flashed again. Was the guy enjoying her pain or what? “The ice will make the giant knot go away sooner.”

Both of her eyes opened. Dee realized she was on a couch, propped up against some cushions, and Simon, he was over her, around her. One hand held her shoulder, urging her close, while the other anchored the ice pack at the base of her skull. Mere inches separated their faces. His smoky eyes were so deep and intense. She noticed his lashes then. Really long, dark lashes. Weird, because his face was hard and—

“You back with me this time?” he murmured.

She blinked, realizing that though her skull still throbbed, the grogginess of before was gone. “Yeah, I…think so.” If she could stop being an idiot and gazing into his eyes like some lovesick teen with a crush. Jeez. Dee fumbled for the ice pack. Her fingers tangled with his. “I’ve—I’ve got this.”

His jaw locked.

Okay, so maybe she wasn’t being the most gracious victim.

Good southern manners had never been her strong suit.

Simon’s hand fell away and she pressed the frigid pack against her head. “Don’t worry…about me,” she managed. “I’m a fast healer.” For a human, anyway. She dragged her gaze away from him and scanned the room. Bare walls. No photos, no paintings. A TV, DVD player, game consoles. And in the corner…what was that? A porn magazine? “Ah, your place?”

A grim nod.

The ice shifted beneath her fingers. “Look, Simon, I appreciate you trying to come to my aid—”