Dark Obsession (6 page)

“I’ve been trying to call you,” Slade said. “I was worried when you didn’t come back to the cemetery. Where’ve you been?”

“Walking.”

“All this time?”

His liquid voice flowed over her, cold and dark and oddly coercive.

“I didn’t feel like coming back here after the funeral,” she said defensively. In fact, she might have been glad to see him if he didn’t seem so unapproachable, so formidable. “You needn’t have been worried about me. I can take care of myself,” she assured him.

“Can you?”

There was something in his tone—a faint challenge?—that made Erin grow even more uneasy. She glanced around the darkened hallway. There was no
one about. No one had even come out to investigate the commotion. She was completely alone with a man that made her tremble, with a man that made her think of moonlight and madness. Of secrets and whispers and promises that could only be told in the dead of night.

She looked at him, telling herself she couldn’t be feeling this pull, this strange attraction, for a man who seemed to embody her deepest fears…and her darkest nightmares.
What kind of woman would be drawn to the thing that frightened her the most?

“He could come after you, you know.”

Her gaze shot back to his. For a moment she’d thought he was talking about the man on the street, then she said, “You mean the murderer? Why would he come after me?”

Slade took a step toward her. “You said you saw something that night.”

His face looked even grimmer in the dim hallway light. His eyes, as always, were hidden, masking whatever emotions he might have been feeling. Erin moistened her lips. He looked so tall tonight, so impossibly remote. The darker the night became, the more imposing he grew. “I didn’t see anything,” she protested. “Not really.”

“The murderer might not know that. Supposing
he
saw
you?
”

“You’re just trying to frighten me,” she said with false bravado. “I don’t even know what I saw. Those
glowing eyes…it was probably just an animal…a cat or something. He won’t come after me. It would be too risky.”

“You’re assuming that he’s rational,” Slade said. “You’re assuming that he’s more than a coldblooded, vicious animal whose every instinct is to kill. Don’t underestimate him, or the danger. That could be a fatal mistake.”

“I won’t,” Erin said angrily, goaded by his tone and by her own fear. “But don’t underestimate me, either. I don’t have a death wish, Detective, but neither am I going to cower inside that apartment until he’s apprehended. I won’t let them scare me away this time.”

“Them?”

“Him. I mean him,” she said, turning to go inside. Slade’s hand reached out and stopped her. A tiny thrill raced up her backbone as his hand closed over hers.

“Let me go first,” he said, stepping past her and entering the apartment.

Erin retrieved her purse, then followed him inside, watching as he strode across the living room and tested the knob on the French door. She was amazed as always how he seemed to dominate the immediate area.

Maybe it was because he was so tall, well over six foot, with the kind of hard, muscular body that seemed to exude power and strength. Or maybe it was
the long, black leather coat he always wore. Or the dark glasses. Or…was it something else about him that intrigued her?

What kind of woman would be drawn to the thing that frightened her the most?

“Well?”

His deep voice startled her. Erin’s hand fluttered to her throat, but once again she found only the empty space where the cross had once hung. “What?”

“I asked if you’d gotten this lock fixed?”

“No, not yet. The super was supposed to come by yesterday, but he never showed up.”

“Does he live here in the building?”

“Yes. He has an apartment on the ground floor.”

“I’ll speak to him on my way out.” Slade walked away from the window and browsed through the photos displayed on the mantel. Then he turned toward her, and Erin’s heart flip-flopped inside her chest. He was staring at her neck, much as the man on the street had earlier, and Erin shivered. Slade took another step toward her, and she had to fight the overwhelming urge to retreat. “Why did you put your cross in your sister’s grave?” His voice was low and chilling. Deeply compelling.

Erin swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “I wanted her to be protected.”

“From what?”

“From the darkness,” she whispered.

“You should have kept it,” he said. “You should have kept it for yourself.”

“Why? Vampires don’t really exist,” she said.

“But evil does,” he said. “And the danger out there is very real.”

Their gazes locked for the longest moment. Erin couldn’t see his eyes, but knew without a doubt that his gaze had dropped again to her bare neck. Never had she felt so helpless, so unprotected as she did at that moment.

“I have to go,” he said almost reluctantly. “My shift starts soon.” He took a card from the inside pocket of his coat and handed it to her. “If you hear any disturbances, see anything suspicious, call me. Don’t take any foolish chances. I don’t care if you even hear a mouse in the kitchen, you call me. If I’m not in, ask for Detective Christopher. You understand me?”

Erin plucked the card from his fingers. “I understand. Perfectly.” She glanced at the card. Nick. His first name was Nick.

He opened the front door, then paused on the threshold to turn back and repeat the warning he’d issued the first night she’d met him, the night Megan had died. “Keep all your doors and windows locked. Don’t go out after dark. And whatever you do, don’t invite anyone inside.” His voice was even, but the emphasis was unmistakable. “Talk to them through
the door, on the phone, whatever,
but don’t ever invite anyone in here.
”

Then he was gone. And the apartment seemed cold and empty. Menacing.

Erin stared at the closed door for several minutes. His warning echoed in the stillness.
Don’t invite anyone inside.
Vampires couldn’t enter your home without an invitation. She’d learned that rule years and years ago, and it had given her a small amount of comfort during those dark, sleepless nights when her nightmares had seemed more real than reality. Just don’t invite them inside, she’d tell herself.

But now a chilling thought seeped into her mind. Vampires did not exist. And yet…She had already invited two people inside the apartment. Racine DiMeneci and Detective Slade. But surely that legendary rule only applied to strangers. Surely it didn’t mean people she knew.

But then, how much did she actually know about Racine? How much did she know about Detective Slade…Nick?

Erin’s fingers trembled as she shot home the bolt on the front door because the answer to both questions was exactly the same.

She didn’t know anything about either of them.

* * *

Slade sat at a table in Nosferatu’s, the nightclub Racine DiMeneci had told him and Erin about yesterday.
Nosferatu’s was also the club where he had first seen Megan Ramsey a few weeks ago.

He gazed around the darkened club as the decadent music swirled around him. Everyone inside the place wore dark glasses and, ironically, Slade’s own need to hide his eyes made him blend in even more effectively, made it difficult to distinguish between him and those he hunted.

Actually, he had also seen Racine here with Megan one night and he wondered now when the redhead would make the connection. Things could start getting sticky for him if too many people began asking too many questions. Racine and Dr. Traymore would both eventually have to be dealt with, but Erin Ramsey was his first concern. He had to keep the truth from her at all costs, but already he knew she had suspicions. She couldn’t write the stories she wrote without at least halfway believing.

He thought about her assertion that she wanted to help in the investigation, and his mouth thinned. It was his job to make sure she stayed safe, but that meant he’d have to see her again. And if he saw her again, he knew he’d want to touch her, to test for himself the softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair. And if he touched her once…

Don’t, he warned himself. Don’t think about her that way.

She was exactly the kind of woman who could prove dangerous to a man like him. The kind of
woman who could look into his eyes and gaze deeply into his soul. The kind of woman who could learn all his secrets, no matter how hard he tried to guard himself against her.

There had been another woman like that once…another woman a lifetime ago….

A vision materialized in his mind, and for a moment, Slade allowed himself to remember Simone’s face. But he didn’t remember the innocence. Nor the youth and the beauty and the trust that had once radiated from her visage when she’d looked at him. What he saw—what he made himself see—was the evil she had become.

Because of him.

Slade’s fists clenched tightly as he tried to shut off the memories, but they were coming back stronger than ever tonight. Erin Ramsey had done that to him. She had made him remember who and what he was. She had reminded him of what could never be again.

He ripped off his dark glasses and passed a weary hand over his eyes. But almost immediately he replaced the glasses. He didn’t want people looking into his eyes. Didn’t want people staring into his soul. Didn’t want people reading the truth about him.

The music swirled around him, sensuous and seductive, and he watched the bodies writhing on the dance floor. How many of them would leave here, their souls untouched? How many of them were even now fighting the blood lust that tormented their every
waking moment, from sundown to sunup? What truths would be revealed if everyone removed their dark glasses?

He sighed deeply, feeling the gloom of the place settle over him. He always felt depressed, coming here, and yet he couldn’t stay away. Couldn’t keep from warning the innocent young women who strayed in here, looking for thrills. Couldn’t help trying to protect others as he hadn’t been able to protect Simone.

Eight years ago, he thought, staring down at his scarred hands. Eight years ago he’d come here with Simone, the night they’d gotten engaged. She’d been so young then. So beautiful and innocent.

Or so he’d thought.

But Simone had been taken with Nosferatu’s the moment they’d stepped inside. The dark, eerie atmosphere. The loud, erotic music. The curtained alcoves that hid only God knew what. She’d been drawn to it all in a way Slade hadn’t understood. Then.

They’d met Drake D’Angelo here that night. He’d appeared out of nowhere, a tall, gaunt stranger who had captivated Simone the moment he’d touched her hand.

Slade squeezed his eyes closed, trying to stem the memories, but try as he might, he couldn’t keep them away. He knew that. Every time he set foot in this place, it was his way of making restitution for Simone’s life. For her soul.

That night, after they’d gotten home, Slade remembered how wildly passionate Simone had been. How…untamed her lovemaking had been. He’d never seen her like that, and the next day he’d started to wonder why. Had she been thinking about him when they were making love, or had she been thinking of D’Angelo? Had she been dreaming about that dark stranger? Wanting him as Slade had held her in his arms?

And then, a few days after they’d met D’Angelo, Slade’s worst fears came true. Simone told him she was in love with someone else.

For days after she’d left him, the pain and jealousy festered inside Slade until he could stand it no longer. He knew he had to see Simone again, appeal to her one last time before he could turn loose the past.

He got the address from the police department files, then drove to D’Angelo’s house on Riverside Drive. The mansion was dark and the air around it damp and rife with decay. The door was open, as if D’Angelo had somehow known he was coming. Letting his eyes adjust to the gloom, Slade walked cautiously down first one corridor, then the next.

In a candlelit room that overlooked the river, he found the lovers together. Simone wore a filmy red dress that hid nothing of her lush figure, and her long dark hair cascaded down her back in thick, wanton curls. If anything, she looked even more beautiful than Slade remembered as she lay with her head tilted
back, her slim white neck exposed to D’Angelo’s kisses.

“Simone!”

She gasped and whirled, her hand automatically going to her mouth. Something red was smeared across her lips and two trickles of blood coursed down her neck. Slowly she stood and faced Slade. The gossamer gown she wore billowed around her legs and plunged low at her breasts. She looked beautiful, seductive, feral.

And evil.

There was a strange glow in her eyes, an eerie half smile on her red-stained lips. As Slade watched, she lifted a fingertip to her neck, wiped away the blood, then raised the finger to her lips. Slade’s stomach rolled sickeningly.

Simone smiled. “Nicholas. How sweet of you to visit us,” she purred, and D’Angelo, reclining on the bed, laughed, a deep, dark, mirthless sound that chilled Slade to the bone.

“Yes, come in, by all means. Simone, aren’t you going to welcome your old friend with a kiss?”

Simone was still smiling at Slade in a way that made him shudder. Slowly she walked across the room toward him, the sheer fabric of her gown rippling in the breeze from the open terrace doorway. She lifted a hand and touched his face. Slade had to fight the urge to flinch from her. Her touch was cold, lifeless. No longer human.

“Simone,” he whispered, forcing his hand to close around hers, “what has he done to you?”

“Kiss me,” she pleaded. Slade fought to keep the contents of his stomach from rebelling. Something was not right here. Almost against his will, he took a step back, away from her.

Simone pursed her red lips, pouting. “Oh, Nick, don’t. Don’t run away from me. Remember the way it used to be? The way you used to kiss me? It was so good. Do it again. Do it now. Kiss me, Nick. Just one last kiss…”

Dear God, how he wanted to! Even as repulsed as he was by her, a part of him still yearned to take her in his arms, to pretend the last few days had only been a nightmare. Simone belonged to him. She was his first love, his only love. They could still be together, still have the life they had planned for so long. Without her, his life was meaningless, a wasteland.