To Love and Serve (5 page)

“Di?”

She met her brother’s questioning gaze and said, “You can’t always get what you want.”

He frowned. “You’ve never been one to give up so easily. Especially when it’s something that’s so important to you.”

“I love him more than I ever thought possible.”

“But loving him is stealing the rest of your life. It’s taking away important things that you want.” He motioned toward the closed door of her office. “And the job you love so much.”

She gazed longingly at the door, then turned her attention back to Sebastian. “
I
made the decision that led to my suspension, not Ryder.” She tapped her fingers against her breastbone. “
I
made that choice.”

He wanted to argue with her, she could see, but he changed the subject instead. “Please come down and see Mom before she leaves. She misses you.” His stubborn expression turned wistful. “
I
miss having you around for family stuff.”

She hugged him fiercely, then gave him a teasing shove. “Speaking of which… Time for you to go back to your lovely family, and for me to get back to work. I’ll try to come down before Mom leaves.”

“Don’t just try, Di. Please do it,” he admonished as she walked him out.

After he’d gone, she shut the door and leaned against it, staring at her office, taking in the papers and photos carefully laid out on her desk and pinned to the board. Jesus had given her another chance to do what she did best. She wouldn’t waste that opportunity. With determined strides she went back to her office, to one of the things she wanted so badly to keep. And as she worked to develop a profile, she thought about something else she badly wanted.

A normal life with Ryder. The kind of normal, happy life her brother had with Melissa and little Mariel. But that kind of life, the life she craved with every ounce of her being, seemed more impossible with every passing day.

Chapter Seven

It had been easy to pick off the waitress when the bar closed. She’d been one of the last to leave, her smile forced as she bid good-bye to the wanna-be-human vamps who lingered behind as Foley closed up for the night. When she recognized him, her smile had been radiant. Until he slashed her throat open and shock froze her lips and eyes into wide Os of surprise. She stumbled backward and banged feebly on the door to the bar. Once. Twice, then slowly collapsed to the ground. Blood streamed from beneath the hand she wrapped around her throat in an attempt to hold in her life force.

Her mouth moved as he bent closer.

“Why?” she mouthed, her blue eyes pleading.

A blue much like his mother’s and his younger sister’s.

For a moment that made him hesitate as love for them filled him. Then he remembered their death-bloated faces and the ugly film that had covered their sky-blue eyes.

He ripped the stake from his jacket and drove it home, ending her existence. Dispatching her to hell, where she belonged.

Pride and satisfaction filled him as life slipped from her eyes, and he grew hard from the emotions.

He knew just who would appreciate that reaction. After carefully cleaning his Buck knife on the waitress’s jeans, he hurried to the nearest subway stop, jumped over the turnstiles, and raced onto the first uptown train. Time seemed to move extra slow in his haste to reach her and satisfy them both with the energy surging through him from the killing.

At Central Park, he got off the train and sped into the thick forest of the park. Locating the tunnel entrance, he checked that the coast was clear, then hurried through the underground paths and chambers toward her apartment.

Pushing on the backside of the large mirror that sealed off her bedroom from the secret passage, he found her fast asleep, but as soon as he entered, she shot up, her slayer senses recognizing his power.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice sleep-husky as she pushed away a long, thick lock of auburn hair and squinted at the clock on her nightstand.

“I had some errands to run.” He yanked off his coat, which landed with a thud on the hardwood floor. By the time he was halfway to her bed, he’d shucked his shirt and was undoing his zipper.

Her emerald eyes widened with pleasure and she pulled down the bed covers to reveal her nakedness. Her nipples hardened and his mouth watered at the thought of tasting and biting the tight coral points.

“You seem pleased with tonight’s work, my beautiful man.” Her gaze moved lovingly across his face, then dipped down to his cock as he peeled off his jeans and tossed them aside.

Aja would never say what she thought he did on his errands. The Slayer Council would never tolerate that kind of behavior from one of their special little tribe, so they played this game. She didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell.

“I completed my task.” He sat on the edge of the bed and she dropped her hand to his cock, stroking him hard, dragging a groan from him.

“So you want to play rough tonight?” He bent and bit down on her nipple. Her body jerked and she uttered a long, pleased sigh.

“Yes, I do. Oh sweet God, I do,” she moaned as he tweaked her other nipple with punishing pressure.

He laughed and licked the abused tips, enjoying her pain, then relishing his own as she grabbed his balls and squeezed.

“Good. So do I,” he said, and gave himself over to her wickedness.

…

Ryder skimmed along the rooftops, leaping from one to the other to wear down the vampire energy rushing through his system after too many glasses of blood. He wasn’t normally much of a drinker, especially the human stuff, but he’d seriously needed it after the incident with Diana.

At the thought of Diana, the animal in him responded, desperately wanting another taste despite all he’d done to try and satisfy the demon’s demands.

He still had another thirty blocks to go. Time enough to tire the vampire and hopefully rein it in. With a powerful lunge, he soared across a huge gap between two buildings, stumbling as he landed and rolling to regain his momentum for the next leap.

He was finally in control when he reached the door of his building in the mid-sixties.

“Evening, Mr. Latimer,” the doorman said as he tipped his hat in greeting and opened the door.

“Have a nice night, Jason,” he replied to the vampire doorman who worked until nearly dawn, when a human replaced him for the early morning shift.

Ryder toyed with the idea of stopping by Melissa’s as he used to do, pre-Diana. As his keeper, Melissa had been his sounding board, like her father had been before her, and every other Danvers since the Civil War, when Ryder was turned.

But Melissa had her own life now with Sebastian, and Ryder had promised he would no longer hold Melissa to her role as his keeper.

Which meant it was time to face Diana.

He stepped onto the elevator, slipped in the key to access his penthouse floors, and jammed his hands into his pockets to keep from pressing the button for Melissa’s floor. Anxious about his reception, he rocked back and forth on his heels as the elevator lifted him the twenty-four stories to his upscale home.

Home
. Funny, but before Diana, it had only been a place where he lived.

She’d changed all that. Had changed so much in his life.

With a bracing breath, he stepped into the private hallway and approached the only door on this floor. He halted, hesitant. Unsure of how to handle her. Unsure of what he could say or do to make things better. Maybe nothing could.

Forging ahead, he unlocked and entered.

Inside, silence greeted him. He should have expected that, considering it was nearly four in the morning. Then again, he’d known Diana to work around the clock on a case. Given her earlier eagerness to get started on her ADIC’s request, she might still be at work. The door to Diana’s office was closed, her signal not to be disturbed. He usually respected that warning.

Usually. But not tonight.

Pausing, he laid his hand on the solid face of the espresso-colored wood. No vibrations of activity registered against his palm, but he sensed she was inside. Cautiously he opened the door, but halted when he scanned the scene in the dim light cast by a small floor lamp.

The maple work area was covered in papers and photos. Her murder boards at the far end of the office sported a gruesome gallery of pictures and notes. The monitor for the desktop had gone to the screensaver. Her empty office chair was pushed away from the desk at an angle that screamed she would soon return. Diana was never one to just sit and work. She paced as she labored over the clues in a case, burning off her nervous energy. If she grew tired, she sneaked in a nap on her couch. As she was now, curled up beneath a light chenille throw.

He approached and stood before the couch, examining her. A flush of color warmed her cheeks. A healthy blush, he noted with a pleasure that faded as he perceived something else.

Her breathing was regular. Abnormally regular for someone who was supposedly asleep.

She was awake, but pretending she wasn’t.

He hadn’t known what to expect, but now he had his answer.

Avoidance.

Surprising, for someone who was normally so direct in all she did.

Pivoting sharply, he strode out of the room. The beast rose up in him at her rejection, and it took all his restraint not to slam the door and force the confrontation they needed to have. Somehow he closed it softly, then went to the stairs at the far end of the hall. Taking the steps two at a time, he hurried to the top floor, which held the master bedroom suite, his office, and a third room that sat empty except for some of Diana’s old personal case files.

The door to their bedroom was open, displaying the large king-sized bed where they’d made love earlier. Where he’d almost turned her when his control slipped.

She’d made the bed. Cleaned away the candles and rose petals, eliminating all evidence of their passion. As if denying what they had between them.

Unable to bear climbing into that big, empty, and lifeless bed, he headed to his office instead. He had management reports to read on the five properties he owned in Manhattan. It was also time to review the financials for The Lair and Otro Mundo to see how the vampire bar and human restaurant were doing. Maybe he could find a new investment and take his mind off the disaster that was his personal life.

That thought shouldn’t have brought a smile to his face, and yet it did.

As problematic as it was right now, he actually
had
a personal life. He had a reason for investing so he could take care of the people in that very human side of his life—Diana, Melissa, Mariel, and Sebastian.
His family
.

But as he sat at his desk, he sensed Diana’s life force—the slight vibrations that said she was up. Awake and working.

As upset as he was about her absence from their bed, he was pleased she was back at work doing what she loved. He’d do anything to make sure she’d get what she wanted. Anything…except giving her up.

Chapter Eight

Diana waited until she no longer heard Ryder moving above her as dawn crept over the horizon. Even though all the windows in the apartment were treated to keep out harmful sunlight, the daylight still called vampires to rest, the way the night called humans to sleep.

She suspected he’d known she was faking sleep, and was grateful he hadn’t challenged her.

Rising, she tossed off the throw and ambled to her desk, her gaze roaming over the photos and notes tacked to her boards.

The lack of blood at the locations confirmed the victims had been systematically tortured and murdered offsite before being moved to their dump sites. The unsub must have a workshop somewhere for his handiwork. A workshop filled with tools to inflict the most damage.

Once again she noted the artistry of the kills. It reinforced her worry. Whoever had committed this butchery had taken their time. This person enjoyed the violence and staging far too much not to keep on going.

It was just a matter of time before the next kill.

…

Michaela paced back and forth along the windows of Jesus’s apartment. The sun was just rising, but she had been busy for hours making calls to the members of the Slayer Council, summoning them to this emergency meeting. It was definitely unusual to meet at the home of a human, but these were unusual circumstances.

Two of the Council had already arrived: Evangeline, the tall, battle-scarred African-American with an air of leadership, and Xander, the smallish, almost mousey-looking man who’d accompanied her. Michaela buzzed the others up and soon her lover’s living room was filled with half a dozen Council members.

Evangeline shot a glare at Jesus, making it clear he was not wanted there.

He glowered right back, obviously pissed. Michaela said nothing. She wasn’t about to throw him out of his own home.

Sauntering to her side, Jesus put a hand on her waist and whispered in her ear, “Who’s the pretty boy?”

She’d already introduced the others. “Benjamin,” she told him. “He’s as close to a second in command as there can be. And I wouldn’t call him pretty to his face,” she added wryly. The blue-eyed man really was good-looking in a boyish kind of way. But with his size, muscles, and the bad-ass tattoo across his broad chest, no one would dare.

He was also her only friend on the Council. The others would likely have her, as a half-vampire dhampir, sanctioned. Just like the undead the slayers were supposed to control.

Jesus chuckled and said, “If you don’t need me, Diana called and wants to discuss the case.”

“I’m good,” Michaela said, relieved he wasn’t going to force the issue of his being there.

“You’re sure?” he asked, and at her grim smile and nod, he left her to the meeting with the Council.

Once the door closed behind him, she strode to the center of the room and faced the Council.

Before she could speak, Evangeline rose from her chair like a monarch greeting her subjects. In a way, she was the equivalent of slayer royalty due to her age, the many fights she’d won, and the strength of her power.

“Why have you called us here?” Evangeline asked with a quick look around the apartment. She wrinkled her nose, as if something was rank.

Michaela said, “I was at the Blood Bank earlier this morning, keeping an eye on things. There was another killing.”

Xander, Evangeline’s consort, wrung his hands together. “Like the last one?”

He was better suited to study and planning than fighting. Some said his expertise had kept Evangeline alive far longer than any other of the Council heads.

“From what I overheard from Foley, the owner,” Michaela said, “it was identical to the earlier kill. A young vampiress this time.”

Benjamin shot an uneasy look at the others. “I’m assuming these kills weren’t sanctioned by the Council?”

Aja dipped her head, but not before Michaela caught a flash of worry in her eyes.

At the silence that followed, Evangeline nodded. “Correct. Since you enjoy spending so much time with humans and the undead, Michaela, see what else you can find out. Though, I assume we’ll be hearing from the vampire elders soon.”

Xander jumped from this chair, still wringing his hands, more frantically now. “A parlay? Do you think they’ll ask for a parlay? It’s been so long.”

“We’ll know soon enough. In the meantime, I suggest we decide which new slayers to have as our cadre at the meeting,” Evangeline said.

“Michaela, for one,” Aja said, finally raising her head and glancing around at the others before meeting Benjamin’s gaze. He nodded, his voice brooking no disagreement. “Michaela for sure.” As he went on to name a few of the other junior slayers, Michaela stepped back, allowing the Council members to discuss the choices.

As they either eliminated one or accepted another, Evangeline kept glancing at Michaela, as if wishing she would just disappear. And not just from this meeting…

The woman had been against not only her training, but her initiation to the slayer ranks, and had thrown every possible challenge her way. Often much harder than those handed out to the other trainees.

But she’d bested them at their own game and as the Council agreed on their cadre, reluctantly including her, she refrained from smiling that they could not exclude her.

With the meeting concluded, the other slayers left, until only Evangeline and Xander remained.

“Give us a moment, please, Xander,” Evangeline said, and he scurried out into the hallway.

Evangeline closed the door behind him and leaned toward Michaela.

“Don’t think for a moment that any of us have forgotten what you are. We only tolerate you in our midst, so the moment you fuck up—”

“I won’t, Evangeline.”

“You better not.” The woman marched out, leaving Michaela staring at the door, well aware of the penalty for failure: a slow and painful death.

…

Ryder and his friend Diego approached the table in the temporary morgue they’d put together in the basement of the Blood Bank. It now held not one body, but two. Members of the Vampire Council had gathered to view the kills and discuss the situation. Ryder wasn’t on the Council, but he’d been at the club when the woman’s body was discovered a few hours earlier. The young vampiress was found right next to the rear entrance of the bar, in an alley just a couple of blocks from where the first body had been discovered. She’d been killed in exactly the same way as the first—throat slashed down to the bone and a stake driven through her heart.

Ryder had a bad feeling about this. Really bad. He wasn’t too familiar with slayers, but he’d been around Diana long enough to recognize the signs of a serial killer.

Foley shook his head regretfully at the remains of his former waitress. “She was so nice, and a hard worker. She’ll be missed.”

“Was she feeding from the humans?” Diego asked.

“Not unless they asked for a bite, but even if she did, she wouldn’t drain them. We all know better than that.”

They turned at the squeak of the basement door as two more Council elders, Hadrian and Maximilian, came in.

Hadrian was, as always, immaculately dressed in a three-button suit that screamed fancy financial type. Not that Hadrian had lifted a finger for centuries. He’d accumulated an insane amount of money in his nearly 2,000 years of existence, plus he’d backed Maximilian’s high-end fashion house, which was wildly successful.

As businesslike and somber as Hadrian appeared, Maximilian was equally flamboyant. His plum-colored suit looked like a throwback to Nehru jacket days and was coupled with bright pink high-top sneakers that matched the streaks in his hair.

Maximilian halted halfway to the bodies on the tables, his mouth agape with horror, but stoic Hadrian pushed forward to stand beside the two dead vampires.

His gaze traveled over them with undisguised worry. “I had hoped the first staking was an aberration.”

Ryder understood why. Hadrian was blessed with one of those rare gifts in a vampire’s life—his wife of nearly two years had given birth nine months after being turned. So he had better reason than most for keeping the peace between the undead and the slayers.

“What news have you brought?” Diego asked Hadrian.

“There’s no word on the grapevine, which is surprising.” Hadrian glanced back at Maximilian.

“No news,
mio amico
,” Maximilian confirmed with a wave of his bejeweled fingers.

Foley crossed his arms. “The vampires won’t be silent after this one.”

“No, they won’t,” Hadrian replied, weariness in his tones. Of everyone in the room, he’d suffered the most at the hands of humans. Slayers had killed his first family during a riot in his Roman vampire ghetto.

“We can’t wait on this, Hadrian. We need to determine if a true slayer did this,” Diego urged.

Hadrian gave a curt nod. “We can take samples, although from the looks of those throat wounds, I have no doubt silver nitrate was used.”

Ryder had no doubts either. The wound on the first vamp had not closed, a sure sign that some kind of silver contamination had prevented healing. He’d heard that using silver was a slayer practice, and their stakes usually had a St. Andrew’s cross carved into the wood near the handle. To his knowledge, only slayers used that symbolism.

Foley gestured to the dead vampires. “But why would someone cut their throats
and
stake them? They would have bled out anyway, thanks to the silver poisoning.”

“Part of the ritual,” Ryder murmured.

“Yes, that’s how the slayers do their executions,” Diego agreed. “But if these two were sanctioned, we should have heard from their Council by now.” He shook his head. “There’s something off about this.”

“The stakes are definitely overkill,” Hadrian agreed. “Maybe to make us
think
the slayers are behind it. Normally, they use silver on their weapons for defense or punishment. Not as a primary kill method.”

“So if silver nitrate were used, then it would have to be a slayer, wouldn’t it?” Maximilian asked.

Diego frowned. “Possibly. Unless some human is acting as a copycat…which is highly unlikely. For a human to know about slayer rituals would be unheard of. Regardless, I’ll find someone who can process the samples for us.” He glanced uneasily at Ryder.

Which made him wonder just who Diego had in mind.

“You’ll keep us posted?” Hadrian asked.

Diego nodded. After a shared glance, Maximilian headed for the door, while Hadrian lingered for a moment longer. Facing Foley, he said, “Warn your employees to be careful, and keep an eye on your undead patrons. Whoever did this is already hunting for their next kill.”