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Now, she stood in the shadows, watching two men wearing masks and gloves slip the body into a black plastic bag for the trip to the morgue while the forensic team tagged and bagged possible evidence from the scene. Maybe they would get lucky downtown, but she didn't think so. She had a hunch that whoever had perpetrated the crime knew exactly what he was doing and that whatever evidence he had left behind, if any, would be useless.
Regan watched the ambulance pull away from the curb. Once the body had been thoroughly examined, the medical examiner would take the necessary steps to ensure that the corpse didn't rise as a new vampire tomorrow night. She didn't envy him the job, but if there was one thing the city didn't need, it was another vampire.
Regan was jotting down a few notes when she felt a shiver run down her spine. Not the "gee, it's cold outside" kind of shiver but the "you'd better be careful, there's a monster close by" kind.
Making a slow turn, she peered into the darkness as every instinct for self-preservation that she possessed screamed a warning.
If he hadn't moved, she never would have seen him.
He emerged from the shadowy darkness on cat-silent feet. "Do not be afraid," he said. "I mean you no harm."
His voice was like thick molasses covered in dark chocolate, so deep and sinfully rich, she could feel herself gaining weight just listening to him speak.
"Right." She slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket, her fingers curling around the trigger of a snub-nosed pistol. She never left home without it. The gun was loaded with five silver bullets that had been dipped in holy water. The hammer rested on an empty chamber. "That's why you're sneaking up on me."
The corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a lazy half-smile. "If I wanted you dead, my lovely one, you would be dead."
Regan believed him. He spoke with the kind of calm assurance that left no room for doubt.
Joaquin Santiago moved toward her like a sleek black panther on the trail of fresh game. Supernatural power radiated from him like heat from a blast furnace. He was tall and well-muscled, with broad shoulders, strong arms, and long, long legs. In movies, vampires were usually depicted as pale and gaunt, with stringy hair and long fingernails, but there was nothing pale or gaunt about Santiago. His dusky skin and the contours of his face proudly proclaimed his Spanish and Native America heritage. He wore snug black trousers, a black silk shirt, a long black coat reminiscent of the kind cowboys had worn in the Old West, and a pair of supple black leather boots.
He looked like the angel of death come to call.
Regan took a deep breath. "Do you know who killed that man?" she asked, pleased when her voice didn't tremble. Even though she had never met Joaquin Santiago before tonight, she knew who he was. He wasn't your garden-variety vampire. Before the local Undead had been confined to You Bet Your Life Park, Santiago had been the undisputed master of the city, feared by vampires and humans alike. In person, he more than lived up to the hype that surrounded him.
"No." His answer was clipped and final.
"Well, somebody killed him, and all the outward signs point to one of your kind."
"My kind?" He lifted one black brow in an elegant gesture of disdain. "What kind would that be?"
Regan laughed. "A vampire, of course."
He shook his head. "Our kills are not so…" His gaze lingered briefly on her throat. "Messy."
She looked up at him, careful not to meet his eyes—dark blue eyes that were vibrant and direct and glowed faintly, even in the dark. Eyes that could hypnotize with a glance.
She lifted her chin a notch. "I don't know anyone else around here who would kill a man and drink him dry, do you?"
A muscle throbbed in Joaquin Santiago's jaw.
Score one for me, Regan thought with an inner smile of satisfaction.
She tried not to stare at him, but it was difficult. He was easily the most handsome individual, man or vampire, she had ever seen. Of course, all vampires, male and female, seemed to be beautiful. It was part of their preternatural allure, but she was willing to bet that this man had been drop-dead gorgeous even before the Dark Trick had been worked upon him. Though he looked to be in his early thirties, she knew he was an old vampire, perhaps ancient. Only the old ones possessed that eerie stillness.
"This is the fourth death in the last three weeks," he remarked.
"The fourth?" She hadn't been aware there had been others.
He nodded, once, curtly.
"Were the police notified?"
"No."
"No?" she exclaimed, her voice rising with her temper. "Why not?"
"We do not need any more bad publicity."
"Publicity? Three people were killed that no one knows about, and you were worried about a little bad publicity?" She shook her head, then took a deep, calming breath. "What happened to the other bodies?"
"They were disposed of."
"Did their remains look like the one found tonight?"
Again, that precise nod.
"The murders should have been reported."
He shrugged, a graceful movement of one muscular shoulder. "The victims would be just as dead."
She couldn't argue with that. Still. "Their families need to know what happened to them."
"I fear I cannot help you. We did not check their identification."
He talked of their deaths so calmly, as if those who had been killed were of no consequence. Feeling suddenly chilled, Regan wrapped her arms around her body. Three people had died violently and their loved ones would never know what happened to them. They would be listed as missing persons, their families left to forever wonder what had become of them. It wasn't right, and there was nothing she could do about it.
"Would you like to go to Sardino's for a drink?" he asked. "You look like you could use something to warm you."
Sardino's was a restaurant located on the southeast corner of the Park. It catered to humans during the day and the Undead after dark. The restaurant had long been considered neutral territory, a place where daring humans and curious vampires could mingle without fear, if they so desired. The restaurant had two doors—one you could enter from the park and one exclusively for humans that could be accessed directly from the safety of the street beyond the park's barrier. Out of curiosity, Regan had visited Sardino's once, soon after she graduated from the Academy, but it had been too weird, seeing vampires and humans sitting together like old friends, and she had never gone back.
"I don't think so," she said. The thought of sharing a booth with him while he drank a glass of warm Synthetic Type O wasn't the least bit appealing. Besides, she was supposed to hunt and destroy vampires, not have cocktails with them.
