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At that moment, my cel phone rang. I pul ed it out and gave Roman an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I have to answer. Could be . . . Hel o?”
“Menol y, there’s been another murder. Get down to the Greenbelt Park District. A back al ey near the diner. Fol ow the lights of the patrol cars.” Chase’s voice was abrupt, and he sounded tired.
“Fuck! Damn it to hel . Another one.” I shoved my cel back in my pocket. “I have to get back to the bar. I need my Jag. What’s the quickest way back?”
“Can’t you fly?” Roman’s brow narrowed. He looked confused.
“Fly? Oh babe, sorry. And I’m no good at doing the bat thing, either. I am vampirical y chal enged.”
He snorted. “Very wel . Come here.”
Enfolding me in his arms, he pul ed me up to stand beside him on the walkway. Before I had the chance to say a word, he had tipped us sideways and we were plunging toward the ground. I was about to scream when we caught up short on the breeze and, like a rocket, blurring through the streets, we flew.
We passed through the blur of concrete and lights faster than I’d thought possible. Within a couple of minutes, we were standing beside the bar, and I was leaning against my Jag.
“You have to teach me that,” I said, a faint smile on my face. “You want to come with?”
Roman shook his head. “No, this is not my affair. But go and good hunting. Stop him. I wil be in touch.” And like a dark shadow, he was gone and within a moment, a dark limo pul ed away from the curb up ahead and sped into the night.
I took a moment to recoup and then climbed into my Jag and slammed the door. As I fastened my seat belt and started the car, I couldn’t help but wonder where everything was leading me. I’d kil ed Sassy and reclaimed a friendship I’d thought long gone. My daughter, Erin, was set to work with a group I approved of. Nerissa and I were in love and engaged. Roman had claimed me for his consort. And over everything, Shadow Wing stil loomed, dark and ominous.
And here, tonight, murder reigned. Bodies here, bodies there, corpses, bodies, everywhere, and not a kil er in sight to catch.
I parked near the first patrol car I found and headed toward the sounds emerging from the al eyway ahead. This time, the girl was stil warm. A fresh kil meant that our vampire was probably stil in the area. I was looking for Chase when I got a cal from Wade.
“Menol y, I think I’ve got something for you. I was trying to remember what seemed wrong about that one vampire I told you about. Tonight, I was watching TV and it hit me.”
“Talk to me, babe. We just found another victim and he might stil be in the area.” I caught sight of Chase, over by a prone body, and waved to him. Pressing my phone closer to my ear to block out the low buzz of voices coming from the cops, I said, “What have you got?”
“He was wearing a clerical col ar.”
“Say what?” I leaned against my car, wondering if I’d heard him right.
“I said, he was wearing a clerical col ar. That’s what struck me as so odd.”
“You think he may be a priest?”
“No—I’m thinking he may have been one. Or a minister. Or some other member of the clergy.”
He paused. “If so, being turned into a vampire could very wel have messed with his belief system and mind bad enough to make him kil . Remember, I was a psychologist before I was kil ed. This would be the classic setup for a serial kil er of the undead set.”>Derrick was behind the counter, and the drinks were flowing. I watched him from the back for a little while, satisfied that he was doing a good job. On a whim, I cal ed Roman.
“Hey dude, how would you like to see my bar?” I asked when he smoothly answered the phone.
With a low laugh that set me on edge, he whispered, “I’ve seen it before, so no, but I’d like to see you. If that’s an invitation, I’m in the car now. I’l be there in five minutes.”
As I hung up, a shiver ran up my spine. The pul to Morio had been strong. I needed to blow off steam and I didn’t trust myself with Nerissa right now. I was too set on edge. I wanted to feed, even though I wasn’t hungry. Roman was my best choice at this moment.
I wandered over to the jukebox and slipped a few quarters in. “Tainted Love” by Marilyn Manson,
“Sister Midnight” by Bowie, “Personal Jesus” by Depeche Mode . . . al good dance songs. And sometimes dancing was the only way to get some of the hunger out of my body. I understood why Camil e liked the pounding rhythms she listened to— ear sex, she cal ed her alternative grunge-goth music.
I began to sway to the music. I might not be curvy, but my hips knew what to do, and the tightness of my jeans accentuated my hunger, making me ache for someone’s touch, for the feel of hands on my body. I’d final y accepted my sexuality and it had come through like gangbusters.
A few of the other customers joined me and we rose and fel to the music, letting it move our bodies as it raced from speaker to speaker around the bar. The beat throbbed through the wal s and floor, reverberating in my stomach. And then I looked up to see Roman standing at the door.
Everyone fel back as he entered the room. His hair was long and sleek, and he was wearing a pair of leather jeans and a jacket the color of crimson. He took one look at me, and the next second, he took me in his arms. As we danced, weaving and spinning to the music, everything else fel away and I began to transfer the hunger I’d felt for Morio to Roman. Before I knew it, we were kissing, my arms draped over his shoulders, his pelvis pressed against mine, as he wrapped his arms around my waist.
I rol ed my head back, fangs extended, and let out a long hiss. He echoed the greeting in return and his eyes flashed as he nuzzled my neck. “We need to fly,” he whispered. “We need to run, to own the city.”
