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“Martyrs usual y don’t have a lot of common sense,” Wade said, putting down his own makeshift stake. He knelt by the lingering wisps of dust and ashes that were the only remains signifying Charles’s existence. “He was a tormented soul. Even if we’d caught him before he turned murderous, I don’t think we could have done anything for him.”
“Neither do I.” I looked around the room. Religious icons littered the wal s, but Charles had spread blood on them—no doubt the blood of innocents. “I’l never get over the fact that religion can be such a boon, a salve to some, and a license to murder for others. Extremists from any faith scare me.”
“Now our question is, can we get out of here?”
We examined the door opposite the tunnels and found that they led directly to a manhole tunnel.
I floated up, dislodging the cover to peek out. We were in the park. Only two blocks away from where we’d gone in. There was a crowd down near the original manhole, and Chase’s car was there.
Wade and I jogged down the street. I could see Chase standing there, Iris beside him.>He was an older man, in his sixties, it looked, but he was wel built and he would have his vampire strength.
I decided that it was better to ask questions later, and slowly slid one of the stakes out of my belt. As I crept closer—I didn’t want to chance throwing it and missing, warning him in the process
—Wade eased his pack down. But we weren’t dealing with just any ordinary kil er.
Charles was a vampire and he had the same acute hearing we did. He leaped up, out of the tub, his body wet and slick from the water. Although he was naked, I felt an icy chil race through me. He was a psychopath, he was a vampire, and he had no remorse for what he was doing.
“Charles—listen to me. Give it up. Now. You let us take you in and we’l make sure you get help.”
I was lying, of course—I ful y intended to take him out. This wasn’t any ordinary murderer whom you could toss in jail and forget, letting him rot. A vampire serial kil er was far too dangerous. We had to take him out, to dust him.
Charles glanced at me, looking mildly confused. “You know my name.”
“We know al about you. We know you were a priest, and that you were turned into a vampire.”
Another shift of the head, another start of surprise.
“Go away.” He raised his hand, as if shielding his eyes from my gaze. I could see the conflicting emotions race across his face. Guilt, anger, rage, hunger, al tied together. Oh yeah, Charles wasn’t playing with a ful deck, that was for sure. In the blink of an eye, he’d grabbed his jeans and slid into them. I winced. They were covered with dried blood. Apparently he washed his body to remove the sin of his actions, but he conveniently forgot to clean his garments.
“Charles. You have no choice. You can’t run because we’l hunt you down. Come quietly and we can get you some help.” Wade entered the room behind me. “You know you feel bad about those women—”
“No! They were whores, Jezebels. They were evil, tempting women and the only way I could save their souls was to cleanse them.” His voice was querulous and tinged with argument.
“Charles, you are aware you’re a vampire now?” I didn’t want to overlook the obvious. Since some ghosts weren’t aware they’d died, maybe in the break that happened to his psyche, he’d lost track of the fact that he was a vamp.
“I am their savior. I am here to wipe the world clean of harlots and sinners. I am the sword of blood and justice. My God has forsaken me, but I wil find myself in his graces again when I have cleansed the Earth for him.”
Oh, delightful. Not only was he a psychopath, but he had a martyr complex, too. Just what we needed.
“Charles, please—if you are the sword of justice, then hear us out.”
“You are spawn of the devil. I know what you are! You are like Jezebel, the beauty who would have tempted me. I fel . . . my God, I fel .” Tears began to streak down his cheeks. “I wanted to touch her—it was so hard, so very hard. I tried to resist, but she lured me in and I couldn’t stay away from her.”
His sire had used her glamour to reel the priest in. No wonder he was so guilt-ridden. He must have been true to his post, but no FBH could withstand the lure of a vampire. Especial y if she was older.
Charles took a step back and reached for something. I gauged whether I had a clear shot of his chest, but he was aware enough to keep his body turned just so that if I threw my stake, it would lodge in his arm. And that wouldn’t slow him down.
I motioned for Wade to begin edging toward the other door. We didn’t want him escaping again. Wade nodded and Charles glared at him as he clasped whatever it was he had picked up.
I prayed it wasn’t a stake-shooting gun that some FBH fanatic had worked up. We’d heard tales of a few lately, using the same technology as a spear gun to shoot wooden stakes.
But when he opened his hand to show me what he was holding, my fear factor jumped off the scale.
“Charles—put that down. We can talk. If you are the new savior, then you real y don’t want to use that.”
“It won’t hurt me. I’m immortal. I’m invincible. I cannot be kil ed.” And every word he said was fil ed with self-confidence. Charles real y didn’t think he could be kil ed. And he was holding what looked to be a live grenade.
CHAPTER 22
