Читать книгу Honor Calls - Caridad Pineiro - Страница 4

Chapter 2

Shit. The small street on which the Blood Bank was located was not wide enough for the passage of a car. His intent to just drive by wouldn’t be possible.

As Jesus rounded the block for the third time, he scoped out a free parking spot a short distance away and then headed on foot toward the club.

He hadn’t gone more than a few feet before the heat and humidity of the August Manhattan night had him sweating beneath the weight of his suit jacket. Since he was armed, removing the jacket wasn’t possible. He was starting to regret that he hadn’t gone by his apartment to at least change into a T-shirt and jeans.

Swiping at a line of perspiration along his brow, he paused at the mouth of one of the older streets in the city. It looked more like an alley, which seemed appropriate for the place he was about to visit.

Ahead of him and about four small blocks down was a line of people at a nondescript building—the Blood Bank, he assumed. The line was relatively long, considering the hour, and it was filled with a decidedly rough-looking crowd clad in black leather and metal. That at least was not very different from what he had expected.

As he proceeded along the cobblestones, bright with the light from a full moon and uneven beneath his shoes, he kept a wary eye on the smaller, narrower side streets and tight gaps between the buildings. It was at the mouth of one of those alleys that the last body had been found.

Or at least, parts of the body.

A grunt, loud and painful sounding, snared his attention. Two turn-of-the-century brick buildings, built so closely together that the moonlight did little to illuminate the area between them, did a good job of hiding whatever activity was going on in the gap.

Another grunt was followed by the din of metal trash cans crashing together.

Definitely a fight and, judging from the sounds of it, someone was getting their ass kicked.

Jesus pulled out his Sig and advanced to the opening of the alley. He took a step within and let his eyes adjust to the lack of light, revealing the two people locked together in combat. One was tall and much bigger than the other, and as they grappled together, the light from a side-door lamp illuminated their features.

The smaller one was a woman, while the other…

Eerily bright blazing eyes shot a glance his way while long white fangs gleamed under the artificial light of the lamp. The creature growled at him, the sound like the rumble of a mountain lion, but then turned back toward the woman.

Jesus blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing, but another glimpse of the creature’s face confirmed what he was—a vampire. Or at least, someone posing as one.

The much smaller woman had her arms braced against the creature’s jacket, trying to keep those wickedly long fangs away from her face, but with the vampire’s greater height and bulk, Jesus feared she might be fighting a losing battle.

No, he cursed as she continued with the fight, totally ignoring his presence.

The creature spun the woman around and as the light swept over her face, he could tell she was young. Mid-twenties he guessed before she whirled out of sight again, struggling to break away from the demon’s grasp.

With a quick upward jab of her arm, the woman snapped the creature’s head back. It emitted a louder growl, but the woman’s blow did little to slow the demon. It reached behind to grab the woman by the scruff of her neck and whip her against a brick wall. She hit with a thick thud and fell to the ground dazed, prompting Jesus to action.

“FBI. Stop or I’ll shoot,” he called out, training his gun on the demon as it took a step toward her.

The thing actually halted and looked at him. What he guessed passed for a smile erupted on its face, but then a second later the demon reeled back, grabbing at its chest with long taloned fingers.

The woman had buried a wooden stake deep into its chest.

Shock filled the creature’s face, mirroring Jesus’ own surprise as he realized she had just killed someone…

No, make that something, before his eyes.

Blood leaked from around the edges of the stake, staining the off-white shirt the man-beast wore. It stood, hands flailing, long nails clacking against the stake, disbelief on its face before the look became blank and the creature dropped to the ground.

“One down, too many more to go,” the woman said, her voice deeper than what he would have expected from someone so petite. She nudged the creature’s body with the toe of her black boot and then bent to examine it, as if to make sure she had finished the job.

One down, huh? He turned his gun on her and warned, “FBI. Put your hands up.”

She faced him and just for a moment he thought he saw a hint of fang at her mouth and a glow in her gaze, but then she stepped into the puny shaft of light from the side lamp on the building.

Her face was anything but demon-like.

She stood before him, her hands outstretched at her sides, her totally human face serene and beautiful, reminding him of the pictures of the saints his mother used to have on the wall of their fifth-floor walk-up apartment. Of course, the black leather encasing her slim body was anything but saintlike.

Too beautiful and too young, it occurred to him as she took a step toward him.

“FBI. Stop or I’ll shoot.” He held his gun steady and aimed straight at her head.

A wistful smile played across her face as she stepped toward him tentatively. “This is none of your business. The FBI has no power here.”

“Here? This is New York City, lady, and in case you didn’t notice, I’ve got the gun and the badge.” For good measure, he drew aside the edge of his jacket to reveal the silver and gold badge clipped to his belt.

She surprised him by laughing, a sexy husky sound that pulled at his gut, confusing him. His confusion only increased with her next words.

“This may be New York, but that gun and badge won’t help you against vampires. Especially ones like him.” She motioned to the body on the ground. “Or the ones up the block in the Blood Bank.”

Certifiable, he thought, because now that he had time to think, he knew the demon on the ground had to be a man in costume. Vampires were not real and a stake to the chest would kill most anybody. But then the body on the ground did a funny little twitch and began to shrivel up before his eyes.

Following his gaze, she peered over her shoulder. With a shrug she said, “The older they are the faster they dry up. Harder to kill, though. Age makes them stronger.”

He shook his head and, for the barest of seconds, closed his eyes to refocus, blaming what he had seen on the lack of light. But when he returned his gaze to the body, it was still slowly disappearing, sublimating like dry ice, and the stake remained buried deep in the middle of its chest.

When he looked back at the woman, he realized she had walked right up to him. The barrel of his gun was barely an inch from her face. Her very young and attractive face.

After she finished perusing him, she wrinkled her nose and said, “You don’t strike me as the type to believe in anything that doesn’t go by the book.”

She was right, which frustrated him; despite his better judgment, her power and self-assurance called to him.

As their gazes met, he detected loneliness in her.

The same emotion that lived in him, thanks to the demands of his job.

Fascinated, he said, “So make me believe.”

She smiled and motioned to the entrance of the alley behind him.

“Follow me.”