It wasn’t that he didn’t deliver when it came to sex, but many of the vamp ladies had started making emotional demands. Why they had all suddenly turned into needy, clingy creatures, he had no idea. For sure, mainstreaming was to blame. As if emulating humans was the goal.
He sure wasn’t going to turn into one of those blithering idiots, going all gooey eyed over some woman, not even if he was capable of loving, which, of course, he wasn’t.
Three
Nina pulled the hood of her dark sweatshirt closer around her head. For the hundredth time this night she tucked an errant dark-blonde curl back behind her ear. If she let her hair grow longer, she would be able to pull the unruly locks back into a ponytail. But long hair was impractical, especially in a fight.
In any case, she wasn’t girly. At five foot eight, she certainly wasn’t petite, a fact she was grateful for, particularly since she was up against some big bad guys.
The fog had dissipated hours earlier, making this a gorgeous, starry, yet moonless night. Almost peaceful in its stillness, it guarded the sleeping city.
Nina continued watching the beautiful Victorian house from her hiding place across the street. Over an hour ago, she’d seen several of them enter, and none had come out yet.
Them. She knew what they were. A month earlier, she’d gone through her brother’s possessions and pieced together what at first she’d thought was impossible. She’d immediately dismissed her findings as ludicrous. But the more she went back, the more she dug, the clearer everything had become.
She’d found notes in Eddie’s datebook, drawings of weapons and weird symbols. And in the margins of a book about the paranormal he’d made more notes. Then under his mattress she’d found a list with names. Next to each name he’d put either Human or Vampire.
The moment Nina had read the word she’d thought he’d gone crazy. And for a short while she’d believed that he was guilty of what he’d been accused of. Mental illness would explain it. But there had never been a sign of instability in him. Eddie wasn’t crazy—no way would she believe that.
So she’d dug deeper and followed those he’d classified as vampires on his list. Most worked for Scanguards.
Nina sniffed and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Her dark clothes made her frame melt into the doorway behind her. Nobody would be able to notice her even if they looked into her direction.
Several weeks of following those she suspected of being vampires had turned into a crash course in stealth. Until now, she’d stayed far enough away from them to be out of danger. Tonight, she would have to get close.
The sound of a door opening pulled Nina out of her thoughts. A quick glance at the person exiting the large Victorian home confirmed it was one of the vampires, the biggest of them, Amaury.
She’d followed him several times, figured out where he lived and tried to find his weak point. She wasn’t particularly keen on him being the first she would have to take down, but maybe this was how it should be. Get rid of the biggest, baddest vampire first; the rest would be easy pickings by comparison.
Nina watched him stagger down the front steps, almost as if he was drunk. On the sidewalk he stopped and braced himself against the gate to his right. The light from the streetlamp illuminated his face. Instead of the broad smile he so often sported in the company of others, his face was distorted, deep grooves around his mouth and eyes creating a mask of pain.
Pain? She frowned. From everything she knew about vampires, she was almost certain they didn’t feel much pain, if any at all. Yet Amaury looked as if he was in the throws of a migraine, the heels of his hands pressed tightly against his temples.
With bated breath she watched his chest rise and fall as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. There was something so human, so vulnerable about him, it made her own chest tighten in sympathy. She instantly shook the thought from her mind. A few seconds passed before he finally straightened up, his face normal again.
Nina remained at a safe distance behind him as she followed, the damp pavement absorbing the sound of her soft-soled shoes. From the direction he took, she realized he was heading home. Why he lived in the Tenderloin, one of the shabbiest neighborhoods of San Francisco, when he could surely afford a much better place, was a mystery to her. His clothes, while casual, looked expensive. And once she’d seen him in his car, a Porsche.
As she trailed him down the hill, slowly entering the less savory parts of the city where so many of the homeless and drug addicts congregated, she had already decided on a place to take him down. Patiently, she bided her time, each step bringing her closer to the spot which would give her a definite advantage.