“The DA knows the score about this town,” Dee told them. “Pak told me, after Erin Jerome’s case…the DA knows.”
Erin Jerome. Simon knew the name. Erin was the assistant district attorney. She was also involved with one of the Night Watch hunters, Jude, the shifter.
“Figured the bastard knew more than he let on.” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “Too many cases that seemed to disappear before court date.”
“This one has to disappear, too.” Dee’s body vibrated with tension. “I’ll bring you a witness. I’ll bring proof that I’m innocent, and I want Clark to make this thing vanish.”
“And the vamps?”
“I’ll make them vanish.”
Big promise. Real tough to keep.
Tony stared at her. Too deep and way too long.
“Tony, give me this time. You know me.”
Too well it seemed.
A grim nod. “Forty-eight hours.”
“Tony—”
“It’s all I can do. I’m not the only one on this case and I won’t be able to hold the others back longer than that.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “Forty-eight hours—and you bring me a vamp who’ll convince Clark you’re clear or else I’ll have to lock you up.”
She whistled. “Not giving me much time to work, are you?”
“I’m giving you all that I can.” He stepped toward her, cupped her cheek with his palm, and very nearly lost a hand. “The last thing I want is to have to take you in, but I might not have a choice.”
Simon gave him a long, level look. “There’s always a choice.” Always. Might not be the right choice, and that was the problem.
Tony dropped his hand. “Guess you’re gonna be her backup?”
“Guess so.”
“Then you’d better take care of her or I’ll be coming to kick your ass.”
Doubtful.
The cop headed for the door. “Better hurry out of here,” he tossed back, “the way I figure it, two squad cars will be pulling up in about thirty minutes.”
Dick.
“You sent the uniforms after me?” A whistle. “Damn, man, you really did come to toss me in jail.”
The dick in question glanced back at Dee. “No.” A hint of sadness there. Regret. “I came to give you a chance, one I knew the others wouldn’t. And that’s why the uniforms won’t be arriving until you’re gone.” A flash of white teeth. “So move that sweet ass, Dee. Get out there and find those vamps.”
“So where the hell are we headed?” Simon asked, and tightened his fingers around the leather steering wheel. They’d been staying to the back roads, trying to fly under the radar as they headed back to the city, and the silence—thick, heavy—was getting on his last nerve.
Was Dee having regrets? Maybe seeing the old boyfriend had made her hesitate. That jerk had the worst timing.
“There aren’t any feeding rooms in Baton Rouge.”
Feeding rooms. His back teeth clenched. The places set up to look like bars but, deep inside, they were just all-you-can-eat buffets for vampires. Folks went inside and some never came back out. Others got addicted. They became controlled by the vamps, and they would do anything to go back into the rooms.
“Why aren’t there any?” he asked. “I thought those places were in damn near every city now.” Some said they were safe houses for vampires. And those some just really knew how to bullshit.
Not a safe house. More like a slaughterhouse.
Even though humans were the preferred prey in the feeding rooms, the vamps never had to worry about the humans turning on them and shouting to the authorities about the new night club that served up blood. After all, one bite, and a vampire could link with a human’s mind.
A link meant control. You didn’t turn on those who controlled you.
For the humans, it was all too easy to get hooked on the thrill of the bite.
If the vamp wanted the victim to feel pain, the bite could hurt more than a knife wound or gunshot.
The bite could also feel better than sex.
It was all up to the vampire. Pleasure or pain.
Simon slanted a quick glance at Dee’s still figure.
Almost better than sex.
“I’ve made a point of shutting down any feeding room that tries to spring up.”
Oh, yeah, he bet she had. “So where do we start then?”
He felt her eyes. Didn’t have to look, just knew those chocolate eyes were on him. “I thought you had vamp contacts in this town.”
Careful now. “Ah, the vamps I know scattered when word came down about the Born Master.”
“Why? If they weren’t linked to him, there’d be no need to flee.”
The link. The screwed family tree that connected vampires. A Born Master took a victim, and formed a psychic connection with his prey. But if the Master turned that prey into the Taken, and the new vampire took another victim, the Born Master’s connection would trickle into the new prey, and keep trickling down through every blood exchange. Like freaking tentacles, reaching out for minds and spirits.
A Born Master wasn’t just stronger physically than other vampires. He was like a psychic black hole, sucking in all the prey he could find.
And controlling them.
A Born Master didn’t just pick up the thoughts of those in his link. He could whisper his thoughts to them. Compel them.
Rule them. His army of helpless minions. Good, bad, everything in between. All his for the taking and for the killing.
The Taken were never truly free. Not until the Born Master who’d started their blood lineage was dead.
Never an easy feat.
“Huh. Well, if your contacts are out, then I guess we’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way.”
Simon knew he was not going to like this. “And that would be?” He braked at a Stop sign, one that had been spray painted a garish yellow. They’d reached the edge of the city. The part where the good folks never visited. Too many criminals. Too much darkness.
Too much evil.
Simon glanced at Dee. Yep, her eyes were on him. “We find the perfect prey,” she said simply. “Then wait for the vamps to take the bait. When they come up for a bite, we nail their asses.”
“Interesting plan.” His fingertips pounded a fast, hard beat on the steering wheel. “You really think it’s going to work?”
One shoulder lifted. “Figure I’ve got a fifty-fifty shot with it. If it doesn’t, then I have a witch who owes me a favor. Maybe I can get a summoning spell.”