Dark Shadow Page 3

  I watched a plethora of emotions cross his face, the first being fear, the last being resignation. I didn’t bother to inhale and confirm the emotions. I didn’t need to. Mark knew about the things that go bump in the night. Well, most of them. He hadn’t met a Taniwha in full rage mode yet. But knowledge, in this case, was not armour.

  No, the silver coated bullets in his firearm were.

  “Mark,” I said.

  “Georgia,” he replied.

  We stared at each other. Mark had gone to the same high school as me; a couple of years ahead of my class. I’d dated his brother briefly. He was one of the good guys. I was not. I might have a little laminated card in my pocket that said otherwise, but one look at Detective Anderson’s blue-grey eyes and you got an entirely different story.

  I crossed the landing and approached my door. Mark stepped back, keeping his hand on his hip, near his gun, and his hard eyes on my face. I unlocked the door and held it open.

  “Come in,” I said and almost laughed.

  Humans didn’t need invitations to enter someone’s home. Vampires did. I’d missed out on that little caveat, but had a few others I needed to contend with. Sunlight was one.

  I wondered briefly, as Mark reluctantly followed me into my evil lair, if that was still the case. I felt different. Inside and out. I felt as if my skin was too tight all of a sudden. As if living with my Dark Shadow meant I had very little space left for me.

  I shook my head and turned around to face the policeman, leaning my butt against my kitchen bench.

  My flat was small, but open plan. Kitchen leading onto the dining room, which in turn led onto the lounge. The bedroom and bathroom were off to the side, but I could flash across the entire space in less time than it took to blink.

  I didn’t. Scaring the cop with silver bullets was not a good idea. I did have some impulse control left.

  “What can I do for you?” I asked.

  “Where have you been?” he said by way of answer.

  “Travelling.”

  “I’ve left a dozen messages on your cellphone.”

  I scowled and reached into my pocket to withdraw my phone. It had updated. The date changed. One week. The fairy hadn’t lied. Not that Aliath was prone to that, being of the Dark Fey variety. But still. I never really took a word he said as final.

  I stared at the message bubbles appearing on the screen. I had the phone on silent, so hadn’t heard the notifications as the phone hooked back up to the local network once we’d arrived back here from Faery.

  “Battery ran out,” I lied, pocketing the phone again.

  “And you couldn’t charge it where you were?”

  “Left the charger at home.” Not a lie.

  He ran a hand through his short hair, making it stand up in spikes. It looked angry. Mark looked unhappy. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. Red wine and wet carpet. I glanced at my cream carpet, at where I’d spilt a cup of tea not so long ago. Tea Mark had made for me before he knew I preferred blood as my hot drink.

  My eyes came back up to him. He was pacing. Still ruffling up his hair with agitated hand movements. He looked rumpled. His suit creased. Shadows beneath his eyes. This was not the Mark Anderson I had last seen.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “I didn’t want to come here,” he said, not answering me. “But I’ve got no choice now. I’ve hit a wall. Boss isn’t happy. No one’s happy. The press is having a field day. We’ve managed to keep most of it out of the newspapers, but how long that’ll last, I don’t know. Not when the victims’ families are calling for blood.”

  He winced; shot a startled look up at my face as if expecting me to pounce on the word and suck it down unrepentantly.

  “I’ve already fed,” I said, thinking to reassure him.

  He frowned, turning a shade of green I hadn’t thought possible on homo sapiens.

  “Victims?” I offered, trying to get him back on target.

  I hadn’t thought he was here for a social visit. That boat had long sailed. Right after I glazed him, influenced him with my Sanguis Vitam and oh, yeah, fed off his blood.

  But I also hadn’t expected to be called on in my capacity as “psychic advisor” to the police. That little laminated card burned a hole in my pocket. But the part of me that was - until recently - all Light hadn’t had the heart to discard it.

  Seemed like I’d be using it again.

  “You want my help,” I said.

  “I don’t want anything to do with you,” he snapped back.

  Ouch. I didn’t show any outward sign of hurt. Just stared at him and waited for him to get it off his chest.

  It took a good long minute, and then he said in a more level voice, “I need your help.”

  I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. I wasn’t sure I had anything other than water to offer Mark, but I was pretty sure he wouldn’t take anything I had to offer anyway.

  It would have been so much easier if I could just glaze him. But Mark had a resistance to most vampire glazing. And something else too alarming to consider to mine. I was not going down that path again.

  My Dark Shadow disagreed.

  I ignored her. Which was hard to do considering she was constantly there. In my face. In my head, but in my face in my head, if you know what I mean.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You think murder is funny?” Mark demanded.

  “What?” I unintelligently asked.

  “You just rolled your eyes. I have to assume you think yourself above helping us humans out now that you’ve staked your Sire. No incentive to get involved, is that it? I used to think there was still some good in you, Georgia. But I can see I’m wasting my time.”

  He strode across the room toward the still open door, which I slammed shut with a flick of my wrist and a smattering of Sanguis Vitam. Well, that was new.

  Life, the Dark Shadow purred.

  Whatever.

  Mark pulled his gun, bringing it around and aiming it at me.

  I’d just fed, which might be why he wasn’t already dead. But the Bitch Queen of Dökkálfa had done something to me which meant the gun went flying and this time I hadn’t even flicked my fingers.

  I smiled. I knew it showed fang and for some reason, I didn’t care.

  “Have a seat,” I said and watched in a detached kind of way as the seat beside me at the table swept out across the tiles and stopped at Mark’s side.

  He stared at me, horror written in the lines that creased his forehead and bracketed his downturned mouth. I nudged the chair with a mental shove to move it behind him, and then pushed it into the back of his legs. His knees were clearly feeling weak because he sat down with an audible burst of air.

  “Georgia,” he said. Nothing else. Nothing more. And the condemnation in my name astounded me.

  What the hell was happening here? What had Sofiq done?

  Life, the Dark Shadow purred.

  I gritted my teeth. Felt my fangs pierce the inside of my mouth. Blood flooded my tastebuds. I breathed through my nose even though, now more than ever it seemed, I didn’t need to breathe at all.

  Stringent ammonia. Bittersweet dark chocolate. Mouthwatering white chocolate and strawberry cheesecake. He was angry, scared and full of regret. I gathered the last was regret for coming here.

  I should have felt sad about that.

  Instead, I leaned forward in my seat, making Mark involuntarily lean back in his, and stared at him. The Dark Shadow catalogued his features. Broad shoulders. Pale skin. Perspiration running down his neck and into the collar of his shirt. She inhaled, trying to scent urine. It wasn’t there, but she could hear the grumble of discomfort in his lower intestines.

  I closed my eyes. My fists clenched. My teeth gritted. I tried to ignore the Dark Shadow’s perusal. But she is me, and I am her. Although, I was fearful that she was less me now and more her.

  Mark shifted in his seat.

  “Don’t move,” I whispered.

  Me. Not her. She wanted him to run so she could give chase.

  Stop, I said silently. Stop this.

  He is prey.

  No, he isn’t. He’s a friend.

  A friend who fears you. A friend who regrets coming to see you. A friend who hates what you’ve become.

  I inhaled before I could think better of it.

  Burnt coffee and out-of-date milk.

  I stood up and turned my back on Mark. Then with less precision and more desperation than I wanted to admit, I pushed his gun across the floor with her Sanguis Vitam to bang against his feet.

  The Dark Shadow snarled deep down inside but retreated.

  I breathed the first free breath I’d managed in the past five minutes.

  I heard Mark pick up the gun and chamber a round. I knew he was aiming it at my back, right above my undead heart.

  There was the sadness, I thought as it engulfed me.

  There was the white lilies and loose leaf tea scent on the air.

  I sighed.

  Mark stood up behind me, no doubt making his way to the door, eyes and gun on me the entire way. I didn’t turn around.

  He cleared his throat. I lowered my head. All too aware that my Dark Shadow was allowing me this human moment.

  Then Mark said, “What the hell’s happened to you, Gigi?”

  And calming chamomile tea filled the air.

  3

  Regret

  I turned slowly to face him. But Mark wasn’t where I thought he’d be. I’m sure the Dark Shadow could have told me where exactly he was in the room, but all I got was a sense of amusement from her. Two months of being ignored and shoved to the back can make a vampire-within petty it seemed.

  Mark stood in the middle of the room, closer to me, and nowhere near the door. As though he hadn’t thought of fleeing, but instead had approached and then thought better of it.

  “You need to know,” I said softly, deathly softly, “that I am fully vampire right now.”

  “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “It means I’m more Dark than Light.”

  He looked puzzled. Mark knew a thing or two about what I was, but he didn’t know I was Nothus. Half vampire, half vampire hunter. Hell, Mark didn’t even know that vampire hunters existed. He would have heard of the Nosferatu, but the Nosferatin? Not a chance.

  Even vampires protect them from the Norms.

  There should be balance in the world. Light to balance the Dark. Nosferatin to balance the Nosferatu. I’d been a mix of both, and until now, I hadn’t realised just how important my own internal balance was.

  But had I been balanced before? My Dark Shadow would say not. And I was definitely not balanced now.

  “You mean good and bad?” Mark asked. “Is that what you mean?”

  “No,” I said and then forced myself to sit down.

  Mark didn’t. But he also didn’t leave. Which was more than I could ask for right now.

  “Not all vampires are fully Dark,” I said. “But some are Darker than others. Right now, I have more Dark in me than Light.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was entirely true. My Light was still there; I just didn’t have access to it. My Dark Shadow did. Which was all kinds of screwed up.

  “When the Dark is stronger, my moral compass is weaker,” I added. “Right now, you need to know what I am capable of.”

  “And what are you capable of Georgia?”

  “You know.”

  “I’d like to hear you say it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  I growled low and knew my eyes had flashed red, then said, “I fed off three unwilling donors tonight.”

  “Donors?” Mark pressed.

  “Men,” I said, perversely enjoying his discomfort. I inhaled and confirmed the emotion. My lips parted, showing the tips of my fangs to my prey. Giving him a glimpse of the pleasures that awaited.

  He took a step back.

  “Rule one,” I growled. “Never run from a vampire.”

  He stilled.

  “This is not you,” he whispered. “I know you’re still in there somewhere. Fight it, Gigi. Fight it.”

  The Dark Shadow peeked out from behind my eyes, and I heard Mark’s heart rate skyrocket. The rush of blood through his veins was like music on the air. The thud-thud-thud a bass accompaniment to the hunger that had surged with the Dark Shadow’s awareness. We’d just fed. But prey such as this did not come along that often. Inconsequential things like full bellies meant nothing when given a chance to hunt such worthy opponents.

  He is worthy, the Dark Shadow said.

  I licked my lips.

  “Fight it,” Mark snapped.

  Fight it? Why would we fight it?

  I stood up from the chair, aware my moves were graceful. Lithe. Seductive. Mark swallowed nervously; lemon, lime and mint filling the air. I circled him. He moved with me; eyes on my face, hand on his hip.

  No, I mentally corrected. He held the gun against his thigh with the muzzle pointed to the floor.

  Silver, the Dark Shadow hissed. Worthy, she added.

  She liked the idea of pitting herself against such odds.

  “Gigi,” Mark said urgently. “Fight it.”

  “Her,” I said.

  “What?”

  “My vampire-within is a she,” I said. “I call her my Dark Shadow.”

  “Then fight her!”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to be your fucking dinner! And because you are more than just the part of you that is vampire. Because I know you. And this is not what the Georgia Deverell I know would want.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said, leaning in and inhaling his signature scent. “Very wrong,” I purred.

  Mark looked around the apartment with increasing desperation. He needed to work on that. Never show fear. His eyes landed on something on the floor, and he took a step in that direction.

  I flashed to face him. He wasn’t getting away from me.

  “Look down,” he said, holding my gaze.

  I couldn’t glaze him; not successfully. But she didn’t like the challenge of having prey look her in the eye. I snarled.

  “Look. Down,” he ordered.

  I did. Why? I’ve no idea. It’s not as if Mark has Sanguis Vitam and can command me. But he is a cop. A damn good one. And when he goes all cop on you, it’s hard not to comply.

  My eyes landed on the tea stain on the carpet. The tea I’d dropped when Mark had tried to comfort me. The tea I couldn’t drink because I’m vampire. And because I was too busy drinking him at the time.

  “Do you remember?” he asked.

  He’d tasted divine.

  “Do you remember how you felt afterwards?” he pressed.

  I shook my head. The Dark Shadow snarled inside.

  “Do you remember the guilt? The shame?”

  “Stop,” I whispered.

  “Do you remember what you said to me?”

  The Dark Shadow retreated. I sucked in a trembling breath of air.

  “You apologised,” Mark said. “You apologised, Gigi. Is that what a vampire would do? Is that what she would do?”

  “No,” I said.

  “That was you,” Mark pressed. “And you’re still you. Somewhere in there, you’re the woman who felt wretched for feeding off a friend without asking.”

  I looked up at him. He met my gaze with an unflinching one.

  “What’s happened?” he asked again.

  “Fairies,” I said with disgust.

  “A fairy did this?”

  I turned away; it was harder than I thought it would be. The Dark Shadow had retreated, but placing my back to Mark right then took more courage than it should have. I sat down on the couch in the lounge. We’d had little success with the dining room chairs. I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help.

  The tea stain stared accusingly at me.

  “Not just a fairy,” I said quietly. “But the Queen of the Dark fairies.”

  “Fuck me,” Mark whispered and took a seat in an armchair. He hesitated; not quite sitting back on the chair, still on guard. “Are you…you again?” he asked.

  “Mark,” I said in warning.

  “I mean,” he quickly added, “have you got a handle on your…vampire-within or do I still need to keep the gun out?”

  I closed my eyes. The Dark Shadow waited. Mark waited. I checked myself. I checked her. She flashed fang and turned around, placing her back to me inside my head.

  “For now,” I said.

  “Good,” he said, sitting back fully in his chair.

  “Rule number two,” I whispered. “Never trust a vampire.”

  He stared at me and then slowly nodded his head. He didn’t draw the gun again, but he positioned himself so that he could. I didn’t have the energy to tell him he’d never be able to reach the damn thing fast enough for it to be of any use.

  “There have been three high profile disappearances over the past week,” Mark suddenly said. “We suspect one of those who was taken died in the attempt.”

  My eyes met his.

  “Too much blood at the scene of the abduction,” he clarified.

  “That’s why you’re involved,” I guessed. Mark worked homicide.

  “Yes.” He straightened his trousers, but he could do nothing for the creases that crisscrossed the material of his thighs. “We’ve chased down every piece of evidence we could find, every lead that seemed remotely connected to the crimes, every informant every single member of CIB has ever had, and still we’ve got nothing.”

  “What makes you think the perpetrator is supernatural?” I asked. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t think someone other than a Norm did this.

  Mark shifted uncomfortably. I didn’t bother to inhale the scent. I was too scared the Dark Shadow would come back out to play. But there are other ways to determine emotions. And right now, Mark displayed the hallmarks of soggy wet wool to perfection.

  “There were witnesses,” he said. “Well, there should have been. One guy was with his wife when he was taken. The other with his mistress. The third was walking her dog with her security detail in tow.”

  Security detail. Mark had said high profile. But that wasn’t the point he was trying to make.