Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4)

BOOK: Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4)
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Blood Bath

A Maurin Kincaide Novel

 

Rachel Rawlings

 

 

Blood Bath

A Maurin Kincaide Novel

Written by Rachel Rawlings

Copyright © 2014 Rachel Rawlings All rights reserved under the International Copyright Conventions.

Published in the United States by: R Squared Publishing

http://www.rachelrawlings.com http://www.hallowread.com

 

 

 

This book is dedicated to my family. Thank you for your continued support, for all the FFY - Fend For Yourself- nights, for learning to appreciate Ramen noodles. I love you more than words can express.

A huge thank you to Stephanie Adams, the best Beta and cheerleader an author could have.

I have to thank my editor, Tina Winograd. It's always a pleasure working with you. You not only improve the story but my writing skills.

Patricia Statham, Katrina Hough and Melissa Lewis you l
adies are great! Thank you for your support and for loving my characters! And of course the marvelous mad Madam Kelley Kell, thank you for your support and the awesome marketing graphics!

 

 

 

 

 

But first, on earth as vampire sent,

Thy corpse shall from its tomb be rent:

Then ghastly haunt thy native place,

And suck the blood of all thy race;

 

There from thy daughter, sister, wife,

At midnight drain the stream of life;

Yet loathe the banquet which perforce

Must fee thy living corpse.

 

Thy victims are they yet expire

Shall know the demons for their sire,

As cursing thee, thou cursing them,

Thy flowers are withered on the stem.

 

~The
Giaour by Lord Byron 1813

 

 

 

1

 

 

 

"You have got to be kidding." I cursed a string of profanities that would make a sailor blush as the red and blue lights came into my rear view mirror before pulling to the side of the road. I wasn't even speeding. Well, okay I was going nine miles over the speed limit but wasn't there some unwritten rule about keeping it under ten?

When the all too familiar and unwanted doughy exterior of one Detective Masarelli appeared in my side mirror I banged my head on the steering wheel, managing to blow the horn in the process.

"I don't have time for this shit." I reached across the front seat and pulled the registration out of the glove box. Pairing it with my driver's license, I waited for Detective Dickhead on the off chance this was just a regular traffic stop. Highly unlikely. I was already late for my meeting with Arawn.

After traveling through the between so much
, I sort of forgot about all those time consuming things like stop signs and traffic lights. I hadn't allowed enough time to actually drive there hence the sixty-four in a fifty-five.

The reason I was in a car instead of grey fog was Kellen. A member of the
Seelie court and new Council chair, he somehow turned my magic against me. He could force me through the between to any destination of his choosing. The more I resisted Kellen the more excruciating he made the jump. He had my magic so screwed up I couldn't jump on my own without throwing up for weeks. So Aidan basically forbade me using the between.

Normally I wasn't one to let a guy tell me what to do but
until my father explained Kellen's hold over my magic, the between was off limits. For once I was in complete agreement with my slightly over-bearing vampire boyfriend.

A frustrated sigh escaped me.
I had plans that so did not involve a fumbling detective who smelled like greasy take out and stale cigars. The evening's itinerary consisted of a meeting with my father, finding out the source of Kellen's hold over me and whether that made traveling in the between dangerous, followed by dinner with Aidan. And hopefully a few other things having to do with my vampire.

This was only the second night I had with Aidan since he got back from Reykjavik. That was almost a week ago. Unfortunately whatever was happening with the vampires occupied all his time. Iceland could be a synonym for our relationship at the moment. Something I fully intended to change once I got rid of Masarelli and on with the rest of my night.

"Kill the engine." Masarelli tapped on the glass and motioned for me to put my window down. He jumped back when Conry - my ethereal guard dog - poked his head up from the back seat.

"Was I speeding officer?" I handed him my license and registration.

"I'm not pulling you over for speeding, you dunce. Though your lead foot and this car is a recipe for disaster. We need to talk." Masarelli leaned into the Camaro, a low whistle escaping as he took in the fully refurbished interior of the classic muscle car. It really was a thing of beauty - every gear head’s wet dream.

"And you thought pulling me over was the best way to do that?" I grabbed my cell phone off the seat and shook it in his face. "Ever heard of one of these? What'd you do
? Put an all points bulletin out for me?"

"Thought about it. I knew you'd just send me straight to voicemail."

I thought about the Pink Panther theme song ringtone I gave him. Odds were good I would send him to voicemail. At least I always called back. "What the hell is so important that you had to pull me over?"

"
You need to come to the station with me." He moved to open my door, like that would get me into motion. Conry took interest in the detective again and Masarelli quickly removed his hand from the handle. 

"Look
, I was going to talk to you about the Salem pack. I'll spare you the bullshit excuses and just admit I forgot. Cash is the new alpha. If I promise to come in tomorrow and tell you about it can I go? I'm already late for an appointment." I glanced at the clock on the radio. It was the only unoriginal thing in the car, well that and the speakers. I was now ten minutes late for my meeting with Arawn.

"It's not about the wolves. It can't wait until tomorrow." He backed up enough for me to open the car door.

"I'm not getting out of the car until you tell me what the hell is going on." I started to put the window back up.

"I am not going to discuss this on the side of the road. Quit busting my balls and get out of the dammed car."

"Quit busting your balls?" I opened the door and stepped out in a rush, thrusting my hand out. "Hello, pot, my names kettle. It's nice to meet you. Why can't I just follow you?"

He ran a hand over his face, across stubble that was too long, even for him. "This is exactly what I was talking about. Because I know you won't follow me. Now would you please get in
my car so I can take you to the station and get your expert fucking opinion on something?"

I relinquished any hope of salvaging my night,
leaned inside the Camero, put the window up, grabbed the keys from the ignition and whistled for Conry. I glared at Masarelli over my shoulder as I walked to his car, daring him to question me about my dog. Masarelli locked and shut the car door, giving the Camaro one last approving look before heading back to his filthy unmarked patrol car.

Since I wasn't under arrest - at least not yet, the night's still young - I opened the car door myself and slid in behind the driver's seat.
"Remember that movie we watched last week, Conry? The one where the dog ate the nice policeman's headrest?" I gave him a big belly rub as he stretched out over my lap and the rest of the back seat.

Masarelli gave me his best cop stare in the rear view and headed toward the station. "So you just forgot about the fact that a black ops
merc killed the alpha and took control of the Salem pack? You got papers for this guy?"

"It's a pack not the AKC." I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Matthison approved his pass personally."

"It's expired." He blipped the lights and burped the siren to get through the intersection.

"Cash is
Alpha now. The paperwork is irrelevant at this point. Unless of course you want to run him out of town on a technicality and create a power vacuum." I gave Conry a little nudge, my legs were falling asleep.

Masarelli spared a quick glance in the rear view mirror. "
What happened to Roul? They eat him?"

"Eighteenth century France called. They want
ed their superstitions back. How did you get this job again? They buried him, following pack ritual." Not even ten minutes with him and I was already exhausted.

"And his mate?" He couldn't know, could he? Was this what the mysterious trip to the station was
really about? He needed my expert opinion on some trumped up murder charge?

"Dead." I didn’t elaborate.

"Killing the mate isn't covered under the Meneur de Loupes agreement." He was fishing for something, anything to get rid of Cash.

My mouth was moving before I th
ought about the consequences. "It doesn't need to be covered by the Leader of the Wolves agreement since a werewolf didn't kill Olwyn. I did and it was self defense."

"And that's why you didn't bother telling us about it? I have to file a report and take your statement. I don't su
ppose you have someone to corroborate your self-defense story?"

Shit. "Besides
the pack you mean?"

He shook his head. "What do you think?"

"No." If this sounded half as bad to him as it did to me I might actually be in trouble.

 

 

 

 

2

 

 

 

After years of taking over Masarelli’s interrogations, I was the one answering his questions. He asked me how Olwyn died twenty different ways
and I gave him the same answer every time - the truth.

"This is bullshit
, Masarelli. Just call Pollyanna so I can go home." I locked my fingers behind my head and leaned back in the metal chair.

I knew the eyes and ears behind the two
-way would send her in to put an end to this. Even if I was guilty of murder, Masarelli wouldn't get a confession. I knew all his tricks. Hell, half of them he stole from me.

Pollyanna walked in a couple minutes later. She was five foot nine, one hundred eighty pounds of scary ass alb
ino bitch who supposedly gained the ability to sense a lie after being struck by lightning. Apparently the current of electricity that ran through her body fried some synapses and rewired the rest. She was a walking dowsing rod when it came to liars. Her name was plain Anna until she started beating polygraph percentages. Some dumbass thought it would be funny to call her Pollyanna. The joke was on him when she legally changed her name.

I never needed to call her on my cases but I'd heard enough to know being read by Pollyanna was going to hurt. The guys behind the glass must have ratcheted up the thermostat because the room was sweltering
. Or maybe it was just nerves. I didn't kill Olwyn in cold blood. She would have killed me. She had to be put down. So why was I suddenly so nervous? Maybe because we didn't have a 'stand your ground' law and it was hard to prove self defense. If Pollyanna sensed how uneasy I was, she didn't say a word. She pulled out the chair across from me and sat.

I knew the drill, my arms were already extended across the table. She latched onto my wrists and dug her nails into my skin. Tiny jolts of electricity shot to my shoulders and through my chest. I instinctively pull
ed away but she jerked my arms back.

The lights flickered as her power crackled in the air. Pollyanna's skin turned a sickly gray as she sent her energy through my body. Holy crap she was terrifying. Why did I ask for her again? Oh yeah, I wanted to get the hell out of here.

I focused on what happened when Olwyn attacked me, how she completely lost her mind when Roul died and the permanent claw marks on my stomach. If I was lucky, some of it would get through.

It felt like thousands of fire ants crawl
ed over my body. I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. Resisting her would only make it longer and hurt more. The burning, itching sensation burrowed under my skin using my nervous system to work up to my brain. Her grip tightened more as she picked through my mind. I freaking hated the feeling of things crawling on me. Inside my skull was a thousand times worse.

Sweat bead
ed on my forehead and ran down my spine as I fought the desire to give Pollyanna a sampling of fae magic. She was so close, her fingers biting into my wrists. I could use the connection to rip my way through her mind, rifling through her memories.

The muscles
in my jaw twitched as I waged an internal war over giving her a taste of her own medicine. Something told me she could do this without the pain - she just got off on it. Unfortunately as much as I wanted this to be over, I needed her to tell Masarelli the truth.

BOOK: Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4)
9.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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