Born to Love (The Vampire Reborn Series) (Entangled Ignite) (10 page)

Chapter Fourteen

Diana found a spot to park at the eastern end of the street where there were a number of squat residential buildings, a multi-story brick correctional facility known to house celebrity inmates, and some retail stores.

In the chill of the mid-afternoon, they walked westward toward a large, upscale condo complex rising high into the skyline to offer multimillion-dollar views of Central Park. From here, residents could get glimpses of the Conservatory Garden along Fifth Avenue and the serene waters of the Harlem Meer. In the far distance, the Plaza and other hotels along Central Park South marked the furthest edge of the park.

Randall Newark, the former tech sector wizard and now dead cupcake chef, had been one of the pioneers to risk renovating an older brownstone in the area. The four-story brick walkup was tucked at the westernmost end of the street now being pushed as Central Park North as gentrification encroached into what most New Yorkers would call the fringes of Harlem.

Daly was standing outside the building, breathing warm air into his hands to combat the damp cold. He wore a black leather duster over his suit, and as he turned to face them the gold of his lieutenant’s shield gleamed against the dark leather.

“About time, Reyes. I’m freezing my ass off out here. What’s your interest in this case, anyway? The fire marshal ruled it accidental.” He jerked his head at the burned-out ruins of Randall Newark’s brownstone.

Diana studied the blackened walls and rubble along one side of the skeletal structure, clearly the area where the gas explosion had occurred. On the ground beneath, bits of wood, brick, and glass still littered a staircase leading down to a lower level. On the street by the stairwell, well-meaning friends and neighbors had placed flowers and candles, the remnants of which lingered in memoriam.

“The report says it was likely due to a leak in a gas line, but we both know leaks can be intentional,” Diana said.

“The report also says they couldn’t find the source of the leak due to the explosion, so there’s no way to confirm if it was intentional or not,” Maggie added.

Daly shoved his hands in his pockets and jiggled some loose change as he looked consideringly from the building to the park. “This place is not far from the jogger’s murder site. Not too far from the earlier killing, either, if we’re adding that one to the mix.”

“We are. The attacks are similar, and the bite marks match,” Maggie said with an uneasy glance at Diana.

Daly immediately registered their tension. He looked between the two of them, raked a hand through his longish blond hair, and said, “Let me guess. You’d rather not say what made those bites.”

Diana nodded, and out of deference to their long friendship, she said, “I’ve got some ammo you might want to keep handy.” She unclipped a magazine from her belt and handed it to Daly. Although human, he’d been involved in several of their otherworldly cases over the years, and was married to a vampiress who ran a shelter for abused women in Spanish Harlem. Diana wasn’t sure if he knew about shifters, but he was a smart man, and had to know something was not normal about all of this.

He popped out one of the bullets and, with a curse, muttered, “Silver bullets. I guess I got my answer as to what we’re dealing with.”

He shoved the bullet back in and clipped the magazine to his belt. “Do I need these now?” he asked, but required no answer as Diana swapped out the magazine in her own weapon.

Daly followed her lead and together they headed up the steps. Turning to her and Maggie as they reached the door, he said, “Be careful where you step. The structure was seriously compromised by the blast, the fire, and the water from the fire hoses.”

“We’re interested in the basement level,” Diana said, nodding. “We think our unsub may have been kept down there…but I’d rather not find out by falling through the floor.”

Daly opened the door into a narrow hallway. Vandals had gotten in and spray-painted their tags over what remained of the soot-blackened plaster walls.

To the immediate right, a yawning hole hinted at what had once been a kitchen and front parlor. The kitchen had run along the entire side of the home, but all that remained now was charred wood cabinets, the crinkled hulk of the professional stove where the blast had initiated, and some glints of stainless steel appliances and expensive gadgets beneath the rubble.

The floor creaked ominously beneath them as they inched toward the back of the hall. Recalling the reports David had shared with them, she asked, “The victim was found at the end of this hall?”

Daly nodded and pointed toward a second entrance into the kitchen, then turned and motioned to a door on the opposite wall. “My guess is this leads to the basement.”

Diana pulled out her weapon, and he did the same.

“I’ll go first,” Daly commanded with a brief glance down at her belly. “No arguments.”

She knew him well enough not to argue and just nodded, confirming she’d watch his back. She slid in behind him to the left of the door. From the right, Maggie grabbed hold of the doorknob.

“On three,” Daly said, and counted down, but when Maggie threw open the door, the stench of death knocked them all backward.

“Holy shit.” He covered his nose and mouth with his arm to battle back the smell.

Diana did the same and, after bracing herself for the worst, followed him down the stairs to the basement.

Her stomach somersaulted at the sight of the two young vandals. Or rather what was left of them. They had been eaten almost down to the bone in spots, and what flesh remained had been nibbled away by the army of rats swarming over their corpses. Daly shouted “
Scat!
” and banged on the metal banister, sending the rats squealing and scurrying out through a large break in the foundation.

“Move back upstairs, Reyes. I need to call this in,” Daly said, and Diana complied without protest, needing a breath of fresh air to calm her roiling stomach. She passed Maggie on the way and her friend remained on the stairs for a closer look.

Once Diana and Daly were back up in the hall, he called it in, asking for additional backup to secure the area. They needed to determine if they were now dealing with two additional homicides.

Diana stood at the front of the hall, where a breeze from the park provided fresh air and flushed away the smell of death. Dragging in a few deep breaths, she tried to clear the remnants of the stench, but it lingered on her tongue and throat. God, she hated that.

Daly noticed her discomfort and came to stand beside her. “Thought you were used to this kind of shit, Reyes.”

“I am, the baby’s not,” she said wryly, to explain her unusual squeamishness.

Maggie walked into the hall and approached them, her face pale but determined. “Hard to guess at cause of death due to the rodent damage. As to time of death, my best guess is that they’ve been dead for three days. They still have the spray paint cans in their hands. Something hit them hard and fast. Caught them unaware.”

It was impossible not to see Daly counting the days in his head. He said, “On the day before the jogger was killed. I’m guessing the first day of the full moon cycle. Should I expect to find another body soon?”

Diana met his grim gaze. “It’s possible. The full moon cycle lasts for three days, and this unsub is clearly out of control. The good news is, yesterday was the last day.”

“Plus, we’ve eliminated one of the suspects. The one that bit me,” Maggie added, earning a confused look from Daly.

“You know for sure what…or who…bit you two nights ago?”

Maggie nodded and pulled back the sleeve of her suit jacket to show him the pinkish scars.

Eyes wide with disbelief, he asked, “Healed kind of quick, didn’t it?”

“It did, and I’ve noticed some other things happening,” she admitted evenly, and met Diana’s gaze full on.

“Like what?” she asked, both curious and nervous for her friend.

“I’m stronger. I lifted the body at the morgue this morning like it was nothing. And I can smell much more acutely than I did before. I can smell something canine down there, Di. There’s no getting past the odor.”

“Even with the stench from the decay?” Daly challenged.

Maggie leaned close to him, sniffed deeply, and said, “You had pancakes this morning. Butter, cinnamon, and powdered sugar. No syrup. Black coffee.” She frowned. “There’s a light baby powder smell.”

“One of our shelter residents, a little two-year-old, hugged me on my way out the door,” Daly explained quickly.

“And another female scent. Lighter. Chanel Number 19, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You’re not. I got it for my wife Samantha for our anniversary,” he confirmed, and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay. I believe you.”

Maggie glanced at Diana, looking torn. “I guess this means I can help out Rafe on the hunt tonight.”

“I guess,” Diana agreed uneasily, still dealing with the growing likelihood that her best friend would have a completely different monthly cycle now.

One involving fur and fangs.

And an otherworld that was less than friendly to the vampire world Diana herself had become a part of so many years ago. If that happened, would their friendship survive?

Hiding that fear, she said, “Let’s get this scene secure and processed. We have a lot to do before we can go hunting for anything.”

Chapter Fifteen

It was well past midnight when the phone finally rang in the condo.

“Nice to hear from you at such a rational hour,” Ryder said, forcing neutrality into his voice when he picked up, not bothering with the usual niceties. He was royally pissed, but didn’t want to fight with Diana. He just wanted her to take care of herself and the baby. She’d promised.

“I’m glad you’re pleased, Ryder. But I have something I need to ask you.”

He couldn’t swallow his deprecating chuckle. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’re asking my permission—”

“I don’t need your permission,” she interrupted, “but I am asking for your help.”

He marshaled control to rein in the frustration and anger. He hated that she continued to put her life on the line. But he’d known who she was when he married her. He just hadn’t really accepted how much that might come to bother him.

Especially now that she was carrying his child.

His child
, he thought, with sudden, blinding, unbidden joy. Something he had never expected to have. Not since becoming a vampire.

Just as he’d never expected to fall in love and get married. Certainly not to someone as willful and determined as Diana. Although, admittedly, that’s what had attracted him to her in the first place.

He hated that the things he loved most about her had become the things that worried him the most. He supposed he should be happy she was asking something of him rather than just taking him and his help for granted.

“Ryder? Are you there?” she asked at his prolonged silence.

“I am, darlin’. How can I help?”

There was a pause. “That’s it? You’re giving in that easily?”

“I suppose I could battle you, but that would accomplish little. Still, don’t assume you’ve won the war,” he warned. He hoped she understood that he wouldn’t—couldn’t—just sit on the sidelines waiting for her call while she risked her life.

Her reply came quickly. “Fair enough. I need you to bring Rafe uptown,” she said, and explained what they had discovered, then rattled off the address for the brownstone.

“It sounds like you’ve got a mess on your hands. Which begs the question as to what you plan to do once Rafe is there.”

“Maggie claims she can smell another canine in the basement. I’m hoping she and Rafe can use that scent to start tracking down the killer.”

He considered that. “Do you even have a clue where to begin searching for a werewolf pack?” Manhattan might only be several square miles, but it was densely populated with lots of hidey-holes both below and above ground.

“Nope, but we’ve got to start somewhere. This is our best…hell, our only lead.”

Ryder had no doubt who could provide more information. Diego had been less than honest about his knowledge of shifters, as had Foley. Ryder intended to press both his friends for more specifics.

“I’ll see what I can find out from my contacts,” he said. Then he remembered their fight about his being an office gofer, and added, “That is, if you want my assistance.”

Her long, heartfelt sigh drifted across the phone line. “Don’t make this hard for me, Ryder. If you don’t think I’m torn in multiple ways over this case, and about asking you for help, think again.”

Because he appreciated what it had taken to admit that, he didn’t push back. “I’ll put out some feelers. Rafe and I will meet you shortly.”

“See you soon, then. And Ryder, I love you” She hung up before he had a chance to respond. That she had said the words surrounded by colleagues at an active crime scene only reinforced how conflicted she must be feeling.

And to be fair, he couldn’t deny the challenges she faced.

Her best friend had been bitten by a werewolf.

A werewolf who was no longer a suspect. Which meant a vicious killer was still running loose in Manhattan, probably a rogue werewolf with no conscience, and she had to catch it before it killed again.

To do that, she was working with her ex-partner again. A resentful partner, who now knew their deepest secrets. Ryder couldn’t imagine how David was handling that knowledge, and the pressure it created between him and Diana every day.

And then there was his own relationship with her, and their marriage.

He glanced down at the ring on his finger. It had the sheen of gold as bright and new as their vows and the child growing within her. Funny how a few words had changed so much in their lives. And not all hearts and flowers.

But he supposed many couples experienced similar doubts and battles after taking the difficult step to form a permanent commitment. It was all part of the process.

Setting aside those thoughts, he dialed Diego, intent on keeping his promise.

But the phone just rang and rang. He tried him at the art gallery, and then at Otro Mundo, the restaurant they owned together. He got answers at both places, but neither of the employees had seen Diego at all that day.

As an elder, Diego could handle early morning and late afternoon sun, so maybe he was out and about. And if Ryder had to guess where…

He dialed the Blood Bank and Foley immediately answered. “I figured you’d be calling soon.”

“Why’s that, Daniel?”

“I supposed the missus would be worried about her fur ball friend. By the way, I’m still working on getting the stink out of my place. I should charge you for that,” Foley groused in his no-nonsense way.

Ryder sympathized with his friend’s take on Rafe and his wolf scent. Ryder’s vampire senses had been attuned to the odor of the man all day long. He’d been thankful when the firefighter, feeling caged even in the generous spaces of the condo, had opted for hanging out on the expansive open balcony.

“If I promise not to bring the wolf back to your place, will you give me more information?”

Silence greeted him before Foley finally said, “Diego’s here. Best you speak to him.”

Ryder was both pleased and concerned that his guess about Diego had been accurate.

“Should I take it you’re there as a Council member?” he asked when his partner came on the line.

“You should,” his friend calmly replied. “I had to report the presence of the werewolf and the killings, Ryder. I had no choice.”

Ryder had known his share of conflict between duty, friends, family, and his personal beliefs. As a physician in the Civil War, he had fought for the South because it was his home, although his family had long ago freed their slaves. He had tended to soldiers in both blue and gray because of his oath to always hold life sacred. And yet here he was, living an undead existence. One that some considered less than holy.

“What do werewolves have to do with the Council?” he asked.

“We can’t have them hiding in our territory. Nor can we get involved with shifter issues,” he said pointedly. “They need to deal with their own problems, Ryder.”

“Who says I plan to involve the Council?” he asked, strolling to the French doors to watch Rafe pace back and forth across the balcony.

“You’re already involving us. You’re a vampire and you’re helping the wolf. That’s a problem,” Diego replied in a tone that warned him not to challenge.

Ryder hadn’t survived as long as he had by backing down. “I’m helping my wife,” he corrected. “And she is involved through no choice of her own. Her best friend—a friend of the Council—has been affected and needs help. I can’t ignore that, Diego,” Ryder said.

Which prompted a sharp rebuke from his partner. “Don’t you think I’m painfully aware you and Diana have helped us out, time and time again?” Guilt lay heavy in his voice.

Diana had saved Diego’s own wife at the risk of her career. She had helped the vampires and the Council on many an occasion, as had Ryder.

“So now it’s your turn, Diego. Where can we find the wolf pack?” Ryder pressed, growing resentful of his friend’s unwillingness, and the Council’s shortsightedness.

His appeal was met with a mumbled argument on the other end of the line. Foley and Diego seemed to be in disagreement, a hopeful sign that one of them would break down and tell him something. It was Foley who finally, reluctantly, provided the information, his voice a little hollow because Diego had turned on the speakerphone.

“Rumor has it there’s a small urban werewolf pack around Highbridge Park. The bridge is closed to pedestrians for now, but the shifters use it to cross over to the Bronx and other greenways.”

“That’s a start, but I need more details.” It would take a lot of time to search the Washington Heights area around the High Bridge. Time they possibly didn’t have, given the killer shifter’s propensity for violence. Not to mention the lack of manpower, since Diana could hardly call in NYPD to search for a pack of werewolves. He could just see the headlines plastered across one of the local New York City papers: “FBI and NY’s Finest Friend the Furries.”

More dissension followed, prompting Ryder to angrily call in his favors, something he hadn’t thought he’d need to do. “May I remind you whose blood saved you, Daniel? Or who risked her career for you and your wife, Diego? It’s a sad day when a man has to keep score with his friends,” he snapped.

“You don’t understand, Ryder. We stay out of shifter business and they stay out of ours. It’s always been that way.”

“Kind of hard to do when I’ve got one prowling my balcony and my wife’s best friend may go all hairy during the next full moon.”

“Fuck, Ryder,” Diego said, the troubled, uncharacteristic rejoinder giving Ryder hope his friend might relent.

“All I need is one location. One place where we can go to get some answers. Just one,” he coaxed.

Another curse, less biting and slightly more inventive, escaped his friend before he ground out, “The Fort. It’s a pub off Amsterdam Avenue near the Fort George Hill Trails.”

Foley jumped in, “Watch your back, Ryder. If it comes to a fight between fur and fangs, you’ll be seriously outnumbered and outmuscled.”

“Noted, Daniel. Thank you,” he said, and hung up with relief, satisfied with the information his friends had provided.

Now all he had to do was get Rafe and his wife’s team inside the place, and persuade the shifters to talk to them.

And then to let them go again.

Preferably in one piece.