The Fledgling (2 page)

Misha walked around him toward the car. “Well, that was a bust. It reminds me of a recent episode of
Magnum, PI
. Magnum questioned this guy who had stolen…”

The tingling started again, traveling lightly up Jean Luc’s spine, and Misha’s voice faded away. He would swear he sensed a fledgling, but it was not possible. Vampires were required to register with them when entering their jurisdiction. And there were no new vampires under the age of fifty currently living in the city.

He looked across the street, studying the area illuminated by the neon sign advertising the Gentleman’s Club. But unlike the refined gentleman’s clubs Jean Luc had frequented centuries ago, the name now represented something seedy, sordid.

He surveyed the immediate area. No one stood outside the club, and the windows were covered with thick curtains. The street appeared to be empty.

But someone was watching.

Chapter 2

She stood in the alley next to the club, gritting her teeth against music so loud the bricks she leaned against vibrated. She didn’t dare move for fear the vampire would sense her. Even though she could mask herself fairly well, she didn’t want to risk him spotting her.

And he was powerful. It practically oozed from his pores. She held her breath when he glanced toward the alley. His long black hair was pulled back in a queue at the base of his neck, and his eyes seemed to pierce right through the dark and into her. Did he sense her? Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to follow him. But she had learned a long time ago to make use of any and all available resources. And he was definitely a resource. The large, blond male with him was supernatural as well, perhaps a demon.

The vampire turned away, and she let out a quiet breath, closing her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, he’d vanished.
Where had he gone?
She stole a glance at his car—empty.

No!
She raced toward the back of the alley. Air rushed around her like a funnel cloud, and hands grasped her shoulders before he appeared in front of her. She yelped in surprise.

His face was so close to hers she had trouble focusing. He backed off an inch or so and looked her over unashamedly, perusing her face like an artist would a model. During his flash, his black hair had fallen out of its ponytail and hung to his shoulders. She stared defiantly into his dark eyes.
Show no fear.

“Let me go.”

“Why are you following me?”

His voice was low and modulated, as though he was simply asking the time, which made him all the more intimidating.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I sensed your presence at the house and now you are here. Let us try this again.”

“I’m not following you.”

His large partner bounded into the alley, interrupting. “Who do we have here, my friend?”

“That is what I am attempting to discover.” He bent closer…and sniffed her!

She tried to jerk away from his grasp. “What the hell are you doing?”

His eyes widened slightly. “You are a fledgling. Why have you not registered with us?”

“Registered?”

“Whenever supernaturals enter a new city, they are required to register with the Bureau of Supernatural Relations.”

Damn. She knew about the BSR but had steered clear of them until now. Just her luck.

He waited for a second, as if giving her time to absorb what he had said. “What is your name?”

“What’s yours?”

His eyes softened and his mouth turned up at the corners. He let go of her arms. “You are correct, I have been rude. I am Jean Luc Delacroix, and this is my partner Misha Sokolov.”

“Talia Walker.”

“Welcome, Talia. Why are you visiting our city?”

She might as well tell the truth. “I’m here to catch a killer.”

His eyes lost their amusement and narrowed again. “You are much too young to hunt a supernatural killer.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

He grinned and raised his eyebrows infinitesimally. “Really? Which, of course, is why you allowed yourself to be caught?”

“You patronizing jerk.” She sucker-punched him in the belly. His breath whooshed out, but he recovered immediately, blocking her attempt to punch his throat.

Her chest heaved from exertion and anger. “Don’t underestimate me.”

The demon chuckled, the deep sound expanding into a robust laugh.

She scowled at him. “What are you laughing at? You look like Crockett on steroids. Does that mean he’s Tubbs?” She jerked her chin at Jean Luc.

Jean Luc looked toward his partner and then back at her. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

It was her turn to chuckle, although she was hardly feeling jovial. “You better get with the times, gramps. You’re going to stand out like a sore thumb if you don’t know pop culture.
Miami Vice
is one of the hottest shows on TV right now.”

He shrugged. “I do not have time for television.”

“But you do have time to chase down innocent bystanders in an alley?”

“Why are you after the killer?”

“Because I was hired to find him.”

“You are a bounty hunter?” His lips curled in disgust on the last word. “This is not a game. You must leave town. Now.”

She backed away, and when he didn’t stop her, she shook her head. “I’m not leaving until the job is done.” She stepped around him, and he rested his hand lightly on her arm, the heat of it cascading up into her shoulder.

“I cannot impress upon you too strongly just how dangerous this killer is.”

She shrugged out of his grip and walked toward the mouth of the alley, throwing a parting shot over her shoulder. “Sorry, but you didn’t impress me.”

* * *

She was such a liar. Jean Luc was the most gorgeous specimen she had ever seen. And that meant trouble. Talia sat in her car, her hands wrapped in a death grip around the steering wheel. She had turned into a first-class harpy when he questioned her, but even so, she hadn’t been able to control her emotions. She was confused, and in her line of work, confused could get her killed.

Talia had not looked at a male, any male, since she’d been turned five years ago. She hadn’t had the time or the desire to do so. Falling for a man, or what she’d thought at the time was a man, was, after all, why she’d lost her humanity in the first place.

And unless someone had put that bastard out of his misery, he was still out there somewhere. And she was not equipped to face him, so staying out of sight was her only option. There was no turning back. And no time for any libido-reviving, either, especially with a vamp who thought he was God’s gift to…well…everything.

Chapter 3

Jean Luc turned the corner, and the squeal of tires brought him to his senses. He slowed down as they neared the house.

What an exasperating female! She had no idea what she was up against. How could he convince her to heed his warning? Because if she continued to chase the killer, she would most certainly become one of his victims.

He turned off the ignition, but before he was able to open his door, Misha cleared his throat. He had been uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, and since Misha was seldom quiet, this meant Jean Luc should expect some sort of pronouncement. He stared at his partner, who was playing with a cube puzzle he hadn’t been able to put down for days.

“Did you have something to say?”

Misha’s eyes didn’t leave his puzzle. “I think you may have met your match.”

“You are
un fou
.” Jean Luc shoved open the door and climbed out.

Misha climbed out too and glared at him over the roof of the car. “No, I’m not a fool. You have not smiled in what seems like years, my friend. But with that woman, you actually grinned at her. I’m surprised your mouth remembered how to curve upward.”

“She is going to get herself killed.”

“I think she can handle herself.”

“She is a baby.”

Misha let out a bark of laughter. “She is most definitely
not
a baby.”

Jean Luc had to agree, actually. Her mocha skin was flawless, and long, curly hair framed her face. A face with dark brown eyes with sparks of gold that lit up when she was angry. And she had definitely been angry with him. The memory of those snapping eyes made him smile.

“Hah! You just smiled again.”

“Come along, Russian. We have work to do.”

Minutes later, Misha typed on the keyboard, and the name Talia Walker blinked on the green terminal screen. He glanced up at Jean Luc standing next to him. “Just think, two years ago we would have had to spend hours calling around to the other offices to find out about Talia. Now, I am able to access her information within seconds.”

“I still do not understand how you convinced Nicholas to invest in this.”

“He knows computers are the wave of the future.”

“And I suppose that atomi game you have attached to the television is also the wave of the future?”

“It’s an Atari, Jean Luc.”

“
Pardonnez-moi
.”

Misha frowned at the screen. “Hmm.”

“What is it?”

“Talia’s name is not in our database. Did she lie to us?”

Jean Luc recalled the look of challenge in her eyes. “No.”

Misha typed her name again and hit enter. “Nothing. How can we not have a record of her?”

“We know there are supernaturals who do not report themselves to the Bureau.”

“True, but we always catch up with them.”

“She may be younger than even I guessed.” Which made her all the more vulnerable. Jean Luc clenched his jaw. Why was he so concerned about a female he had known for five minutes? She did not lack confidence, but confidence would not protect her from a killer with no conscience.

Peter’s mutilated body flashed in his mind. He pushed the image away, but it was immediately replaced by countless bodies strewn about like broken dolls in a field of wildflowers. His friends, his parents, Jaqueline, and his son.
Non!
He would not relive that yet again. Jean Luc could not change the past, but he could stop this killer now. He had no time for a distraction by the name of Talia Walker.

* * *

“What have you got for me, Billy?” Talia ran her hand along the graffiti-covered shelf of the telephone booth and toyed with the broken metal chain where the phone book used to hang. It had been two days since Peter Peters had been found dead, and she’d found little to go on.

“The first victim worked out at the Spencer Fitness Club on Broad Street.”

She squeezed the chain harder. “According to his neighbor, Peter was working on their books at night.”

“Bingo. You’ve got a connection.”

“I guess that means I’m off to the gym for a visit.”

“Be careful, Talia.”

“Careful is my middle name.” Talia chuckled at Billy’s groan and then hung up.

Thirty minutes later, she circled the block, searching for an empty parking spot. Several spaces simply had poles, the only remnants of meters that had been smashed or totally removed. She hoped her car would be safe for the short time she planned to be in the gym. It was a junker, but it was her only transportation, and she didn’t have the money for a better one.

She parked along the side of the building and watched for a minute through the large plate glass window. Men and women exercised on a variety of equipment. When she walked in the front double doors, Talia was greeted by a teenage girl who sat behind a tall counter.

She smiled at Talia. “Hi. I’m Deanna. How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the manager.”

“He left about an hour ago.”

Talia scanned the empty lobby. “Who runs the place at night?”

Deanna’s warm smile cooled considerably. “Simon is the assistant manager, but he’s teaching a jazzercise class. Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem. Maybe you can help me. I understand Peter Peters worked here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop?”

“No. I was hired to figure out who killed him.”

“He was a good man,” Deanna said in a tight voice.

“Did he ever have any problem with anyone here?”

“Never. He usually worked in the back office at night. And he always insisted on walking me to my car at the end of my shift.”

Talia nodded, but she tensed at a slight buzzing behind her eyes that alerted her to the presence of a nearby supernatural. She glanced around quickly but didn’t see anyone. When she looked back at Deanna, her head was tilted to the side slightly, and she had a puzzled look on her face. Talia needed to focus on the conversation.

“What about Tony Jensen?”

“Who?”

“He was a member here before he died.”

Deanna opened the file drawer next to her and leafed through it. She pulled out a folder. On the front was a photo of Jensen. “I remember him. He was a runner. Came in to use the treadmills.” She looked up at Talia, eyes wide. “Was he murdered, too?”