He took a step out of the shadows between the two houses but retreated quickly when he heard a car approaching from down the block, moving slowly, as if searching for an address. He watched as the driver almost stopped in front of the party house, but then kept going to park in front of the neighbor's instead. The engine was turned off and the interior light came on as the driver got out and closed the door, her eyes glued to the house where Trish Cowens had been seen last.
Raj grinned, not at all surprised that the driver was Sarah Stratton. If anything, it gave him a moment of personal satisfaction. He'd been right about her. She was involved in this case somehow, and in a way she didn't want anyone to know.
Wrapping the darkness around himself, just as the abductor must have done, Raj crossed the street, no more than the shadow of a cloud passing over the waning moon as it slid through the night. He approached her in perfect silence, until he was standing only a few feet away, beneath the bare branches of an elm. She was close enough that he could hear her every breath, hear her heart beating rapidly with nervousness or perhaps fear.
Not so bold as Raj, she walked only halfway up the uneven walk toward the house, muttering softly under her breath the whole way. What little he could make out of her words made no sense to him. She stopped and stared at the dark porch and then turned and headed quickly back toward her car, seeming suddenly eager to leave. Still unaware of him standing there, she hurried down the sidewalk, her stiletto heels clicking sharply on the cement. She passed right by him, arms crossed tightly, holding herself in a way that suggested the chill was coming from something other than the weather.
Raj stepped out behind her and pulled her back against his chest, holding her there with one hand over her mouth to catch her scream.
"I thought you'd be safe in your bed by now, little one,” he murmured close to her ear. He gentled his hold without letting her go, exquisitely aware of her body against his, the thud of her heart against his arm where he held her tightly, and the fading shivers of fear as she realized who it was holding her. She was tiny compared to him. He could have lifted her bodily and carried her away easily, even as Trish Cowens had been carried away only days before. But he wasn't some rogue vampire, and this wasn't Trish Cowens.
"If I take my hand away, will you promise not to scream?"
She jerked her head downward in what he took for assent. He dropped his hand from her mouth, resting it on the swell of her hip instead, still holding her in place. She drew in a long breath, but didn't try to break free. She relaxed in his arms briefly, letting her head fall back against his chest.
"You're trembling,” he said quietly.
She stiffened in outrage. “You scared me half to death!"
Raj chuckled, shifting his grip and turning it into a caress, enjoying the feel of her soft curves beneath his hands, the warm weight of her breasts against his arms. “What are you doing here, Sarah?"
She made a move then, but he only held her more securely. “I was just curious,” she insisted. “And, I'm worried about Trish—"
"Sarah, Sarah,” he chided. “You're lying again."
He let go of her as she spun around to glare at him. “What are you doing here?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. “I'm cooperating in an active police investigation. You, on the other hand, were told your services were not required. And yet, here you are."
He felt more than saw the heat of her blush. “At least I wasn't sneaking around in the shadows, spying on people,” she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.
Raj gestured at the wide open space. “I was hardly sneaking. You simply didn't notice me, for which I am deeply wounded."
He expected a smile, but instead she looked up at him with eyes filled with fear. “She didn't see him either,” she whispered. “He was just . . . there."
"Who?” Raj asked suddenly intent. He stifled a sudden irritating urge to reach out to her, to pull her close and reassure her that nothing could harm her as long as he was with her. He wanted answers. “What do you know, Sarah?"
She stared at him with haunted eyes, searching his face, looking for . . . What? Raj wondered.
"Nothing,” she whispered. “Nightmares. They don't mean anything.” Her voice caught on the final words.
He did reach out for her then, but she beat him to it, taking hold of the front of his jacket with both hands and gripping the leather like a lifeline. She was trembling again and he wrapped his arms around her in confusion.
"Tell me their names, Raj,” she demanded unexpectedly, raising her head enough to give him a searching look. “The other women. Tony wouldn't tell me—"
Raj frowned. “Why do you need their names, Sarah?"
She choked out a harsh laugh and lowered her forehead to his chest. “Because I need to know whether or not I'm going crazy.” Her voice was muffled against his sweater, but he could hear the desperation in her voice. It troubled him more than it should have, but it made his decision easy.
"You know about Trish; she's been in the papers."
Sarah looked up at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected him to answer her plea. She nodded.
"There are three other women, Estelle Edwards, Martha Polk and Regina Aiello."
Her face seemed to crumple, a sob escaping her lips, as she hid her face once more against his chest. “Regina,” she said softly. “I'm so sorry."
"Sorry for what, Sarah? Tell me what's going on."
"Nothing,” she said, stepping back from him to stand on her own, even as one hand stroked the front of his sweater, wiping away the wetness of her tears. “Regina's mother is someone I know. She's been worried, and when I heard about this case . . . I don't know what I'll tell her now."
She was lying again, damnit. “We need talk about this. Your place, now,” he said impatiently. “I'll follow you—"
"No.” She met his angry gaze, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes glinting in the street lights. “It's late,” she offered as an excuse. “I shouldn't have come at all. I don't know what I thought I'd find here."
Raj studied her silently, debating. She knew something, or thought she did. On the other hand, she hadn't even known the names of the missing women, beyond Trish Cowens, so whatever she thought she knew didn't get to the heart of whoever was doing this. Probably. And he still had to meet with Jozef tonight.
"All right,” he said, unsmiling. “Tomorrow night then."
She stared back at him, as if not quite trusting his easy surrender. “So we're good, right?"
Raj smiled then, a slow curving of his lips. “Oh, yes, Sarah. We're very good."
She backed several steps away from him, retreating as she would have from a dangerous animal, as if she was worried he would suddenly leap upon her and ravage her right here on this cold, Buffalo street. The thought kept him amused as she turned finally and hurried to her car.
She passed him when she drove away, giving a little wave through her open window. Raj smiled. And when she was gone, he punched a speed dial number.
"My lord,” Emelie answered instantly. “How may I serve you?"
Raj winced. He hated that formal vampire shit and Em knew it. She only fell back on the formalities if she was pissed at him, or if someone else was listening. And he couldn't think of anything he'd done to piss her off lately. “Get rid of whoever it is, Em. We need to talk."
"Yes, my lord."
Raj waited, listening as Em moved herself, rather than asking the others to leave. He could hear her steady breathing as she walked, a door opening and closing and then another. “Okay,” she said in a far more casual tone. “I'm in the office. What's up, boss?"
"Congratulations,” he said dryly. “You win. Get some of my people up here. Not an army, not yet anyway. Just some back up. And no one but my own children, people I can trust absolutely."
"Yes,” she breathed in obvious relief. “We're ready to go, my lord. I put out a heads-up right after you left, just in case. If we leave immediately, we can be there before dawn."
"Tomorrow night's soon enough. There's nothing specific yet, but there's a possibility someone from out—of-town is moving in on Krystof and I'm not going to let that happen."
"Only give the word, my lord."
"What would I do without you, Em?"
"You'd manage. Not as well, of course,” she added. “But you'd manage."
"Thanks. One more thing, Em. I want to know everything we've got on the woman who visited Manhattan with Raphael and his mate last week . . . Sarah Stratton. Put Simon on it and tell him to go deep. I already know she teaches at the university here in Buffalo, so that's a place to start, but I want everything Simon can find. If he needs a picture, she should be on the security video from the club."
"Okay,” Em said slowly. “You picking up stray kittens again, boss?"
Raj laughed. Her curiosity was fairly burning through the ether, but Raj didn't feel like saying anything more. Not yet.
"I'll talk to you later, Em,” he said, ignoring her question. He disconnected the call, pocketed his phone and opened the car door, sliding into the comfortable interior. As he drove away in the opposite direction Sarah had taken, he thought about stray kittens and about Emelie. She was always telling him he had a weakness for damsels in distress. And she should know, since the damsel he'd rescued once upon a time had been Emelie herself.
Albany, New York 1918
Raj strolled down the darkened street, drinking in the excitement, the fear. The United States was at war. Men were lining up to go fight in Europe, seeking a glory in battle that would never be found on the streets of their hometowns. Raj could have warned them. Could have told them there was nothing exciting about the stink of a battlefield, the blood and excrement, the screams of your friends dying all around you while you could do nothing but fight to save your own miserable life. But he said nothing. They wouldn't have listened anyway.
