Touch of Evil Read online

  “There I was, in the alley, looking like an idiot. For some reason, I decide to pull on the stage door. Imagine my surprise when it opened. I didn’t see anybody when I walked inside, so I wandered around until I found a door that had been left ajar. Now, this was all feeling like some kind of trap to me. I mean, I watch movies. Too many coincidences mean either a trap, or a badly written script.”

  “She was trying to lead you in there,” Ash said as realization settled over him. Their eyes locked in a second of mutual understanding.

  “Yes. I poked my head in the room, then edged inside. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t see anything. I settled behind a huge plant and realized that Brie was talking to gramps. I mean, really talking him up. She had on some skimpy number that left nothing to the imagination, and was laughing and smiling like some simpering bimbo. When he asked her to sing again, she joked that some people have told her that her voice was mesmerizing. He agreed. Something about that sentence had ice skating through my veins. When she started to sing, I saw something happen to my sister that I had never seen before. Her eyes, they started to glow. And they turned the most amazing shade of purple I had ever seen. The man just sat there, staring at her adoringly while she was doing it. He didn’t seem to notice that she didn’t seem to be there anymore. Physically, yes. But the song was taking her somewhere else.

  “It’s hard to explain. At the pinnacle of her song, the man fell to his knees in front of her, offering her anything she wanted if she would only bestow upon him her wondrous love. His words, not mine,” Eve said quickly, cringing at the sound of the words. “But Brie still didn’t seem to be there. And I was horrified as I watched her start to undress. God, my stomach turned when I realized she had every intention of sleeping with this guy. But, thankfully—and I can’t believe I just said that in regards to Sebastian—he came in with the guy that had been in the room with us when we had lunch. Sebastian said, “That’s quite enough, Brie,” then he took her wrist and bit her, draining some of her blood until she passed out. The man was still on the floor, grasping at her gown, sniffing it.” A shudder rippled through Eve, momentarily displacing the shock and disgust she had been feeling.

  “What did Sebastian do after that?” Mark was having a hard time seeing why they needed to help Brie. From what he could tell, she seemed to be a willing participant in whatever scheme the vampire was running. It was clear to him that she was the one that needed to be stopped.

  “He pulled out some papers from his jacket and laid them on the floor in front of gramps and told him to sign. The man asked him if it would make Brianne happy. Sebastian smiled, this really cold, nasty smile, and said yes, signing would make her very happy. So the man signed without reading it. Then pushed it away to grovel at her feet again. The other man, Mr. Silent and Cranky, yanks the guy up, who immediately starts to struggle, grabbing for Brie, and pulls him out of the room. I mean, the old man was just screaming for her. Then the screaming stopped. I had no idea what happened to him. Although, at the time, I hazarded a guess or two.”

  The tears had returned, tickling the back of Eve’s throat as she thought of what her sister had been a party to. The men remained silent, each caught in their own thoughts. They, too, could guess what had happened to the man.

  “I don’t know how long I sat there, waiting. I also don’t know how Sebastian didn’t know I was there. I thought vampires had enhanced senses.”

  “They do,” Ash answered. “He knew you were there.” Why didn’t he let her know was the question.

  “Then I guess he wanted me to see what happened next. After awhile, Brie woke up. She was really disoriented at first, but she cleared up after a few seconds. Sebastian handed her a glass of wine and started telling her how well she had done. Brie looked like she wanted to get sick. She just sat there, while Sebastian praised her, staring at the wine. Finally, I guess he realized she wasn’t paying him any attention. He cupped her chin and made her look at him, and asked her what was wrong. She told him that he knew what was wrong; she didn’t like being used like this. She thought he loved her. He replied that he did love her. He loved what she could do for him. I swear, I saw her heart break in that second, and it was everything I could do not to jump out of my hiding place. She told him that she wanted to leave, if that was the case. That nasty smile came back and I felt my blood run cold. He told her she was, of course, free to leave. But he wasn’t sure how conducive that would be to the safety of her mother and sisters. I saw her go almost as pale as the slip thing she was wearing. He was threatening her family, if she didn’t stay.”

  “Sisters?” Cyrus paused from his note taking to look up at her.

  Eve nodded and went on to explain, “I’m not her only sister. I’m the most easily accessible, since I’m here, but not the only one. Brie is the only child that her mother had with our father. She was also the last. She has other older sisters back on the island. Two, I think, maybe more. Brie doesn’t talk about them much. I think her concern was more for her mother and me than them, however, and the other Sirens in general. You see, Sirens aren’t Amazons. They are stronger physically than normal women, but it’s no real contest against vampires. If Sebastian were to raise an army of just a few vampires and go to the island … well, they could very easily wipe out her entire family and the lives of creatures that have been on the planet since before history was written.”

  “What is it, exactly, that Sebastian has these men sign?” This came from Mark, who was smoking yet another cigarette.

  “I did a little research after I got out of there. Trying to find out who the old man was and such. I found out that he owns—or owned, rather—a small chain of hotels in southern California. Sebastian owns them now. And, according to the newspapers, the sale was done just a few short weeks before poor Mister Richards was admitted for psychiatric care.”

  “So, he uses her to get businesses?”

  Eve glanced over at Mark and nodded. “Not just business, but property. Real estate. Whatever he feels he needs to compound his empire. He’s slick. He could easily have taken over thousands of them by now, but instead he paces himself, making sure that there will be no inquiries into the sales and so forth. He doesn’t want to draw attention to himself or Brie while he quietly works his way through the Fortune 500, which is why he doesn’t just scare them into signing, then kill them. He wants it legit.”

  “And you are sure that your sister is an unwilling participant in all of this?”

  Eve wasn’t sure what it was about that casually asked question that had her glaring daggers at Mark. It was a logical question. One she had asked herself more than once. “Yes, I am sure. She is in a virtual prison. She is never alone when I see her. Always Mr. Silent is there, or Sebastian is. She’s not allowed to come see me. I am only allowed to go see her. And that’s usually for only an hour at a time. She was young and in love, Mr. Lynch. It wasn’t her fault he turned on her.”

  “What does Sebastian want with all of this property? It’s not a vampire’s usual style to work his way up the corporate ladder,” Ash asked, directing Eve’s attention away from Mark. He had a feeling he’d just saved his friend from a trip to the hospital for stitches.

  “My guess is that he doesn’t want to rule the world. He wants to own it.”

  Chapter Three

  “Well, what do you think?” Cyrus asked a couple of hours later.

  Eve had been sent home with instructions that they would call her once they made a decision on whether to help her. She hadn’t been happy about it, but when faced with the brick wall that was the three men, she had little choice but to leave. Ash had a feeling that she wasn’t the “sit and wait” type and could only imagine what she would do in the meantime.

  Now the three men sat at the small kitchen table, a cooling cup of coffee in front of each. An overflowing ashtray sat between Mark and Cyrus; the mountain of cigarette butts testament to how hard they were thinking about this.

  “I don’t know what to think,�
�� Mark said, crushing out the latest tube of tobacco. He settled back in his chair and looked at the two men that had been the center of his life since he was twelve. He propped his hands behind his head and chewed on the inside of his cheek, something he always did when he was thinking. “My first inclination is to think that Eve got played. That her sister is eye-deep in whatever this Sebastian guy is up to. I mean, who is this vampire anyway? I can’t believe he has been here for at least the last year and we’ve never even heard of him.”

  “You wouldn’t if he didn’t want to be heard of. We can blend into the woodwork if we want. I do it all the time,” Ash reminded him.

  “But how’s he eating?” Mark insisted.

  Ash looked at him, wondering if on some level that question was directed more at him than Sebastian. “Blood bank. Animal blood. Hunting in another town. There are tons of things he could do to keep a low profile. You have to remember, vampires do have a working brain. It’s only the ones that don’t care that get caught, or those that are so drunk on their power over life and death that they think they are akin to gods. Some of us don’t want attention. And we know how to avoid it.”

  Ash had the satisfaction of Mark looking contrite.

  Cyrus watched the exchange with mild interest. Mark had always had a difficult time trying to fit Ash into a mold. Each time, the vampire broke out of it. Even after his grandson had come home with a new scar on his neck from Ash himself, the boy had had a hard time with differentiating Ash from his vision of the vicious killer who had murdered his parents. The two had been best friends for most of Mark’s life and usually it wasn’t an issue, but every once in awhile Mark felt the need to test the vampire.

  “You also have to remember,” Ash continued, “that the businesses he’s targeting aren’t in town. We focus our hunts on the warehouse district and the cemeteries and the college hangouts. Like I said, if he’s not hunting here, there’s no reason for us to have heard of him.”

  “Why we haven’t heard of him isn’t the issue. We have now and we need to make a decision. Do we go in, take him out, and save the girl? Or take them both out?” Cyrus’ gruff tone cut off any further debate between the two men. He gave them each a stern look, grunting in satisfaction when they looked away.

  “I think we should at least check it out. Get inside the club and judge the security,” Ash suggested, staring into the murky depths of his coffee.

  “I agree. You should probably do that. Use that low profile you’re so proud of.”

  Ash’s lips quirked into a smile at the rare joke from the old man, and he nodded.

  Cyrus pulled the notepad he had been using earlier in front of him and started jotting down more notes. “Tomorrow, Mark, I want you to scour the demon hangouts. Find out anything you can about this Sebastian. Who works for him, where he goes—that sort of thing. I’ll hit the hall of records, get all the information I can on his house and the club. I think it’s safe to assume that we won’t get in as easily as Eve did.” Mark and Ash made sounds of agreement as Cyrus doled out the orders. “Mark, go tell Flora we need all the information she has on Sirens. I would like more truth than legend, but that will do, too, if that’s all she has.” His grandson flinched at the lecture he was sure to get when he walked into Flora’s store, but he didn’t say he wouldn’t go. “Also, find out if there is anyway to block the Siren’s song. Hopefully, it’s something simple. Like earplugs. All right, I think that’s it.”

  “We’re doing this, aren’t we?” A trace of amusement was evident in Mark’s voice. He hadn’t really had any doubts that they would take the job.

  “I’ll call Eve tomorrow, after we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” Cyrus stood and started collecting coffee cups, ignoring his grandson’s question. Mark and Ash exchanged a glance before getting up themselves.

  “I’ll be here before sunrise with what I find out tomorrow night.” Ash picked up his jacket from the chair he had thrown it on and shrugged into it. He scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes, the brief memory of a time when he had worn glasses flashing through his mind as he did so.

  “You need a ride?” Mark asked him. “Sun’ll be up soon.”

  “No. I’ll make it. Preternatural speed comes in handy sometimes,” he replied, heading toward the door.

  “All right. See ya.”

  “Night.”

  “Night, Ash,” Cyrus called from the kitchen, then said to Mark, “Go to bed, boy. I’ll clean up.”

  “You sure?”

  “I said go, didn’t I?”

  Mark smiled at his grandfather’s back and bit back a chuckle. “Night, Cy.”

  “G’night.” The sound of Mark’s steps faded down the hall, leaving Cyrus in silence as he finished cleaning up the kitchen. When he was done, he grabbed his notes and headed off to bed, where he would lie awake for a few more hours forming a plan.

  * * * *

  Ash walked through his front door as the sun crested the horizon, bathing the sky in a sea of pink and orange. He threw his keys on the coffee table and made his way to the small kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle full of thick, crimson liquid, then grabbed a cup to pour it in and popped it in the microwave. While the blood was heating, he walked back into the living room, threw his jacket on the couch, and kicked off his boots.

  The microwave beeped, and he went back into the kitchen to retrieve his dinner. He lost himself in doing the mundane. Every once in awhile, he could almost fool himself into believing that he was just another guy. But the first taste of the rich, sweet coppery liquid would shatter that illusion.

  He took his dinner back into the living room and sat down on the couch. Picking up the remote, he sipped the warmed blood slowly as he flipped aimlessly through channels. He stared at the flashing images, willing his mind to shut down and his body to relax so he could get some rest.

  He finally settled on one of the twenty-four hour news channels and threw the remote onto the cushions beside him. He concentrated on the monotone voice of the anchor, thinking how lucky he was that he didn’t care how many points the Dow had dropped, or the voice would have pissed him off rather than lull him. He drained the cup in one long swallow, put it down on the coffee table, and stretched his long frame out on the lumpy cushions. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he let the voice on the TV become a droning in his ears. He spent the next several minutes concentrating on relaxing each muscle, hoping that his mind would follow suit.

  Normally, Ash would not have chosen a news station. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have known who the President was if it weren’t for Cyrus. When he did catch the news, he often found himself longing for the simpler times of his youth, back before he was turned. Granted, at the time an internal war had been ripping the country apart, pitting brother against brother in a bloody battle over who was right. He had been a young man, looking to give his life to preaching the word of God, when he found himself forced to fight. His brothers and father had gone to battle, defending the South’s rights. It had been expected of him to go, as well, and he did … despite his opinion that the North was in the right.

  Maybe longing for the bygone days of his youth wasn’t such a good idea. When he let himself think of those times, Ash found it ironic that he had been in the process of deserting when he met the woman that made him what he was today. He had been running, his Confederate grays torn and bloody. The violent, gory images of the battlefield chased him, pushing him further into the woods. He didn’t consider himself a coward, but the sight of blood, the smell of gunpowder and the sounds of the dying soldiers—some of whom had been his friends—had bile rising up in his throat and his bowels turning to ice. So he ran, with no idea where he was going or what he would do once he got there.

  His lungs were threatening to explode and his legs quaking from exertion. He had no idea how long he had been running when he stumbled to a stop in a clearing, landing face first on the ground when his body gave out on him. He buried his nose in the sweet smelling
grass in an effort to dispel the last vestiges of death. Shame started to gnaw at him. Shame that he had run. Shame that he had proven that he wasn’t a man. A man didn’t run; he stood brave and true in the face of danger. That had been drilled into his head since he was a small boy. Weakness was not an option.

  But here he was, lying in the damp earth, fighting off the wave of sickness that was threatening to overtake him. He was a man of God and family. And he had just dishonored both.

  “Well, now, you’re a long way from the battlefield, soldier.”

  Ash nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the amused, female voice. He raised wary, shame-filled eyes to look at the speaker, his heart nearly stopping in his chest at what he saw. A beautiful young woman, with hair as black as the night surrounding her and skin as pale as the moon, stood next to a small creek, dressed in nothing but her chemise and bloomers.

  The filmy white of her underclothes did nothing to hide the lush curves of her body or the dark circles of her nipples from his gaze. He could feel his face flame as he realized he was staring at her, and he pushed quickly to his feet. He nearly fell again when his tired legs threatened to go out from under him, but he managed to keep his feet, albeit shakily. His gaze danced around the clearing, trying to look at anything but the temptress standing so brazenly a few feet away. He could smell the sweetness of her on the light breeze, could hear the soft sounds of her bare feet on the grass as she crossed to him. He had to remind himself that he was going into the ministry and that a preacher didn’t have the kinds of thoughts that were trying to explode in his brain.

  “E-excuse me miss. I didn’t mean to interrupt your swimming.” Ash turned to leave, refusing to look at her again.

  “Are you all right, cher?”

  Her soft question had him pausing, not because it was filled with concern for his welfare, but because of how smooth and sensual her voice was. It washed over him like warm water. He dared a glance at her, and immediately regretted it. As she moved, the material of her underthings stretched and pulled, allowing him to see with clarity the way her dusky nipples were pebbled and the dark patch at the apex of her thighs. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his skin when she brushed against his arm, her small, cool hand sliding into his larger, dirty one. He tried to look away, but he found himself caught by her eyes, the color dark and glittering. A slight smile curved her lips and her eyes swam with something he had never seen before. The longer she looked at him, the more he felt like he was her prey.