Page 91 of Embrace Me Darkly

“It’s bullshit,” Doyle said. “She’s human.”

“She’s a little girl,” Sara countered.

Doyle’s face tightened. “You got any idea how fucking hard it is to do what I do? How much it drains me when I do it often? What seeps in around the edges when I’m weak?” His lip curled up in a snarl. “You ask me to do this thing, but you don’t know the cost, Constantine. You don’t fucking live in my world.”

“What about the cost to that little girl?” Sara asked, refusing to be intimidated.

“She’s human. Killed by a human. It’s not my world. Not my problem.”

“A vampire helped Stemmons kill her, Doyle,” Sara said, getting right into his face, because if it hadn’t been for that damn vampire, then Stemmons wouldn’t be out preying on little girls. “That’s your world.”

He kicked the ground. “Fine. Fuck. Clear the goddamn scene.”

Leviathan and Tucker took charge, with Leviathan urging all extraneous personnel to leave the scene, and Tucker using his unique skill set to move the process along.

When the crowd had dwindled and only a few humans remained nearby—their minds ready to be wiped by Tucker—Doyle bent over the body and placed his hands on the little girl, one over her head and one over her heart. His body went slack, his eyes glassy.

“How long?” she whispered to Tucker.

“Depends,” he said. “I’ve seen a hundred of these things, and they’re all different. It’s the curse of being partnered with a Percipient. They ship him all over the damn globe when they got a fresh one.”

“You, too?”

Tucker’s expression was grave. “We’re partners. Don’t always make it to the scene in time, though,” Tucker added, looking at his partner. “Doyle’s got a thing about wormholes. Won’t go that way. Says they lead straight through hell. Doesn’t matter how hot the case, he’ll only travel by PEC transport. So sometimes the aura fades.” His expression turned wry. “This one looks fresh, though.”

Sara hoped it was. She wanted answers, and right then, Doyle seemed like the best bet. Small convulsions wracked his body until, finally, Tucker grabbed Doyle’s shoulders and yanked him free of the girl.

Doyle looked up, his face pale, his eyes glassy, and Sara realized her hands were clenched at her sides. “Female,” he said. “The vamp bitch is female.” He eased backward, shaking his head. “All I could get. Hem of a dress. Impressions from the kid.”

“Shit,” Sara said, realizing how much she’d been hoping for Doyle to ID the vampire, give them some lead, some clue, something. Because she knew time was running out for the next little girl, and if they didn’t hurry, she’d soon be standing over another pale, sweet face.

“Constantine!” Manny called to her from across the crime scene. “We got a lock of hair.”

She hurried over, peered into the evidence bag at the curl of auburn hair held together by a golden ribbon. “Under the body, just like before.”

She swallowed. “Hell of a way to see each other again,” she told him.

“We’ll get a drink and catch up one day. Office doesn’t feel the same without you in it.”

She looked up as Leviathan approached, then indicated the evidence bag. “He kept them,” she told him. “The girls. Took two or three at a time and kept them in cages. Then when he’d kill one, he’d leave a little clue as to the one he was going to do next. Hair. A favorite toy.” She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “One girl, he left her tongue.”

“Son of a bitch,” Leviathan said.

“He’s got the next one in a cage already,” she said, her stomach in knots. “And unless he’s changed the way he operates, he’s already got the one after that picked out.”

ChapterTwenty-One

“Tasha!” The elevator doors opened directly into Serge’s San Francisco condo, and Nick’s voice echoed over the polished marble. The foyer led into an extravagant living room, a semicircle with walls of specially manufactured tinted glass from which Serge could look out over the night, then flip the finger at the rising sun through the impervious glass.

According to Serge, the chemistry upon which the glass was made was sound, but Nick couldn’t help but wonder if Serge was secretly longing for the day it failed, leaving the troubled vampire as nothing more than a pile of ash by the windows, the deadly sunlight having accomplished its purpose.

Thankfully, today was not that day.

In fact, Nick found nothing at all and wondered if perhaps that was even more disturbing.

“Come on, Tasha,” he called. “It’s Nick. Come on out for me.”

He waited for her reply. A soft whimper, a terrified yell, even an irritated wail that she’d been left all alone. But the apartment remained quiet, and the fear in Nick’s gut bloomed red.

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