"I love you, too," Lauren a.s.sured her. "And it"s not you being weird. It"s just that weird things that have been happening, you know?"
"Yeah, I do. But do you want to know the really weird thing?"
"What?"
"In spite of tonight, I really want to see Jonas again. Don"t worry, though. I"m not going back out in the night or anything. I"m wiped, too. I"m going to bed."
"Goodnight."
When Deanna had disappeared into the bedroom, Lauren went to the window, pulled back the curtain and looked outside again.
The cop was gone.
As she stared out, she heard a soft tapping on the door. She jumped, just managing to hold back a scream. It was the cop, and that was why she couldn"t see him on the street.
Without thinking, she opened the door.
It wasn"t the cop.
She drew breath to scream, but she never got the chance.
A hand covered her mouth, and she was dragged out into the night.
6.
S ean Canady had taken the call while he was standing on the sidewalk on Conti Street, having just made sure that Lauren and her friends had gotten safely into their cottage.
"Canady here," he said.
"It"s Bobby, Lieutenant. We"ve got trouble."
"Go on."
"We have another floater."
Sean"s heart sank, and he swore silently. "Where?"
Bobby gave him the coordinates. He was thankful to hear that they weren"t in the heart of the city.
"Send a car for me now," he said, and gave his exact location.
"Yessir."
"Bobby?" "Yeah?"
Sean paused. "Headless?"
"Yeah, Lieutenant. Headless."
"Don"t scream. Please, don"t scream. I swear to G.o.d, I have no desire to hurt you, I"m trying to help you."
Thoughts plowed through her mind with the speed of lightning as she was dragged from her own doorway.
She should scream. Definitely, she should scream.
She would pretend to agree, but the minute he lifted his hand, she was going to scream b.l.o.o.d.y murder.
His eyes seemed so sincere. And he was definitely a powerful man, all muscle; if he had wanted to drag her somewhere else, he could have done it easily.
Scream.
How many women throughout history had died because they had listened to the words don"t scream?
She wasn"t an idiot.
She was the daughter of a cop, for G.o.d"s sake.
"Please, if you"ll just listen to me, I swear I won"t touch you again. You just have to listen to me. You have to understand the danger you"re in."
Actually, I want you to touch me, even if you look at me and think of Katie, even if I"m not quite sure whether you"re sane or not....
Bad thought.
But when he eased his hand away from her mouth, she just stood there, staring daggers at him, shaking. Despite her promise to herself, she didn"t scream.
"The cops know all about you," she warned.
"Some cops may know what I"m talking about."
"They know you"re staying here."
"Please." He didn"t touch her, though she could tell he wanted to. "Come next door. For ten minutes. And you can leave any time you want."
Not only was she not going to scream, she realized, she was going to go into his cottage with him.
Not a grave danger, she tried to rea.s.sure herself. The cottages were small and close together. If she screamed, someone would hear her.
Wouldn"t they?
"If you still think I"m totally insane after listening to what I have to say, I swear...I"ll leave you alone." "I could have you arrested," she lied.
"Your lives are worth the risk."
He sounded so sincere.
She knew that the voice in her head telling her to just say no was right. Sure, she was attracted to the man, attracted in a way she had never believed she could feel again. In his presence, she felt as if her every sense was heightened, but that was a stupid reason to trust him. And yet...
"This better be quick," she said brusquely. "Wait here. I"m going to lock the door."
And to her amazement, she calmly went for her key, then made sure that the door was locked behind when she exited the cottage, this time of her own volition. He led the twenty feet or so to his own cottage and opened his door, ushering her in.
She took a deep breath as she walked through the doorway.
Had she just signed her own death warrant?
The cottage was like her own, with a bedroom, kitchenette, bath and living room. In their cottage, the sofa bed in the living room was made up. Here, it remained a sofa. She took a seat on the chair that faced the sofa. She was not going to let him sit next to her.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"No. You said you want to talk to me, so talk."
He sat on the couch opposite her, a coffee table between them. He leaned forward and took a breath. His eyes caught and held hers "You know the danger is real. A headless body was found floating in the Mississippi."
"It"s hard to miss the newspaper reports," she replied.
"And I told you, I know who the killer is."
I should be suspecting that it"s you, she thought. But somehow she couldn"t believe that. If she had, surely she couldn"t- wouldn"t-have calmly walked over here.
No, he might not be entirely sane, but he was entirely sincere.
"How can you be so certain?" she asked him.
"Because I know Stephan."
She stared at him, as if digesting what he had said, then asked carefully, "And you"re certain that what you"re telling me is...real?"
"Stephan Delansky is very real," he told her quietly. "I"ve come here because I came across one of his...a.s.sociates who told me he was coming here. With an army."
"An army?" she queried. "Who is Stephan Delansky?"
"An old enemy. But not just my enemy. A very dangerous man. Many years ago I took a trip to Kiev, in the Ukraine. I met a woman there. Katya." "The one I remind you of."
"Yes," he said very softly, then took a deep breath. "I"m from this area originally. After I met Katya, she came back here with me.
I was head over heels, and so was Katya. Katie, I called her. We were going to go back there to get married, though. To Kiev.
She had always dreamed of being married in a castle, and there are some great castles over there. But while we were still here, she thought she kept seeing an old friend of hers-Stephan. I saw her speaking to him once and asked her about him, even suggested she introduce us, but he had no interest in meeting me. Meanwhile, we kept planning our wedding. But before it could take place, Katie was dead. Because of Stephan."
His voice was mesmerizing, compelling. It touched her in some deep core over which she had no control. She wanted to listen to him, wanted to believe him.
But she couldn"t help thinking that maybe the pain of his loss had made him delusional. She knew what it was like to deny the truth, to go through the fury, the agony and then the dull acceptance of loss.
Maybe he hadn"t come quite so far.
"Did he shoot her? Stab her? What?" Lauren asked softly.
His head lowered for a minute. She was tempted to reach out. To touch the lush darkness of his hair.
He looked up at her again, straight in the eye.
"Stephan is a vampire."
She froze, staring at him.
Wishing that she hadn"t heard him correctly.
Knowing that she had.
"I see," she said. But the only thing she saw was that he was delusional. It was so sad. The first man who had made her think she might want to at least have a relationship again, maybe even love again.
A relationship...?
OK, s.e.x..
She told herself that she needed to get a grip. She had never been the type to indulge in casual s.e.x.
Except there was nothing casual about this man.
Even now, after hearing him talk with complete seriousness about the existence of vampires, she still longed to reach out and touch the night-rich darkness of his hair.
He shook his head, the curve of his smile self-mocking.
"I know you don"t believe me. But I know your cop, the one who showed up at the bar,, the one who followed you here. His name"s Lieutenant Sean Canady. I went with him today to the morgue."
"The morgue?" she repeated, staring blankly at him.
"I needed to see the body."
"The headless woman?" That thought scared the h.e.l.l out of her. "Yes."
"Let me get this straight. Lieutenant Canady, a police officer, took you in with him to see the corpse of a crime victim?"
"He did. You can ask him."
There was a note of absolute truth in his tone. She knew that Canady really had taken him in to see the corpse.
Great. The cops were crazy, too.
He lifted a hand. "Please, hear me out. The cops aren"t insane any more than I am. But this is New Orleans. Voodoo central.