Paris After Dark

Jordan Summers

One

Rachel Chang pinched the cigarette between her lips and reached into her pocket for her lighter. Five years of being nicotine free was about to go up in smoke, if she could just get this damn thing to light. She flicked the Zippo and inhaled, then proceeded to choke. Eyes watering, Rachel flicked the cigarette onto the cobblestone as a high-pitched scream pierced the night.

One hand moved to where her weapon should be, while the other automatically reached for the St Michael medal around her neck. For a moment Rachel saw her partner lying in a puddle of blood. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the panic attack eased. This wasn’t New York. The vision wasn’t real. And this wasn’t her problem. Let someone else clean up the mess for a change.

A second scream followed the first, then ended abruptly. Rachel remained immobile, while her conscience called her every foul name in the book. Unfortunately, the voice in her head wasn’t loud enough to drown out the struggle she could hear taking place on the dimly lit road off Boulevard Raspail.

“You have no authority here. You don’t even speak French. Let the Parisian police handle it,” she muttered under her breath as she came upon a man grappling with a woman. The woman’s arms were flailing as she beat at the man’s broad shoulders with her clenched fists.

The dark-haired man wasn’t striking her back, but he was holding her tight to deflect her blows. It looked like a typical domestic dispute. Only a fool got in the middle of those. Rachel had been foolish once and it had cost her dearly. Never again. She shoved her hands in her pockets and kept walking.

Rachel saw a sign for the Cimetière du Montparnasse affixed to a high, grey brick wall. She glanced at the sky. “Trying to tell me something, partner?” Of course Paul Veretti didn’t answer. No one did. Like the residents of the fancy French cemetery, he was dead. All that was left of him was her memories and the St Michael medal around her neck.

The patron saint must have been on a coffee break the day her partner caught a bullet in the chest – a bullet that was meant for her. It was Rachel’s idea to answer the domestic battery call on the drive home. It wasn’t even part of their job. She should’ve been the one to stay in the house and try to calm the battered wife, not Paul. But he’d insisted she escort the husband outside and wait for a patrol car to pick him up. Rachel had barely made it to the porch, when the shot rang out. There was a shocked cry and a loud thump. She knew without looking what had happened. She felt like that bullet had been chasing her ever since.

Rachel glanced at the cemetery once more, then asked herself what Paul would do. The answer was obvious. She cursed, then tromped back to the mouth of the street. This was a bad idea. Her gun and NYPD badge currently resided an ocean away inside her captain’s desk. She’d have to count on the man fleeing when she confronted him. Rachel ran the odds of that happening in her head and let out a string of expletives.

The woman had stopped struggling and now hung loosely in the man’s arms. Had he struck her after Rachel left? She hated bullies. Hated people who thought their size gave them free rein to do as they pleased. The man stood in the shadows with his back to her, but Rachel could tell he outweighed her and the woman by a good fifty pounds. This was such a bad idea.

“Hey buddy,” she shouted.

The dark-haired man didn’t acknowledge her, but Rachel saw his broad shoulders tense.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you. Parlez-vous . . . anglais? Let the woman go,” she said in frustration, wishing she’d paid attention to the French CDs she’d checked out of the library.

He slowly turned. Rachel caught a glimpse of shimmering green eyes, the colour so unnatural it couldn’t possibly be found outside the animal kingdom. Had to be contact lenses. But it wasn’t his eyes that held her in place. It was his teeth – his long, very bloody teeth.

Rachel watched the blood drip down his chin onto his dark suit before he stepped back into the shadows. What in the hell had he been doing? When she’d walked by earlier it had looked like the woman was the aggressor. She’d been wrong . . . again. How many people had to die for her to get it right?

She automatically catalogued the scene, so she could give her statement to the police later. He released the woman. She slumped to the ground like discarded rags. The man grinned, his attention now riveted on the new arrival.

Rachel knew that the fact she was a petite Chinese-American woman made her look like an easy target, but her size was deceptive. “Before you do anything stupid,” she said, knowing it was already too late for that, “I think you should know I’ve called the police. I’m placing you under citizen’s arrest.” She pointed to the sidewalk. “Get down on the ground.”

If the dark-haired man understood her, he didn’t let on. He kept approaching at a steady pace. The light should’ve revealed his face, but the shadows seemed to follow him, obscuring his pale features. It didn’t matter. Rachel was sure she could identify him from his eyes alone, although they didn’t seem as bright as they’d been moments ago. Must’ve been a trick of the light.

“Stay back,” she said. “This is your last warning.” Rachel held her hands up like her Krav Maga instructor taught her to do. It looked like a defensive posture. It wasn’t.

The man smiled, giving her an up close and personal look at his mouth. He had abnormally long incisors that had been filed into jagged points. He used his blood-covered tongue to caress them as he closed the distance between them.

Give an asshole prosthetic fangs and he thinks he’s a fucking vampire.

Rachel took a step back, a chill snaking down her spine. She didn’t dare look over her shoulder; he’d be on her before she could make it twenty yards. She needed to draw someone’s attention. The man must’ve read her mind because in a blink he went from ten feet away to in her face. Rachel didn’t have time to scream as he slammed her into the wall surrounding the cemetery. She landed with a sickening thud. The air rushed out of her lungs with a loud whoosh as pain shot through her body.

She blinked to clear her vision. The shadows still obscured his features. Rachel brushed at the darkness as he approached. He growled. She gagged as his coppery breath fanned out over her face. The guttural sound grew louder. It was the only warning she received.

Instinct made Rachel throw her hand up a second before his teeth clamped onto her forearm. Her leather jacket ripped as he tore through the thick material like it was made of butterfly wings. His sharp incisors punctured her skin. The excruciating pain snapped her out of her initial shock.

Rachel drove her palm into her attacker’s nose and heard something crunch, then saw blood splatter across his face. She wasn’t sure who was more surprised. Her hand came away covered in crimson. She swung again, but her slick palm only grazed his cheek.

Fury filled his glowing green eyes. The grip he had on her with his teeth tightened and he shook his head, shredding muscle. The human pit bull was going to break her arm, if she didn’t get him to release her.

Rachel hit his nose again, spilling more blood. He grabbed her arm, while his other hand latched on to her throat and began to squeeze. Blood roared in her ears as he tried to kill her. It was one thing to contemplate taking her own life, it was quite another to have him take it from her. Rachel thrust her hips forwards and kneed his groin hard. He grunted and released her arm, but the hand around her throat remained.

She tried to break the grip on her neck, using every technique she’d been taught at the police academy, but nothing worked. Rachel hit him until her palm hurt, then hit him some more. His nose was now bent at an odd angle and made a strange whistling snort every time he inhaled. She reached for his fingers and began prying them off one at a time as he tightened his hold. The chain on her neck sliced her skin, then Rachel felt the links snap.

“No,” she gritted out.

He didn’t respond to her plea. Instead, his head whipped around. He stared into the darkness, his gaze searching the shadows. Beyond the dark side street, the lights of Paris twinkled. One second he was strangling her and trying to rip her arm off, the next, he ran . . . taking her broken St Michael medal with him.

Rachel dropped to her knees, clutching her injured arm and coughing as she gulped air into her lungs. It took a second to remember the woman lying on the ground. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Rachel crawled to her and felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

“Damn it.”

She dragged herself to Boulevard Raspail and saw her attacker duck into a nearby building. He hadn’t gone far. Rachel had no doubt if he got away he’d be back on the streets in a few days to do the same thing to another woman.

She forced herself to her feet and stumbled down the sidewalk. Rachel gave a quick glance at the oncoming traffic and rushed across the road. Horns blared as the Parisian drivers narrowly missed her. No one braked. She pushed on until she reached a small park that butted up against the building she’d seen the man enter.

Rachel stepped over the low fence, keeping to the shadows. She couldn’t afford to let him catch her off guard. He’d done it once and it had nearly killed her. A tall wrought-iron fence ran alongside the green gothic-looking building that resembled an ornate shed. Rachel continued across the garden until she reached the end of the grass.

The wrought iron ended at a small gate, which squeaked in the cool evening breeze. A short nose of an entrance poked out of the front of the building. The door was covered in metal mesh. Or at least it had been. The mesh had been ripped away. She glanced down and saw a lock on the ground. It had been smashed. She hadn’t seen a weapon on him – with those teeth he didn’t need one. Yet he’d obviously been carrying something, unless he’d suddenly become a character out of a James Bond film.

Rachel knew she should call the police. It was the sensible thing to do, but by the time she found a phone, and someone who could understand her broken French, the killer would be long gone, along with Paul’s necklace. She couldn’t allow that to happen, even if all she managed to do was find his hiding place. Despite what the department shrinks thought, she didn’t have a death wish . . . most days.

She pushed the gate open. The metal screeched, announcing her arrival. He’d have to be deaf not to have heard her. Rachel cringed, but kept going until she could squeeze through. The light over the sign above the building had been smashed. Broken bits of bulb crunched under her shoes. The main door was open a crack, just enough for her to see the darkness beyond. Rachel turned back and grabbed the mangled lock. It wasn’t a perfect weapon, but at least it would aid her punches. Maybe she could manage to knock out his expensive dental work this time.

Rachel walked back to the door and inched it open. She tilted her head and listened. She could hear the soft fall of footsteps growing fainter by the second. He was getting away. She took a breath and stepped through the opening. The door slid shut behind her, extinguishing what little light had been cast.

She pulled out her lighter and flicked it on. There was a closed door on the left. It was flanked by a tiny archway that opened into a crude office, which lay empty except for a lone chair. Rachel raised the lighter and spotted a ramp, leading off to her right. There didn’t appear to be anywhere else he could’ve gone.

She shored up her courage and followed. Rachel stepped lightly, praying the sound wouldn’t carry. The ramp ended abruptly at a set of winding stairs. She couldn’t see the bottom.

What in the hell was this place?

Her arm ached and her neck began to sting, reminding her once more why she was here. Rachel flipped the lighter closed and began a slow, steady descent. Every twenty or so stairs she’d stop and listen. She couldn’t hear footsteps any longer, only the steady drip of water pinging off rock. The air had gone from fresh to stale.

Rachel was just about to call it quits and turn around, when the stairs ended abruptly. Did she dare use her lighter again? What if he was waiting in the shadows? Did she really have a choice? Rachel’s heart began to pound as she flicked on the lighter.

She was standing at the mouth of a tunnel. It appeared to be the only way she could go unless she wanted to climb the hundred or so stairs she’d just come down. If Rachel hadn’t been claustrophobic before, she would be now. The narrow tunnel had a low ceiling like the entrance of a tomb. She couldn’t stretch her arms out without hitting rock walls.

Rachel began walking. It was impossible to be quiet with loose gravel beneath her feet, so she left the lighter on. She stopped every few yards to listen. It was hard to hear anything over the pounding of her heart. The sound of water dripping grew louder. The tunnel eventually opened up into a larger chamber. Rachel read the sign above the door. It was written in French: ARRÊTE! ICI C’EST L’EMPIRE DES MORTS.

It was easy enough to translate: STOP! THIS IS THE EMPIRE OF THE DEAD.

“Terrific,” she murmured, half-expecting someone to cue horror music.

Rachel stepped through the archway into a nightmare. Walls of human remains rose from the floor nearly touching the ceiling. Faces of people who’d lived long ago stared at her from empty eye sockets, their bones neatly arranged in macabre designs around their skulls.

Suddenly the room was too warm. Rachel pulled at her coat as her heart slammed into her ribs. The freak had lured her into the catacombs. There were miles of tunnels down here, according to the brochures she’d picked up in the airport. No one would hear her scream this far below the surface. They wouldn’t even find her body, if he didn’t want it to be found. So much for discovering his hiding place and reporting it to the police. She had to get out of here.

Rachel took a step back – right into a hard male body. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. For a moment, fear kept her paralysed, then panic set in. A large pale hand covered her mouth before Rachel could draw breath and scream. Her lighter burned her fingers and she dropped it, plunging them into darkness.

She elbowed the man and tried to smash his nose with her head, but only succeeded in hitting his chest. Rachel braced, expecting a fist to the face. The man made no attempt to strike her. Why should he? He had her right where he wanted her.

A warm breath brushed her neck. His jagged teeth flashed in her mind. He was going to bite her just like he’d bitten the woman and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop him.

“No.” The plea came out garbled behind his hand, but Rachel knew he understood. “Don’t.” She jerked her head and only succeeded in hurting herself.

“Stop fighting,” he hissed, tightening his grip.

Her breath rushed past his long fingers as she bit him.

“Ow, stop that!” He pressed his face closer.

Rachel tensed and began to tremble as she waited to feel the slice of those fake fangs on her flesh. The pain never came. Heat from the body holding her began to sink into her bones. A moment later firm lips brushed her ear lobe and she quivered. What was he playing at?

Nuzzling her hair, he inhaled. “American. Figures,” he said with distaste in a low French accent. “You must have a death wish, mademoiselle.”

Two

“You’re trespassing,” Gabriel Dumont said, ignoring the smell of wild flowers coming from the woman’s hair. He resisted the urge to bury his nose in her dark tresses once more. Instead, Gabriel released her. She scurried away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight. Not that he needed it to see, but he had no doubt she did. “The catacombs are closed. You want to tell me what you’re doing down here?”

Her soft Asian eyes narrowed as she carefully took in his appearance. The woman wasn’t as young as he’d initially thought. Mid to late thirties if he had to guess. The press of her warm lithe body had thrown him off. He was glad to be wrong. Time seasoned a woman. Though it had little meaning to creatures such as himself. Gabriel kept still, trying to look harmless, though he was anything but.

She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. He could tell by her expression that she was trying to come up with a plausible story for her presence. Smart and beautiful. “Do you work here?” she asked, attempting to commandeer the conversation. This was a woman used to being in charge.

Gabriel’s lips quirked. “Why else would I be here?” It wasn’t like she knew this was the entrance to the Otherworld. Was she simply a tourist trying to sneak in to the catacombs after dark? There were plenty who tried and succeeded. Not all got out to tell of their adventures.

“I was attacked by a man. He came down here.” She ran a trembling hand through her hair.

He arched a brow. “And you followed him?” Gabriel corrected his earlier assessment of her. The woman was clearly insane.

“He took something of mine,” she said softly. “I want it back.” She glanced around the cavern, her gaze hopping from skull to skull. “Did you happen to see anyone else down here?”

“No.” He shook his head. “Only you.” Gabriel watched her scan the area. She didn’t miss much. He rarely met humans who paid close attention to their surroundings. That’s what made them such easy prey. “What did he take, miss? Miss . . . ?”

“Rachel Chang. And you are?” she asked, avoiding his question.

She was good at changing conversational direction. He’d give her that. “My name is Gabriel Dumont.”

“Can I see your eyes, Mr Dumont?” she asked, taking another step back.

Gabriel blinked at her question, then slowly raised the flashlight beam to his face.

“They’re blue,” Rachel said, then visibly relaxed.

He frowned. “I know. Is that a problem?”

Rachel waved the question away. “I need to notify the police. There’s been a murder.”

“I thought you said you were attacked and robbed,” he said, feeling suddenly uneasy.

“I was. The man who attacked me killed a woman.”

Gabriel ran a hand over his face. So much for spending a quiet evening at home. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

She groaned in frustration. “We don’t have time. We have to get back to the scene.”

“At least tell me what he took.”

“My St Michael’s medal.”

That hadn’t been the answer Gabriel expected. Diamonds, yes. Gold maybe. But not a worthless medal. “They are easy to obtain. Allow me to get you another.”

“Thanks, but it wouldn’t be the same.” Rachel forced herself to concentrate on getting out of the catacombs. She was sure Gabriel hadn’t been the man who’d attacked her, but the place was making her uneasy. She rolled her shoulders, but the sensation of being watched didn’t go away. The killer was nearby. Maybe he was waiting for an opportunity to attack Gabriel. She wasn’t going to be responsible for another death tonight.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said.

“Right this way, madam.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him.

“After you,” she said.

Rachel was huffing from climbing the stairs by the time they reached street level. Gabriel wasn’t even out of breath. She stared at him, getting a better look now that they were under a street light. Gabriel’s raven-coloured hair framed a boxer’s face. His features were several fights past handsome, but strangely intriguing. Lines bracketed his blue eyes, but she couldn’t gauge his age. Rachel craned her neck. He was taller than her assailant, well over six feet. And she couldn’t help but notice how nicely his broad shoulders filled out his jacket.

She tore her gaze away, when he caught her looking. “It’s this way.” Rachel led him to the side street where she’d last seen the body, but the woman had vanished.

She searched the bushes. The woman had been lying in the middle of the sidewalk where the man dropped her. Maybe she’d been further along the street than Rachel had realized.

“Where is she?” Gabriel asked.

“She should be right here. I don’t understand.” Rachel scanned the shadows.

He looked up and down the street. “Sure she was dead?”

Rachel glowered at him. “Positive. I checked her pulse.”

“Maybe someone reported the incident and they’ve already picked her up,” he suggested.

“I’m not sure how the Parisian police work, but back in New York we don’t clean up a crime scene this fast,” she said. “Where’s the tape? Where are the homicide detectives? Someone should still be here canvassing the neighbourhood for witnesses.”

Gabriel stiffened. “Are you police?”

“Homicide detective,” she said absently, ignoring his broken English.

He inhaled again. “Have you been drinking, detective?”

Rachel tensed. “I had a few flutes of champagne with dinner, but I know what I saw.”

“Is this perhaps an elaborate ruse to get out of a trespassing charge?” Gabriel asked.

Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “Listen, if you don’t believe me that’s fine. Just point me in the direction of the nearest police station so I can report the incident.”

“OK.” Gabriel reached for her arm to turn her towards the station. She winced. He instantly released her. “Are you injured?”

“I’ll live,” she said. “The guy bit me after he bit the woman. He’d reshaped his teeth. Fancied himself a friggin’ vampire.” Rachel snorted. “More like a drugged-out psycho.” She shook out her arm and winced.

Gabriel maintained a placid expression, when inside his thoughts were in turmoil. If what she was saying was true, then it was possible Rachel had been bitten by a vampyre. “May I see?” he asked.

She shrugged and unbuttoned her coat. The second she slipped it off, the scent of blood filled the air. Gabriel swallowed hard, his nostrils flaring to draw the delicious fragrance in. “That looks bad. You’re going to need stitches,” he said, fighting the urge to lick her arm from wrist to elbow.

Rachel glanced down. “It’ll wait.”

“You really should get that seen to.” He looked away as his mouth began to water. It certainly looked like a vamp bite, although it was in an odd location. Most vamps preferred to feed from softer tissue.

“Police station first. Hospital second.”

“As you wish, detective.” Gabriel was nearly mad with the desire to feed by the time they reached the station. Without a body to back her claims, Rachel was just another tipsy tourist who’d been mugged. The police would take a report, check out the scene, then it would be filed away.

Rachel came out of the station two hours later, cursing under her breath and scowling. When Gabriel stepped out of the shadows, she startled, clutching her chest.

“Stop sneaking up on me.” She glared at him.

“I wasn’t sneaking,” he said. “How did it go?”

“Just peachy. Can’t you tell? They’re going to contact my captain in New York. That should be an interesting conversation.” She muttered something unintelligible about stupid men under her breath, then looked around in confusion. “What are you still doing here?”

He held up his hands in defence. “Nothing nefarious I assure you. I believe I said you needed to go to the hospital to get that wound cleaned and stitched. I’m here to take you.” He gave her a gallant bow. The move seemed natural, like he’d performed it hundreds of times.

Despite his easy charm, there was something off about Gabriel. It wasn’t how he spoke or behaved. He’d been nothing but courteous. It wasn’t how he moved. For a big man, he was incredibly light on his feet. Rachel couldn’t pin down what was bothering her and wouldn’t let it go until she could. She scrubbed a hand over her face. Maybe she was shaken up more than she realized.

She eyed Gabriel cautiously, debating whether to accept his offer. Eventually, she gave in. Rachel had no idea where the nearest hospital was in Paris. She could be standing next to it and wouldn’t know it given the architecture in this town. “Lead the way.”

He grinned. The act transformed his face from weary boxer into something altogether unexpected, taking her breath away. Rachel’s heart jumped and her knees turned to jelly. At least she knew she wasn’t dead.

Three

Gabriel waited for the doctor to finish patching Rachel up. It didn’t take long once he found the physician he was looking for. It helped to have a vampyre, one of the sanguis – the blood – on the inside. Vamp bites weren’t fatal unless a blood exchange had occurred, but the bad ones were painful and did take a long time to heal.

The doctor drew a vial of Rachel’s blood. Gabriel watched him walk into the other room and drink it. His palate was quicker than any lab test. Since sanguis’ blood didn’t show up in a victim for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he could only confirm the presence of sanguis’ saliva and check for contaminants, along with diseases.

“You’re all set,” the doctor said, returning to the room minutes later. He met Gabriel’s gaze and nodded, confirming his suspicions. She’d been bitten by a member of the sanguis, which lent credibility to her story.

Rachel was given a shot to stave off infection and carefully stitched. With any luck, she’d be on the mend in a few weeks.

Gabriel’s phone vibrated as Rachel was being discharged. He flipped it open.

The text contained two words: “Corps trouvé”. Body found.

He cursed under his breath and closed the phone as Rachel approached. “Ready?”

She nodded and wobbled on her feet.

Gabriel grabbed her hand to steady her and awareness flared between them. The warmth of her skin scalded his fingertips and sent shock waves through his body. He slowly released her and cleared his throat. “We’d better get you back to your hotel.”

Her soft brown eyes peered up at him and Gabriel felt his chest constrict. He could get trapped in that gaze if he wasn’t careful. The urge to touch her again made Gabriel’s hands itch, but sanguis and human relationships were never a good idea. No matter how careful one was in the beginning, the human inevitably paid the price.

“You’ve done more than enough,” she said sounding sincere. “I can find my own way home.”

“Nonsense. Let me at least call you a taxi. I don’t want your last impression of Parisian men to be that of a deranged dentally challenged biter.”

Rachel laughed, then tilted her chin, sending her long brown hair into her face. Gabriel reached out and brushed the downy soft strands over her shoulder. “Why are you so concerned about my impression of the men here?”

Gabriel hesitated. Anything he said would be far too revealing.

Rachel’s lips canted. “Don’t worry, you’ve more than made up for the mad biter.”

He smiled, more pleased than he should be about her admission. He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’d better call you that taxi. Where are you staying?”

“Hotel Luxembourg Parc.” Her voice faded with exhaustion.

“Take a seat. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” Gabriel ducked out the front of the hospital.

Rachel watched him go. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Gabriel Dumont. On the one hand, he’d gone well out of his way to help her. It would never have happened had they been in New York. She could’ve been bleeding on the sidewalk and no one would’ve stopped. Maybe the French were different, but they hadn’t seemed like it at the police station.

If Gabriel had an ulterior motive for helping her, Rachel couldn’t see what it could be. She didn’t have money, the only thing stolen was her necklace, and they hadn’t been able to find the body. Despite all that, she couldn’t stop the gnawing at her gut that told her she was missing something vital.

Gabriel popped his head in the door and smiled. The unease she’d felt seconds ago melted under that grin, morphing into something far more dangerous. Rachel didn’t have time for romantic liaisons. She needed to find the psycho who’d attacked her and get Paul’s necklace back. She felt naked without its protection, without its comfort.

* * *

The taxi drove off with Rachel slumped in the back seat. Gabriel reached into his pocket for his phone and called his partner. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Hurry up or there won’t be anything left to do,” he said.

Gabriel found his partner, Claude Russo, off Rue Balard leaning over the body of a blonde-haired woman. Her throat had been ripped out like the other victims they’d found over the past few months, leaving only tendon and bone behind. She wore a long black skirt and a purple shirt with a multi-coloured scarf thrown over her shoulders. Her grey eyes were open, frozen with fright.

He glanced around and saw a sign for Parc Andre. The location was nowhere near Boulevard Raspail where Rachel had been attacked, so it was doubtful there was a connection.

“What took you so long?” Claude asked, laying out a tarp next to the body. A jug nearby contained a mixture of bleach and water.

“It’s been a hell of a night,” Gabriel said.

“Do tell.” Claude rolled the body onto the tarp. He reached for the jug and began to spray the area where the body had been lying.

“I ran into this crazy American woman down in the catacombs.”

Claude shook his head. “When will they learn it’s not smart to sneak in there after dark?”

“That’s just it, she wasn’t down there stealing bones or exploring. She claimed to have witnessed a murder over by Cimetière du Montparnasse. She was chasing her attacker, when I found her.”

“Drinking makes you see things that aren’t there,” Claude said.

“I’d have thought so, too if it wasn’t for the fact she’d been bitten by one of the sanguis.”

Claude’s shoulders stiffened. “Then I suppose it’s exceedingly lucky for her that she didn’t catch him.”

“Yes, it is.” Fear trickled down Gabriel’s spine at the thought of Rachel fighting a sanguis. She was lucky she’d survived the initial attack. And even more fortunate he’d come upon her before round two.

“Come help me roll her.” Claude indicated to the body.

Gabriel walked over and grabbed the edge of the tarp and slowly covered the woman, then rolled her up tight. “What do you think?” he asked.

“I think you had it pegged right. The woman is obviously crazy. Who’s to say she was even bitten by one of us. Could’ve been a dog.” His laugh came out as a congested snort.

Gabriel looked at him. “No, it was definitely a sanguis bite. I didn’t believe her at first, but the hospital confirmed it.”

Claude frowned. “So you found the body?”

He paused. “That’s the weird part. There wasn’t one. I mean I saw blood. Smelled it everywhere, but the bulk of it was coming from Rachel.”

Claude arched a brow. “Her name is Rachel. Just how well did you get to know this woman?”

Gabriel tensed at the underlying implication in Claude’s tone. “Not well.”

“But you’d like to, eh, ami?” he asked.

“She needed help, so I helped her.” Gabriel looked away. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Rachel. She brought out a protective side of him Gabriel thought he’d lost long ago.

“How does she taste? Good?” Claude asked.

Gabriel shifted impatiently on his feet. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You didn’t bite her?” he asked, sounding surprised. “It’s always important to know how she tastes before you make her a regular donor.”

Gabriel glared. “She’s not going to be a donor. Rachel’s already been through enough between the bite and her necklace being stolen. Damn fool is determined to get it back. It obviously has sentimental meaning.”

“Is that so?” Claude murmured. “It doesn’t really matter what she wants. It’s not like she’ll be able to find the guy when even the Trackers haven’t succeeded. And they’ve been hunting him far longer.”

“Did I mention she’s a New York City homicide detective?”

Claude’s head whipped around. “No, you left that part out.”

“I’ve seen her type. She’s not going to let this go.” Gabriel slipped a plastic tie around one end of the tarp. “I have to try to find the necklace for her. The sooner she leaves Paris, the better. We don’t need a credible witness running around screaming about vampyres.”

“She actually used the ‘v’ word?” His disgust over the use of the derogatory term was evident.

Gabriel lifted the woman’s feet as Claude tied the other end of the tarp. “Yes, but she thinks he’s a fake, assumes he’s had cosmetic dentistry. Thank God for goths and movies.”

“Oui.” Claude snorted, then wheezed.

“Are you all right?” Gabriel asked.

“I accidentally inhaled some of the bleach fumes when I was mixing tonight’s batch of cleaners.” They lifted the body into Claude’s van. “Hopefully the Trackers will catch the killer soon.”

“It would certainly make our job easier,” Gabriel said. “Let’s hurry. I want to drop by Luxembourg Parc to make sure Rachel’s OK before reporting the incident to the Sang High Council.”

Claude’s attention sharpened. “Sounds like you’re developing a bit of a soft spot for this mortal.”

Gabriel avoided his partner’s knowing gaze. “Sanguis don’t have soft spots, remember? They’re ripped out at rebirth.”

Claude’s green eyes narrowed. “Whatever you say, my friend.”

Rachel could see the woman clearly. She wore a blue sweatsuit and a black cap. Her long red ponytail bobbed as she set off at a brisk pace on her jog. The sun had faded, leaving streaks of purple and grey behind. Her pale skin looked nearly translucent despite the blood pumping beneath and it gave off a faint musky aroma. Rachel could see the veins networking through her neck. They were a blue relief against the alabaster. She was so hungry, so very thirsty. Rachel licked her cracked lips, but nothing but the woman’s blood could quench her burning need. She had to catch her, stop her, taste her.

Suddenly Rachel was moving. Slowly at first, then gaining speed. The distance between her and the woman closed rapidly. The bushes beside her blurred as she raced to catch her. One hand reached out for the woman’s red ponytail, while the other sealed her mouth. There was a flash of teeth, then a muffled scream as she sank fangs into the woman’s throat. Desire – thick, rich, and tantalizing – flooded Rachel. She wanted more, needed more. Her body craved completion.

Gaze riveted, Rachel watched blood drip down the woman’s throat and her mouth began to water. The woman slumped. Rachel could hear the sound of the redhead’s heart thump erratically in her chest. One thump, then three in quick succession. Then there were no more. The silence was broken by a loud menacing growl.

Rachel jerked awake and looked around. The TV was on low and her suitcase was poking out of the closet where she’d left it. Her stomach rumbled and she fell back onto the bed.

The dream had been so real. She could almost taste the blood in her mouth. Another wave of desire scorched her. Her stomach growled again. Rachel swallowed hard and tossed the covers off, then sprinted to the bathroom. She barely made it to the toilet before she threw up.

When nothing else would come up, Rachel gripped the sink and pulled herself to her feet. How could she feel anything but revulsion at the thought of drinking someone’s blood? It had to be her subconscious working overtime. She was simply reliving the trauma of last night . . . even though this woman wasn’t wearing a long black skirt and a purple shirt like the first victim.

Rachel turned on the tap and splashed water on her face. It did little to remove the haze her mind was shrouded in. She needed a shower then maybe she’d be able to face the day. Rachel carefully unwound the dressing on her arm. The bite stank and oozed thick green pus. If the doctor hadn’t said that would happen, she would be worried that it was infected. She dropped the dirty bandages into the trash and turned on the shower.

It didn’t take long to strip out of her clothes. Rachel stepped under the spray and immediately jumped back as the water peppered her body. She could feel every drop pierce her flesh. She looked down half expecting to see blood. There wasn’t any, but her skin was abnormally red where the water had touched.

“You’re just bruised from the fight,” Rachel told herself as she made her way back under the spray. It didn’t get any better. If anything, the sensation was worse.

She stayed in the shower just long enough to wash her hair and rinse off. She’d never been hypersensitive before. Hell, maybe it was the water pressure in Paris, Rachel thought as she turned off the tap.

She wrapped a towel around her hair and body, then ran a hand over the fogged mirror. At first glance, she didn’t see herself. Rachel swiped her hand again, then caught a glimpse of her face. It was faint, but she could at least make out her features. Parisian steam was obviously tougher than New York bathroom steam. She looked up at the ceiling. They really should put fans in these places.

Rachel put on her make-up the best she could, then got dressed and bound her wound. She wanted to revisit the side street where she’d been attacked. Maybe the killer had dropped something she could use to locate him. She had a far better chance of finding proof in the daylight than she did at night. He wouldn’t be the first perp stupid enough to leave a cell phone or a business card behind.

She glanced at the clock to see if there was enough time to grab breakfast first. It was six. She’d gone to bed at four in the morning. Rachel had never felt this rested after so little sleep. She turned the volume up on the television and flipped it to the English-language channel. The evening news had just begun. She looked back at the clock. It couldn’t be. Rachel walked over to the phone and called the front desk.

“Hello, could you please tell me what time it is?” she asked.

“But of course, madam. It is six o’ clock,” the woman said politely.

“In the evening?”

“Oui, madam.”

“Thank you.” Rachel’s legs were trembling as she slowly hung up the phone. She ran a hand through her hair. “Pull yourself together,” she muttered.

Rachel walked over to the window and threw back the curtain. So much for finding proof in the daylight. She stared at the Jardin du Luxembourg across the street. The park’s gates were closed for the night. She was about to shut the drapes when she noticed movement near the sidewalk.

The shadows surrounding the park shifted and a man appeared. Rachel watched in horror as he grinned, flashing glaring white fangs. He held up his hand and let something drop. Light from the street light caught the silver chain dangling from his fingertips. It swayed gently back and forth like a pendulum. Rachel could see it clearly. It was her St Michael medal – Paul’s St Michael medal. The bastard was taunting her with it, daring her to come and get it. How did he find her?

“Son of a bitch!” she growled, grabbing her coat as she headed out the door.

Rachel reached the front of the hotel within a minute and glanced up and down the street. There was no one around. She picked a direction and ran up the road. He had to be here somewhere. He wouldn’t go to all this trouble, and then hide.

She scanned the cafes, but didn’t spot him. He couldn’t have gone far. Rachel had left the hotel room the second she’d seen him. At most, he’d be a block ahead of her. She was looking down a side street, trying to decide whether to head in another direction, when she collided with a hard, unyielding male chest. Strong arms enveloped her. Rachel took a deep breath to scream and caught a familiar scent. She looked up and all thoughts of fleeing disappeared as she fell into Gabriel Dumont’s blue eyes.

Four

Gabriel continued to hold her, enjoying the feel of soft womanly curves in his hands. He longed to pull her closer, taste her full lips, answer the need he could see burning in her eyes. Rachel recovered before he could act on those impulses.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked. “Did you see him?”

“See who?” He looked around, but didn’t immediately spot anyone. Gabriel inhaled, catching the familiar fragrance of her floral shampoo. He forced his senses to move on. There were sanguis about, but none nearby.

“The killer. He was here.” She craned her neck to scan the street.

Something fluttered dangerously in Gabriel’s chest. “What do you mean he was here?” The calm in his voice belied the building rage scorching his veins.

Rachel released him. “I just saw him outside my hotel. He had my necklace. Held it up so I could see it. The son-of-a bitch all but dared me to come and get it.”

Her skin tone had faded to milk, emphasizing the dark circles under her eyes.

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Rachel snapped. “I can tell by your expression that you don’t believe me.”

There was no deception that Gabriel could sense in her speech. Rachel believed every word coming out of her mouth. She’d obviously seen something that shook her up, but could it really be her attacker?

“How did he find me?” she asked quietly. If it wasn’t for the fine tension thrumming through her body, he would’ve believed the calm she projected.

“No idea,” Gabriel said. “Are you sure it was him?”

“Positive.” A muscle in Rachel’s jaw began to tic. “You’re the only one who knows where I’m staying.”

Gabriel flinched, his temper pricked by her insinuation. “Are you accusing me of something?”

Rachel stepped closer. Waves of heat emanated from her tiny body as she peered up at him. “No one else knew where I was staying.”

“The police knew, but I take it you’ve already ruled them out.” They stood nose to nose. “So you think I moved the body, took you to the police, and then the hospital so that I could turn around and tell your attacker where to find you? Are you even listening to yourself?”

“I know how it sounds, but that scenario is far more likely than my attacker tailing us all night,” Rachel said. “He’s not an idiot. He isn’t going to sit outside a police station and wait for me to come out. And the police aren’t likely to assist a killer by giving him my address.”

Gabriel kept his temper in check. “I can assure you that I’ve told no one where you’re staying,” he lied easily. He’d had to list her whereabouts in the report he’d given the high council. All random sanguis attacks had to be reported. It was Sang law. The thought that his actions had somehow endangered her made him ill.

Rachel touched her head and swayed.

Gabriel moved quickly, catching her arm. “When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugged, ignoring the revulsion she felt at the thought of ingesting anything solid. What was wrong with her? Blood made her hungry and the idea of food made her sick. Rachel’s lack of an answer was all the encouragement Gabriel needed.

“You’re coming with me. We have to get some food in you before you pass out on the street.” He led her down the sidewalk towards Rue de Seine.

Cafes, galleries, patisseries and used bookstores lined the quaint French street that bordered St Germain-des-Prés and the Latin Quarter. Gabriel found a cafe he liked, then quickly deposited her in a seat.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Rachel said, shaking her head to ease the dizziness. Her arm ached and her body trembled. If she’d been throwing up this whole time, Rachel would’ve thought she’d caught the flu. She rubbed her arm. Maybe she was experiencing side effects from the tetanus shot she’d been given. It had happened before. Or it could be the bite.

Gabriel gave her an entirely too male condescending look. “Obviously it was necessary, if you haven’t even bothered to eat today.”

“Give me a break,” she said. “I just got up.”

His long lashes shuttered his eyes. “What?”

“Up until – ” she glanced at her watch “– an hour ago, I thought it was morning. I slept all day. Getting mugged takes it out of me, I guess.”

His frown deepened.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she assured him. “Probably just coming down with something. They did all the important tests at the hospital. The guy didn’t have HIV, according to the doctor. Never thought to have them check for rabies.”

Gabriel’s lips twitched. “It’s doubtful he had rabies.”

Rachel smiled, happy that she’d been able to relieve the worry she’d seen on his face moments ago. “I’m sure once I eat I’ll be all right.”

Gabriel sat forwards. “You’re sure it was him?”

Her grin faded. “I’ve been a cop for fifteen years. My job has made me good at remembering details. It was him.”

His expression turned pensive once more.

Rachel squeezed his hand. It was cool to the touch, but warmed quickly. “I’m sorry I accused you of selling me out.”

Gabriel shook his head and dark hair fell over one eye. She brushed it back, her fingers lingering longer than necessary. He was watching her carefully, but he didn’t try to pull away. The tension between them rose, but this time it had nothing to do with discussing her attacker. It had been easy to ignore the simmering attraction between them the first time, given the circumstances, but now there was no denying it.

He cleared his throat. “You better order. I need to get you back to the hotel so you can rest. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah.” Rachel glanced away. She couldn’t believe how bold she’d been. She never made moves on men, especially men she didn’t know. Rachel wondered what she would’ve done had Gabriel responded in kind. From the look on his face, she could tell he’d been tempted, but he hadn’t acted. Instead, Gabriel had remained chivalrous to his core.

A lot of predators sought victims by gaining their trust. Even as the thought fluttered through her cop brain, Rachel knew that wasn’t the case here. Gabriel had been just as shocked by her attacker’s audacity as she’d been. She’d seen it in his eyes before he’d carefully schooled his expression. Now he was brooding. Or at least he had been until she’d touched him.

Rachel had felt his muscles lock under her fingertips, but for some reason she couldn’t stop herself. She’d wanted to feel his hair since he’d taken her to the hospital. It had looked so soft, so tempting. She forced her traitorous gaze away from his rough-hewn face.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked, staring at the menu like she could understand French.

“Later,” he said. “The French don’t dine this early, only tourists do.” Gabriel grinned at her, then caught the waiter’s attention.

“I’ll have beef stew. You do have beef stew, right?” she asked.

“Oui, madame,” the waiter said.

“And bring us a bottle of house red,” Gabriel added.

“I don’t think I can drink anything.” Rachel looked at Gabriel. “I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to eat.”

He touched her forehead. “You’re a little warm. How are you feeling?”

“Flu-ish.”

“For how long?” he asked. Gone was the flirting.

Rachel sighed. “Since yesterday. Could be the shot, but it’s probably the bite working its way through my system. It’s not unheard of for people who suffer from a human bite to get sick afterwards. I’ve been through it before. I’ll live.”

The waiter returned with the stew and their wine. He placed the steaming bowl in front of Rachel. “Smells delicious,” she said, looking at the beads of fat floating on top of the broth. Her stomach threatened to rebel as she lifted the spoon.

“I think you need to tell me exactly what happened last night,” Gabriel said after the waiter retreated into the kitchen. “Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out, including the significance of the necklace.”

“That’s personal.” Rachel put the spoon down. She couldn’t share the pain she’d been through with a stranger. Could she?

“You have my word of honour I will not tell anyone,” Gabriel said.

There was no denying he meant what he said. Rachel could see the sincerity in his eyes. If she were prone to fantasy, she’d say she could see his very soul. It glowed like a soft beacon inside of him, warming her.

Once Rachel decided to open the floodgates, the words flowed out. She told Gabriel everything, starting with the domestic battery she and Paul had investigated. She explained what had occurred the days after he’d been shot. How Paul had lingered in a coma and had eventually been taken off life support. His family had given her the St Michael’s medal he’d been wearing the day of the shooting. The bullet had grazed the edge of the medal leaving a permanent gash behind. She’d put the necklace on at the funeral and hadn’t removed it since.

Rachel described the man who’d attacked her. Talked about his teeth, the blood, and green glowing eyes. She gave a blow-by-blow account of how she’d struck him and broken his nose, then how something had spooked him.

When she was done, Rachel felt as if she’d been put through an industrial tumble dryer. She hadn’t talked about Paul and the shooting since it had happened. She still couldn’t believe she’d told Gabriel everything, but there was no denying the relief coursing through her. An invisible weight had been lifted. And it was all thanks to the man sitting across from her. “Thank you for listening,” she said.

“Anytime.” Gabriel reached for her hand, but drew back before he touched her. “How are you feeling now that you’ve had some food?”

She shrugged. “The same.”

Gabriel forced a grin as dread filled him. He’d listened to Rachel pour her heart out. She’d been carrying so much pain, so much guilt. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t deserve to have this forced upon her. No one did. If he’d had doubts about the symptoms before, they were gone now. Rachel had caused a blood exchange with the vamp that had attacked her when she’d broken his nose.

She was infected. No longer human, Rachel was now a revenant that would soon be crawling back to the grave.

Like most viruses, the sanguis virus would take a few days to fully incubate. Once it did, if Rachel didn’t receive more blood from her sire, she’d die.

Anger engulfed him as he glanced at the vibrant, brave woman seated across from him. How dare a stray take the life of one so noble? It wouldn’t mean anything to her in the end, but Gabriel vowed to himself to avenge her. In the meantime, he’d make Rachel as comfortable as possible.

“What he has taken from you is unforgivable, but you must move on. Enjoy your time. There is no getting your –” he paused “– life back.”

“St Michael’s medal back,” Rachel said at the same time.

For a moment their words hung in the air, a jumble of sentences not meant to be strewn together. Then her brows slowly drew down over her brown eyes.

“What did you just say?” she asked. “Better yet, what do you mean?”

Gabriel didn’t know what to say. He was shocked as much by her statement as she’d been by his. How could she still be worrying about such a trivial item when her life as she knew it was over?

“He bit you,” he said slowly.

“Uh-huh, and I told you I’ve been bitten before,” Rachel said as if she were speaking to a child.

Gabriel took a sip of wine. “You don’t understand.”

“You said he didn’t have rabies.” Rachel glanced at her bandaged arm.

Most women in Rachel’s position would be in hysterics by now. “No, not rabies. Something far worse.” Gabriel stared at her, taking in the arch of her brow, the soft curve of her neck, the gentle rise of her breasts. So beautiful and full of life. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Hold her tight and never let her go. He had to say something. Explain what had happened, but . . .

How do you tell someone you are beginning to care about that they’ll be dead by the weekend?

Five

“I don’t feel so good.” Rachel clutched her stomach and hunched over.

He rose to his feet. “We need to get you back to the hotel.”

She swayed. “Not until you explain what’s happening to me.”

Gabriel sighed. “I will, but this is not the place. What I need to tell you requires privacy.”

“Fine, but you’re not leaving until you do,” she said, daring him to argue.

Sadness clouded his eyes. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

Rachel stood as Gabriel threw money down on the table. “I’ve got news for you. There’s nothing you can say that will be worse than the day I learned my partner had been removed from life support.”

Gabriel’s expression was grave when he finally answered. “Remember you said that after we talk.”

Rachel’s feet were dragging and they still had a block to go before they reached the luxurious Luxembourg Parc boutique hotel. She felt worse now that she’d eaten, and the dread of the upcoming conversation wasn’t helping matters. What could Gabriel possibly say that was worse than Paul’s death? And what had he meant by the attack costing her life? She glanced his way. He remained focused on the sidewalk, lost in thought.

Her head spun and Rachel reached out to steady herself. Her hand missed and she began to fall. Strong arms swept her up before she hit.

“This is embarrassing.” Rachel fidgeted and looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Put me down.”

His blue gaze arrested her, stopping her struggles. “You are in no condition to argue.”

As much as she’d hate to admit it, Gabriel was right. Besides, Rachel enjoyed being in his arms. He carried her as if she weighed nothing, cradling her close to his chest. Each step he took lulled her, until she eventually nodded off.

The dark-haired woman left the party, bidding her friends goodbye. She walked down the busy boulevard, then turned left onto a quiet street. The crowds faded in the distance as her long strides took her further away from safety.

Her ebony skin shimmered in the darkness. It flowed like the black fabric of her cocktail dress. The tap, tap, tap of her heels sounded obscenely loud in the stillness of the night. Rachel watched the pulse jump under the skin at her neck. It throbbed in time to her steps. A coppery fragrance reached her, so enticing that Rachel had to find out where it was coming from. The woman turned, startled by someone behind her. Then she smiled.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said.

Rachel’s mouth was sand dry as she licked her lips. So thirsty. So hungry. So hot. She shifted, trying to get comfortable, but it was impossible.

Fangs flashed and the woman’s smile faded. She didn’t get a chance to scream as the sharp teeth tore at her slender throat. Blood bubbles escaped from her mouth as unnatural desires were fed.

Rachel cried out and bolted upright. Gabriel was seated in a nearby chair. He rose instantly and came forwards.

“What happened?” he asked.

She blinked. “I saw him. I saw . . . she’s dead.”

He frowned. “Who’s dead?”

“The woman.” Her body arched as she threw the covers off. “How did I get here?” A moan escaped before Rachel could stop it.

“You fell asleep in my arms. I fished the key out of your pocket and put you to bed.”

Rachel rubbed her hands down her thighs. “I ache. What’s happening to me?”

A pained expression passed over Gabriel’s face. “What I’m about to say is going to sound crazy.”

Rachel writhed on the bed. She couldn’t seem to ease the need burning through her body. If she didn’t get relief soon, she wouldn’t hear a word that Gabriel had to say. She bit her lip and blood welled.

Gabriel’s gaze locked on her mouth. He hadn’t moved, but the heat coming off him was approaching nuclear. His eyes devoured her. Everywhere his gaze touched ignited an answering flame inside of her.

She mewed. “What are you doing to me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. His nostrils flared and his muscles tensed, revealing the outline of his straining arousal.

Rachel’s breath caught as a new kind of hunger struck. “We’ll talk later.” She reached for him, and he came to her without a fight.

The second their lips fused Rachel was lost. Her mind took a back seat to her need. She blindly stripped Gabriel’s shirt off, feeling the hard planes of muscle that had been hiding beneath. She couldn’t get enough of him. Rachel followed the dark trail of hair down his stomach, her greedy fingers seeking his hard length. Gabriel gasped when she closed around him, but stopped her from exploring further.

“Not yet,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want this to last.”

He reached for the front of her blouse and ripped, sending buttons and material flying. Rachel threaded her fingers through his hair as she pulled him into another embrace. Tongues, lips and teeth collided as they devoured one another in a frenzy of melding flesh.

Gabriel’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once, stroking and teasing her until Rachel was convinced she’d expire from sheer delight. Somehow he managed to finish undressing them both then went to work pleasuring her from head to toe. Gabriel had a very talented mouth that he put to good use. It didn’t take long for Rachel to reach her first peak.

Her body continued to quiver as he slipped inside of her and began to move. Sweat glistened on his forehead. Her hands danced along his spine, feeling the muscles bunch beneath her fingertips. Rachel couldn’t tell where she left off and he began. He reached between their bodies and stroked until she soared ever higher. Rachel was still crying out in passion, when she felt a slight sting below her ear. Gabriel nuzzled her neck, gently lapping the spot, while he rolled his hips, driving deep to tumble her over the edge. He gave one last thrust, then followed her into oblivion.

It took several minutes before either of them could move. Gabriel slowly withdrew from her and gently kissed her lips. “Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For sharing something so precious with me.” His thumb gently brushed her neck.

“It was just sex,” Rachel said, knowing it was so much more.

Gabriel met her gaze and shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

Rachel’s heart fluttered at his admission. It would be so easy to love this man. She shied away from the idea. She still hadn’t heard what he had to say. She might not feel the same afterwards. Even Rachel realized it was already too late. The vulnerability and need she’d seen in Gabriel’s blue eyes had allowed her to unlock the pain she’d been harbouring. Whether he realized it or not, they needed each other.

“We better get this over with,” she said reluctantly.

Gabriel rolled off her, taking his warmth with him. “I was hoping we could . . . ”

She smiled. “Maybe later.”

His lips thinned. “I doubt you’ll be in the mood after I explain what really happened the night you were attacked. In fact, I’ll be amazed if you don’t toss me out of the room.”

“Not much shocks me these days,” Rachel said, growing weary.

“This is going to sound utterly mad, but it’s the absolute truth.” He waited until he had her attention. “The man who attacked you wasn’t a man at all.”

“He was a woman?” she asked in confusion.

Gabriel shook his head. “No, he was a sanguis, a blood. You’re more familiar with the term vampyre.”

Rachel slowly sat up, pulling the covers close as fear engulfed her. He was insane. She’d been so blinded by the promise of passion that she’d ignored what her gut had been telling her all along. “Could you repeat that please?”

His chin dropped. “You heard me. I know how it sounds, but I can prove it.”

Rachel judged the distance to the door, then asked, “How?”

“Just know that I would never hurt you.” Gabriel’s voice cracked. “Ever.”

Rachel rose from the bed and grabbed her robe. “You are freaking me out.”

Gabriel gave her a sad smile. “Not as much as I’m about to,” he said, revealing the tips of his fangs.

Rachel nearly tripped over her feet trying to get away. “Oh my God! What are you?”

“I’m a sanguis. We call it sang here in France. It means blood.”

Her hands trembled as she tied her robe. “Are you telling me you’re like the creep who attacked me?” Horrified, Rachel reached for the spot on her neck where she’d felt the prick.

“No!” Gabriel’s jaw tensed. “I am nothing like the animal that attacked you. I clean up his messes.”

“You know who did this and you didn’t tell me.” Fear was instantly replaced with anger. “How can you live with yourself?”

“What kind of man do you think I am?” he asked. “Wait –” he held up his hands “– don’t answer that.”

Rachel stared at him, waiting for him to sprout horns. “You must really think I’m a fool.”

Gabriel looked tired when he finally met her gaze. “You are many things, Rachel Chang, but a fool is not one of them. I don’t know who attacked you. If I did, justice would’ve been swift. I assure you. I’ve been trying to keep you safe.”

“How? By lying to me?”

“Would you have believed me had I said something sooner?” he asked.

Hell, Rachel wasn’t sure she believed him now. Trouble was she’d been a cop long enough to know when someone was lying and, as much as she didn’t like what he had to say, Rachel knew Gabriel wasn’t.

“What did the asshole that bit me really do to me?” She sank into the chair by the window.

Gabriel sat up on the bed. The duvet fell to his waist, revealing a sculpted abdomen. Rachel drank the sight in, then forced her gaze away. The desire she felt now was tempered by anger.

“A normal sang or vampyre bite doesn’t do anything to the mortal other than leave them a little weak. Unfortunately when the vamp bit your arm, you struck him, shattering his nose. This caused a blood exchange.”

“What does that mean exactly?” she asked.

He took a deep breath. “There’s no easy way to say this.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not a patient person, Gabriel. Just tell me.”

“You’ve been infected. You’re dying, Rachel.” Gabriel’s voice held no emotion when he delivered the news.

Rachel had spent the last several months dodging the bullet that had been meant for her and now it had finally found her. Of course it wasn’t a real bullet this time, but the infection had the same effect. It was just a little slower acting. Instead of fearing the future, she was strangely relieved. “How long do I have?”

“A day. Maybe three max.”

The news sucker-punched her in the gut. Rachel had hoped it would be longer than that, but she recovered quickly. Her mind raced to comprehend all she’d been told. “You were obviously infected, how come you’re still alive?”

“Because my sire stayed around to make sure I was fed,” he said quietly.

Rachel looked at him. “Since mine’s a psycho that’s not going to happen.”

Gabriel slowly shook his head. “No.”

“That doesn’t leave us much time,” she said.

His brow furrowed. “Time for what?”

“To catch this bastard and get my necklace back.”

Gabriel stood, gloriously at ease with his nakedness. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Every word.” Rachel closed the distance between them. Gabriel flinched when she touched his cheek. “If what you say is true, I don’t have much time left. I plan to make every second count, starting with bringing the bastard down. Help or stay out of my way. It’s your choice.”

“You know I won’t let you go after him alone. It would be a slaughter.”

“I didn’t go down easy the first time.”

Gabriel kissed her. “No, you did not. You are a remarkable woman.”

Rachel blushed. “Bet you say that to all the girls.”

He stared at her. “I’ve never said that to anyone until now.” Gabriel sighed. “Where should we start?”

“That’s easy,” Rachel said, grateful for the change in subject. “The catacombs. I chased him there once. There’s a good possibility he’ll show again. Besides, we have an advantage.”

Gabriel cocked his head. “What’s that?”

“Me.” Rachel shrugged. “He’s obviously after me.”

He nodded. “You’ve seen his face. He knows you can identify him. That makes you a threat.”

She grinned. “Perfect, so let’s give him what he wants.”

Gabriel turned away. “It’s too dangerous.”

Rachel snorted. “I’m dying. There’s nothing else he can do to me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Gabriel said. “There are a lot of things worse than death.”

Six

The plan wasn’t foolproof, but it was the best they could do under the circumstances. The bodies of the two women Rachel had seen in her dreams had been discovered, one by Gabriel’s team and the other by the Parisian police. The fact that the police had been brought in troubled the Sang High Council. A termination order was given to the Trackers of Paris. There would be no trial.

Somehow the killer was keeping tabs on Rachel. She and Gabriel were counting on the fact that he’d follow her, if she left herself open for attack. The best place to do that was in the catacombs.

Hiding until it closed for the evening hadn’t been difficult, although it did require crawling on mountains of bones. Rachel lay on a pile swallowed by shadows and concentrated on not moving. Mentally she kept apologizing to the dead for the inconvenience. When the last employee did his rounds, she slowly made her way off her bed of bones. Human remains from the eighteenth century crunched beneath her booted feet. Somewhere nearby Gabriel was waiting, careful not to give his presence away.

Despite everything she’d been told over the last two days, Rachel felt at peace for the first time in a year. She turned on her flashlight and made her way down the path towards the sound of water dripping. There was no guarantee the killer would show tonight or any other night for that matter. They were counting on his arrogance to bring him.

Rachel reached the stone chalice, which held water that steadily dripped from the ceiling. She and Gabriel had picked the spot earlier because the area was wider here than along the rest of the trail. There were no benches, so Rachel had to stand. She leaned against a wide column that looked to be holding up the cave-like roof. Rachel extinguished the flashlight allowing the darkness to envelop her. Nothing left to do but wait.

The drip, drip, drip of the water onto the stone lulled her mind. Rachel replayed much of her life and realized that, with the exception of Paul’s death, she had few regrets. She’d come to Paris to contemplate ending her life, only to discover a reason to live. Too bad it was too late.

Drip, drip, drip, silence.

She waited for the next drip, but it never came. Rachel slowly straightened, her ears straining to hear. Something nearby had stopped the water. The hair on Rachel’s neck rose, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. “I know you’re here,” she said.

“Come for your necklace?” a male voice said, far too close for comfort.

“Yes, and to get justice for the women you killed.”

He laughed, the sound rusty from disuse. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

A cool chain touched the skin on the back of her hand. Paul’s necklace. Rachel snatched for it, but missed.

“So close,” he said smugly. “Now, what am I going to do with you?”

The floodlights came on suddenly. Rachel blinked, temporarily blinded.

“Claude? What are you doing here?” Gabriel asked.

Rachel’s vision cleared and she saw the dark-haired man from the side street standing four feet from her. His green gaze was locked on Gabriel.

“You know this man?” she asked.

Gabriel didn’t take his gaze off the other man when he answered. “This is my partner – my friend. We work together.”

Rachel’s stomach pitched. “This is the man who attacked me. He killed those women.”

“Claude, what is she talking about?” Gabriel’s disbelief was clear.

“The woman is obviously mad. You said so yourself. Why else would she be down here so close to the Otherworld entrance?”

Gabriel’s blue eyes burned holes in his partner. “I heard what you said. Every word. Looking back, I should’ve known. You knew she’d been drinking the night of the attack before I even said anything. The only way you could’ve known that was if you were there.”

He tugged at his cuff, straightening it. “That is a shame, mon ami. It would’ve been easier had you stayed out of it.” Claude launched himself at Gabriel, knocking him into the wall of bones, then proceeded to pound on him with his fists.

Rachel hadn’t even seen him move. It would be a very short fight if she didn’t do something quick. “Claude,” she shouted, then grabbed a thigh bone and hit him on the side of the head as he turned, giving Gabriel time to scramble to his feet.

The men circled, taking swipes at each other with their bare hands. Given the power behind their blows and the sharpness of their teeth, they didn’t need weapons. Rachel watched in fascinated horror as each man tore chunks of flesh from the other. Gabriel was bleeding badly now and didn’t look nearly as focused as he’d been earlier. Claude dodged right and struck Gabriel across the head with his fist. Gabriel went down – hard.

“Let’s end this so we can have some alone time.” Claude smiled viciously at Rachel as he pulled a long antique dagger out of his sleeve.

Gabriel moaned and tried to stand.

She’d already seen what Claude did to women and had no intention of joining his little club. Rachel looked around quickly and snatched up two damaged bones. The joints had been snapped off, leaving jagged points behind.

He grabbed Gabriel by the hair and bared his neck. Claude raised the dagger, preparing to slash his throat. Rachel didn’t think. She roared in anger and rushed forwards, bones held like stakes in front of her.

Claude blinked in surprise. He quickly dropped Gabriel to face the oncoming threat. Rachel ploughed into him. It was like smashing into marble. She drove the bones into his shoulders. They went in a few inches then splintered in her hands.

Rachel stumbled back. Pain blossomed. Burned. She looked down at the dagger sticking out of her abdomen. So much blood. She shivered. Cold. Rachel fell, still clutching the weapon in her gut.

Claude’s fangs extended. His green eyes began to glow. He stalked towards her. “You should’ve waited your turn. But if you insist on going first.” He hauled Rachel to her feet and slammed her against the pillar. “Don’t move.”

She was too numb to feel anything.

“What, no begging or pleading for your life? How about the life of your lover?” He glanced at Gabriel.

Rachel glared. “Just get on with it.”

The bones made sucking noises as Claude pulled them out of his body and dropped them on the ground in disgust. He growled, then wrenched her neck back and opened his mouth. His warm fetid breath bathed her throat. “Painful, but pointless. Do you not know how to kill a vampyre?”

Rachel braced herself.

Claude’s body jerked once. He released her and looked down. Rachel followed his gaze to see the sharp edges of a bone protruding from the middle of his chest.

“I do,” Gabriel hissed, driving the bone deeper.

There was no drama to Claude’s death. He didn’t burst into flames, shrivel up and age, or flail about. He simply fell to his knees, grimaced and died.

Rachel’s legs gave out and she slid to the ground. “We got him,” she said, then coughed. Blood smeared her delicate lips.

“Yes, we did.” Gabriel rifled through Claude’s pockets until he found what he was looking for. He dropped the St Michael medal into Rachel’s hand. “I believe this is yours.” He choked on the words. “I told you I’d get it back for you.”

She smiled and touched his cheek, leaving a streak of blood behind. “Thank you.”

“Listen,” Gabriel said. “We don’t have much time.”

Rachel laughed and winced. “We knew that going in.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You don’t understand. You have a choice to make. Normally this is done by the sanguis who sired you. But since he’s dead, I can offer.”

Rachel’s lids drooped shut. Gabriel shook her hard. “Wake up and listen.” He sounded desperate, even to his own ears. Her eyes fluttered open, but they didn’t focus. “I can change you into what I am, but it has to be done with your permission.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you want to live?” Gabriel asked. “Yes or no.”

Ever since Paul’s death Rachel had been asking herself that question. Up until now the answer had always been the same – no. But that was before she’d met Gabriel. He reminded her that she was indeed alive. She glanced at the St Michael’s medal in her hand. It used to bring her pain and comfort in equal measure. Now as she stroked the necklace with her thumb all she had was fond memories. She met Gabriel’s eyes.

He trembled under her regard. She could tell what it was costing him to wait. He’d live with whatever she decided, but hope burned eternal in his gaze.

“Do it,” she said, then braced herself.

Just like when they’d made love, Rachel felt a slight sting as his teeth broke the skin on her neck. Gabriel held her close, comforting her as he drank. The drips from the water faded and the world began to dim. Rachel felt her heart stutter. Before it stopped, Gabriel pulled the dagger out of her and sliced open his wrist, then pressed the bleeding wound to her mouth.

“Drink for our future.” Gabriel forced her to swallow, when every instinct inside her revolted.

Two Days Later . . .

Rachel woke up in her bed at the Hotel Luxembourg. She reached down and winced as her hand touched her tender abdomen. She lifted her shirt and saw a clean white bandage. Rachel glanced around. Nothing looked different, but the bandage meant it definitely hadn’t been a dream.

She heard the shower running in the bathroom. A moment later the door opened with a billow of steam and Gabriel stepped out with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his trim waist.

“You’re finally awake,” he said, not bothering to hide his relief. “How are you feeling?”

Rachel sat up. “Fine, I think. How did we get here?”

He grinned and her heart skittered. “I carried you.”

“You do realize the hotel is never going to let me stay here again, right?”

“This is Paris. The city of love.” His expression grew solemn. “What are you going to do now that you’ve recovered?”

He watched her carefully. The vulnerability she’d seen in the catacombs was back in full force. Rachel made a show of thinking about it. She had nothing to go back to in New York other than a small apartment, an empty refrigerator and months of psychological evaluations.

“I thought maybe I’d stick around. My French is rusty and I need to learn the ropes of this whole vampyre thing,” she said.

Hope blossomed in his blue eyes. “I’d be more than happy to teach you, if you like.”

“What would I do for work?” she asked. “You can’t live on love alone, not even in Paris.”

Gabriel’s smile was back, wider than before. “I happen to know of a job opening now that my partner has retired.”

“Is that so?” Rachel had a hard time keeping a straight face.

“Of course, I’ll have to interview you.” His heated gaze raked her and she felt an answering pull deep inside.

Rachel arched a brow. “What does a vampyric interview entail?”

Gabriel dropped his towel, revealing his growing desire. “It starts with a very thorough physical.”

Rachel grinned, admiring the view. “Did I ever tell you I received the Presidential patch for fitness when I was in school?”

Gabriel’s lips quirked. “Prove it.”