CHAPTER ONE || COLE #2
“I’ve never lied to you. Not even once,” I told him, straightening my spine and leaning into the phone’s tiny speaker. It was imperative he understood this. I lacked mercy and compassion, but never honesty. “I will always be honest with you. Always.”
My words had the benefit of being so true that I was certain he could hear their veracity in my voice.
“Okay, fine.” He let out a long breath. He sounded relieved when he added, “I believe you.”
“Very good, Detective. I didn’t even have to beat the admission out of you. This might work, after all. I see delightful things in our future.”
I could practically hear him roll his eyes. “Why me? Out of everyone else on the force, why did you choose me to be…whatever this is to you?”
“Are you truly so upset to have met me?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “No.”
I smiled when he swore again under his breath. He clearly hadn’t wanted me to know that. But I wasn’t surprised. If not for me, Harris would’ve been a total mess—or, more likely, dead. Either way.
“I needed a connection inside the local police department. Someone who could help me find my next meal—and many meals after that. My dietary preferences are quite particular.”
“And don’t I fucking know it.”
My smile deepened. His annoyance—but complete lack of pearl-clutching horror—at my feeding practices was always entertaining. “I do need to eat on a fairly regular basis.”
“Look, anyone on the force could’ve given you information about open cases on the roster. Why me, specifically?”
“You’re a complicated man. I thought perhaps you might not be afraid of me. It’s always easier to interact with someone if they’re not quaking in fear every time you call.”
“Would I be able to be afraid of you, even if I wanted to be?”
I caught his meaning at once. I lost my smile.
“Harris, I’ve only ever compelled your silence and your honesty. Any emotions you feel are entirely your own.” I paused, curious. “Are you afraid of me?”
“No,” Harris replied without hesitation. No swearing this time. “But there’s more than that.”
“I mean, your body is probably a good place to start,” I offered. “You’re not at all unpleasant to look at, Detective. Delectable, truly.”
“Cole, come on. Be real with me.”
“Oh, you’re no fun. Has anyone ever told you that?”
He sighed. “Often.”
“I chose you because you needed someone to shake your life up.”
Though we’d never talked about it, I knew his longtime partner, Paul McKenzie, had been killed in the line of duty.
Harris had been close with him. Not bumping uglies close, but perhaps just shy of it.
And afterward, the entire precinct blamed him for Paul’s death, even if they hadn’t come right out and said so.
But when I had been… interviewing… potential partners, they’d all shared how they really felt.
Naturally, I didn’t care about any of that. But it made our partnership more of an even trade. Harris was helping me, and—roundabout though it was—my presence in his life helped him, too. He’d been quite depressed when we first met. Dangerously so. And now he wasn’t.
I paused, frowning, considering my next words carefully. It was important to be exact in my honesty with him. “You were… unwell. You needed me.”
“Huh. You could say that, I guess.” He let his breath out sharply. “Though I’m not sure the fix I needed was for a vampire serial killer to decide we’re best buddies.”
“You said it yourself: we’re not friends,” I reminded him. “But we are partners. In a sense.”
“I’m not party to your crimes. I don’t condone what you’re doing.”
“Laws are human constructs, Detective. And that isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“You’re my conscience. I don’t have one, so I need you. I need you to help ensure the guilt of my victims.”
“If you really don’t have a conscience, then why the fuck would you even care?”
My silence was thunderous. It would’ve been easier for him to believe I was some sort of vigilante—an antihero taking out bad guys with all the dark means at my disposal. But I wasn’t a hero—anti or otherwise.
I hadn’t felt a single emotion in the past eight hundred years.
But I had my rituals, and my rituals were everything.
Ensuring the guilt of my victims—selecting the right ones, the ones that might otherwise keep killing—was paramount.
Better than the way many vampires satisfied their bloodlust: by draining whomever they could find the moment they got hungry.
Sloppy. Foolish. Like they wanted, deep down, to find themselves on the wrong end of a wooden stake.
Having a human witness—someone who understood me to some degree—was important for my long-term survival.
If I deviated too far from my rituals, I might succumb to my instincts and drain whoever happened to be standing too close when I got hungry.
Once that happened, my immortal life would surely come to a close sooner rather than later. I’d become the hunted, not the hunter.
After a long silence, Harris said, “Cole, are you planning to turn me into a vampire?”
“Perhaps someday, if you asked me to,” I replied after only a moment of consideration. After all, why not? I added, “But if you didn’t want that, I wouldn’t.”
“I guess I probably knew that. Why not turn me regardless of what I wanted? If you really don’t give a shit, that is.”
“It doesn’t make sense to create an immortal being who will hate me—who will be my enemy—for potentially hundreds of years,” I replied, a bit of my age creeping into my tone, turning it icy. I had to be certain he harbored no illusions about my motives. “It has nothing to do with right and wrong.”
Harris was unflappable—which was both appealing and supremely annoying. He snorted. “Of course not. Because you don’t care about silly things like that.”
I pursed my lips. “Correct.”
The silence stretched between us again.
I listened to the sound of him breathing. I hadn’t felt more than a strong fondness for anyone since shortly after I became a vampire and started murdering humans for their blood. But if I could still feel even a trace of genuine love, perhaps it would be for a man like him.
Then again, perhaps not. I’d been in love exactly once, back when I was still human. And that hadn’t worked out well, had it?
“I suppose you’re curious about how all of this will end for you.”
He snorted. “Not really.”
“I’m an immortal killer who drinks fresh blood on a regular basis. There’s nothing human left in my heart. Perhaps you should be afraid, Detective.”
“I don’t have a high enough body count for you.” Harris sounded supremely confident. “So. Give me all the gory details. That’s why you called, isn’t it?”
“Oh. Right,” I said abruptly when the blonde woman stirred on the ground.
She opened her eyes, blinked rapidly, then froze. It must have occurred to her that lying on the cold concrete floor of some stranger’s basement probably wasn’t a good sign.
“By the way, I managed to get here before Jerry killed the woman who would’ve been his latest victim.
She’s still alive. She’s here, in the basement of his home.
” I considered her thoughtfully, my head cocking to the side.
She looked quite… unwell. “She may need a bit of medical attention, now that I think about it.”
“Christ, Cole! You didn’t fucking lead with that?”
“I’m not one of the good guys, Detective,” I reminded him. “Words cannot express how much I do not care whether she lives or dies.”
“If that’s true, why didn’t you drain her, too?”
“It’s not because I care,” I told him archly.
“And I called to tell you I put a little dab of my blood on Jerry’s wounds just before he died—so there’s not going to be a single mark left on him.
It’ll look like he just dropped dead. Like all the others.
You’ll get to show up and be the hero. Again, I might add. ”
“Thanks for that. I guess.”
“You’re most welcome,” I replied sweetly. “It’s easier when you benefit as well.”
“Why not just force me to help you? You obviously can.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Then I paused, my tone sharpening. “Perhaps I ought to wipe your memories and find another detective. One with looser legs and less of an attitude problem.”
“Ah. So you’re not planning to kill me.” Harris didn’t even sound surprised. “You’d erase my memories and let me go. That’s the end game here.”
The young woman began hyperventilating on the ground. I rolled my eyes.
Panic was setting in, no doubt. That, or it was a bad reaction from the drugs.
Sweat was beading on her brow with each passing moment, and her heartbeat was erratic—a cranked-out hummingbird slamming itself into a clear-glass window and falling flat before getting up and trying again.
Soon enough, it would probably stop trying.
“You should begin getting dressed,” I told him, sighing with annoyance. “The woman’s condition is deteriorating quite fast. And I’m growing bored.”
“I’m not worried. You’re obviously going to save her life. I have all the time in the world.”
I scowled. Harris wasn’t wrong, of course. But it wasn’t out of some misguided desire for her to live. It was entirely selfish. Harris would be upset with me if I let her die—and that would be… inconvenient.
Still holding the phone to my ear, I approached her. I smiled at the strangled noise of horror she made as I dropped into a low crouch beside her. She didn’t do it just to please me, of course, but I appreciated it all the same.
She thought I was the one who drugged her, I realized. How silly of her.
And yes, her heart was working much too fast. She would probably have a heart attack very soon. Her brow dripped with sweat, matting her hair to her face, and her skin looked waxy and far too pale. Her body shook as well—though I couldn’t tell if it was from the drugs or simply her fear of me.
Her gaze slid to Jerry’s body. Her eyes widened. She sucked in a breath, looking back up at me in total horror. Her lips parted and—
“Don’t scream,” I told her, my gaze locking with hers before her heart could give out, immediately placing her under a hypnotic spell. “You feel very calm. Breathe in and out. All of this is fine.”
All the fear drained from her expression. I rolled my eyes again.
“How badly is the woman injured?” Harris demanded. “Do I need to call an ambulance? What’s the address?”
“Not to worry. She’ll be fine, Detective.”
And she would be. A few drops of my blood would destroy even the worst toxins she might’ve ingested. It would repair any damage the compound had done to her internal organs as well.
Harris chuckled, and I could picture the giant, obnoxious grin sweeping across his face. “You are going to heal her, aren’t you?”
I heaved another annoyed sigh—enough of an answer.
He chuckled. “Not a good guy, my ass.”