Chapter 2 #2
He glided toward them with a feline grace, his dark coat billowing behind him like wings.
The shadows seemed to cling to the ancient vampire as if reluctant to release him into the light.
He prowled toward them; despite the chaos of Halloween night, tourists stepped aside without seeming to realize they were doing so, creating a clear path for his approach.
“Rowan. Summer.” His accent was pure New Orleans aristocracy, each word precisely enunciated. “How fortuitous I should encounter you both on this tragic evening.”
“Fabian.” Rowan’s voice was guarded; Summer felt the tension radiating from him. “What brings you to a crime scene?”
“The same thing that brings you, I suspect.” Fabian’s pale eyes studied the police tape and the officers still working the scene. “These attacks concern my people as well. Vampires have been blamed for supernatural violence before, and it rarely ends well for our community.”
Summer’s neck prickled as hairs rose under her shirt collar.
This was not the same Fabian who’d wished farewell to her when their bond dissolved.
She’d promised him then he’d always be a part of her world, but during the intervening months she’d begun to wish she had not made such a foolish undertaking.
She rubbed one hand over her chest, knowing the vampire and the werewolf would both sense her heart rate spiking.
She licked perspiration from her upper lip. “I realize your people aren’t responsible for this,” Summer said. She’d seen enough vampire violence to know this wasn’t their style.
“No,” Fabian agreed. “We are not. But perception matters more than truth in times of crisis. If humans begin to believe monsters walk among them, they tend to strike out at anything… different.”
“You agree they may be hybrids?” Rowan asked bluntly.
Fabian’s expression didn’t change, but Summer caught the slight stiffening of his shoulders. “Those abominations! But they were destroyed months ago, along with Victor, but Lucien… of his demise, I cannot be sure.”
“But all the hybrids are dead?” Summer pressed.
“So we believed.” Fabian met her eyes, and for a moment she thought she saw concern in their pale depths. “But if new hybrids have been created… if someone has taken up Victor’s work…”
“Then we have a problem that goes beyond supernatural politics,” Rowan growled.
“Indeed.” Fabian glanced around at the Halloween revelers. “And what better time to release such creatures than during a week when the entire city celebrates monsters? They can hunt openly, and any witnesses would dismiss what they saw as elaborate costumes or street theater.”
A burst of laughter from a nearby group of costumed tourists punctuated his words, and a chill snuck up Summer’s flesh. Somewhere in this crowd of fake monsters, real ones could be hunting.
“We should coordinate our response,” Fabian continued. “Share information and resources. My people have extensive surveillance networks throughout the city.”
“And what will you want in return?” Rowan asked, narrowing his eyes at Fabian.
“Safety for all of us,” Fabian said with a shrug.
“If these attacks continue, if they escalate, the human authorities will eventually realize they’re dealing with something beyond their understanding.
When that happens, they’ll come for all of us—vampire, werewolf, even a witch.
Anyone who doesn’t fit their narrow definition of normal. ”
It was a compelling argument, and Summer nodded despite Rowan’s obvious reluctance to trust the vampire lord.
“Think about it,” Fabian said, stepping back into the shadows of the alleyway. “But don’t take too long. I suspect our mysterious hunter is just getting started.”
He melted back into the darkness as smoothly as he’d appeared, leaving Summer and Rowan alone with their fears and the growing certainty that the attacks were only the beginning.
“We should get back,” Rowan said finally. “Maurice will want a full report.”
“I’m exhausted,” replied Summer. “I’d prefer to stay at the Marigny, but we won’t get in at Halloween. My old apartment isn’t far, we can call Maurice from there.”
“Sure,” replied Rowan.
They walked back to the motorcycle in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Around them, the Halloween celebration continued unabated: laughter, music, the rustle of elaborate costumes in the humid air. But Summer heard menace in every shadow and saw threats in every masked face.
As they climbed onto the bike, another group of revelers stumbled past, their costumes a mixture of classic monsters and pop culture references.
One of them, a man in an elaborate werewolf costume, the fur moved realistically in the breeze, turned to look directly at Summer.
For a moment, their eyes met across the distance, and the intelligence she saw there was distinctly inhuman.