Raven Mask Read online

  “Where’d you get the Mustang? What happened to the Phantom?” The last I knew, the Phantom, a smoke gray Hummer H2, was in the shop.

  “Sold it.”

  “Why? You loved that car.”

  “Because it was my car and everyone knew.”

  “Ah.” I understood. “So the Mustang is your incognito car?”

  “For the time being.”

  “It doesn’t suit you.”

  “That’s the point.”

  “Did you ever get the Hummer out of the shop?”

  “No, I sold it to the guy who’d been working on it.”

  “What was wrong with it?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I dropped it. When Rupert said you don’t want to know, you really didn’t want to. Obviously, the car wasn’t that bad if the guy from the shop had bought it. You could deal with a bit of blood by getting new upholstery. But more than that would take some serious reconditioning. It probably wasn’t just a bloody nose that made Rupert get rid of it.

  “Where are you headed?” Rupert asked.

  “Home.”

  “Which home?” He pulled up the leather sleeve of his jacket and looked at his watch. “You still have about six hours until dawn.”

  I didn’t always stay the night with Lenorre. Recently I’d been spending more time at her place. We’d learned we share a common interest in black-and-white movies and cuddling. I’d slept in her bed and she’d held me while I slept, but we still hadn’t had sex. We’d gotten close when I was wolf-ridden, but Lenorre would not take me when the wolf was in control. It’d only happened once or twice, but since then I hadn’t reoffered. She didn’t push it, not really. Neither one of us had made that final leap to cement the relationship.

  She was probably waiting for me to act, but beyond kissing and touching, I hadn’t been able to.

  I could be brave in the face of danger and a chicken-shit when it came to love. Every woman has her hang-up. Why did it feel like I was collecting them?

  I sighed. “I’m going to Lenorre’s after I stop by my apartment.”

  “Did the cops call you out here?” His gaze was very blue.

  I didn’t see a reason to deny it. “Yeah.”

  “How bad was it?”

  “Bad.”

  “Do you want help?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt.”

  “All right, I’ll follow you.” The keys jingled in his hands. “Deal?”

  “Deal, but if you start riding my ass again—”

  “You’ll slam on the brakes.”

  “You bet your ass I will,” I said to his back.

  Chapter Three

  I went inside alone to grab a few things and didn’t bother turning any lights on. Being a werewolf has its perks, one of which is excellent night vision. Wolves in the wild rely mostly on their sense of smell, but they also have good night sight. In a wolf’s eyes, the abundance of rods, or nerves that are sensitive to low light, is what gives it the ability to see in the dark. Unfortunately, rods are monochromatic, and in the dark the number of rods washes away my ability to perceive colors other than those of a black-and-white film. Fortunately, if there’s light, my vision is normal. Not being able to perceive color in the dark may seem like a downside. Truthfully, it isn’t such a high price to pay given the fact I can actually see. When you make a living hunting and killing things that aren’t human, you learn to appreciate life’s small mercies.

  In the bedroom I opened the top drawer of my dresser and pulled out two pairs of undies, socks, and a clean bra. It really didn’t matter what color they were. I fished my backpack from beneath the bed, tossing the undergarments in, along with a nightshirt that was originally black and white. Lenorre had given me the shirt that promoted the club she owned. The two little white Vs on it, like upside-down mountains, were supposed to be vampire fangs. Underneath the fangs in cryptic bleeding letters was The Two Points. I yanked two pairs of jeans off a hanger, what I was hoping was my green thermal, and what I was pretty sure was a black-and-white striped sweater.

  I stashed everything in the bag and tossed it over my shoulder. My leather jacket was in the car. I thought about grabbing another coat, but I was just going over to Lenorre’s, not to a fashion show. Hell, she had seen me when I’d woken looking like the Bride of Frankenstein. Of course, not a curl on Lenorre’s head was ever out of place. Looking perfect in the morning so doesn’t count if you’re a vampire. They don’t move. Trust me, I know, because trying to move them is a bitch. I learned not to fall asleep on the very edge of the bed with Lenorre holding me, because when I woke about to fall off, she wouldn’t budge. Being a lycanthrope, I could have moved her, but it was easier to just move myself.

  There was an upside. I didn’t have to worry about accidentally kicking her in my sleep and we never fought over the covers.

  I shut all the doors in the apartment, grabbed my laptop, and left. After I nodded in Rupert’s direction, letting him know I was ready, the Mustang’s lights flicked on and I squinted, stifling a growl. Sudden bright lights shattering my night vision hurt like hell. He was just messing with me. I unlocked the Tiburon, tossed the backpack into the passenger seat, and carefully put the laptop bag flat on the floorboard. Rupert waited for my lead.

  He had, after all, never been to Lenorre’s house, so I was curious to see his expression when we got there. It was a house worth staring at.

  *

  Rupert followed me to the porch with only the sound of our boots crunching the dead grass. I knocked on the door, lightly, waiting for footsteps on the other side. I could usually hear Rosalin, friend and beta werewolf of the Blackthorne pack, bounding down the stairs. She was the one who customarily opened the door. Rosalin was one of the many residents living under Lenorre’s roof. She also worked for Lenorre at The Two Points.

  Rupert hadn’t so much as blinked at the size of the house. What kind of place did he live in? I’d never seen it. We had a bet several months ago, when he’d told me to try and find out where he lived. But the last case I’d worked on with the police had interfered and I’d never figured it out.

  It was silent before the front door opened to reveal Lenorre’s blank and beautiful face. The long black curls of her hair were pulled off her shoulders and piled at the back of her head, held in place by a metallic hairpin decorated with rubies.

  A stray curl had broken free, falling over her pale cheek. Against her dark hair and pale skin, her eyes were striking. At first glance one might pass them off as the blue-gray some humans have. But Lenorre was not human, and her eyes were the true gray of misty storm clouds that changed to liquid silver when she embraced her power.

  I’d never seen anyone with eyes like hers.

  Her crimson gown had a spill of white lace around the collar and wrists. It appeared to be a Victorian dressing gown, but when she stepped back, I caught a glimpse of long white leg peeking through a slit in the velvet. As I raised my gaze to the gown’s scoop neck, a jolt of longing shot through me. The dress was tight, offering a demure amount of décolletage. It was definitely too risqué to be truly Victorian.

  “I see you have brought a guest.” Her expression was unreadable as Rupert followed.

  “You don’t mind?” I asked, hopeful she wasn’t irked with me for bringing a friend without her consent. It was her home. I hadn’t intended to be discourteous, but you never know how someone will react until they do so, especially vampires.

  She gave me a not-so-happy look before turning to walk into the parlor. “You could have asked.” She didn’t have a thread of anger in her voice.

  The calmness of her words surprised me. “I know.” I placed my things on a white armchair just inside the room. “I didn’t think about it. I apologize.”

  “I am disappointed you did not ask my permission. You did not take my feelings into consideration,” she explained, stepping closer.

  I looked up into those intensely smoky eyes and felt like an ass.

  “I�
�m—”

  She placed a finger against my lips. “You have already apologized. There is no need for you to say you are sorry again.” She touched my cheek gently. “All I ask is that you do not make the same mistake twice.”

  I suddenly felt like I was being scolded. I began to defend myself against the comment when she moved, catching me off guard. Her arm snaked behind my back and she pulled me against her.

  With her body so close to mine, her curves against me with only our clothes as a barrier, I gasped.

  She cupped my cheek, and though she held me gently, I knew the strength she carried in her mere fingertips. She bowed her head.

  “You are always so torn between love and war.” Her words caressed my lips, tickling. I shut my eyes, unnerved by the sudden closeness, by the heat building between my legs. I felt her other hand at my back, tracing the raven tattooed on my skin. The beak started between my shoulder blades. Lenorre’s hand swooped downward, following the line of tail feathers to my lower back.

  “You’re always distracting me from a good fight.”

  “If you want to fight, we can fight, but neither of us holds our tempers on a short leash.” Her lips moved against mine, terribly and utterly distracting. “I can think of far better things to do with you than fight.”

  She kissed me, drawing me roughly into the circle of her arms. She held me against her like a prisoner. Her lips parted against mine and I opened my mouth, catching her bottom lip between my teeth.

  Lenorre moaned.

  My stomach lurched. I liked a little bit of pain in the bedroom, but I had not known Lenorre had similar interests. I released her lip, slowly, and started to pull away from her. She buried her fingers in my hair, cupping the back of my skull. She kissed me again, this time exploring my mouth with a recklessness that had nothing to do with control and everything to do with passion, with need. She kissed me until I was breathless, until that need burned between my legs and threatened to buckle my knees. I put my hands on her shoulders, holding on to her like a life preserver as I drowned in her kiss. The tips of her fangs glided over my tongue. My hands trembled on her shoulders.

  The room no longer existed. The only thing that mattered to me was Lenorre’s mouth, the feel of her, the taste of her. I was aware only of the line of her body against mine, the soft swell of womanly curves hidden beneath the folds of her clothing. I searched for the opening to her gown, trying to free the first button, but my hands trembled too badly to unfasten it. Lenorre caught my wrists, pushing my arms behind my back. Her slender hands were suddenly shackles that trapped me and kept me from touching her. A growl of frustration escaped me.

  “Please.” Instead of sounding like a plea, it sounded more like a demand.

  Lenorre turned her head, brushing her mouth across my cheek. Her voice was breathy as she said, “We are not alone.”

  “Sorry.” Rupert’s deep voice startled me and made me come back to myself. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Most guys would feel,” he paused, searching for the word, “honored. But this is like watching my little sister make out with her lesbian girlfriend.” I felt the blush creeping to my cheeks.

  As if on cue Lenorre and I both stepped away from each another, wiping our mouths. It wasn’t a sloppy kiss, but a deep kiss like that leaves some evidence. I used the back of my sleeve. Lenorre used her thumb and index finger to daintily dab at the corners of her mouth. The gesture made me think of more nefarious things. She watched me while she did it and I knew what that dark look meant. She was hungry, and it wasn’t for blood.

  I wanted to kick Rupert out and tell him to shut the door behind him.

  “Thank you,” he said, stepping out of the doorway. He picked up my bags, moving them over to the couch so he could sit in the chair.

  I debated excusing myself to make a trip to the bathroom before I sat down, but decided it was best not to because then everyone would know why. Lenorre took a seat in the opposite armchair. I moved to the couch, slightly narrowing my eyes. Sitting in a puddle of your own wetness isn’t exactly comfortable.

  The corner of her mouth twitched into a smirk.

  “What?” Rupert looked at us both.

  Lenorre didn’t say anything.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “You may be a werewolf, and she may be a vampire,” he glanced at Lenorre, “but you’re both still fucking women.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “pretty much.”

  Lenorre said, “Do not try to understand, Rupert. It will only give you a headache.”

  Indeed, it would.

  Thankfully, Rupert changed the subject. “What did you see tonight?”

  Lenorre looked curious enough for me to realize that she too wanted to know what I had seen. I walked over to the fireplace, running my fingertips across the edge of the mantel. I couldn’t give either of them a run-down on what I had seen tonight while sitting. I needed to partially distract my mind from the words I had to say.

  “Do you remember the last case I worked on with the police?”

  I turned, then rested my shoulder against the fireplace, facing them. Rupert gave Lenorre an accusing look, which she met unflinchingly.

  “How could I forget?” he said grumpily.

  “Why, I am glad you find me so unforgettable, Rupert.” Lenorre sounded rather sarcastic, clipping his name at the end. When they’d first met, Rupert and I had followed Rosalin back to The Two Points. Lenorre had helped calm my beast so I didn’t shift all over the place. To my knowledge, she’d never been discourteous to him, but he’d made it clear that he didn’t trust the vampires.

  “You two,” I said. They both looked at me. “Play nicely or don’t talk to one another.”

  Lenorre circled the edge of the armchair with a fingertip. “Do not think you can boss me around, little wolf.”

  “Lenorre, can the crap and put your ego back in its coffin.” I couldn’t stifle the growl that built in my chest. “This isn’t about Rupert or you. Do you remember my last case? I questioned a family and their son. That sixteen-year-old boy is dead.”

  My words were like a piano crashing into the middle of the room, invoking silence and everyone’s attention.

  “All right, Kass,” Rupert said, “you win. I can ignore my dislike of your bed partner in order to hear what you need to tell me.”

  “And you?” I looked at Lenorre. “Can you do the same?”

  Her tone and the set of her shoulders told me she was being careful. “I do not dislike Rupert.”

  It didn’t seem to bother her that he didn’t like her. In fact, his dislike seemed to amuse her.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “You’re welcome,” Rupert said. “Go on.”

  I nodded. “The boy’s body was found between six thirty and seven thirty this evening. When I reached the scene rigor mortis had already set in. The body had been exsanguinated.”

  “Which means he was dead for at least three hours,” Rupert said.

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Who found it?” he asked.

  “The father.”

  “He was drained dry?”

  I nodded, again. “Not a drop of blood left in his body or on the scene. I checked the jugular and the carotid. Neither of them had been pierced. I checked the ulna and radial, nothing.”

  Lenorre moved slightly.

  “If there were no visible bite marks that leaves—”

  “The femoral area. I’m pretty sure it was the femoral vein but anatomy is not my area of expertise. I won’t know for sure until Arthur calls me with the examiner’s report.”

  “If it was the vein, that indicates an intentional feeding and a slower death,” Lenorre said, impressing me, although she was a vampire, after all. “Choosing a vein over an artery cannot be done in a moment of blood frenzy. The vein would require patience on the vampire’s part.”

  “Right, since veins bleed more slowly,” I said. “The artery would be more id
eal for a quick fix. How would a vampire know where to bite to get the vein?”

  “Pulse,” Lenorre said. “Arteries have a beat. Veins do not.”

  Duh.

  “Would the anticoagulant in your saliva make the vein bleed quicker?”

  “A little,” she said, “yes.”

  “Someone made a deep cut with a steady hand. So I agree. It was definitely intentional.” I took a breath to calm myself.

  “They cut the vein to hide the puncture wounds,” Rupert said.

  “Yeah.”

  He looked at Lenorre. “Would one of your vampires have done it?”

  Lenorre shook her head. “No.”

  “How do you know for sure?” he asked. “You can’t keep your eyes on them all the time.”

  “They are bound to me,” she said, as if that explained everything.

  Rupert said what I was thinking. “That doesn’t tell me much.”

  “Rupert has a point,” I said. “I don’t know shit about vampire clans, or whatever you guys call them.”

  “Kassandra, it is similar to a wolf pack. To provide control, instead of absolute chaos, clans exist in every state in this country, in every city in this country. Each clan has a ruler, much like an alpha werewolf. A ruler provides for their clan, protects and punishes.”

  “Rosalin once told me you were one of the most powerful vampires in Oklahoma,” I said.

  “Mayhap. Every clan has a Countess or a Count at the head.”

  “All vampires are tied to a leader?” Rupert asked.

  “For the most part. There are very few solitary vampires, but as Kassandra is a stray among the wolves, so there are those among our kind who, if powerful enough, break the ties from their original makers. Even then, most wayward vampires do not have the power to conceal and protect themselves. Thus they seek the protection of a more powerful vampire.”

  “A stray?” I asked. “I didn’t exactly follow you to your doorstep. That’s a nice way to put it.”

  “Do not take offense. You are a lone wolf. I apologize. I should not have called you a stray, but that is the term most wolves would have used.”