that what Slade had toldhim was true, Thomas Delaney then formed a very special, very elite, very secret organization within the police department. And Slade had been his first recruit.
But Slade’s devotion to the Mission, his own personal crusade to wipe out the vampire population in New York City had not been without a price. What he saw when he looked in the mirror now was a creature almost as soulless as the monsters he stalked at night. What he saw was a man who belonged neither to the light nor to the dark, but one who skirted the very brink of each. He saw a man who had been branded by the evil of Simone’s kiss, his eyes now too sensitive to light. A man who was forced to live his life almost exclusively in the night.
Just like the creatures he sought to obliterate.
What if someone had seen him with Megan Ramsey that night? All those old questions would surface again, and that whole mess from his past would be dredged up. The Mission could be threatened. The one thing that gave Slade’s life any meaning at all could be destroyed. And without that, there was nothing to set him apart from the other creatures who hunted the night.
“Nick?” Fighting the memories and the terrible guilt descending over him, Slade looked up. A young woman stood at his table, gazing down at him from behind her own dark glasses. “May I sit down?”
“What are you doing here, Christina?” Sladeasked harshly as she slipped into a chair, facing him. “How many times have I told you to stay away from this place?”
“I know,” Christina said. “I know you promised to help me, but I had to come here tonight. I had to see you.” She pulled off her dark glasses, and Slade noticed with relief that her eyes were still very clear and very blue. Not silver. Not glowing. Her blond hair gleamed with life as she leaned across the table toward him, and when she tentatively smiled, deep dimples graced the corners of her mouth. She was barely eighteen, and her appearance remained childlike and innocent. Christina Harris seemed the epitome of the girl next door. Except for the fact that, for some unknown reason, she was increasingly drawn to the darkness.
“I gave you my number,” Slade said angrily. “We could have met somewhere else.”
“I didn’t want to take the chance of anyone else finding out I’d contacted you,” she said secretively. “I knew you’d come back here sooner or later.” Her anxious gaze scanned the club for a moment, then came back to rest on Slade. She leaned even closer toward him. “I think I know who killed Megan Ramsey,” she said.
Slade’s hand shot out and ensnared her slender wrist. “Who? Damn it, tell me what you know.”
Again Christina’s gaze raked the club, a little morefrantically this time. “I can’t,” she said. “Not here. It’s too dangerous. Meet me.”
“Where?”
“Tomorrow night. In the alley outside. I’ll be there after midnight.”
“No,” Slade said. “I don’t want you anywhere near this place. We’ll leave here together. Now.”
“No! We have to do it my way. You’ll know why tomorrow night. You can trust me, Nick. I owe you my life. I’ll never forget that night…What would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along…?” Her words trailed away as she lowered her eyes.
Images of that night flashed through Slade’s mind. The vampire had lured Christina outside the club and had been ready to sink his fangs into her neck when Slade found them. If Slade hadn’t destroyed the vampire, Christina would be dead now. Or worse.
Christina’s gaze lifted. “You helped me, Nick. Now I want to help you.”
“Why can’t you tell me tonight?” Slade demanded suspiciously. “I don’t like this, Christina.”
“I know,” she said worriedly, “but I’m taking too much of a risk as it is just talking to you, being seen with you. Please,” she begged, “don’t follow me out of here. I don’t want to end up like Megan.”
Slade watched her go.
But Slade’s devotion to the Mission, his own personal crusade to wipe out the vampire population in New York City had not been without a price. What he saw when he looked in the mirror now was a creature almost as soulless as the monsters he stalked at night. What he saw was a man who belonged neither to the light nor to the dark, but one who skirted the very brink of each. He saw a man who had been branded by the evil of Simone’s kiss, his eyes now too sensitive to light. A man who was forced to live his life almost exclusively in the night.
Just like the creatures he sought to obliterate.
What if someone had seen him with Megan Ramsey that night? All those old questions would surface again, and that whole mess from his past would be dredged up. The Mission could be threatened. The one thing that gave Slade’s life any meaning at all could be destroyed. And without that, there was nothing to set him apart from the other creatures who hunted the night.
“Nick?” Fighting the memories and the terrible guilt descending over him, Slade looked up. A young woman stood at his table, gazing down at him from behind her own dark glasses. “May I sit down?”
“What are you doing here, Christina?” Sladeasked harshly as she slipped into a chair, facing him. “How many times have I told you to stay away from this place?”
“I know,” Christina said. “I know you promised to help me, but I had to come here tonight. I had to see you.” She pulled off her dark glasses, and Slade noticed with relief that her eyes were still very clear and very blue. Not silver. Not glowing. Her blond hair gleamed with life as she leaned across the table toward him, and when she tentatively smiled, deep dimples graced the corners of her mouth. She was barely eighteen, and her appearance remained childlike and innocent. Christina Harris seemed the epitome of the girl next door. Except for the fact that, for some unknown reason, she was increasingly drawn to the darkness.
“I gave you my number,” Slade said angrily. “We could have met somewhere else.”
“I didn’t want to take the chance of anyone else finding out I’d contacted you,” she said secretively. “I knew you’d come back here sooner or later.” Her anxious gaze scanned the club for a moment, then came back to rest on Slade. She leaned even closer toward him. “I think I know who killed Megan Ramsey,” she said.
Slade’s hand shot out and ensnared her slender wrist. “Who? Damn it, tell me what you know.”
Again Christina’s gaze raked the club, a little morefrantically this time. “I can’t,” she said. “Not here. It’s too dangerous. Meet me.”
“Where?”
“Tomorrow night. In the alley outside. I’ll be there after midnight.”
“No,” Slade said. “I don’t want you anywhere near this place. We’ll leave here together. Now.”
“No! We have to do it my way. You’ll know why tomorrow night. You can trust me, Nick. I owe you my life. I’ll never forget that night…What would have happened to me if you hadn’t come along…?” Her words trailed away as she lowered her eyes.
Images of that night flashed through Slade’s mind. The vampire had lured Christina outside the club and had been ready to sink his fangs into her neck when Slade found them. If Slade hadn’t destroyed the vampire, Christina would be dead now. Or worse.
Christina’s gaze lifted. “You helped me, Nick. Now I want to help you.”
“Why can’t you tell me tonight?” Slade demanded suspiciously. “I don’t like this, Christina.”
“I know,” she said worriedly, “but I’m taking too much of a risk as it is just talking to you, being seen with you. Please,” she begged, “don’t follow me out of here. I don’t want to end up like Megan.”
Slade watched her go.
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