Cold white walls, metal drawers and the scent of chemicals and cleaning fluids—Anna Murphy, forensic pathologist, loved the isolation and seclusion of the Jackson County Medical Examiner’s office. Especially this evening. A murder victim had been brought in on her shift, and she couldn’t wait to get started.
Anna, an American born Irish beauty, as her father always called her, leaned over and pulled her long cinnamon-colored hair tightly into a bun. Her oval-shaped face had a spattering of light brown freckles decorating her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Pushing her glasses up, she strolled over to the body lying on the metal table, put on latex gloves and pushed the button on the recorder hanging from the ceiling.
“Victim is a white male, approximately twenty-five years old, five foot eight, 155 pounds. Wounds to the neck…” She pulled the white sheet down to expose a gaping hole centered on the left side of his chest where his heart used to be. “…and chest, appear to be at least eight hours old.”
She placed gloved fingers deep into the cavity, then, disappointed, shook her head. Her talent as an intuitive psychic, nearly as good as her abilities as a forensic pathologist, made it possible for her to help the police solve the more difficult cases. Unfortunately, this man had not left any of the normal imprints of death she generally sensed after a violent fatality. She pulled her hand out and continued.
Lifting the man’s fingers to examine his nail beds, she noticed they were black with decay. “This can’t be,” she murmured.
“The body is decaying at an accelerated rate,” she said into the recorder. “The victim appears to have died days, or months, before he was killed and preserved somehow to stop the rate of decomposition until now.”
Anna played back the last part of the recording, then erased the last statement. She might be a bit of a recluse, however, she didn’t want her colleagues to think she was completely crazy. Reaching into her pockets, Anna pulled out a small pair of scissors. Neatly, she clipped two fingernails, took a lock of hair and placed them in a Ziploc baggie, not for evidence, but to carry around—just in case her psychic gift decided to pop something important to the case into her brain.
* * * *
Guillermo entered Corazon de la Muerte. Strobe lights skipped over the congested dance floor, filled to capacity with human bodies that smelled of sweat, blood and sex. He needed to find Nadine. The announcer had said three victims with their throats and hearts ripped out. Guillermo wanted to know why he had not been notified. He feared the deaths were vampire related. What else could they be? And if what he suspected was true, then the killer was also vampiro. He cursed his preoccupation with Nathan Greer—his need for the man was overshadowing his business.
A tall woman with medium-length brown hair sauntered over to him. She wore a blue blazer with a short miniskirt and elegant blue heels. Guillermo ignored her, still scanning the club for Nadine.
She sniffed around him. Her eyes widened in surprise. “I smell Daddy.” She purred in his ear, “You’ve been with Nathan.”
“Good evening, Beth.”
Guillermo walked away, but Beth followed him. Beth had been a prosecuting attorney for Kansas City until a date with Nathan three years ago. She’d been turned—Nathan’s only victim. Beth embraced the change, killing two people on her first night as a member of the undead.
Guillermo had taken her under his wing. He had two choices, teach her the way of vampiro or destroy her. He brought Beth on as corporate attorney for his own holdings and those of other vampires in the city. At the time, Nathan’s remorse had been so great, Guillermo wanted to help Nathan. Unfortunately, Beth turned out to be more trouble than she was worth. She had a vicious streak, and sometimes Gui wished he had disposed of her.
“Oh,” she laughed. “I didn’t realize Daddy swung both ways!”
Guillermo stopped, grabbing her throat and pressing his lips to her ear. “Worry about business, conchuda,” he whispered. “My personal life is none of your concern.”
This time when he walked away, Beth didn’t follow. She merely watched him. A subtle smirk played upon her lips.
Guillermo couldn’t see Nadine in the main area of the club, so he checked the shadow rooms. The rooms were for high-paying customers who liked a little more variety than the average patron. The first two were empty, but the third room’s red light shone over the door. Guillermo unlocked the door and opened it a crack. A slender woman stood in the shadows before a muscular man who wore nothing except a leather chastity belt. He sat astride a bondage horse, just high enough to make him stand on his toes. Metal leg irons held his legs out at a slight angle. Thumb cuffs attached to both hands suspended him from a chain in the ceiling. His head hung down—whip marks and blood streaks decorated his chest.
The slender woman came out of the shadows, dressed in a skintight, hot pink, latex bodysuit, complemented with a matching leather half-hood executioner’s mask, and though she did not acknowledge Guillermo, he knew she sensed his presence.
She sauntered over to the side of the bondage horse and reached up to tweak the thumb cuffs. Guillermo watched as the man looked up, smiling, glory in his eyes. He could see her dark-red lips smile back. She reached toward the young man’s face as if she meant to caress it, then slapped him hard. His head flew back, face contorted in blissful pain. Guillermo narrowed his eyes.
“You are quite the artist, chica.”
She beamed at the approval. “Thank you, Guillermo.”
“We need to speak.”
Nadine nodded, stripped the hood from her head, revealing her long red hair and immediately fell into step behind Guillermo, leaving her client to his bondage.
They squeezed through the crowd and into Guillermo’s back office. The soundproof walls completely blocked out the hard, driving beat of the club. Guillermo sat behind his desk as Nadine took a seat on the couch.
“I did not tell you to sit.”
Anger flashed across her face as she stood. “What’s this about, Gui?”
Guillermo tapped a pen on the black marbled top of his desk and chewed his lower lip for a moment, before slamming his fist on the desk. “Why have you not told me about the killings?”
Nadine jumped but held her composure. “Well, you’re never around to fucking tell anything to!”
“Watch your tone, chica.”
Lowering her eyes, Nadine said, “I’m sorry. You have been at Nathan’s apartment all week, instead of here where you should be…”
Guillermo jumped to his feet. “Icierra el pico! Shut your filthy mouth!”
He was no longer angry with Nadine, alone. She spoke true. He had been neglecting his business, although it would not have been necessary for him to stay at Nathan’s if it weren’t for Nadine’s jealous nature. Less than two months earlier, the last night Nathan spent at the club, Nadine had attacked him in the shower, and the fight nearly killed her. Nathan proved his dominance over her, however, he had not wanted to risk her coming at him again. He wasn’t a killer, but with Nadine around, he might become one.
Guillermo fell upon Nadine, causing her to stumble backwards onto the lushly carpeted floor. “You are the reason I have not been around, chica.” A half-truth, but a truth all the same. “I am not a possession. I do not belong to you. You are mine to play with, keep or dispose of as I see fitting. Do not press me.”
Guillermo felt her emotions bear down upon him. Guillermo choked at the anguish pouring from her body. Nadine’s longing and desire to be dominated, injured, driven to painful pleasure, and her fear he would never touch her again, nearly overwhelmed him.
Ay Dios mio! My God! he thought, this is too hard. Guillermo went back to his desk, putting space between himself and his consanguinity. Nadine was of his youngest brother’s line, his lineage. He had found her in California nearly eighty years ago, the great, great, too many greats, granddaughter of Calderon Luis Perez, with most of the Spaniard bred out of her. He offered her immortality. She took it. Guillermo used to find her amusing, although, over the last decade as her pettiness grew, she had become more of an irritation.
Guillermo’s mother had been La Malinche, the purported traitor to Mexico, the woman who brought down the last Aztec emperor, Cuahtémoc, hailed in the history books as mestizo, mixed blood, and whore. Guillermo knew the truth. His mother had been given to the Spaniards as a gift, a slave to fulfill their every desire.
Is it any wonder she betrayed the Cholulans? They had stolen her from her parents to work as a slave for them, until they presented her to Hernán Cortez. After the Spaniards conquered Mexico, his mother had fled to an island off the coast of Texas. Guillermo smiled. His brief time with his mother and brothers had been a carefree time of youth. Now, his life, or un-death, carried much responsibility, and this included Nadine.
Guillermo gestured to the couch. “Asiento. Sit.”
Nadine scrambled to the black leather divan, looking as if she would crawl into the cushion if it were possible.
“Now, tell me what you know about the killings.”
“Luckily, the police have not as yet been able to identify the bodies and are not releasing any photographs to the press.” She spoke in a very business-like manner. Only a slight tremble gave away her trepidation. “A source from within the morgue gathered some snapshots of the victims and faxed them to Min…”
“Min?” Guillermo winced. Min, an Egyptian master vampire, a thousand years older than Gui, ran brothels and go-go clubs all over the Midwest and some of the west coast. The vampire had the ability to ensnare most all creatures, human, animal and vampire, into becoming enthralled with him. Min had held Guillermo as a plaything when Gui had been a fledgling vampire, until he had grown bored with him and cast him aside.
Guillermo spent nearly one hundred years learning how to put up barriers to avoid becoming spellbound again by any other master, and had become a master in the process. Thinking of the Egyptian vampire made him shiver… and not in a good way. The last Guillermo had heard, Min had taken up residence in Chicago. He could only hope the ancient vampire would not return to Kansas City. “Is he back in the city? What is his involvement in this?”
“The morgue attendant is one of his familiars. Two of the slain vampires were from his brood clan, minor players. Even so, they seem to mean a lot to Min. He is still in Illinois, not in the city… yet.” Nadine allowed a small smile. One look from Guillermo wiped it from her face.
“When is he coming?”
“Tomorrow.”
Guillermo grimaced. “And the third victim? Has he been identified as well?”
Nadine pursed her lips, blood-tinged tears pooling in her pale violet eyes.
Bad news.
“Albert.”
Guillermo clenched his fists. “Albert?” Albert Morris worked for Guillermo as a cage dancer—a young vampire, no more than twenty years old, a submissive, and Nadine’s favorite plaything. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Dropping to the floor, Nadine prostrated herself in front of Guillermo. “I swear I was going to call. Tonight if you did not come in. He was killed last night. I just found out this evening.” She pushed at her tears, smudging her heavy black eyeliner. Her voice became cold, merciless. “I claim blood right. When this killer is found, I claim the right to make him suffer.”
Guillermo felt Nadine’s pain intensely and he understood. “Albert was yours, chica. He was mine as well. I grant you this right.”
If Min came to town, Guillermo would have to stay away from Nathan. He could not risk the distraction.