Honor Calls. Caridad Pineiro

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СКАЧАТЬ out more about the club would be to ask any of the agents in his bureau what to make of the place. But he hadn’t gotten to be one of the top agents in the New York City Bureau by taking the easy way. On the contrary. He believed in personally getting involved when it was necessary.

      As he picked up the file again and examined the photo of the body parts found a couple of blocks from the bar, he raked his hand through his short-cropped hair and blew out a disgusted breath.

      He’d read the witness statements. Tales of creepy happenings and Goth clubgoers who might be a little more than they seemed.

      Even his top agent—Diana Reyes—seemed to believe in the possibility of an underworld that was less than human.

      It was definitely time for a visit to the Blood Bank to get his own impression.

      Memorizing the address, he rose from his desk and slipped on his suit jacket. For a moment he considered going by his apartment to change, certain he would look out of place in his expensive suit.

      But his apartment would be seriously empty. His last lover had moved out nearly a year earlier, complaining about the time he devoted to his job. Considering that the living room still boasted only the recliner and the plasma television he’d bought after she’d left, she had probably been right.

      Plus, as he mentally reviewed the contents of his closet, he knew he had nothing suitable to wear to a Goth bar anyway.

      Best just to drive by the place, scope it out and decide what to do next, he told himself. For good measure, he checked to make sure his gun was loaded and tucked snugly into the holster at his side.

      The one thing he knew about the Blood Bank: It wasn’t the kind of place you went without protection.

      Chapter 2

      Shit. The small street on which the Blood Bank was located was not wide enough for the passage of a car. His intent to just drive by wouldn’t be possible.

      As Jesus rounded the block for the third time, he scoped out a free parking spot a short distance away and then headed on foot toward the club.

      He hadn’t gone more than a few feet before the heat and humidity of the August Manhattan night had him sweating beneath the weight of his suit jacket. Since he was armed, removing the jacket wasn’t possible. He was starting to regret that he hadn’t gone by his apartment to at least change into a T-shirt and jeans.

      Swiping at a line of perspiration along his brow, he paused at the mouth of one of the older streets in the city. It looked more like an alley, which seemed appropriate for the place he was about to visit.

      Ahead of him and about four small blocks down was a line of people at a nondescript building—the Blood Bank, he assumed. The line was relatively long, considering the hour, and it was filled with a decidedly rough-looking crowd clad in black leather and metal. That at least was not very different from what he had expected.

      As he proceeded along the cobblestones, bright with the light from a full moon and uneven beneath his shoes, he kept a wary eye on the smaller, narrower side streets and tight gaps between the buildings. It was at the mouth of one of those alleys that the last body had been found.

      Or at least, parts of the body.

      A grunt, loud and painful sounding, snared his attention. Two turn-of-the-century brick buildings, built so closely together that the moonlight did little to illuminate the area between them, did a good job of hiding whatever activity was going on in the gap.

      Another grunt was followed by the din of metal trash cans crashing together.

      Definitely a fight and, judging from the sounds of it, someone was getting their ass kicked.

      Jesus pulled out his Sig and advanced to the opening of the alley. He took a step within and let his eyes adjust to the lack of light, revealing the two people locked together in combat. One was tall and much bigger than the other, and as they grappled together, the light from a side-door lamp illuminated their features.

      The smaller one was a woman, while the other…

      Eerily bright blazing eyes shot a glance his way while long white fangs gleamed under the artificial light of the lamp. The creature growled at him, the sound like the rumble of a mountain lion, but then turned back toward the woman.

      Jesus blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing, but another glimpse of the creature’s face confirmed what he was—a vampire. Or at least, someone posing as one.

      The much smaller woman had her arms braced against the creature’s jacket, trying to keep those wickedly long fangs away from her face, but with the vampire’s greater height and bulk, Jesus feared she might be fighting a losing battle.

      No, he cursed as she continued with the fight, totally ignoring his presence.

      The creature spun the woman around and as the light swept over her face, he could tell she was young. Mid-twenties he guessed before she whirled out of sight again, struggling to break away from the demon’s grasp.

      With a quick upward jab of her arm, the woman snapped the creature’s head back. It emitted a louder growl, but the woman’s blow did little to slow the demon. It reached behind to grab the woman by the scruff of her neck and whip her against a brick wall. She hit with a thick thud and fell to the ground dazed, prompting Jesus to action.

      “FBI. Stop or I’ll shoot,” he called out, training his gun on the demon as it took a step toward her.

      The thing actually halted and looked at him. What he guessed passed for a smile erupted on its face, but then a second later the demon reeled back, grabbing at its chest with long taloned fingers.

      The woman had buried a wooden stake deep into its chest.

      Shock filled the creature’s face, mirroring Jesus’ own surprise as he realized she had just killed someone…

      No, make that something, before his eyes.

      Blood leaked from around the edges of the stake, staining the off-white shirt the man-beast wore. It stood, hands flailing, long nails clacking against the stake, disbelief on its face before the look became blank and the creature dropped to the ground.

      “One down, too many more to go,” the woman said, her voice deeper than what he would have expected from someone so petite. She nudged the creature’s body with the toe of her black boot and then bent to examine it, as if to make sure she had finished the job.

      One down, huh? He turned his gun on her and warned, “FBI. Put your hands up.”

      She faced him and just for a moment he thought he saw a hint of fang at her mouth and a glow in her gaze, but then she stepped into the puny shaft of light from the side lamp on the building.

      Her face was anything but demon-like.

      She stood before him, her hands outstretched at her sides, her totally human face serene and beautiful, reminding him of the pictures of the saints his mother used to have on the wall of their fifth-floor walk-up apartment. Of course, the black leather encasing her slim body was anything but saintlike.

      Too beautiful and too young, it occurred to him as she took a step toward him.

      “FBI. СКАЧАТЬ