The Sweet Scent of Blood

Chapter Four

Dusk coloured the sky like a purple bruise as I headed for my meeting with Alan Hinkley at Old Scotland Yard Police Station, the headquarters for the Metropolitan Police’s Magic and Murder Division. The bodies of vampire attacks, like Melissa’s, are contained in the specialised basement morgue ever since the mandatory fourteen-day waiting period came into force—just in case they spontaneously do the Lazarus thing. Old Scotland Yard is also the one-stop-cop-shop for vampires. Keeping a vamp incarcerated is difficult enough without adding humans into the mix. The only time it was tried—back in the eighties when the vamps were reclaiming their human rights—the riot lasted a week and a vampire ended up on an impromptu bonfire, together with a prison guard and three other inmates.

That the vampire was proved innocent, post-death—a tarnished silver lining or a kamikaze-inspired martyrdom, depending on your point of view—became the catalyst for all sorts of changes.

As I turned off Whitehall, leaving the noise of the traffic behind, a horse’s high-pitched whinny made me jump—Old Scotland Yard is also home to the Met’s horses—and I slowed, uneasy in the quiet. A tree rustled as I passed it. Was Finn right, were they talking about me? But why would they? Then the leaves of the next tree stirred and the air trembled in response. Goosebumps rose on my skin, even though the heat of the day hadn’t dissipated with the night and I looked up into the branches, but they were empty. I blew out a breath. Damn. I usually avoided being out after dark like this, trees or no trees. You never knew who you might bump into.

I lifted my bag over my head, settled the strap across my chest to free my hands and slowly walked under the archway that led to Old Scotland Yard. Alan Hinkley was waiting by the police station door. Along the pavement, the street lights created pockets of shadow. As I got closer, one shadow was darker, more solid than the others. My heart tripped and I stopped, staring into the blackness.

The vampire stepped out into the light and stared back.

His appearance was almost a relief.

I played statues, counting under my breath, using my own will to force my pulse to a slow steady thump. It was harder to pull off than I thought. Damn, I was so out of practice. Instinct shouted at me to flee. Bad idea. Never run from a vamp, gets them too excited, all that blood pumping faster and faster. Better to take the gamble that they won’t attack and wait until they’re gone. Of course, that attitude does have its minus points.

‘Genevieve Taylor.’ His chin lifted as he scented the air.

His accent carried a touch of something, not English. Black hair curled into his neck, even blacker eyes glinted, their almond shape hinting of the East. His face was the prettiest I’d ever seen, alive or undead, and a distant part of me wondered why it wasn’t plastered over every billboard in town. And why I’d never seen him before.

I shook my head even as I thought it. It didn’t matter who he was, not when I could feel his mesma brushing against my mind. I looked past him to Alan, but the blank look he wore had ‘vampire mind-lock’ written all over it. No help there then, not that I had really expected any. In fact, he was going to be more a hindrance if there was going to be a fight.

‘Perhaps Mr Hinkley should wait inside?’ I said, keeping my voice steady.

Alan turned and disappeared through the door without the vampire so much as twitching. I was impressed despite myself, and had to concentrate even more to keep my pulse at its slowest beat.

‘How interesting.’ His voice rolled around me, as rich as sugar-dusted Turkish delight, making my mouth water.

I tilted my head to one side. ‘Not from where I’m standing. ’

The vampire had obviously been young when he’d accepted the Gift, near my own age. His suit was ubiquitous vampire-black, but he must have pulled the darkness around him to hide his pale face and hands. Even without the evidence of Alan’s departure, that trick alone told me he was old, over five hundred, at least. And he looked like he belonged to the classic Armani style rather than the excess of black leather that the younger vamps preferred—not that I could be sure without checking the designer labels, but I wasn’t planning on getting that close.

‘Your eyes are truly remarkable.’ Smooth silk slipped along my skin as his gaze swept over me.

Damn vampire mesma. I gritted my teeth and tried to block it.

‘Your website picture does you an injustice. You are so much more in the flesh and ... blood.’

‘Sorry I can’t return the sentiment.’

He gently shook his head. ‘Tut tut, Genevieve.’ He took a step towards me. ‘You really don’t mean that. Not when I have been waiting especially for you.’

I hardened my voice. ‘Then you’ve wasted your time. My visit’s with the police, not you.’

He took another step, fast, calculated to spook me. I swallowed hard, but held my ground. He stopped within touching distance. Long slim fingers brushed a lock of hair from his forehead while he studied me. ‘Intriguing.’ Half-closed eyes gave him a sleepy, enigmatic look. ‘Why would you involve yourself in something not your affair?’

‘It’s really none of your business.’

‘But that’s where you’re wrong, Genevieve.’ The words drifted lazy and sweet through the air. ‘You see, this really is my business. I am tasked with bringing this little episode to a satisfactory conclusion for all concerned. I will do better without your ... help.’

When what he had said sank in, rather than the dream of his voice, surprise tumbled through me, banishing the feeling of languor that had seeped into my bones. ‘Who says your conclusion would be satisfactory for everyone?’

He grinned, letting me glimpse fang, a push of mesma inviting me to go along with the joke. ‘Why, I do, of course.’

‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded slowly. ‘Sounds good.’ I gave him a smile. A wide happy beam of a smile.

Satisfaction lit his face, but before he could speak, I dropped the smile. ‘Only it doesn’t sound quite good enough.’ I winked. ‘But hey. Nice try.’

He laughed, and the sound bubbled through me like champagne. I shivered even as sweat trickled down my spine. I gripped the strap of my bag with both hands, holding it like a life-line, concentrating on keeping him out of my mind. The longer he talked, the more the back of my neck throbbed, reminding me I was more vulnerable than usual.

‘Genevieve.’ He shrugged an elegant shoulder. ‘What are we to do now?’

I stared at him, surprised. ‘You’re asking me?’

He indicated the police station. ‘Once you walk through that door, you make yourself defenceless.’

For a moment part of me actually felt he cared. I bit the inside of my mouth, hard, to banish the feeling.

‘You dispense with all that wonderful witch protection you have carefully cultivated.’ He spread his hands wide. ‘You are fair game.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

‘Are you so eager to offer your blood?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Such bravado.’ He glanced at the door again, a vague anxiety in the action. ‘But even your sidhe magic will not shield you from some amongst us.’

‘Are you done yet? Because so far I’m not hearing anything new.’

He sighed, the sound coating me with remorse. ‘Go home, Genevieve, while you still can.’

‘What? Just leave?’ I stopped strangling the strap of my bag and clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms, determined to resist the impulse he’d given me to go home. ‘When you haven’t even threatened me yet?’

Something dark and sad appeared in his eyes, then it was gone, hidden by the same enigmatic look as before.

‘Threats ... Coercion ... Violence.’ The words hung like blades in the still air. ‘Is that what you would want?’

I froze, pulse speeding up, unable to move or speak, gazing into his eyes. A voice screamed in my mind, yelling at me to break his mesma, but another part of me wanted, desperately needed, whatever he was offering.

Cool fingers circled my left wrist and lifted my still clenched fist between us. My hand moved, seemingly of its own volition, opening like a flower before the sun. Blood welled in the half-moon marks across my palm, bright against my skin.

‘May I?’ His eyes echoed the silken seduction in his voice.

My lips parted in a sigh as my head bowed in submission.

Anger flashed across his face and his fingers squeezed, the bones in my wrist grating with the pain. ‘Say. It.’

‘Yes,’ I breathed.

For an instant his pupils glowed red and my heart fluttered with sudden terror, then he dipped his head. I gazed at the line of his jaw, the long dark lashes, the sleek silk of his hair where it curled round the intricate whorl of his ear, its lobe pierced through, a single gem black against his pale skin. His lips caressed my palm, a shudder rippled through his body and I felt an answering shimmer resonate through my own. My eyes closed as he licked hot lines along my hand. Sharp fangs scraped my wrist and chill air kissed my bare skin.

Leaves rustled in the stillness and a horse whinnied from the nearby stables, startling me out of my reverie.

I opened my eyes to an empty street.

The vampire was gone.

I stared down at my palm. The cuts from my nails had disappeared, healed over as though they’d never been. A bracelet of bruises around my wrist was the only evidence of his presence.

‘Genevieve.’ My name whispered through the breeze.

I swung round fast, searching, then stopped, muscles trembling as the terror hit me again.

Fuck.

I hugged myself, breathing in the scent of spice and liquorice that fragranced the air, trying to ignore the sharp, craving ache inside me. Why had he gone? And why had he been angry when I’d offered him my blood? It didn’t make sense.

‘Ms Taylor?’

I jerked again, spinning towards the voice.

Alan stood holding the door to the police station open. He said something, but I couldn’t hear past the pulse thundering in my ears.

Damn vampire. If he thought he’d scared me enough to stop me ...

I took a deep breath, rubbed my hands along my arms to smooth the goosebumps, and walked up the steps into the police station.