Slowly, she turned to face him, wishing she had the courage to ask him if they were going to make love again.
"It's late," he said quietly. "You should get some sleep."
She nodded, disappointment sitting like a lead weight on her heart.
"Promise me you won't go near the bookstore or Loken unless I'm with you."
"I promise," she said. "But only if you promise me you'll help Jimmy Dugan."
"What else do you want me to do?"
"I do not know. Just do not turn him away if he comes to you again."
"All right. I'll do whatever I can." His gaze moved over her, hot and hungry. And then, unable to resist when she was so near, he drew her into his arms and kissed her. The hunger rose quickly within him, clawing at his vitals, reminding him that he had not fed this night A seductive voice in the back of his mind whispered that there was no need for him to go out for sustenance, not when she was in his arms, warm and vibrant with life.
Abruptly, he released her and turned his back to her. "I'm going out," he said, his voice gruff. "Lock the door after me."
Before she could reply, he was gone from her sight. He hunted with single-minded intensity, refusing to think of Brenna, refusing to think of anything but the hunger that must be fed.
A scream from outside an apartment building drew his attention. When he arrived, he saw a man and a woman thrashing around on the ground. At first glance, they appeared to be in the throes of passion, but then the woman cried out again, her voice filled with fear and loathing.
"Shut up, you whore!" Sitting back on his heels, the man struck the woman across the face, splitting her lower lip. The scent of fresh blood wafted through the air.
"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Help me! Someone, please help me!"
The man cursed as Roshan's hand closed around his shoulder. After dragging the man off the woman and spinning him around, Roshan drove his fist into the man's face. There was a satisfying crunch as the man's nose broke. Blood sprayed through the air. Roshan inhaled deeply, then tossed the man aside like so much rubbish.
The woman stared up at him, her eyes wide, no doubt wondering if he had come to her rescue, or if he intended to finish what the other man had started.
"Are you all right?" Roshan asked.
She nodded. "Y-yes, I think so."
His gaze moved over her. She was in her early thirties, with brown hair and blue eyes, one of which was already turning black from where she'd been hit. There was a nasty bruise on her left cheek; blood oozed from the cut on her lower lip.
"Do you live here?" he asked, nodding at the apartment building behind her.
"Yes. I was just coming home from work. I'm a nurse… " She recoiled when he offered her his hand.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He kept his voice low, reassuring. Hypnotic. "Do you live alone?"
He was a stranger. It was in her mind to lie, to say she lived with a roommate, but she couldn't lie to him, not when his gaze was locked with hers.
"Yes, alone."
Taking her by the hand, he drew her to her feet, men picked up her handbag and offered it to her.
"Come," he said. "I'll see you safely home."
"Yes," she said. "Safely home."
She lived in a modest one-bedroom apartment that, while small, was clean and neat. There were several paintings on the walls. Vases of dried flowers on the mantel and the table.
Once inside, Roshan closed and locked the door, then took her by the hand and led her into the bedroom. Sitting her on the bed, he went into the bathroom. He found a washcloth, wet it, then went back into the bedroom and wiped the blood from her face. He offered her a drink of whiskey that he found in the kitchen cupboard, then drew her into his arms, his mind melding with hers, wiping away her fear. He fed quickly, then erased his memory from her mind. Tomorrow, she would remember only that she had fought off an attacker.
Leaving her sleeping peacefully, he left the apartment building and returned to the Nocturne. He paused at the entrance, sniffing the air until he picked up Anthony Loken's scent.
It led him to a large one-story brick building located on a patch of weeds on the outskirts of town. The windows were covered with boards on the inside and barred on the outside. No light showed through the cracks.
Anthony Loken's scent was strong here, and so was that of Jimmy Dugan.
Roshan circled the building, noting that there was only one entrance. It, too, was barred. Had this been Loken's home, Roshan would have been unable to cross the threshold without an invitation, but this was an abandoned place of business and the threshold had no power over him.
Dissolving into mist, Roshan slipped under the narrow opening beneath one of the boards. Once inside, he resumed his own shape. Though the building was dark, his vampire sight allowed him to see everything clearly, though there was precious little to see— a wooden chair, a metal desk, a file cabinet.
An open door led to a long hallway flanked on either side by doors that opened into empty rooms. A narrow staircase was located at the far end of the corridor.
Roshan paused at the head of the stairs. Loken's scent was still strong, and mingled with it was the scent of blood and fear. And violent death.
Treading softly, Roshan descended the stairs. And the scent of death grew stronger.
There was only one door at the bottom of the stairs. Roshan tried the handle, knowing instinctively that it would be locked.
Again dissolving into mist, he floated under the crack beneath the door. He hovered there a moment before taking on his own shape once more.
The scent of blood was overpowering now, awakening his hunger in spite of the fact that he had just fed.
The room was a laboratory. Metal shelves crowded with glass jars, test tubes, beakers, flasks, funnels, slides, and vials lined one wall. A rack held several test tubes filled with blood. Another shelf held several books on witchcraft, anatomy, and hematology. There was a small refrigerator on a long counter, along with a microscope and an incubator. A large gray metal file cabinet stood on one side of the door, a desk with a state-of-the-art computer and printer was on the other side. A circle of power had been drawn on the floor in the center of the room. And in the center of the circle there was a stainless steel operating table that held Jimmy Dugan's remains. His arms and legs were bound to the table with silver manacles. A thick wooden stake protruded from his chest. A long rubber tube was attached to the boy's left arm, slowly siphoning the blood from his body into a large glass container.
Walking toward the table, Roshan felt a whisper of dark energy as he stepped inside the circle. So, Anthony Loken was not only a warlock but something of a scientist, as well.