Ravenous

Chapter 5

Macmillan left Holly where she sat on the curb, taking away the signed burn order on the house. Holly shifted, her rump numb from the cold concrete. The happy drugs still had her in a haze, sapping the urge to do anything but sit and drool.

On a good day, if someone had asked her what she wanted in life, she would have said business success, a college degree, and a cute boyfriend with husband potential. At the moment she would have settled for a cushion and a warmer coat.

A few minutes later another flurry of police cruisers arrived, lights flashing. Had something new happened?

"Ms. Carver." One of the paramedics, a thin, balding man, was walking toward her. "Mr. Elliot is asking for you."

"Dr. Elliot," she said automatically. "Ben's a professor." His specialty was in fifth-world macroeconomics, which sounded to Holly like a soy-based breakfast cereal or a grunge band with intellectual pretensions. Nevertheless, Ben was apparently brilliant.

The paramedic looked too harried to be impressed. "Can you follow me, please?"

Holly got up slowly, her legs stiff. The temperature was dropping, an icy, damp wind picking up. There would be rain before morning.

The man turned. "Mr.—Dr.—Elliot is refusing to go to the hospital. We were hoping you could talk him into complying with medical protocol. We'd really like to keep him overnight for observation."

"I'll try. He's kind of stubborn."

Ben was sitting on a gurney, his feet dangling over the side. It was pulled onto the sidewalk beside the ambulance, out of the way of the other attendants, who were still hurrying back and forth. He had one of the thin, gray first-aid blankets over his shoulders and a water bottle clutched in one hand. A tube ran from his arm to an IV bag on a stand. His long face was pale, but his expression was his own. The deer-in-the-slime-monster-headlights look was fading.

Holly stopped in front of him, projecting a hearty energy she didn't feel. "Are you giving the nice ambulance boys a hard time?"

Ben looked up at her, his eyes crinkling with a feeble shadow of a smile. "You look like crap. And you smell." He sniffed his sleeve. "So do I."

A flicker of annoyance let Holly know she was alive after all. "Save a guy from a sticky death, and still he criticizes. What happened to the sensitive New Age Ben? His DVD collection sucked, but he had manners."

"Sorry. The blob monster ate him." Ben passed a hand over his face. "Really. Sorry. That was a bad thing to say."

Holly put her hands on her hips. "Yeah, well, maybe I'll cut you some slack, given the near-death and all. Shouldn't you be going to the hospital?"

"I'm not hurt. Just dehydrated. I don't think the whatever-it-was quite got around to dining on me, thank God." He took her hand. "It sounds woefully inadequate to just say thank-you for saving my life—but… thank you, Holly. You saved my life tonight. Another hour and the ending might have been different."

Then he shuddered, sinking into the folds of his blanket. The gesture reminded Holly of a turtle. "I just want to go home, turn on loud music, and sleep with the lights on."

Her legs starting to tremble with fatigue, Holly sat down next to Ben. The thin padding on the gurney was barely enough to conceal the hard metal frame. She clutched Ben's hand. It was cold, the skin paper-dry.

"Wouldn't you feel better someplace where there are other people?" she asked.

His fingers spasmed, clutching hers painfully hard. "No. On the surface, y'know, everything seems okay. But underneath… it doesn't help me to have to be reasonable. I'm just treading water. I need privacy."

"Treading water has its function. It keeps us afloat until we're ready to swim again. You could compromise. Come home with me, where I can keep an eye on you."

Eyes growing round, he pulled his hand away with a jerk. "Are you kidding? Your house… your house is like that one!"

"It is not!" Holly rounded on him, then caught herself, remembering what Ben had just been through. "My house is nice. Friendly. It doesn't talk, either."

He buried his face in his hands. "It's creepy."

"It's my family's." She softened her voice still further. "Nothing like the Flanders place."

He looked up, his expression shuttered. "My condo is mine, and it's normal, plain old drywall and concrete. I'm really into normal, nonmagical stuff right now, Holly. If it isn't human or human-made, I don't want it near me."

Even without the words, his tone was like a blow against her breastbone. She flinched.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was harsh."

"It was honest." She managed a smile, a touch to his shoulder. "You've had enough of the wild side for one night."

"You could say that."

She closed her eyes a moment, but the drug-blurred world shifted sideways. "I wish you would go to the hospital. Just for tonight, to make sure everything's okay."

"What's the big deal? Without medical observation, I'll turn into a slime monster?"

"Don't worry; it doesn't work that way," Holly said quickly, trying to reassure him.

"Oh, God!" Ben raised his hands, shaking his head. "You would know that, wouldn't you?"

Yeah, because I'm one of the spooky people. All through their relationship, her magic had been a delicate subject—sensitive enough that she'd kept most of her witch's tools out of sight. She'd meant to put them out again one by one, to introduce him to them gradually. She wanted Ben to accept that part of her, but somehow she'd never brought out that first goddess figurine.

I'm being a coward. They'd have to confront the whole witch issue soon, but this wasn't the time. Not tonight, anyway.

"Do you want me to stay with you at your place?" she offered, officially giving up on the hospital plan.

"No." He huddled yet further into his blanket. "Like I said, I need to be by myself."

On some secret, selfish level, Holly was relieved to be spared his mood. "Then take care." She kissed his cheek, a quick peck of retreat. "Call me when you get home. Only if you want to. I'll check up on you later."

"Thanks," he muttered, but didn't look up.

Holly slid off the gurney, pausing a moment to find her fatigue-impaired balance, and walked away.

Ben wanted solitude. The only thing she could do was give it to him, but leaving him felt wrong. Everything was off-kilter. Their moment of reunion had gone flat, like biting into a sweet roll to find raw dough in the middle. Crap.

The analogy reminded her that dinner had been a long time ago. She drifted down the sidewalk, feeling hungry and emotionally hollow. The crowd around the house seemed to have taken on a new energy, but she was beyond caring what that was all about.

She noticed that Alessandro's car was gone. It had been there before she went to see Ben, so Alessandro must have left some time since. He could have touched base. His omission made her grumpy. After all, checking up on Ben and Alessandro were two of the reasons she was still there. She might as well not have bothered sticking around.

It was time to finish up and go home. She found Raglan and got the rest of her money. Part of her felt bad taking it. Logic said she'd earned her fee twice over, but her guilt-o-meter shrieked that she hadn't been able to save half the victims or Raglan's investment in the house.

As she left Raglan he was on his cell, carrying on a vitriolic argument with his insurance agent. From the sound of things, they'd be at it until his battery went dead. She hurried away, his angry, panic-ridden invective clawing at her nerves. The words weren't aimed at Holly, but her sense of failure grabbed them and stabbed at her heart nonetheless. Gulping the cold, damp air, Holly walked a little way to clear her brittle mood.

Then she saw Alessandro leaning against the side of the neighboring house, all but invisible in the shadows. He lifted a hand in silent greeting, the faint haze of the streetlights catching the pale fall of his long, curling hair and giving him an improbable halo.

The sight of him turned the tide on her ebbing energy. As she joined him, he straightened from his slouch against the stucco.

"What are you doing over here?" Holly asked. "I thought you'd left. Where's your car?"

"I moved it," he said. "I'm parked around the corner. I really need to go, but I wanted to make sure you were all right." He stepped toward her, his face intent.

It was the first kind thing anyone had said to her through the whole horrible aftermath of the house. Perversely, it made her want to cry.

"You scared me," he said. Alessandro took her face in his hands.

There was something old-fashioned in the gesture, familiar and courtly at the same time. Her stomach squeezed, warm with a fleeting, half-conscious memory of him picking her up and cradling her body against his chest. Taking her to the ambulance himself.

The feel of his hands on her face was comforting. Vampire skin was soft as silk, cool as satin, and Alessandro had a sensitive, skilled touch. She wanted his hands all over her, wherever there was skin to be caressed, because a little contact wasn't enough. That was the delight and the danger of his species. They always left their victims wanting that tiny bit more.

Holly drew a long breath. "I'm okay." At the moment I feel more than okay.

"Good."

"Thank you for getting me out of there."

"Anytime." Unexpectedly he bent, kissing her forehead, his lips cool and smooth. It was chaste. Brotherly. She pulled back, the innocent brush of lips burning her as surely as smoldering desire.

Feeling her start, Alessandro released her, eyes lowered. He recovered, giving her a bland smile. "Blessings on you, Holly. You should go, too. Go home and get some rest. Is there anyone staying with you tonight? Ben, maybe?"

Holly squeezed her eyes shut a moment, really not wanting to think about Ben. "No. I'm alone tonight. I'll be all right," she replied, doing her best to sound casual.

"Then go straight home. Be careful. Don't let anyone in. You've heard about the campus murders?"

"What are you talking about? Oh, never mind. I'm too tired."

"Holly, I need you to listen—"

This was all wrong. Ben had pushed her away, and now Alessandro was telling her to go, and she was cold and exhausted and she didn't want to dwell on death. On top of that, going home sounded incredibly lonely.

At least Alessandro recognized her need for comfort, and that was the best she was getting from anyone tonight. She stepped into his arms again, pressing against the strong wall of his chest. She meant the hug to be sisterly, as he had been brotherly, but heard the soft, surprised intake of his breath.

"Just hold me a moment," she said plaintively. "Just a moment, and then I'll go home."

His fingers curled into her hair, cupping her head as if he held something fragile and rare. "Holly, are you sure you're all right? Can I take you home?"

She didn't answer. The night had left her a raw wound. It was only now, when someone offered sympathy, that she fully allowed the pain.

His hand stroked down the back of her head and neck, traveling strong and gentle over her shoulders. Her clenched muscles trembled, reluctant to release. She'd thought comfort was what she wanted, but now Holly wanted to weep. His kindness was making her hurt worse.

He kissed the top of her head.

At that moment, reaching for warmth was the only balm for her misery. She tilted her face up and took his hard, full mouth with hers. A quick, tentative pressure. She felt his shiver, the sudden erratic beating of his heart. The vibration resonated through her flesh, heating things deep inside her body. His mouth was surprisingly warm, almost human-hot. They paused for a moment, their faces close together.

Holly's blood raced to the pull of his maleness. It drew her like a physical force, as if she could crawl inside his lethal strength and wrap it around her for comfort. A sweet tension began to push against her fatigue, a warm, new curiosity.

She leaned in a little farther, taking his lips again. He pulled back, hesitating, but then returned the soft, subtle kiss with something far more demanding—and delicious.

He tasted of licorice—no, it was fennel seed. Vampires sometimes chewed it as an old-fashioned breath freshener. The cool, sharp flavor made her tongue tingle, and she licked her own lips to get more of the sweetness. She slipped her arms around Alessandro's neck, her hands tangling in the wealth of his hair. He smelled of leather and tobacco and some other unique scent she could not place—the smell of him, of what he was. Holly drowned in it.

His hands held her, strong and steady. She kissed him more deeply, tongue glancing off the long, sharp edges of his corner teeth. Her lips quivered at the sensation, and she explored with the fascination of a primitive first seeing fire.

Alessandro's hands were cupping her face, the strong length of his torso tight against her. She could feel the subtle motion of his whole being with each movement of his tongue and lips, his entire body dancing against her as he kissed.

Alessandro slid one hand up her ribs, over her breast, until he found the tab of her jacket zipper. He pulled it down slowly, the grate of metal on metal resonating with an explosive, erotic weight. About halfway down he paused, pulling his hand back as if it had acted without his permission.

He shouldn't have stopped. Holly leaned into him, her breasts aching. He touched her collarbone, the back of his fingers stroking the column of her neck.

"This isn't what I meant for you," he said, his eyes lost in shadow.

Holly's heart thundered, heat roiling in her body. Slowly she drew away, a tremor of yearning down low in her stomach. She wanted this angel of death as she had wanted nothing before. She had totally forgotten all her caution, all the reasons she had to draw a line between them.

Sometimes she really was too stupid to live. But I want him.

Holly panted in lungfuls of the cold Pacific air, feeling the wind on her hot cheeks. I can't have him.

That kiss had gone far beyond anything she'd planned. She hadn't expected him to respond with such fervor, but there was more than blood-hunger in his eyes. There was all the confused heat and hope of any lover. Who knew?

He pushed the hair from her face. "As much as I want this, Holly, I'm not safe. And you have a good life. You don't need me. Not like this."

"I…" She trailed off, not sure what to say to the resignation in his voice. It made her angry and pained all at once. She put her hand on his arm, meaning to comfort. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He was suddenly restless, shifting from one foot to the other. She looked over her shoulder to see what was the matter, but there was nothing that hadn't been there before. Whatever was making him edgy was coming from inside his head. Doubt? Regret? Embarrassment?

How like a man to get close and then bolt. Apparently basic gender behavior didn't change with immortality. Now, there's a two-edged sword.

"I really have to go," he said quickly, looking down. "Honestly. I'm sorry."

"Can I catch a ride home? I'm not sure I should drive."

Something like panic crossed his face, followed by sharp longing. "I know I offered, but get one of the police to take you. That would be much better."

"Why? Why can't you take me?"

"I have to get out of here. I… I'm a vampire, Holly. You shouldn't be catching rides with me. Not after… I'll see you later."

The soft leather of his sleeve slipped from under Holly's hand. Her fingers tightened in reflex, but could not hold him as he stepped away, melting into the shadows. Alessandro looked back, a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes caught the errant light in a flash of amber, but his expression was unreadable.

"Go home," he said. "Now."

"Yeah, okay. Call me," she replied. The words sounded forlorn.

It was way past time for the abysmal evening to wrap up. Holly headed toward the house, planning to double-check with the policeman—what was his name… Macmillan?—that she had the all-clear to leave. Floodlights lit up the front porch, making it look even eerier. Yellow tape cordoned off the walkway to the porch. As she approached, three gurneys came down the steps, one after another, sheets drawn over the faces of the victims.

Tears started in Holly's eyes. She'd heard the other professor had been Bill Gamble. He hadn't made it. He was one of Ben's best friends and a really nice guy. Six had gone in. She'd saved only three. Remorse shuddered through her.

Police were everywhere, and they looked anticipatory. Odd. It wasn't as if there were anything to arrest. Now that the ooze was gone, there wasn't even that much to see.

Macmillan had just come out of the house and was walking her way.

"What's going on?" she asked.

He turned and stopped as she spoke, his expression guarded. "It's a crime scene."

Holly folded her arms. "Yeah, but who are you going to arrest? The house?"

Macmillan studied her, clearly making up his mind how much to say. "You're going to need to answer some questions."

"Okay."

His gaze didn't waver, but kept watching, recording her every twitch. "They found another body. She didn't die like the others."

"What?"

"Her death was different. Murder, and not by real estate."

Holly grabbed the sleeve of Macmillan's coat. "How come I didn't see her? Where was she?"

He took a step back, giving her his X-ray look again. "Where's your friend? Alessandro Caravelli? I'll need to speak with him."

"He's gone." Holly felt her stomach plummet to her feet. Alessandro had made an oblique reference to the campus murders. Told her to go home and lock the doors. He knew about the fourth body!

Macmillan's look grew cold, heavy with authority. "Do you know where he went?"

Holly gulped back her shock. "No."

Not only did he fail to mention a body, Alessandro had skipped the scene, leaving her to explain his absence to the police. She could kick his butt.

Holly folded her arms, struggling to look Macmillan in the face. "The law doesn't afford the supernatural community the same rights as it does humans. The trials are a joke. Even if I did know where he went, why should I turn him over to you?"

He looked disgusted. "Legal obligation aside, because this latest victim was killed by a vampire."

The words delivered a hard jolt. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His eyes widened, a hint of temper. "Loyalty is great, but how much do you really know about your fanged sidekick? Where—who—does he eat? Where does he go on a night-to-night basis? Who are his other friends? Just because he seems like a stand-up kinda vampire, that doesn't make him safe. Or innocent."

Macmillan stepped closer, his hands on his hips, tie dangling inches away from her chest. The posture lifted the edges of his coat, and Holly could see the straps of his holster. It held the latest police sidearm—some new weapon that shot silver-alloy ammunition with enough power to stop a werewolf in midrampage. Sadly, the new models jammed a lot. Most cops still carried a second, garden-variety gun.

The night was cold enough that she could feel the faint envelope of heat radiating from Macmillan's body. His jaw bunched with temper. "Now—why did Caravelli leave the scene of a vampire murder?"

The happy drugs left Holly's blood on a tide of adrenaline. Alessandro wasn't safe. He'd said so himself. Oh, crap.

No. She refused to believe the worst of him. "He's a good guy. He pulled me out of that house of horrors tonight."

"That doesn't mean he never gets peckish."

"That doesn't mean he's a slob, leaving food all over the place."

"Where is he?"

Holly barely stopped an eye roll. This was ridiculous. "You should try some basic detective work."

"Really?" The detective's eyebrows lifted.

"It's public record that Alessandro owns a collections agency. Check the yellow pages for an address. Vampires don't live in the sewers these days. They're employed. They have phones."

Macmillan's mouth thinned. Holly braced herself for a snarling comeback, but a uniformed officer waved for Macmillan's attention. The detective shot her a hard glance. "Wait here. I'll be back. We're not done."

He started toward the gaggle of police milling on the porch. Holly folded her arms across her dread-sore stomach. Macmillan had gone straight to the truth: Outside of their working relationship, she knew almost nothing of Alessandro's life.

Fat, icy drops splashed Holly's face. It had started to rain.