Chapter One
For once, it wasnโt a nightmare that woke me. The booming
knock at my door sounded again and I dragged myself out of
bed. I held my gun at my side, out of view, and opened the
door a few inches. โYes?โ
The man didnโt appear to be armed, Iโd give him that. But I
was, even if it was my personal sidearm, and knocking so
loudly before my alarm went off was almost enough to make me
shoot him. But I was a professional. An agent with the
Otherworlder Enforcement Agency. And shooting a man for
waking me up before dawn would result in a heck of a lot of
paperwork.
I hated paperwork.
By the looks of his expensive suit, obviously tailored to
his lean frame, he wasnโt delivering a package. But he had
the slightly pale pallor of a vampire, which meant a
standard-issue bullet would probably just piss him off
unless I got in a really lucky shot.
My bleary gaze sharpened. Shock hit me as I studied the line
of his jaw, and the paleness of his blue eyes. What the hell
was he doing here?
โBeatrice?โ His gaze slid down my oversized flannel pajamas
as if my outfit wasnโt quite what he was expecting. โLong time.โ
โYeah.โ I fought the heat flushing my face but lost. What
did I care what the bloodsucker thought of my pjโs? It was
five oโclock in the damn morning. What was I supposed to be
wearing? Even agents got cold in St. Louis in March. โWhy
are you here, Claude?โ
The Chicago detective ran a hand through his hair, and for a
split second I could feel its softness sliding between my
fingers.
โI need your services.โ He flashed me a grin, and I frowned
at his flirting tone. Once upon a time I might have flirted
backโokay, I definitely would have flirted back. But it had
been a rough couple of weeks. A rough year. Ever since my
former partner and I had worked a big case involving succubi
being kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder, Iโd
struggled against dark emotions. I had seen too many
horrible experiences, and I hadnโt been able to let up or
take a break from work for far too long. Lives had been on
the line, succubi kidnapped and murdered.
It wasnโt unusual for us to go through this kind of thing,
hit a breaking point and need to slow down and take some
time away. But I didnโt like it. I was at my best when I was
working, and there was always another criminal to take down.
โWhat kind of services?โ
โYour services as a psychometrist, of course. I have an
object that I believe may carry a psychic imprint,โ he
clarified, but his flirtatious grin didnโt falter.
โNo shit. Here I was figuring youโd stopped by to chat.โ
โWell, arenโt you charming before your first cup of coffee?โ
I didnโt grin at his joke, but it was a near thing. Of
course he was looking for my services as a psychometrist.
Investigators didnโt show up at my door at this time of
night looking to chat. My ability to read the psychic
imprints left on objects was at a premium these days. Not
that my interpretations could clinch a case. Fact was, half
the time my powers didnโt work. True emotional trauma had to
have occurred near the object for a psychic imprintโunless I
was able to read something physically connected to a person,
like their hair.
โYouโre a long way from Chicago.โ
The vampire was something of a legend among cops. As a
member of the Chicago Paranormal Unit, heโd solved several
high-profile crimes that had made the national news. And
more than that, he was rumored to be high up in whatever
private echelon vampires used out of the public eye.
โYouโre worth the trip,โ he said.
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