attended a few of our events, he was quite new to the scene. I never really spoke to him. I’m afraid I don’t have a lot to tell you.’
‘You’re aware of how he died?’
Nick didn’t need a telepath to see the sudden twitch in the other man’s jaw. He let his shields down fully, homing in on Lord Azriel. Thank God he had exceptional control over his abilities now. His adolescence, when his powers had come to the fore, had been terrifying; the constant onslaught of thoughts and feelings not his own had nearly broken his mind.
Now though, he knew what he was doing. He felt Lord Azriel’s energy, his nervousness, and the fact that he was hiding something. He also sensed a deep seated insecurity underneath the suave façade. This was a man deeply unhappy with who he was, a man used to hiding his real self for fear he wasn’t good enough. Nick could relate to that, he supposed. But when he tried to probe the man’s mind for images of Simon, he found nothing. Which wasn’t right. Either the man had a natural ability to shield or he knew exactly what Nick was doing. Whichever it was, it made him look guilty. But Nick also knew he wasn’t – couldn’t be – the killer. The killer was a vampire. He had sensed its energy, or rather lack of it, at the crime scene. A real, bloodsucking immortal son-of-a-bitch vampire, not someone who liked to play dress up or drink their girlfriends’ blood on a Friday night.
‘His blood was drained,’ Nick said quietly, looking Lord Azriel squarely in the eye. He could feel the fear coming off the man now, so tangible it made the dark hairs on his forearms stand up, ‘by two very precise fang marks on his neck. And we know he was a fully paid up member of this club.’ What on earth had made the pampered son of a wealthy Hollywood mogul hang around a place like this, Nick had no idea. He thought briefly of the woman outside. What was her story? Impatiently he pushed thoughts of beautiful vamp wannabes to the back of his mind and concentrated on Azriel. His real name, Nick had checked out this morning, was Brian Green. Go figure.
‘I don’t quite understand what you’re getting at, Detective Carter. Are you suggesting a member of this club had something to do with this?’ The vamp look-a-like sounded offended and imperious, but Nick felt the frightened scurrying of his thoughts. He was hiding something, but what? Nick cursed his abilities. Even after years of training it was the nature of his gift that he rarely saw complete images or heard deeper thoughts than surface images and emotions. He was on this case not so much for his telepathic abilities with humans but for his ability to sense and identify supernatural creatures.
‘Perhaps,’ Nick said, still probing the man’s thoughts for information. If there was a true vampire finding victims at Crimson Shade, would Azriel be aware of it? It seemed unlikely; vamps were incredibly rare and even more secretive, the only race of preternatural beings who didn’t have representation at the Alliance. In fact, the other paras hated them. Vamps didn’t tend to like groups of any kind and the other paras saw vamps as aberrations for being bitten rather than born. Not to mention technically dead.
Either way, the man in front of him was definitely hiding something. ‘Your establishment is quite open about the fact that some of your members actually share blood.’ Unlike similar clubs, which were designed purely for ‘lifestylers’ who dressed and acted the part, even slept in velvet lined coffins, but fainted at the thought of touching the red stuff.
Lord Azriel bristled, and this time Nick could feel that his indignation was entirely real.
‘Some of our members are sanguinarians yes. We need to drink blood to keep ourselves in full health, or our life force is seriously depleted. We are sensitive souls Detective, creatures of the night who are sadly misunderstood. We are not murderers, and only take blood from willing
1802-1870 Alexandre Dumas