Urban Fantasy Collection - Vampires by Adrian Phoenix Page B

reached up and gently lowered his shades. He turned his head away, dazed by the gray morning light. She gripped his chin, turned his head around to face her.
    â€œMedication? Do you take any?”
    â€œMorphine. Opium sometimes,” he said, looking through his lashes into her eyes. Twilight blue, he thought, just as the stars come out.
    She held his gaze, brows knitted. Wisps of red hair framed her face and curled against her temples. “Couldn’t you name something legal, at least?” she whispered, shoving the shades back onto the bridge of his nose. “Christ.”
    Dante shrugged. “You asked. I don’t lie.”
    â€œMaybe you should.” Wallace shook her head.
    â€œTake him in,” Dickhead—LaRousse—said. “Lock him up. He’ll be asleep in no time, I guarantee.”
    Dante glanced over his shoulder. Dickhead winked.
    He knows I’m nightkind.
    â€œHold on.” Wallace pulled Dante’s hood up, tugged the edges past his face. “Don’t want you bursting into flames or anything,” she whispered. A quick smile curved her lips.
    â€œMerci beaucoup,” he murmured.
    Wallace’s actions surprised Dante. Hell, bewildered him. She didn’t act like a cop—at least, not all the time—even when she was busy rousting nightkind from Sleep with search warrants. He saw nothing cynical or mocking in her gaze. He watched as she turned away and crossed the room to the bed.
    The cool morning breeze ruffled Gina’s hair, fluttered the stocking knotted around her throat. Dante looked at her for the last time.
    We gotta go, sexy. Tomorrow night?
    He hadn’t said a word. Now it was a little late. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Tomorrow night.”
    He followed Sidekick out into the hall and down the stairs. Ice melted and pain sparked anew. Sweat beaded his forehead.
    We…
    Where was Jay?

    T HE NEED TO S LEEP rolled through Dante, a need that put him on the nod despite his determination to stay awake. He sat knees up in a corner of the holding cell, drifting as he listened to his fellow lawbreakers.
    â€œSo this hoodoo lady sez, watch out, ya know—” said Geeky-Sweaty Dude sitting on the bench across the cell, his voice fast and high; a caffeinated Ping-Pong ball.
    â€œShut the fuck up,” growled Unfriendly Dude hunched on the bench beside him.
    And the drunk Bayou Boy clutching the toilet puked…again…retching hard enough to earn a grunt of semi-sympathy from Unfriendly Dude. Geeky Dude gagged at the violent splashing sound echoing from the bowl and the sour, vile smell wafting through the cell.
    Since his shades and hoodie had been confiscated along with his belt and jewelry, Dante was grateful that the cell was windowless, though a little fresh air would’ve been welcome. His eyes closed and his head nodded.
    Dante thumped his head back against the wall, forced his eyes open. He squinted against the fluorescent lighting. Stay awake!
    Geeky Dude, undeterred by the interruptions from Bayou Boy and Unfriendly Dude, picked up right where he’d left off. “For the reshaper, the unmaker, she sez.”
    â€œWho gives a fuck, shithead?”
    A little brown cockroach scuttled from a crack in the wall, hauling ass for the shadow cast by Dante’s knees. Snatching it up from the floor, he cupped it between his hands. The cockroach’s delicate legs and antennae brushed against his palms.
    Concentrate. C’mon…stay awake.
    A faint blue glow emanated from his palms and, despite his effort, his eyes closed. A song lured him in: the cockroach’s genetic song, an undulating wave, backed by DNA rhythm. Dante plucked at the rhythm’s strings and altered the song. Sleep still beckoned. For a moment, he drifted and the strings went slack, then knotted, and another song entirely blasted through his mind—chaos rhythms of nightmare and rage.
    An image flashed through his mind;