Redeeming the Night (3 page)

She was like a mother to him, and at seventy-one, she needed to be taken care of, though she’d never admit it. She didn’t know about his transformation last year, and if he could help it, she never would.

He knew from experience that unconditional acceptance could only go so far. Years ago, he’d almost gotten serious with a woman. Unfortunately, he’d been applying to the police academy, and she was an accomplished thief. No matter what he said, she couldn’t or wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t love someone who would cross the line he was going to defend.

He walked up the two steps to his grandmother’s barred screen door. With the thick metal door open he could hear gentle singing coming from the kitchen.

Before he could knock she called out, “Come on back, dear.” She never locked her doors. She refused to get a security system, but she always knew when he arrived.

“Nana,” he called out as he entered and then locked the screen door behind him. “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked like that,” he chastised, though he knew it would be futile. “Anyone could walk in.”

“I knew it was you,” came her usual reply.

“And if it wasn’t me?” He followed his nose and the smell of fresh cookies to the kitchen.

She greeted him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. “I would ask them to leave.” She pulled the plate away from his outstretched hand to emphasize her next word. “Sternly.”

“I believe they’d listen to you.” Eric took his plate to the little table by the bay window of the kitchen. He could see his grandmother’s small garden through the glass.

The rows were perfect, like always. His nana loved to garden and had had one for as long as he could remember. The herbs seemed to stand watch by the gate, and a little flower garden was in the center. A vase on the table held some of those flowers.

The warm cookies melted in his mouth. He’d lived on his own for years, but this kitchen, this house, was home.

Nana sat at the other end of the table and sipped her mug of tea. “Will you be staying for dinner?”

“Sure.” He had nothing else planned, and it only took minutes to pack a duffle.

“Are you going to tell me about your day?” she asked when their meal was almost finished.

“Nothing much to tell. I finished a case for that woman who thought her husband was cheating on her, and got paid for it.” Nana hadn’t questioned his choice to quit the force. And although she’d quirked an eyebrow when he started asking for his steak rare she hadn’t pressed him.

“I’m very proud of you. You might have stopped being a police officer, but you still make a difference in people’s lives.” She patted his hand. “Are you done?” she asked, pointing to his plate.

He nodded. “Nana, I wanted to tell you, I’m heading to Vegas for a couple weeks.”

“Oh, a vacation?” She rinsed the dishes and set them in the dishwasher, then brought him a bowl of green beans to snap.

“A case. Aaron—you remember Aaron?” he asked as he reached for a bean.

“Married that lovely attorney, Vivian, got a job in Vegas. Yes, I remember him. Nice boy. Loved my pot roast.”

“Well, he called today and asked if I can go to Vegas to help him with a missing person case. I shouldn’t be gone too long.”

“I understand,” she said, drying her hands on a towel and leaning a hip against the cupboard. “Be careful; I hear there are some bad eggs in Las Vegas.”

“No more than anywhere else,” he replied, passing her the bowl of beans. But at her arched eyebrow, an expression he knew brooked no nonsense, he said, “I promise to be careful.”

• • •

The rest of the night held many potential candidates for Nichole’s first field trial, but none as delectable as the leprechaun-ish man who’d tried to drug Ashley. So she returned to the mansion.

The lush green grounds carried the scent of night blossoms and fresh mulch. Pale petals glowed under the full moon. The sisters took turns tending the house and grounds. Just because they weren’t exactly normal didn’t mean they didn’t want to put out a good impression for the neighbors. In the 1940s, they’d opened the mansion under the guise of a women’s hotel. A few years back they’d switched to simple apartments. They didn’t advertise. There was no word of mouth, so no one even tried to apply for one.

Ashley crossed between the palm trees that seemed to stand guard on either side of the path. She pushed open the mansion’s large wooden door, where the stone of the front porch gave way to an arching foyer. The sky mural of pink- and purple-tinged clouds painted in perpetual sunset on the ceiling seemed to ripple as she passed into the sitting room.

She heard giggling from the kitchen. She crossed the hallway, her stilettos tapping a staccato on the marble tile.

Six of her sisters sat surrounding the wood and glass table of the breakfast nook. Each woman held a spoon and passed around several pints of ice cream. The bay window behind them revealed the lights of the Strip glowing in the distance and added a festive atmosphere to the ice cream social.

Though they came from different backgrounds and different ethnic groups, they were family.

Tarma, who at the moment appeared as a long, lean woman with skin the color of caffé latte, sat opposite the door and was the first to notice Ashley’s entrance. “Well, how’d it go?”

Ashley took a spoon and a pint passed to her by a short-haired redhead named Jessie. “Good.” She scooped up a spoonful of dark chocolate and grinned. “Very good. Found the most delectably dark aura. He’s at the Palace.”

The other women moaned. Nichole wriggled in her chair. “Oh, could I have him?”

Tarma clucked her tongue. “That’s rude, dear. You don’t ask for a sister’s prey.”

Nichole hung her head as the other women nodded. But Ashley smiled at her student.

“I think we can overlook it this time, as I found him for you.” She lifted a hand at their surprised expressions. “Nichole is ready. Soon, we will induct another full sister.” Over a spoonful of ice cream she caught Tarma’s eye. “We might have another trainee as well.”

Tarma pursed her lips and nodded. “The prey has a wife?”

“Yes, but he says she’s in Vegas with him. And
that
is the only thing he said that I believe,” Ashley said, licking her spoon clean. “He tried to drug me.”

“Sounds delicious,” said Felicia, the blonde wisp of a woman with the death grip on the rocky road.

“I think he will be,” Ashley said. “After spending those few moments with him I think the wife will need us.”

A rustle of cloth announced the Mother’s entrance an instant before she spoke. “Not every woman is meant to join us, dear.”

She entered the room with an unearthly grace Ashley hoped one day to emulate. Her skin was pale and luminous, rich even in the fluorescent lights. Her long black hair didn’t hint at her age, which was rumored to be over three centuries.

She swept up to the table between Tarma and Nichole, and all the women sat in reverence.

“We are a select group of women.” She caressed Nichole’s cheek. “You all were chosen because you have a power inside you that attracts sinful men like moths to a flame. And in consuming their dark souls you complete two purposes.”

The Mother paced to the window and turned. “You provide your gift with the power it needs to thrive, and you remove the sediment of society, which, in turn, allows the women of the world to find real love.” As she said this last, her voice rang out.

Ashley felt as if her heart would burst with pride for the sisterhood, for the Mother, and for their purpose. Before she recovered from the Mother’s speech Nichole cleared her throat quietly.

The Mother smiled at her. “Yes, my dear.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t go after him?” the quiet voice asked.

“Of course not. Ashley and Tarma will take you. It would be best for Ashley to lead you to him and for Tarma to talk to the wife.” To Tarma, she said, “Assess her potential. If she is open for the gift, bring her here. If not, then console her and advise her. Either way, both of you should be ready to assist Nichole if she needs it.”

Her face shining with delight, Nichole stood. “When can we go?”

They all smiled at her eagerness and then turned to Ashley. Even the Mother looked at her. The weight of Ashley’s position pressed unexpectedly. She knew what was necessary, so she placed her spoon on a napkin and said, “I think we should catch them at breakfast. He had the pills, so he’s obviously done this before, but he seemed to want to hide his infidelity from his wife. I say we corner him while they’re having breakfast.”

The Mother nodded. “I’ll leave you to discuss details, then. Remember, Ashley, when Nichole releases her harvest at the ceremony you will achieve your permanent place in the inner circle.” She moved from the room as gracefully as she’d entered.

Nichole exhaled as though she’d been holding her breath. “Such a commanding presence.”

The rest of the women nodded and again turned to Ashley. Taking hold of her nerves and shoving them to the rear of her mind she started to lay out her strategy. The ice cream was soon forgotten.

• • •

Eric returned to his apartment and found guests. Sitting on his couch were his old partner, Lydia, and her husband. It had taken him a while to get used to the idea of them married. Things change, he had reminded himself on more than one occasion.

Lydia grinned and rocked herself off the couch into a standing position. Her belly seemed to have doubled since he last saw her. “Eric.”

“Wow. How many are in there?” he joked. “You weren’t kidding about starting a family.” She’d never attempted to hug him before. That, coupled with the fact that it looked like she was smuggling a watermelon in her shirt, made the embrace awkward. “How are you?”

“Getting close to time.” She reached a hand back to the couch for Ryan. “That’s why we wanted to come by; our children are most likely to be born this moon, and we would like you to do the honors.”

“Me?” He stepped back from them and checked their faces to see if they were kidding. They weren’t. Suddenly, he needed a drink. Given his company, he forwent the bourbon and grabbed three bottled waters from the fridge.

“You took the course on how to deliver babies in the academy,” Lydia said, opening her bottle.

True.
“Yeah, but—”

“And you’re one of us,” Ryan said, sending a chill up Eric’s spine.

True.
“Yeah, but—”

“There’s no one we can go to for this, Eric. What if my baby—”

“Or babies,” Ryan interrupted.

She nodded. “Or babies, come out furry?” Lydia’s voice broke. They really had no one else to turn to. They didn’t know any other real werewolves. Any books they could find were fiction. If they went to a regular hospital pictures of their babies would be plastered all over the tabloids and social media. They really did need him.

But the full moon was in two weeks, and he was on his way to Vegas.

Lydia wiped at her face as Ryan put an arm up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course I’ll be there, Lydia,” Eric said. “I’m flying to Vegas tomorrow, but I’ll be back here for the full moon.”

“Oh, thank you.” She hugged him again.

This time, Ryan got in on the action by clapping a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “What’s in Vegas?”

“Missing person case, but it shouldn’t be a problem to make it home in time.”

If they’d been in wolf form, their ears would have perked. Even so, their eyes widened, and they both leaned forward a bit.

“Need any help?” Lydia asked.

Eric shook his head. “So far, it seems straightforward.” Crestfallen was the only word to describe their faces, so Eric added, “But I’ll call if I have any questions.”

Lydia chuckled.

Ryan reddened, rubbed a hand over his face, and said, “Aside from the pregnancy, things have been a little quiet on the home front.”

“Don’t worry. From what I understand, you’ve only got two more weeks until you have all the excitement you can handle.”

Once Eric arrived in Las Vegas, he slung his carry-on duffel over his shoulder, ignored signs for food and gambling, and headed straight to the police cruiser just outside the glass airport doors. Aaron’s e-mail had said Officer McMillan would pick him up at the airport. The delay would give the department enough time to free up a vehicle for Eric’s use.

Barely three steps from the escalator a man who reeked of tequila staggered out of the crowd. As he approached, he tripped, colliding with Eric, taking them both down. “What the hell?” the man exclaimed, kicking his legs and flaying his arms.

Even as Eric disengaged his limbs from the cursing man, he patted his pocket to ensure he still had his wallet. Then the duffel tugged. A buxom, blonde woman had a hold of it and was attempting to lift it off his shoulder.

From his squatting position, Eric stood abruptly, yanked the bag, and caught the woman by the arm. “Cut that out.”

“What?” She jerked away. “I was just helping you up.” She huffed and flipped her shimmering hair over her shoulder as she turned away, muttering. “Try to give people a hand and this is what you get.”

Before he boarded the plane he’d locked the zipper, and a quick check revealed the zip tie was still firmly in place.
Lucky for her.
He glanced in the direction the woman had gone and could see her through the crowd talking with the drunk that had tripped him in the first place.
Teamwork
.
Nice.

A uniformed officer strode to Eric’s side. “Are you all right?” When Eric nodded, the officer asked, “Detective Adams?”

“Yeah. Are you my ride?” He scanned the officer’s badge and name tag.

“Yup. I’m Officer Max McMillan. I’m parked just over here.” They walked to the curb just outside the door. Once out of the air-conditioned building Eric felt the desert heat, surprisingly not oppressive, though he suspected that would change if there were any humidity in the air.

Max lifted his sunglasses and considered Eric’s expression. “It gets cooler at night.”

“Good thing. If it gets much hotter, the buildings will melt.”

Max laughed as they climbed in. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”