burned in her eyes for a moment, but she forced them back. There would be time to grieve later. “She was a petty. Not a speck of magic ability. I came to you for information, that’s all. I’ll handle the investigation. I’m the professional.”
“You may be the Champion of the witch community, but what makes you think you could bring down a vampire?” He moved toward her, crowding her with his muscular body.
She took a fortifying breath. “Pettys have successfully hunted vampires for centuries. There’s no reason a witch shouldn’t be just as successful.” She’d come this far. She refused to be intimidated now. Especially not while the scrap of paper bearing his name burned in her purse. Found with Lily’s belongings, it’d led her to him.
And even if he were innocent, she needed him. He was the most respected—most feared—vampire in Rochester, and without him, the vampire community wouldn’t give her the time of day.
“Those so-called successes included just as many innocents as miscreants.”
Damn, she loved the old-fashioned way he talked. “I’m a trained private investigator. There will be no mistakes.” She strove to imbue her words with confidence.
“Damn right, because if you try to investigate this without me, I’ll do more than make sure no one in the vampire community will talk to you.” An unholy blaze kindled in the depths of his eyes.
Thalia hid a shiver. Not so old-fashioned after all. “Okay,” she said, burying the surge of triumph and relief flowing through her at the fruition of her plan. “It’s settled then. We’ll work together.”
The insidious little voice that had put words to the rattle of the passing train changed. Be careful what you wish for, it whispered. Be careful what you wish for.
The watcher waited as the Champion and the Butcher parted company. When they were out of sight, he slipped from the shadows and followed the woman. A faint smile curled his lips. When this little game ended, he would have unimaginable power, and she and his ancient foe would both be dead.
Chapter 2
He was crazy.
He had to be. Only insanity could be responsible for his agreeing to help the little witch.
Code or no Code.
Gideon stalked down the dark alley, his mind caught up in the events of earlier in the evening. Drug dealers and prostitutes, nightshift workers and partygoers, skirted him as he passed, avoiding his gaze.
What had possessed him to agree to help the Champion?
He was no fit companion for man or beast, let alone a young, beautiful woman, witch or not. He rubbed the hand that had touched the softness of her cheek against his shirt to dispel the burn still lingering there. He was possessed, all right. And the demon wanted his due.
He felt his eyes catch fire and shuddered with the effort of quenching the unwanted flame. He’d skimmed the fringes of human and vampire society for thousands of years, avoiding the temptations of personal connections for good reason. True, tradition insisted the oldest vampire in a community was responsible for enforcing the Code, but he’d ignored tradition before. A pair of large crystal blue eyes feathered with ebony lashes and framed by delicate, arched eyebrows flashed into his mind.
Gods, she was beautiful.
But he, more than anyone, knew beauty was merely an illusion.
Another image replaced the details of the Champion’s lovely face in his mind. A frail body strewn carelessly among the tall weeds, naked and vulnerable. The strength and vitality of life drained away, leaving only an empty shell. But this woman wasn’t blonde, like the woman in the photos the Champion had shown him. Streamers of long, silky black hair obscured most of her face. The edges of a strawberry birthmark peeked through, confirming the victim’s identity.
An emotion ripped through him with the savage power of a stake through the heart. And he knew why he’d agreed to help.
Without his aid, the Champion was destined to die.
In the distance a bird twittered. It would soon be joined by others, sparrows and chickadees, grackles and crows. Dawn came early this time of year.
Despite the temperate weather, he shivered. He was so cold, cold to the bone. Had he ever been warm?
The dawn called to him as it always did. He longed for the fiery heat of the sun. To be warm again.
Ridiculous. He was a vampire. He was never cold. Physically anyway, whispered a tiny voice. Gideon shrugged off the thought, shoved his hands into his pockets. He certainly hadn’t felt cold with Thalia on his lap. A