First Drop of Crimson
Chapter Three

Denise glanced away from the road. If she wasn't in such dire circumstances, she was sure her life would be flashing in front of her eyes. Spade drove like a bat out of hell, weaving in and out of traffic with dizzying efficiency and no regard for the speed limit. When she'd pointed out that if he kept it up, a cop would soon pull him over, Spade had only smiled and said he was hungry anyway.
She had a feeling that he wasn't kidding.
To avoid looking at the blur of cars and scenery passing by, she studied Spade instead. His hair was pure black, lifting in what looked to be a natural spike off his crown to hang in shiny waves down to his shoulders. Brows the same inky color framed burnt-amber eyes. Both were in vivid contrast to his skin, which had the beautiful crystal paleness that marked him as a vampire. Even sitting, he was obviously very tall, but his height didn't look awkward on him as it did with some people. No, Spade towered over people around him with a straight-spined confidence, his long limbs moving with grace and precision. Deadly precision.
Memory flashed in her mind. "You just stand by my buds while your friend and I get in this backseat," the grinning stranger said, grabbing Denise. In the next instant, he was on the ground, nothing but red gore where his head had been. Spade stood over him, his eyes flashing green as he kicked the man's body hard enough for it to dent the nearby car.
Then the worst memory of all. Spade, covered in blood, pulling her away from what used to be Randy. "He's gone, Denise. I'm so sorry..."
She looked away. Better to stare at the nausea-inducing rush of scenery than at him. After all, the whirring of cars outside the window didn't stir her memories as he did. When she was away from vampires, she could pretend Randy really had died in a car accident, as his family believed. But every time she was around vampires, sooner or later, memories of blood and death that she'd tried to suppress came to the surface.
And now she had no choice but to immerse herself in the last place she wanted to be - deep inside the vampire world.
"I'll need to hire someone to take me around to, you know, places where your kind hangs out," she said, mentally calculating how much cash she could get on short notice. "I'd appreciate it if you could refer me to a vampire private investigator or whatever equivalent you have."
Spade gave a look she was fast getting sick of; the kind that said he thought she was crazy.
"A vampire private investigator?" he repeated. "You're putting me on, right?"
"I know you have vampire hit men, so why wouldn't you have vampire private investigators, too?" she flared back. "I can't just run an ad with Nathanial's description on it titled 'Have you seen this soul welsher?'"
Spade's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "No, you can't," he said in a calm tone. "But vampires don't have vampire private investigators. If we want to find someone, we ask our Master to contact other Masters to see who owns this missing person. Then whatever business is sorted out between the two Masters. We have undead hit men for the times when vampires want to skip that formality and don't care about the consequences. It's unheard of for a human to contact other Master vampires in search of someone's property, which is what Nathanial would have to be. And no Master vampire with any self-respect would offer up his property so you could take him to be sacrificed."
Denise hated how casually Spade referred to humans as property. He didn't even seem to be aware that it was insulting.
"Then I'll hire a hit man and just tell him not to kill Nathanial. What will he care, if he gets paid to deliver a live person versus a dead one?"
Spade muttered something under his breath that was too fast for her to catch.
"What?" she asked, with an edge.
He stared at her long enough that she almost snapped at him to keep his eyes on the road.
"No vampire will steal another vampire's property for a human, no matter how much quid you offer. That risks war, whereas killing some bloke with no evidence as to who did it is much simpler. You might be able to get a vampire to blow Nathanial's head off for a fee, but you won't get one to kidnap him."
Denise felt like pounding on the dashboard in frustration. There had to be someone who could help her. Who else did she know that was dead?
"I'll ask Rodney," she said with a burst of inspiration. "He's not a vampire, he's a ghoul. Rodney knows me, so maybe he'd be willing to find Nathanial without anyone knowing who did it or getting messed up in vampire politics."
A muscle ticked in Spade's jaw. "Rodney's dead."
Denise didn't say anything for a long moment. Her mind was too busy rejecting the idea that the sweet, funny ghoul she'd known was dead. Decapitation is the only way to kill a ghoul, she'd flung at Raum earlier. That knowledge made her sick now. Why, why, why would anyone murder Rodney?
"He was a good man. It's not right," was what she said after the silence stretched.
Spade grunted. "Indeed."
Denise wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and not have to think about death for a week. Or a day, or even an hour. But unless she found Nathanial, her family's deaths loomed on the horizon.
She'd have to involve Cat. Bones was a Master vampire and a former hit man, so he had the expertise of finding people combined with the clout in the vampire community. It was the only logical choice - except that Bones would feel honor-bound to save her, if things got too hairy and dangerous. I already got my husband killed, Denise thought dully. How can I live with myself if I get my best friend's husband killed, too?
"We should be in Springfield in a few hours," Spade said. "Once there, we'll stop at a hotel and - "
Denise sat straight up. "You."
His brows rose. "Beg your pardon?"
"You," she repeated. "You're a Master vampire. You've tracked down people in the past, Cat told me, and you don't care about me, so if things get too dangerous, you'll bail without getting yourself killed. You're the perfect person to help me find Nathanial."
Spade didn't bother giving her one of those you're-crazy looks; he swerved off the road and came to a stop on the shoulder before she even had time to worry about oncoming traffic.
"I can't drop all my responsibilities just to chase down a demon-dodging human who should never have trifled with the dark arts in the first place," he said through gritted teeth. "Sorry, Denise."
Desperation made her rash. "You're sorry? I doubt that. Yes, I know I'm asking for a huge favor, but I don't expect you to do it for me. I was hoping you'd do it for your friend, because you know I'll only have one place to go if you don't help me. But hey, maybe you can tell Cat, 'I'm sorry' if Bones gets killed doing what you didn't have time to. After all, it's so much easier to say you care than to prove it."
He was next to her in a blink, his face so close, she couldn't focus on one distinct feature. But there was no need to see his expression. The growl in his voice told her how furious he was.
"No one knows you called me. No one knows where you are. I could have your body buried before sunset, then I wouldn't need to fret about Crispin risking himself for you. So you might not want to dare me again to prove that I care for my friend."
Spade's eyes weren't their normal cognac color. They were glowing green, blazing with intensity, and Denise didn't have to be undead to sense the power leaking off him. But still, instinct told her Spade wouldn't harm her, no matter how angry he might be with her. If it was just herself Raum had threatened, she'd take her chances alone, but her family's lives depended on convincing Spade to help her.
"Then after you bury me, you may as well find each member of my family and kill them, too," she replied. "Because that's what Raum will do unless I give him Nathanial. How many murders are you willing to commit instead of helping me?"
He leaned back, something like disbelief on his face. "Are you blackmailing me?"
Denise gave a bitter laugh. "Blackmail implies that I have something you want, but I have nothing...except the hope that I won't cause anyone else I care about to get killed. You've made it clear that humans don't mean much to you, but can't you understand that?"
Spade glanced away, looking out the window at the cars whizzing past them. Finally he jerked the gear shift out of park.
"Luckily for you, I can."
Denise had gone straight into the bathroom once they arrived at the hotel, reminding Spade he'd neglected to stop so she could use the facilities along the way. She hadn't said a word, poor girl. She was no doubt hungry as well. He heard the shower switch on and decided to order for her instead of waiting to ask her preferences. With the day she'd had, he'd be surprised if she was awake by the time the food arrived.
Spade hadn't driven straight to his house because he wanted to clear some things up before they had an audience. He'd gotten one room at the hotel, wanting to be close in case the demon somehow followed them, unlikely as that was. Still, it didn't do to let his guard down when it came to demons. Raum could attempt to ambush him and hold him hostage as incentive to get more cooperation in the undead world. Spade wouldn't put anything past a demon. It was a good thing they were so rare, or humanity would have far more to concern itself with than the occasional rogue vampire or ghoul.
He slid his shoes off, stretching as he settled himself in the overstuffed chair. This was a fine kettle he'd gotten himself into. How to find Nathanial without anyone realizing he was looking for him? If he was open about his search for him, then Spade would be the obvious suspect when Nathanial turned up missing - and he didn't fancy getting involved in another undead war. Not to mention, he'd have to hide the fact that Denise was with him. If word of that got 'round to Crispin, he'd instantly suspect trouble.
But no one else really knew Denise. Few had seen what Denise looked like, and of them, many were now dead. Who was to say Denise wasn't just another sweet snack he was traveling with? As long as he avoided Crispin, Cat, and the rest of their close friends, there was a chance he could find Nathanial without anyone knowing Denise was involved.
Spade didn't want to calculate the odds of that. No matter that wisdom said he needed to avoid Denise, for more than one reason, he really didn't have a choice about helping her.
The bathroom door opened and she came out, wear ing a robe with the hotel's name stitched on it. Spade nodded at the closet, indicating where he'd put her bag. She retrieved some items from it and then stood there, chewing on her lip as if debating whether to speak.
Spade arched a brow. "Unlike some vampires, I can't read minds, so whatever it is, you'll have to say it out loud."
"I want you to know I intend to pay you for your time," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "And reimburse you for any expenses, like this hotel room."
First she'd manipulated him, now she insulted him. "No."
She blinked. "No?"
"I understand your confusion," Spade said smoothly, "since it seems you don't hear that word often, but allow me to explain. It means I'm not your employee. It means you'll need to do what I say in order for me to find your greedy relative, and it means your personal preferences in the matter aren't my concern. Quite clear now as to its definition?"
She gave him a look that could have cut steel. He noted with mild amusement that her hazel eyes seemed greener with her anger, almost like how a vampire's eyes got in the early stages before they changed color completely.
"In that case, I'm starving, so I hope this hotel has room service and a good steak," she replied with barely restrained curtness.
He let out a bark of laughter. "I already ordered something for you."
As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Spade got up, pausing to make sure he sensed only a human on the other side of it, then opened it. A uniformed young man gave him a mechanical smile as he pushed in the cart.
"Where would you like this, sir?"
"Right by her," Spade said, and shut the door.
He let the lad uncover the dishes and rattle off their contents to Denise, who looked surprised at the variety of items before her. Then when he turned to Spade with a politely expectant expression, Spade hit him with his gaze.
"What are you doing?" Denise gasped.
He ignored her, focused on the pulsating vein that called to him. A quick slide of his fangs into the lad's neck produced the flow of rich, nurturing blood. Spade waited before swallowing, allowing his mouth to fill from the pumping of the pulse under his lips instead of sucking, forming a seal to prevent any of those red drops from escaping.
Denise stared at him, uncertainty clear on her features. Spade glared at her, hoping she wouldn't do something foolish, like scream. She didn't, but her hand came to her mouth as if she was fighting one back.
The gnawing hunger in him eased after his fourth swallow. He drew back, catching the spare leaking drops with his tongue before closing the holes by cutting his thumb on a fang and holding it over them. In seconds, his blood healed the punctures, causing them to vanish from sight.
"You delivered the food and left. Nothing else happened," Spade said, pressing a twenty into the lad's palm.
He nodded, that artificial smile returning to his face as the memory of what happened evaporated under the power in Spade's gaze. "Have a good evening, sir," he said.
"Thanks so much. I'll ring when she's done with the food."
Spade closed the door. Denise was still staring at him. "You bit him. You didn't even...you just bit him."
He shrugged. "You weren't the only one hungry."
"But..." She still seemed at a loss for words.
"You lived with Cat and Crispin for over a month; did you never see him feed?"
"He never did it in front of me!" Denise exclaimed, like he'd suggested something preposterous.
Spade rolled his eyes. "You'll have to get used to it, because I've no intention of starving."
Denise looked down at the cooling food on the tray. "I think I lost my appetite," she muttered.
He bit back what would have been an annoyed reply. No need to snipe at her when she'd had a truly horrible day.
"Make yourself comfortable in the bed. I'll sleep in the chair," he said, pulling off his shirt.
He was undoing his trousers when Denise's expression stopped him. Right, humans and their silly modesty. It had been a long time since he'd been around average mortals. The ones he associated with were all familiar with a vampire's lifestyle and habits. He'd have to remember what was appropriate and what wasn't.
"I dragged you into this," she said stubbornly. "I'm taking the chair."
He almost rolled his eyes again. As if he'd allow a woman to stuff herself in a chair while he was stretched out in bed. "No."
"I'd feel better if - "
"I wouldn't," he cut her off. "And I'll remind you again that since I'm helping you, the least you could do is not argue with me over every little thing."
Frustration and defiance competed on her features, but she clamped her mouth shut. Good on you, darling. Perhaps this won't be such a burden after all.
"Sleep well, Denise."