Rachel stopped every few yards to listen. It was hard to hear anything with her mind playing tricks on her. The sound of dripping water grew louder and the tunnel eventually opened into a larger chamber.

  A dark doorway stood on the far side of the room. She checked the area, then walked over to the door. The sign above it was written in French.

  ‘Arrete! C’est ici l‘empire de la mort.’

  It was easy enough to translate: Stop! This is the empire of the dead.

  “Wonderful,” she murmured, half expecting someone to cue horror music.

  Rachel hesitated for a second. Was this worth risking her life over? Her partner’s face flashed in her mind. She stepped through the archway and came face to face with…a wall of skeletal remains.

  The bones rose from the floor and stood over ten feet. Twelve inches was all that separated them from the ceiling. Faces of people who’d lived long ago stared at her from empty eye sockets, their bones neatly arranged in macabre designs. There were thousands of them. Thousands of bodies that had been culled from the cemeteries around Paris and piled like kindling. Realization dawned. She knew where she was. The freak had lured her into the catacombs.

  Suddenly the room was too warm. Rachel pulled at the front of her jacket, as her heart slammed into her ribs. There were miles and miles of bone-filled tunnels down here. According to the brochures she’d picked up in the airport, the place was such a maze that people routinely got lost and died.

  No one would hear her scream this far below the surface. And even if they did, they’d never be able to find her. So much for discovering his hiding place and reporting it to the police. She had to get out of here.

  Rachel took a step back—and slammed into a hard male body. It was impossible. He couldn’t have gotten behind her. There was nowhere he could’ve hidden. She couldn’t breathe.

  For a moment, fear kept her paralyzed, then panic set in. She opened her mouth to scream. A large pale hand covered her lips before Rachel could draw breath. Her lighter burnt her fingers and she dropped it, plunging them into darkness.

  She elbowed the man and tried to smash his nose with her head, but only succeeded in hitting his chest. Rachel braced, expecting a fist to the face. The man made no attempt to strike her. Why should he? He had her right where he wanted her.

  A warm breath brushed her neck. His jagged teeth flashed in her mind. He was going to bite her just like he’d bitten the woman and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop him.

  “No.” The plea came out garbled behind his hand, but Rachel knew he understood. “Don’t.” She jerked her head and only succeeded in hurting herself.

  “Stop fighting,” he hissed, tightening his grip.

  Her breath rushed past his long fingers and Rachel did the only thing she could. She bit him.

  “Ow, stop that!” He pressed his face closer.

  Rachel tensed and began to tremble as she waited to feel the slice of those fake fangs on her flesh. The pain never came. Heat from the body holding her began to sink into her bones. A moment later firm lips brushed her earlobe and she quivered.

  What was he playing at?

  Nuzzling her hair, he inhaled. “American. Figures,” he said with distaste in a low French accent. “If you are here to explore the catacombs at night, then you must have a death wish, mademoiselle.”

  2

  “You’re trespassing.” Gabriel Dumont ignored the smell of wild flowers coming from the woman’s hair. Sheer will alone kept him from burying his nose in her dark tresses once more. Instead, Gabriel released her.

  The woman scurried away, but didn’t go too far, which meant she had some commonsense.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight. Not that he needed it to see, but he had no doubt she did. “The catacombs are closed. You want to tell me what you’re doing down here?”

  “Are you the police?”

  “No,” he said.

  Her soft Asian eyes narrowed as she carefully took in his appearance. The woman wasn’t as young as he’d initially thought. Mid thirties if he had to guess. Perhaps older. The press of her warm lithe body had thrown him off, but he was glad to be wrong.

  Time seasoned a woman. Made her more interesting and far more beautiful in his opinion. Though time had little meaning to creatures such as himself. Gabriel kept still. He attempted to look harmless, when he was anything but.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but stopped. He could tell by her expression that she was trying to come up with a plausible story for her presence.

  Smart and beautiful. Was she simply a tourist trying to sneak in to the catacombs after dark? There were plenty who tried and succeeded. Not all got out to tell of their adventures.

  “Do you work here?” she asked, attempting to commandeer the conversation.

  This was a woman used to being in charge. Gabriel’s lips quirked. “Why else would I be here?”

  Her mouth thinned.

  She didn’t like his answer. Well too bad. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that this was the entrance to the Otherworld. Her human brain wouldn’t accept it.

  “I was attacked by a man. He came down here.” She ran a trembling hand through her hair.

  “And you followed him?” Gabriel corrected his earlier assessment of her. The woman was clearly insane. Only an insane person would pursue their attacker into the catacombs.

  “He took something of mine,” she said softly. “I want it back.” She glanced around, her gaze hopping from skull to skull. “Did you happen to see anyone else down here? Did anyone pass you?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Only you.” It was the truth. He’d seen no one but her.

  Had someone come down here without his knowledge? He’d have known if a human entered the catacombs. He would’ve smelled them like he’d smelled her. The only thing he’d detected in the last hour was his own kind.

  Surely she hadn’t chased a Sang. Their kind rarely stooped to thievery. Either she was lying or there was more going on here. He’d find out the truth soon enough.

  Gabriel watched her closely. She didn’t miss much. He rarely met humans who paid attention to their surroundings. “What did he take, Miss? Miss?”

  “Rachel Chang. And you are?” she asked, sidestepping part of his question.

  She was good at changing conversational direction. He’d give her that. “My name is Gabriel Dumont.”

  “Can I see your eyes, Mr. Dumont?” she asked, taking another step back.

  Gabriel blinked at her question. Why did she want to see his eyes? He slowly raised the flashlight beam to his face.

  “They’re blue,” Rachel said, then visibly relaxed.

  He frowned. “I know. Is that a problem?”

  She waved the question away. “I need to notify the police. There’s been a murder.”

  This time his eyes narrowed. “I thought you said you were attacked and robbed.”

  “I was,” she said. “The man who attacked me killed a woman.”

  Gabriel ran a hand over his face. So much for spending a quiet evening at home. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”

  She groaned in frustration. “We don’t have time. All this talk has allowed him to get away. We have to get back to the scene of the crime.”

  Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “At least tell me what he took.”

  “My St. Michael medal.”

  That hadn’t been the answer Gabriel expected. He’d thought for sure she was going to say a diamond ring or a Rolex watch. Why was a worthless trinket so important to her? What wasn’t she telling him? “St. Michael medals are easy to obtain. Allow me to get you another.”

  “Thanks, but I’m only interested in getting mine back.” Rachel forced herself to concentrate on finding the quickest way out of the catacombs. The place was a maze. It twisted and turned, snaking back on itself like a coiled serpent. In the dark, everything looked menacing, including her savior.

  She was sure Gabriel hadn’t been the man who’d attacked her, but she couldn’t shake her unease. She rolled her shoulders, but the sensation of being watched didn’t go away. The killer was nearby. Maybe he was waiting for an opportunity to attack Gabriel. She wasn’t going to be responsible for another death tonight.

  “Can we go?” she asked.

  “Right this way, madam.” He motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  She lifted her chin. “After you.”

  His lips quirked and he gave her a slight nod. “Very well.” He handed her the flashlight.

  “What’s this for?”

  “You need it more than I do,” he said.

  He led her through the catacombs straight to the stairs.

  “I don’t suppose there’s an elevator?” she asked.

  “Americans have the most interesting sense of humor,” he said, then started up the stairs.

  Rachel shined the light in front of her. She couldn’t help but notice the play of muscles in Gabriel’s thighs as he climbed. His broad shoulders filled the entire space between the wall and the railing. And she got an eyeful of cute butt, when he stopped to make sure she was still behind him.

  “Keep moving,” she snapped to hide what she’d been doing.

  The look he shot her told her that he wasn’t fooled.

  Rachel was huffing by the time they reached street level. She hadn’t smoked in years, but her lungs still hadn’t forgiven her. She looked at Gabriel.

  He wasn’t sweating. He wasn’t even out of breath. Maybe he was used to the climb, since he worked down there. She stared at him, trying to get a better look at him now that they were under a streetlight.

  Gabriel’s raven-colored hair framed a boxer’s face. His features were several fights past handsome, but strangely intriguing. Lines bracketed his blue eyes, but she couldn’t gauge his age.

  Rachel craned her neck. He was taller than her assailant, well over six feet. She couldn’t help but notice how nicely his broad shoulders filled out his jacket.

  Under different circumstances, she might be interested in pursuing him, but now wasn’t the time or the place. She tore her gaze away, when he caught her looking.

  “It’s this way.” Rachel led him to the side street where she’d last seen the body. “She’s right over…” The woman had vanished. All trace of her was gone.

  Rachel pointed the flashlight at the sidewalk. The pavement glistened with moisture, but there wasn’t any sign of blood. She crouched down, ran her hand over the sidewalk, and looked at her fingers. They were wet. Had someone cleaned it?

  She searched the bushes and behind the trees, then along the cemetery wall. The woman had been lying in the middle of the sidewalk where the man dropped her. Maybe she’d been further along the street than she had realized. Rachel continued down the road, then stopped.

  “Where is she?” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest.

  “She should be right here. I don’t understand.” Rachel scanned the shadows. Nothing moved and nothing stood out.

  Gabriel glanced up and down the street. “Are you sure she was dead?”

  Rachel glowered at him. “Positive. I checked her pulse. No one can lose that much blood and just get up and walk away.”

  “Maybe someone reported the incident and they’ve already picked her up,” he suggested.

  “I’m not sure how the Parisian police work, but back in New York we don’t clean up a crime scene this fast,” she said. “Where’s the tape? Where are the homicide detectives? Someone should still be here canvassing the neighborhood for witnesses.”

  Gabriel stiffened. “Are you with the police?”

  “I’m a homicide detective,” she said absently.

  He inhaled again. “Have you been drinking, detective?”

  Rachel tensed. She didn’t like his tone. “I had a few flutes of champagne with dinner, but I know what I saw.”

  “Is this perhaps an elaborate ruse to get out of a trespassing charge?” Gabriel asked.

  Her almond-shaped eyes narrowed to glittering slits. What was it with the Parisians? Were they deaf or did they just ignore everything a tourist said? “Listen, if you don’t believe me that’s fine. Just point me in the direction of the nearest police station so I can report the incident.”

  “Okay.” Gabriel reached for her arm to turn her toward the station.

  She winced when he touched her.

  He instantly released her. “Are you injured?”

  “I’ll live,” Rachel said, sounding irritated. “This isn’t the first psycho who’s bit me. Doubt it’ll be the last. Though this is the first one who thought he was a friggin’ vampire.” She snorted. “He had to be drugged out of his mind to be able to rip through my leather jacket.” She shook out her arm, but it did little to ease the pain.

  Gabriel maintained a placid expression, but his gut churned. She’d actually used the term vampyre to describe her assailant.

  Could this be the same man the Trackers had been hunting for months? He’d never let anyone live before. Was Rachel the first? It seemed unlikely, but what other explanation was there? There was only one way to know for sure if Rachel had been bitten by a vampyre.

  “May I see the wound?” he asked.

  She shrugged and unbuttoned her coat. The second she slipped the leather off, the scent of blood filled the air. Gabriel swallowed hard. His nostrils flared to draw in the delicious fragrance.

  Merde!

  He carefully examined the wound and hoped she didn’t feel his hands tremble.

  “This looks bad.” It was really bad. “You’re going to need stitches and a tetanus shot, if you haven’t had one.” The shot wouldn’t do anything for her, but it was the right thing to say. He fought the urge to lick her arm from wrist to elbow.

  Rachel glanced down. “It’ll wait.”

  “You really should get the wound treated.” He looked away as his mouth began to water.

  The damage to her skin certainly looked like something a vampyre could do, although the bite was in an odd location. Most vampyres preferred to feed from softer tissue. Neck, breast, and inner thighs. In a push, the inside of the upper arm would do.

  But this wasn’t on her upper arm. It was on her forearm. There was no reason to bite someone there. Maybe a dog had attacked her? That made more sense than a vampyre.

  “We really should get you to a doctor,” he said.

  “Police station first. Hospital second.”

  The woman had her priorities mixed up, but Gabriel found her stubbornness oddly alluring. She was not someone who could be pushed around. She’d always keep a man on his toes.

  The charm wore off when they climbed into the cab to go to the police station. Being confined in a small, enclosed area, surrounded by the smell of her blood, drove Gabriel nearly mad with the desire to feed.

  When they reached the police station, he’d almost leapt out of the vehicle while it was still moving. She’d simply given him an odd look and proceeded inside.

  Unfortunately, without a body to back her claims, Rachel was just another tipsy tourist who’d been mugged. The police would take a report, check out the scene, then it would be filed away never to be seen again.

  Rachel came out of the station two hours later, cursing under her breath and scowling. When Gabriel stepped out of the shadows, she startled and clutched her chest.

  “Stop sneaking up on me.” She glared at him.

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” he said. “How did it go?”

  “Just peachy. Can’t you tell? They’re going to contact my captain in New York. That should be an interesting conversation.” She muttered something unintelligible about stupid men under her breath, then looked around in confusion. “What are you still doing here?”

  He held up his hands in defense. “Nothing nefarious I assure you. I believe I said you needed to go to the hospital to get that wound cleaned and stitched. I’m here to take you.” He gave her a gallant bow.

  Despite his easy charm, there was something off about Gabriel. It wasn’t how he talked and behaved. He’d been nothing, but courteous. Or even how he moved. For a big man, he was incredibly light on his feet.

  He’d seemed genuinely interested in the attack, not to mention showed concern for her. Rachel couldn’t pin down what was bothering her. Maybe she was shaken up more than she realized. She eyed him cautiously, debating whether to accept his offer.

  Did he know something about her attacker that he wasn’t telling her? Her years on the police force told her that he knew more. More what, was the question? That’s why in the end, she acquiesced.

  Rachel had no idea where the nearest hospital was in Paris. She could be standing next to it and wouldn’t know it given the architecture in this town. “Lead the way.”

  He grinned. The act transformed his face from weary boxer into something altogether unexpected. The change took her breath away. As he continued to stare at her, her heart jumped and her knees turned to jelly. At least Rachel knew she wasn’t dead.

  3

  Gabriel waited for the doctor to finish patching Rachel up. It didn’t take long once he found the physician he was looking for. It helped to have one of the Sanguis—the blood—on the inside. Vamp bites weren’t fatal unless a blood exchange had occurred, but the bad ones were painful and did take a long time to heal.

  The doctor drew a vial of Rachel’s blood. Gabriel watched him walk into the other room and drink it. His palate was quicker than any lab test.

  Since Sanguis blood didn’t show up in a victim for twenty-four to forty-eight hours, he could only confirm the presence of Sanguis saliva and check for contaminants, along with diseases.

  The doctor returned to the room minutes later. “You’re all set,” he said, then met Gabriel’s gaze and nodded, confirming his suspicions. She’d been bitten by a Sanguis, which lent credibility to her story.

  So if that part was true, where was the other victim? He’d have to contact the other teams to see if anyone had been called out to clean up.

  The doctor gave Rachel a shot to stave off infection and help with the pain, then he carefully stitched her up. With any luck, she’d be on the mend in a few weeks.

 

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