They were well built, but they didn’t look like weight lifters. More like they came by it naturally. Images of Eros, Hermes, and Apollo came to mind. Muscles that were extremely well defined. Virility. Chiseled marble.
“Can I help you fellows out?” she asked. “Looking for the beach?”
The taller of the two spoke with tremendous confidence, or maybe it was cockiness. “Doubt it,” he said. “We’re not surfers, actually. Besides, we’re from around here. How about you?”
Both of them had the deepest blue eyes. They were incredibly intense. One looked no older than sixteen. Their movements were deliberate and controlled. She didn’t like this. There was no one else around to intervene on the side street.
“Maybe you could tell me where the beach is,” she said.
They were crowding her physically, standing too close. She wouldn’t be able to get her gun out. She couldn’t move without bumping into one or the other. They wore black T-shirts, jeans, rock climber’s shoes.
“You want to back off a little?” she finally said. “Just back off, okay?”
The older one smiled. The dent between his lip and nose was a sexy, round hollow. “I’m William. This is my brother, Michael. By any chance were you looking for us, Inspector Hughes?”
Oh no, oh Jesus. Jamilla tried to reach for her sidearm in the holster strapped to her back. They grabbed her. Took away her gun as easily as if she were a child. She was astonished at how fast they moved—and how strong they were. The two of them pushed her down on the sidewalk and handcuffed her. Where did they get cuffs? In New Orleans? The murdered detective?
The older one spoke again. “Don’t scream or I’ll snap your neck, Inspector.” He said it so matter-of-factly. Snap your neck.
The second one spoke then. He was right in her face. She saw the long canine fangs. “If you hunt for the vampire, the vampire will hunt for you,” he said.
Chapter 82
SHE WAS gagged, then roughly thrown onto the rear seat of a pickup truck. The truck started up and took off with a jolt.
Jamilla tried to concentrate on everything about the trip. She counted off the seconds, kept track of the minutes. There was stop-and-go city driving, then faster, smoother riding, possibly on Route 1.
Then a very bumpy road, possibly unpaved. She figured the trip took approximately forty minutes.
She was carried inside a building, some kind of ranch house or farm structure. People were laughing. At her? They wore fangs. Jesus. She was put down on a cot in a small room, and her gag was removed.
“You’ve come looking for the Sire,” the one who called himself William whispered, his face up close to hers. “You’ve made a terrible mistake, Inspector. This one will get you killed.”
He smiled horribly, and she felt as if she were being both ridiculed and, at the same time, seduced. The one called William touched her cheek with his long, slender fingers. He lightly caressed her throat, stared into her eyes.
She was repulsed, wanted to run away, but couldn’t do anything. There were a dozen or so vampires here—watching her like she was meat on a spit.
“I don’t know anything about a Sire,” she said. “What’s a Sire? Help me out here.”
The brothers looked at each other, shared a knowing smirk. A few of the others laughed out loud.
“The Sire is the one who leads,” said William. He was so calm, so very sure of himself.
“Who does the Sire lead?” she asked.
“Why, anyone who will follow,” William answered. He laughed again, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely at her expense. “Vampires, Inspector. Others like Michael and myself. Many others, in many, many cities. You can’t imagine the extent of it. The Sire stands firm with simple directions for what to think, how to act, things like that. The Sire is not accountable to any authorities. The Sire is a superior being. Are you starting to understand? Would you like to meet the Sire?”
“Is the Sire here now?” she asked. “Where are we?”
William continued to stare down at her. He was definitely seductive. Disgusting. Then he leaned in closer. “You’re the detective. Is the Sire here? Where are you? You tell me.”
Jamilla felt as if she might retch. She needed her space. “Why are we here?” she asked. She wanted to keep them talking, keep them occupied for as long as she could.
William shrugged. “Oh, we’ve always been here. This used to be a commune—California-dreaming hippies, mind-altering drugs, Joni Mitchell music. Our parents were hippies. We were isolated from other ways to live and think, so we depended on each other. My brother and I are unbelievably close. But we’re nothing, really. We’re here to serve the Sire.”
“Was the Sire always at the commune?” she asked.
William shook his head and gave her a serious look. “There were always vampires here. They stayed apart, left the others alone. You had to join them, not the other way around.”