Chapter One

For once, it wasn’t a nightmare that woke me. The booming knock at my door sounded again and I dragged myself out of bed. I held my gun at my side, out of view, and opened the door a few inches. “Yes?”

The man didn’t appear to be armed, I’d give him that. But I was, even if it was my personal sidearm, and knocking so loudly before my alarm went off was almost enough to make me shoot him. But I was a professional. An agent with the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency. And shooting a man for waking me up before dawn would result in a heck of a lot of paperwork.

I hated paperwork.

By the looks of his expensive suit, obviously tailored to his lean frame, he wasn’t delivering a package. But he had the slightly pale pallor of a vampire, which meant a standard-issue bullet would probably just piss him off unless I got in a really lucky shot.

My bleary gaze sharpened. Shock hit me as I studied the line of his jaw, and the paleness of his blue eyes. What the hell was he doing here?

“Beatrice?” His gaze slid down my oversized flannel pajamas as if my outfit wasn’t quite what he was expecting. “Long time.”

“Yeah.” I fought the heat flushing my face but lost. What did I care what the bloodsucker thought of my pj’s? It was five o’clock in the damn morning. What was I supposed to be wearing? Even agents got cold in St. Louis in March. “Why are you here, Claude?”

The Chicago detective ran a hand through his hair, and for a split second I could feel its softness sliding between my fingers.

“I need your services.” He flashed me a grin, and I frowned at his flirting tone. Once upon a time I might have flirted back—okay, I definitely would have flirted back. But it had been a rough couple of weeks. A rough year. Ever since my former partner and I had worked a big case involving succubi being kidnapped and sold to the highest bidder, I’d struggled against dark emotions. I had seen too many horrible experiences, and I hadn’t been able to let up or take a break from work for far too long. Lives had been on the line, succubi kidnapped and murdered.

It wasn’t unusual for us to go through this kind of thing, hit a breaking point and need to slow down and take some time away. But I didn’t like it. I was at my best when I was working, and there was always another criminal to take down.

“What kind of services?”

“Your services as a psychometrist, of course. I have an object that I believe may carry a psychic imprint,” he clarified, but his flirtatious grin didn’t falter.

“No shit. Here I was figuring you’d stopped by to chat.”

“Well, aren’t you charming before your first cup of coffee?”

I didn’t grin at his joke, but it was a near thing. Of course he was looking for my services as a psychometrist. Investigators didn’t show up at my door at this time of night looking to chat. My ability to read the psychic imprints left on objects was at a premium these days. Not that my interpretations could clinch a case. Fact was, half the time my powers didn’t work. True emotional trauma had to have occurred near the object for a psychic imprint—unless I was able to read something physically connected to a person, like their hair.

“You’re a long way from Chicago.”

The vampire was something of a legend among cops. As a member of the Chicago Paranormal Unit, he’d solved several high-profile crimes that had made the national news. And more than that, he was rumored to be high up in whatever private echelon vampires used out of the public eye.

“You’re worth the trip,” he said.