“Are you a shifter?”
I’d met plenty of lycanthropes during my trip to the future. Bane was large and mean enough to qualify as one, and I’d learned vampires and shifters weren’t exactly friendly with each other when I made a trip into the future. Maybe that’s what he was—a shifter of some kind—and recognized my mark because of it.
He answered without blinking. “I’m something worse.” His eyes swept from my head to my toes, assessing me for injuries. When the trip was over, he lifted his head and met my gaze. “You better grow eyes in the back of your head, princess. I might not be around next time.”
Instead of bestowing a sarcastic retort about him calling me princess, I replied through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He moved closer, so I could hear his softly spoken words. “You remember what I said. With that mark on your throat, you’re likely to need a friend at some point. You’re not the first person to be sucked into a life you don’t want with no way to escape, and you won’t be the last. No one associates with vampires without getting hurt. If and when you get a clue, give me a call.”
I wanted to stop him when he walked away, to get some fucking answers for a change, but as quickly as he appeared he was gone.
The police arrived two minutes later.
Chapter Ten
I had planned on leaving work and returning to Disco’s. I had planned on handing over the knife to Marius and finding some measure of relief, no matter how small.
The New York Police Department had other things in mind.
Childhood flashbacks had flooded my mind when I’d stepped into the building, taking me back to another time and place. Even though I’d been questioned about the death of my foster father in a temporary home—until I could be relocated—for some strange reason police stations reminded me of Ray. Maybe it was the uniforms, or because I knew when I stepped into their inner sanctum I had to live by their rules. Either way, I wasn’t pleased when the medical unit had looked me over, deemed me safe to transfer to the station, and I had been brought in to answer questions.
By the time I’d finished, it was past six in the morning. The popo had taken me to the station, grilled me over the coals despite the fact I told them the same story and had refused to relent with their questioning until I’d fallen asleep at their cheap-ass interrogation table. Someone shook me awake later, telling me it was okay to go home. The only bonus was the police were so concerned with Deena that none of them had remarked about how quickly my split lip seemed to heal, or how lucky I was to escape without a bruise or broken bone after such a brutal assault.
When I’d asked about my co-worker and friend, I learned she was going to be just fine. Turned out Deena was resting comfortably in the hospital and would be back to fighting form in no time—at least physically. I’d seen her put up with some crazy shit at the bar, but she’d never been attacked at knife point and almost raped. I had a good feeling her experiences were going to require a dose of counseling and time to get over.
There wasn’t a big enough jimmy club in this world to conquer her demons now.
The detective who’d introduced himself as Andrew Cohen gave me his card, told me to call if I thought of anything else and sent me on my way. I knew Disco had to be pissed I hadn’t called him. I’d promised I’d be home after work and that I wouldn’t keep him waiting. Not only had I kept him waiting, but it was almost dawn. More than likely Marius was already planning my early demise, convinced I couldn’t be trusted.
My thoughts turned to Bane.