Claim the Night. Rachel Lee

Matthews’s eyes softened. “Honey, I know it’s awful. All of it. But you’ve got to help us get these cruds off the street. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for it happening to someone else, would you?”

      Terri shook her head and straightened her shoulders. “No, of course not. Except I don’t have any evidence to offer. Other than that I stabbed Sam with a pen. I can’t prove he attacked me. Or that those other guys wanted to.”

      “I understand. We may not be able to do anything immediately, but having your statement on file could help us in the future.”

      Terri nodded. “All right then.”

      Jude stood and started pacing. Night was drawing to a close, and being this far away from his lair at this time always made him uncomfortable, even when he knew for a fact that he could make it back in time.

      Finally as the minutes ticked by, with Terri telling her story in detail and Chloe offering the information she had gathered on the Sam guy, he could take it no longer. It wasn’t as if he absolutely had to be here, a situation which would help him overcome his growing discomfort. No, he was basically a fifth wheel, and he’d already told Matthews everything he knew.

      “I’ve got to go. If you need me to sign anything or answer any more questions, I can come back tonight.”

      The detective hesitated only a moment. “All right. I’ll let Chloe know if I need more.”

      “Thanks. Good night. Oh, Chloe? I’ll leave you the car.” He tossed her the keys and strode out.

      Twenty minutes later, back at his office, he locked his own office door, three dead bolts and a key-code entry. But his bedroom was something else. Getting it built without arousing interest or suspicion or creating talk had been quite an achievement.

      It was basically an oversize vault, with a time lock that would not open until after sunset unless he opened it from the inside. The room itself had been decorated to look like an ordinary bedroom, in case someone happened on it when it was unlocked. But since he was nearly defenseless in the sleep of death, the price of this kind of protection hadn’t mattered. Not since the night forty years ago when he had been discovered in sleep by accident and had awakened in a morgue with a tag around his toe.

      Once he was locked in his vault, however, the building could burn down around him, a bomb could fall, and nobody would get in. At least not before he woke up and was ready to emerge, in charge of himself and the situation.

      Quite an improvement over a few hundred years ago.

      He had even managed to make it a little homey, while revealing nothing about himself. Not that he spent much waking time in here.

      It was, really, a crypt and he knew it. Occasionally, he fantasized about being able to share it with someone, but he knew that would never happen. He’d never turn anyone into what he was, and no human could ever endure this life for long.

      Not even Chloe, who had, for a while, had a crush on him. He’d saved her, too, one dark night, and like a puppy she had followed him home. And she had noticed enough during that awful scene to figure out what he was.

      Amazing. Most humans wouldn’t believe it even when they saw it, not these days. They always thought it must be some gag. Or that they were imagining things, because everyone knew vampires were myth.

      Except Chloe, and a few others he trusted just enough. And most of those others … well, he would bet most thought he was just a member of a vampire cult, the way they were. He doubted many of them thought he was the real thing.

      He felt the sun’s rising, though he could not see it. It prickled along the back of his neck, and told him it was time. He stripped quickly and slipped between silk sheets. Not because he would be aware of anything between now and sunset, but because when he awoke he wanted to be comfortable.

      His head hit the pillow. The prickling strengthened. And then with a sigh, he died.

      “God, he’s weird,” Matthews said after Jude departed. “He always tears out of here like he has a rocket on his tail, especially in the early morning.”

      “He can’t help it,” Chloe said. “He’s got a disease.”

      Matthews arched her brows. “What disease?”

      “I can’t remember what it’s called. He can’t get into bright light, especially sunlight. Blisters, burns … why can’t I ever remember what it’s called?”

      “Oh, come on,” Matthews said.

      “No,” Terri offered. “It’s called xeroderma pigmentosum. Rare but real.” She looked at Chloe. “That’s awful. I can’t imagine living with that.”

      Chloe gave a little shrug. “He seems to have adapted pretty well.”

      Matthews still looked doubtful. “That’s a real disease? How fast can he burn?”

      “Probably with just a few seconds of exposure he’d have the kind of sunburn that would put most people in the hospital,” Terri said. “Most people with it don’t survive long, because even fluorescent lighting can cause burns in some cases. Given how little people know about the disease, it’s a miracle he’s still alive.”

      “Well, that would explain why he’s so pale,” Matthews commented. “Imagine never seeing the sun. So you learned about it in medical school?”

      “Actually,” Terri said, “I learned about it during an investigation when I was a pathology resident. We had a case the police thought for sure was murder, the kid was so severely burned. The first assumption was that one of his parents must have literally boiled him alive. But there was no evidence of assault, nor were the burns anywhere near as severe where his clothes were thick, like his diaper.”

      “Oh, ugh,” said Chloe.

      “But the pathologist I was training with did some genetic testing, when the parents insisted all they had done was take the baby to a lakeside picnic. Anyway, he found the markers.”

      “And it killed the kid?” Matthews sounded amazed.

      “Every bit of exposed skin was blistered. The most exposed areas even exhibited third-degree burns. Most people have milder cases than that baby, but yes, when you’ve got an extreme case, even a tiny bit of sun can kill you.”

      “Live and learn.” Matthews shook her head. “Okay, to get back to your case. I doubt we can arrest Sam Carlisle for anything, unless you have some kind of injury yourself?”

      Terri shook her head. “It all happened so fast. Honestly. If I have any bruises, I’ll find out during the day. He did grab my arm awfully tight, but I don’t bruise easily.”

      Matthews nodded sympathetically. “I’ll do a background on him and see if anyone else has ever had trouble with him. But without some physical evidence, it’ll be hard.”

      “I know. Jude just thought I should report it.”

      “He’s right. You should, and you did. I’ll type up your statement and you can sign it later, okay? In the meantime you probably need to go home, shower, sleep a little and get ready for your shift.”

      Terri managed a smile. “Thank you, Detective.”

      Pat Matthews shrugged. “Look at it this way—if the creep comes in to file a complaint against you for stabbing him with that pen, you’re covered. We won’t listen very hard.”

      “I didn’t even think of that.”

      “And as for those other creeps Jude scared off, well, if they try it on someone else, your statement will back the victim up. Can you come back after your shift to look at some mug shots?”

      “Sure. It was dark, though.”

      “You never know. You might recognize someone. It’s worth a shot.” She looked at Chloe. “And tell that boss of yours I want him to look at the mug shots, too.”