Chapter One

One

J eannette stared at the charming house near Le Trocad é ro et son esplanade in central Paris, thinking that it was delightful. She could imagine being just out of college, thrilled to be taking a dreamed-of trip to the amazing city, seeing such sights as the Louvre, Versailles, the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame...

And winding up dead, bloodless, in the trampled fields of a vineyard.

She let out a soft breath and glanced at her watch. Gervais should be meeting her there any minute; she stood at the entrance to Lorraine Dupont's Inn, basically a bed-and-breakfast.

It was where Virginia Bond, the first of the victims discovered drained of their blood in the fields just outside Paris, had been staying for her dream graduation trip to the city.

Gervais had been back at his office, going through every piece of information he had on the first two women who had been killed and identified. He was awaiting word on the autopsy results, and he was also waiting for anything that might be discovered about the latest still-unnamed young woman who had been killed. The one they had viewed earlier that morning.

Gervais had told her Lorraine Dupont spoke English perfectly, and she was welcome to begin speaking to the woman without him present. But Jeannette didn't want to appear to be an intruder when the French might well want their own people dealing with the situation and resent any interference by an American.

She felt someone standing by her side and turned quickly, thinking Gervais had arrived or some other members of Blackbird might have made it to Paris from their vacation in Italy—but she doubted that. This had all happened extremely quickly, and she knew it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours since Gervais had called on Jackson Crow for help.

No...

Not Gervais. Not members of her team. There was a young man standing next to her. He was wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket over a polo shirt. His hair was somewhat long, a bit shaggy, dark and fell over his forehead in what she assumed he thought to be a rakish angle. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, twenty-eight, tops. He was tall, with a way of standing that seemed to hint at hard muscles and wiry strength. He looked her way and arched a brow. His eyes were almost indigo, blue, but as dark as blue could possibly be, and the way he looked at her was strange, as if he might be deadly serious and straight as an arrow—or a jerk who had just paused to give her a hard time.

"I think we should go in," he said.

English. But he wasn't American. There was a soft burr in his voice.

"Look, sir, I don't know what your game is—"

"Game?" He frowned and shook his head in a way that wasn't complimentary. "Didn't you speak with Jackson? My name is Daniel. Daniel Murray. Recently given the title of special agent when the powers that be from the US, the UK, Interpol...added me into the ranks of Blackbird. Gervais told me you'd be here. I thought Gervais might have told you I'd be joining you. The rest of our krewe is due to arrive tonight. They were caught a little off guard."

"Sorry, sorry!" Jeannette murmured quickly. So, this was Daniel Murray? Jackson had told her Daniel had worked with their group in Scotland and proved himself invaluable; and he'd specifically asked that since it was a group that was working internationally, he might apply to join as an international. Jackson had also said he was young and possessed a "boyish" charm that often served them well.

So far, she wasn't seeing the charm.

She also knew Jackson had spoken with him via a video interview, and that Mason, Della, Luke and Carly had all sworn by him.

Then again, she'd met Mason briefly on one of her first cases in the US and wasn't sure she'd ever met the others. She'd just expected...

Someone older. With extreme maturity and dignity and...

Then again, maybe he'd expected her to be older!

"I'm sorry! I thought—"

"That I was some jerky bloke on the street trying to pick you up?" he asked.

She winced. "No, no—"

He laughed. "Let's not start off with lies. Anyway, I speak decent grew-up-in-the-UK French, but the owner here was born in Britain and moved here when she was married. I believe we'll be fine speaking with her in English."

Jeannette nodded, feeling uncomfortably as if she was the one making the mistakes; she had not known Madame Dupont was originally British.

"So, shall we?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, of course."

He led the way up to the doorway of the charming home, glanced at her and knocked on the door.

It was quickly answered by an older, gray-haired woman of about forty. She was petite with bright blue eyes and an anxious expression.

"Police?" she asked them.

"More or less," Daniel said. "Special Agents LaFarge and Murray, ma'am. And we are so sorry to bother you—I know how upsetting this must be—"

"No, no, you don't!" the woman told them, switching to English. She shook her head. "She was... She was so lovely! So excited to be here. She had a grandmother from France, a woman who wasn't in good health but filled her mind with dreams of Paris. So, so sweet!"

"I'm so sorry," Jeannette murmured.

"No, I'm sorry, please! Come in. Café au lait? Tea? I haven't had the heart to allow any boarders since I heard about Virginia! But I'm so accustomed to being a bed-and-breakfast establishment that I start the day with croissants on the table, tea and coffee, and—"

"I would love a café au lait !" Jeannette said, looking at Daniel, who quickly smiled in agreement. In truth, it wasn't "breakfast" at all anymore as they were now moving toward noon, but it was both sad and strangely nice to see that someone who had barely known the young woman was so deeply disturbed by her death. That meant she would share all the help she could give them.

They entered the house. It was as appealing inside as it was out, with the parlor large and inviting with upholstered chairs and a sofa, an open ceiling overhead, and a nook where someone might set up to work on business or personal papers or on a computer.

"Come through, please!" she told them, heading off to the left.

The dining room was very large, offering several small tables that could seat two to four guests along with buffet tables on the side.

Mrs. Dupont quickly moved to one with an espresso machine, starting on their café au laits .

"Please! Have a seat," she told them.

They did so, choosing a table close to where she was creating their drinks.

She talked nervously as she worked. "Well, as I assume you can tell, I am an Englishwoman, but I've lived here for over twenty-five years. My dear husband was a Frenchman, a professor, a wonderful man. And when he passed, of course, he left me the home. We had no children, and my parents are long gone... I thought that opening the house as an inn would allow me...company. And it has been wonderful. I welcome so many charming young people, and I do tend to get young men and women as guests. I offer great rates and many of those who are more mature—"

"Older?" Daniel offered.

"Aye, indeed!" she said. "Those folks prefer the finer hotels on the Champs-élysées, but the young ones just want to get here and see the amazing sights of Paris. And Virginia... Ah! I felt that I'd found a true friend, a godchild, a—"

She broke off, shaking her head, trying not to cry.

Jeannette glanced at Daniel and thought he was experiencing the same feelings. The worst part of this job was having to deal with the pain of the survivors. They always had to remember that the best part was stopping monsters and saving others from the pain.

Daniel spoke up. "Mrs. Dupont, we are so very sorry for the pain you're feeling, and yet we're hoping you can help us catch whoever did this to her. Did she tell you what she was doing each day? Did she ask for your help? Did you give her suggestions?"

The coffees were finished and the woman brought them to the table, taking a seat between the two of them.

"She wanted to see and do everything!" the woman told them. "Her first day, she went to the Louvre. She spent the entire day there. And she spent the evening with me, joking that she loved it so much she should find a French husband, too."

"Did she find anyone while she was here?" Jeannette asked. "Someone with whom to enjoy the sights?"

Mrs. Dupont shook her head. "Not a man, and I think she was joking about that. She was anxious to begin her life, too, since she graduated from college. Poor girl lost her parents her first year at university and managed to graduate, anyway. She majored in fine arts and had already been offered a teaching position that would have started as soon as she returned home. She loved the theater and children, older and younger, but she would have been teaching high school drama."

"So, who came for her things? Her parents were gone, but—" Daniel began.

"Oh, she had many friends, but no family. And no one seemed to know what to do, so I packed up her belongings that were here and they're at the station right now and... Well, I believe an American man who is the head of whatever law enforcement it is that brings Americans—"

"I'm a Scot," Daniel reminded her.

"Sorry! Brings international law enforcement here is planning to see to her funeral," Mrs. Dupont finished.

"Jackson Crow?" Jeannette asked.

"Yes, he's making arrangements with an Adam Harrison," Mrs. Dupont said.

No surprise there , Jeannette thought. Adam had created the Krewe to hunt the strangest human monsters on earth—he was also an incredible humanitarian.

"Did she connect with anyone here?" Jeannette asked.

"Ah, yes, that she did!" Mrs. Dupont said, nodding. "Oh, Virginia! She wanted to do everything, and she had a special student/teacher discount card. She took me to the Moulin Rouge—with champagne included. But, of course... Let's see, she made friends with a girl who was visiting from Canada, Shelley Milton. They went to a few offshoot places together. A dinner theater, a magic show...and I believe Shelley also went with her to Versailles. Oh, and the wine region."

"The wine region—when she disappeared?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, um..."

The woman paused, wincing, letting out a long sigh.

"I don't—I don't clean rooms nightly. People know that. I didn't... Oh, dear God! I didn't even know she didn't return right away. And I hadn't known she was going to the wine region the day I'm presuming she disappeared—"

"You were such good friends, but you didn't even know she was missing?" Jeannette asked.

Lorraine Dupont started to sob softly.

Daniel glared at her, arching a brow.

She stared back at him. It had been a valid question!

But Jeannette leaned forward, placing a hand gently on Lorraine Dupont's. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to cause you further pain. I just want, very badly, for us to catch whoever did this to her. So, forgive me, please—"

"I should have! I should have. But she was so eager—she didn't always bother with breakfast so I didn't think anything of it when she wasn't up in the morning. She would go out early, come back late... But when she did see me, she'd be so excited to tell me about her day!" She paused, wincing, shaking her head. "I think I told all this to Gervais LaBlanc, I'm sure you know, yes, of course, Gervais called me to tell me you'd be coming by. I just... I called the police when I realized she hadn't been here in more than a night but...they didn't find her body for about a week. And then after that... The papers! The papers are saying a vampire is loose in the city of Paris! But, of course, no one believes in vampires. Some people do. But there are people... I read about the vampire or the man who thought he was a vampire, that monster Dante, but—"

"We don't believe this is the same kind of killer—" Jeannette began, but Lorraine Dupont interrupted her immediately.

"Of course! This monster is taking all the blood from his victims! What else could it be?" she demanded.

Jeannette glanced at Daniel, who took over with his own reply. "Madame Dupont, the vampire legend speaks of blood being a necessity. But there are others out there who are just sick. Maybe they feel it will cure leukemia or another form of cancer. Maybe the killer—he or she—just enjoys taking blood to...cook with it. Maybe it's more than one killer."

"If one consumes blood, one might be called a vampire! Oh, dear!" Lorraine looked horrified again. "A...ritual. The blood is a ritual. This is worse! This could be a cult of blood drinkers alive and well in Paris!"

"Madame," Daniel said gently, "please, you mustn't fret so much. We don't have answers yet—that's why we're talking to you, even though Gervais already had a conversation with you. We may each discover something—a little thing—that you remember that could send us in the right direction, to help us understand what Virginia and the other victims might have had in common."

"Wine," Jeannette said. "They were all found in wine country. And there are tours, so many of them! The distance from here to Reims—and many, many vineyards—isn't far at all. A few hours." She shook her head. "So many people take the wine tasting tours. Of course, the wines are quite incredible and you can learn subtle differences and...they were found in vineyards, right? In fields that were recently harvested—or whatever one does with grapes and vines. I mean, it's like they would be found, but...one never knows when, right? And there was another girl."

Jeannette glanced at Daniel.

"Two more girls," she said quietly. "That's why it's so important we retrace their footsteps. We need to find out where they went and what they did that was in common."

"Oh, no, oh—" Lorraine broke off, staring at the two of them. "Then it's true!" she whispered.

"What is true?" Daniel asked her.

"There really is a vampire on the loose!" she declared.

"No, there is a real human being behind this, madame," Jeannette assured her. "And we are so sorry for the loss of your young friend, and equally grateful for whatever help you give us."

There was a knock at the door. Lorraine Dupont gave herself a little shake, as if the physical movement could clear her mind. "Excuse me!" she told them.

She stood and hurried to the door. Instinctively, Jeannette stood and Daniel did the same.

"Shelley!" Lorraine Dupont said, sadness in her tone again. "Please, come in! I was just talking to the investigators about you and—Shelley?"

"She's running!" Jeannette said, surprised and glancing quickly at Daniel as she hurried to the door.

The young woman was already halfway down the block.

At her side, Daniel shrugged and murmured, "See, sometimes it's good that we're young!"

He was already in motion. Jeannette was quickly after Shelley, shouting as she ran, "Hey! She's not a suspect in this. We're hoping to have her as a witness!"

"If you're not worried about something you've done, why run?" he shouted back.

They were hitting a well-traversed tourist area with a beautiful fountain in the center of a square surrounded by boutiques and cafés.

"Going right!" Jeannette called, adding, "Don't run her down as if she were a quarterback holding the ball!"

"American football!" he shouted back. "I'll think of myself as a referee!"

She circled around the fountain carefully dodging citizens and tourists alike, glad that she did know the simple, "Pardonnez-moi!"

Parisians stopped, swirling around in confusion. There was little that Jeannette could do other than try to smile as she rushed by them, forgetting any concept of French and saying, "It's okay, it's okay!"

When she came around the base of the beautiful equestrian statue in the center of the fountain, she discovered the girl had stopped running. She was bent over, gasping for breath.

"Hey!" Jeannette said gently. "Please, please, please! Don't run. We're the good guys, I swear it. We just want your help."

The girl looked up at Jeannette. She looked to be about the same age as Virginia, young, a recent college graduate, living out her dream. She had a headful of rich chestnut hair, a slim, pretty face and enormous brown eyes. Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Daniel came speeding around the other side of the fountain, stopping short when he saw Jeannette with the young woman.

She looked up at him as if she would panic.

Apparently, Daniel had dealt with victims or witnesses before; he immediately sank to his knees before the frightened woman so that he was looking up at her.

"Shelley, please, we just need your help!" he told her.

She suddenly stood; Daniel did the same, the two of them blocking her.

But she wasn't attempting to run.

She was looking desperately through the crowd—many of them still frowning and staring at her. Daniel assured them, she assumed, in quick and easy French that everything was all right.

"Shelley, Shelley, who are you looking for?" Jeannette asked.

"I—I—I don't know. But...they're out there!" Shelley said.

"They? Who are they?" Daniel asked quietly. He very gently took the young woman by her upper arms to look into her eyes as he spoke. "Shelley, please, you're scared. We want to help you. We want to stop whoever took your friend. But we need help!"

"I just know they're out there!" she whispered.

Daniel glanced at Jeannette.

"I just saw the news!" she whispered. "Now there are three! They took Virginia. And they took Patricia! Now... Oh, my God, I don't even know who, but they've taken a third girl and...they'll get me, too! I must get out of here, I... I don't have the money. I need to go home. I need to get out of Paris. No, no, no—I can't even get on an airplane alone!"

"Shelley, you knew Patricia? She was a young German woman, right?" Jeannette said softly.

Shelley blinked and managed to nod. "Patricia... Never called her Pat or Patty. She was Patricia. I told her it was a German thing." Shelley started to laugh, but it was the kind of laugh that indicated she might have been about to cry. "She said that quite a few German things were better than American things—like most Americans only knowing how to speak one language. Patricia...she spoke German, French, Spanish and English—fluently. She was smart, she was funny..."

Tears streamed down her face.

"Shelley, please. We're not going to let anything happen to you," Daniel promised her. "Please! You can help us get justice for them. And you can help us protect you. Knowing that the two of them—two young women from different countries—became friends in Paris and did many things together can help us trace what might have happened. Shelley—"

The young woman was shaking her head.

"They fly by night. There is no protection."

"They fly by night?" Daniel repeated. "Shelley."

"It...it sounds ridiculous, but... I read the papers! They sell English language papers here, and you can go online and everything is translated. It goes all over the world! A year or so ago, maybe two years ago...there was a vampire in Norway—"

Daniel interrupted her.

"There was no vampire in Norway—it was a man. And trust me, he just killed, pretending to be a vampire and trying to get other people to pretend to be vampires. And he is gone, gone, gone. Shelley, please, we need your help—"

In turn, Shelley interrupted him.

"How can you protect me? Are you going to sleep with me at night?" Shelley asked.

"We can arrange for a French policewoman to be by your side," Jeannette assured her.

Shelley winced and fell back to sit down at the base of the statue. She shook her head. "They're everywhere. They're watching. I know it!"

"Then we'll find a way to watch them back," Daniel promised her. "But I need you to come with us—I need you to help us."

She looked up at him, shaking her head.

"There was a third woman," she said.

Jeannette nodded. "It has been in the media that a third woman was found, and I'm afraid the media survives by sensationalizing everything. They need to be warning people, not creating stories about vampires."

"The third woman..." Shelley murmured again.

"She hasn't been identified yet," Daniel told her.

Shelley gave them a pained grimace.

"I think I know who she is," she told them gravely before bursting into sobs again.

Daniel Murray stood silently by Shelley as she looked through the glass at the body of the latest victim to be discovered in the vineyards.

The medical examiner moved the sheet, displaying the woman's face.

Shelley let out a strangled sob, turned and threw herself into his arms. He looked over her shoulders at Jeannette, arching a brow as he patted Shelley's back, trying to reassure her.

Jeannette gave him a nod, indicating she'd lead them out. Naturally, they were both feeling tremendous empathy for the young woman. First, she had to feel the pain of losing people she had quickly come to call friends and then, just as naturally, she had to be terrified for her own life.

As they exited the viewing room, they found Gervais LaBlanc waiting for them.

LaBlanc was great. Daniel hadn't had the opportunity to work with him long yet, but he was methodical and quick to share—and just as quick to welcome any help he could get. And for Daniel, it was his first time working outside of Scotland. Thankfully, LaBlanc was making that easy.

He just wished he'd met Jeannette first, so he could have gotten a feel for what working with her was going to be like. Of course, the rest of their Blackbird division of the Krewe of Hunters would be here soon enough. And he had come to work well with them.

Even as they were about to greet Gervais, Shelley clung harder to his shoulder, still sobbing.

"Shelley, Shelley, please, we are so, so sorry, but we need her name now, and everything you know about these young women—" Daniel began.

"I'll be next! I'll be next!" Shelley cried.

"We're not going to let that happen," Daniel assured her.

"No, we will not!" Jeannette promised, pulling Shelley gently from Daniel so she could introduce her to Gervais LaBlanc. Daniel saw she stared determinedly at LaBlanc as she introduced him to Shelley, adding words that couldn't be a lie.

"This young lady must have twenty-four-hour protection until we catch whoever is responsible for this."

"I will have officers with her twenty-four seven," LaBlanc promised. "Now, Miss—"

"Officers! Cops are crooked, we all know that. How can I possibly—ohhh, I should have never said anything!" Shelley cried. "Don't you watch TV?"

Daniel inhaled for patience and told her, "Every once in a while, you get a bad cop, just like you get someone bad in any profession. But most police officers put their lives on the line for others and are good people and—"

"I promise you. Only good officers," LaBlanc said.

"And how can you guarantee that?" Shelley whispered.

"Well," LaBlanc said dryly, "one of them will be one of my sons. He will be with you constantly. We have a house—he will sleep in the parlor when he needs to do so. The home is wired, next to one of our stations. Whoever is doing this, however, is not breaking into places. This killer is finding victims through places they go. You were all at different rooming houses, correct?"

Shelley nodded.

"What we need to know now," Jeannette said gently, "is who this young woman might be?"

"And then, please, we need to know how you met and everything you did while you were together in Paris," Daniel finished.

Shelley nodded. "Catherine Blakely. She was here from Australia." She winced. "She, uh, just graduated, too, and worked much of the summer to get the money to come here. Paris was a dream for so many of us!"

"If you have any contact information for her friends or family, we need it, please," LaBlanc said.

"She's an orphan. Grew up in a group home. Some of her fellows there were her friends, but...no one close that I know about," Shelley said, shaking her head. "Oh, my God! I'm terrified! I can't believe it. Three victims. And I knew them all!"

"Where did you meet?" Daniel asked. "And where did you go together?"

"Many places... Um, the Louvre, Versailles, Notre Dame, other churches, dinner at several cafés, cheap ones, shows, music, performers, magicians... Oh, we loved shows. Saw three of them, and I can list the places where we went together and the things that we did, I just need—"

"You need a minute, time to calm down, mourn your friend," Jeannette said very gently. "Of course. Let's get you out of here."

LaBlanc was on the phone, arranging housing and guards for Shelley.

Daniel looked at his new partner. Capable, so it seemed. Well, she wouldn't have been chosen for this assignment if she didn't have the stomach, stamina, determination and experience for it.

And yet...

She looked as if she could easily have been friends herself with these girls. She could pass for a recent college graduate, someone sweet and innocent...

He was horrified to realize he was thinking of her as bait for a killer.

But that was part of the job.

Jeannette gazed at Daniel over the young woman's head.

And he knew she was thinking the same thing. Retracing the victims' movements might not avail them of much, and yet it was something they needed to do. The Louvre was often the main stop for tourists in the city. Hundreds of people visited it daily along with Notre Dame and Versailles...

"Where did you first meet?" Daniel asked, looking at Shelley.

"Oh, wine country! We were all on a tour out in Reims to do wine tastings. The region is famous for its champagne and... Oh! That's where the bodies were found, right?"

That was true. And, of course...

It had to be on their list. They needed to see where the bodies had been left. And they needed to retrace every movement the girls had made together.

"Mademoiselle," LaBlanc said, "please. We will take you to safety. And we'll have you sit, relax, have some water—"

"Coffee. Coffee, please. Since it shouldn't be a giant glass of wine right now!" Shelley said.

"That can come. But while you make those lists for us," Jeannette said gently, "we'll start with a tour of the wine country."

She looked at Daniel.

He turned to Shelley again.

"We need the name of the company you used, please," he said.

"It's called City of Light Tours," Shelley told them. She started to sob again. "So much for light! We all came seeking that light, and all they found was...darkness!"