The Second Trinity Read online

  The cheap tables, those with a minimum bet of a dollar, were crowded and noisy and Cora slipped between them, heading for the heavy tables on the other side of the room, where her assigned table was.

  As she passed the last table, something rippled across her consciousness and she came to an abrupt halt. The man behind her almost cannoned into her and apologized profusely. Canadian, she automatically catalogued as he stepped around her. There were a lot of Canadians who cruised across the lake, usually from Port Rowan, to take in a little gambling. Or they drove down the coastline from the Fort Erie Bridge and Buffalo.

  She was trying to pretend she hadn’t felt that touch of coldness, distracting herself by thinking about Canadians and the casino’s clientele instead. Ducking it….

  So she turned slowly on her heel, letting her gaze sweep over the cheap tables and the packed-in gamblers, looking for what had triggered the mental alert.

  There. There he was.

  He looked like a normal man. A really good-looking normal man in his mid-thirties, with short, black hair and the scruffy two days’ worth of growth most men seemed to favor these days. His features were Mediterranean—olive skin and white teeth and extreme sexiness.

  He was watching her. His eyes were the same pitch black as his hair.

  She walked over to where he was standing. He wasn’t even trying to pretend to be interested in the table he was standing next to. He was watching her with unblinking steadiness, already marking himself as different, as not right. He was careless.

  Cora grabbed his arm just above the elbow, gripping through the leather sleeve of his jacket. “Come with me,” she said quietly.

  The fact that he turned and let her lead him away from the tables proved that she was right about him. A normal human would have protested, demanding to know what was wrong, why she wanted them to leave.

  She gripped harder, letting her fingers dig in, as her anger built.

  “If you take me through the service corridors, people will notice,” he said.

  “If I do what I’m going to do to you out in the public areas, people will really notice.” She shoved the swing door open with the flat of her hand. “Get in there.” She pushed him through and he staggered, but stayed on his feet. She kept herding him forward, her hands on his shoulders, through the short corridor to the fire escape doors at the other end.

  She opened the door with her security pass while hanging on to his sleeve, even though he was making no attempt to fight back. She wasn’t going to give him any chance to cut out on her until they had spoken.

  The staff parking lot was only half-full. Bright sunlight made her throw her arm up until her eyes adjusted. She hauled him out and shoved until he staggered once more. He ended up against the shift manager’s Dodge. He looked at her without emotion. “I was minding my own business,” he pointed out.

  “In my casino. You’re hunting for your next victim! How dare you!” She pointed toward the long causeway that connected the island the casino sat on with the mainland. “Start walking, asshole.”

  “I wasn’t hunting,” he said, his dark-eyed gaze steady.

  “Bullshit. Creatures like you are always hunting. It’s what defines you.” She stepped closer to it. “What are you, anyway?”

  “Can’t you tell?” he asked quietly. “You spotted me instantly. You felt me. That should tell you everything.”

  “It tells me you’re not human. That’s all I need to know.” She pointed toward the causeway road once more. “You don’t just leave the island, you leave town. You don’t come back. You don’t feed while you’re in Erie. You don’t stop until you reach the next state. I don’t want you anywhere inside Pennsylvania come tomorrow.”

  “What, no one but you gets to live in Erie, Pennsylvania?”

  “That’s right.”

  He stared at her, like he was reassessing her. “Supernaturals are taking over this town. They have been for weeks. Are you blind?”

  “I can see you just fine. Just like anyone else I find here, I’m giving you your marching orders.”

  He seemed puzzled. “You don’t feel it, do you?”

  Her heart jumped. “Feel what?” Why on earth was she even letting him string her along like this? She should toss him in the water and get back to work. She had to do it quickly. They would come looking for her soon. She was already late reporting back to her table and her pit boss for the night, Kruger, would have security scouting for her if she was more than a couple of minutes late.

  “I felt it even before I saw you,” he said. “For two days I’ve been heading here, even though I was settled in Cleveland. I didn’t understand it, but I came anyway. Now I understand.”

  “You’re not making a lick of sense. Are you trying to delay leaving?”

  “Yes.” His gaze was the same steady, patient one. “I’m waiting for you to feel it.”

  “Feel what?” Irritation flared. This was ridiculous.

  But in her heart, she knew it wasn’t. It hadn’t been the sense of cold that had halted her in the middle of the gaming room floor. She had only felt that afterward. It was something else. It was a sense of inevitability….

  “You can feel it,” he said slowly. “You’re just in full denial. Is that why no other supernatural can live in your town? Are you denying that, too? Pretending you’re hu—”

  She didn’t let him get the rest out. It wasn’t planned. She didn’t make a decision. She just launched herself at him, a growl locked in her throat and fury driving her.

  She had enough strength to knock him almost off his feet. She grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and let her momentum spin her around behind him as he staggered once more. She kept pulling, throwing him out into the middle of the parking lot. He was a lot stronger and faster than he should be. He stayed on his feet, his hands out for balance and leaning forward.

  But when she hit him from behind, his already precarious balance fled. He slid forward, his hands skidding along the tarmac and she heard him hiss in pain. Then his breath whooshed out of him as his full length landed heavily. She stood over him and turned him so he was on his back, then dropped to her knees, pinning his arms down with them.

  Her first punch slammed his jaw to one side.

  He shook his head to clear it, just like a human would. That incensed her even more. Trying to be human? This thing? She hit him again. And again.

  Then she was hitting him repeatedly, her anger venting itself with every blow.

  He shifted his weight under her and wrenched his arms out from under her knees. She heard leather tear.

  His hands were around her waist. He was lifting her.

  “No!” she cried and tried to swing her fist past his arm. Instead, her knuckles hit his shoulder. She felt the soft give of muscles beneath. As he sat up, bringing her up with him, she redoubled her efforts. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him wounded. But most of all, she wanted him to shut up and go away. If beating him to a pulp would do it, then good.

  But his reach was longer than hers. He plopped her onto his knees like she was a toddler and pulled his head back out of the way as she took another swipe at him. “Don’t,” he said mildly.

  “Stop me.”

  “I just did.”

  She swung at him again.

  This time he didn’t duck. Instead, he pulled her up against him and her elbow thumped up against the meaty part of his upper arm.

  His lips pressed against hers.

  The action was so shocking that for a second or two, Cora’s mind blanked out. Pleasure swamped her. It had been too long since she had felt this heated response to a man’s kiss. But this rich depth of pleasure was different. New.

  Cora tore herself away from him, stumbling across the tarmac, her breath ragged and her heart trying to burst through her chest. She came to a halt up against the same Dodge, her hand splayed against the side window for balance.

  He moved up behind her. “Hey…”

  “No!” She pushed herself upright
and turned to look at him. “Don’t say anything. Just leave. Get out of town. I have no intention of listening to anything you might think you have to say.”

  Then she spun and raced for the door, fumbling for her pass card. Without looking, she knew he was watching her every step.

  * * * * *

  It took long minutes for her to shrug off what had happened and fully concentrate on dealing. Kruger watched her relentlessly. She was good at her job. Her hands did most of the work without her having to think about it. Which was a problem, for when her mind settled into the dangerous idle mode, she starting thinking all over again about what had happened with him…it….

  Finally, she deliberately called up the details of the current renovation project in her townhouse. Colors, accessories, trimmings. The drapes she intended to make. Denim? Or sheers? Or Roman blinds?

  It kept Kruger off her back and the customers happy for the next couple of hours…until Sheriff Wisherd turned up.

  * * * * *

  Rhys Wisherd watched through the diner windows as the tall blond man got out of the black Audi with the New York plates and stretched hard. If he’d driven all the way up from Manhattan, then he had reason to stretch. That also explained why he had pulled up in front of the diner. It was highly visible from the I90 and yanked in a lot of transient customers.

  Rhys ate here because the food was good and the prices even better. It also let him keep tabs on new arrivals, passers-through and other potential sources of trouble. As the county sheriff, he liked to stay on top of who was floating around his town. Erie wasn’t a big place, but lately, it had acquired some big city problems.

  He couldn’t figure out if this guy was potential trouble or not. He was travelling alone, which wasn’t unusual, but did put him into an interesting category.

  Rhys finished his second cup of coffee as the guy locked the car and headed for the front doors of the diner. The guy stepped off the sidewalk to let a couple of women get through without brushing up against the bumpers of the cars pulled up in front of the diner.

  A polite fellow then.

  He also seemed to be a healthy one. It was a hot day, especially for September, and he was wearing a short-sleeved and collared tee shirt, open at the front. His arms seemed to…well, glow. So did his face and his blond hair. He was in such peak condition it was radiating from him.

  Rhys recalled that it had been months since he’d hit the gym. He looked down at the remains of the bacon, hash browns and eggs he’d had for his early dinner and grimaced. He was a long way away from the sort of health that would make him glow.

  He looked up from the plate as the man came inside, sized the room up in one sweep, then moved over to the counter and settled on one of the row of empty stools there. Most people took booths and Rhys was usually the only one eating at the counter. But he was usually the only one eating alone.

  The blond man glanced at him and gave him a short nod. His eyes were blue, like Rhys’, but deeper. Then he picked up the menu that laid in front of him and studied it.

  Rhys thought the guy was possibly taller than him. His shoulders were solid, matching his overall health and proving that he exercised. There was a serious amount of muscle there and none of it was steroid-induced excess. He worked his muscles hard and built them the honest way.

  All in all, the guy looked harmless. He was probably passing through town like most strangers pulling into the diner were. But Rhys found himself studying him even more closely. There was something about him that was interesting. He didn’t know what it was yet. It wasn’t like his cop’s instincts were jumping. The man gave off no negative signals at all. But Rhys couldn’t look away.

  The man looked up from the menu and around, almost like he could feel Rhys staring at him. Their gazes met and the man’s eyes narrowed. Not in anger or suspicion, but puzzlement.

  Rhys got to his feet and moved down the counter to where the man was sitting. He leaned against the counter. “It’s a knock-out day, isn’t it? Good for travelling.”

  “It is,” the man agreed coolly.

  Up this close, he really did seem to glow. It came from his skin, like the luster inside oyster shells.

  “You heading through?” Rhys asked.

  The man put down the menu and turned to face him directly. Rhys had a feeling that he was about to tell him to fuck off and mind his own business. Then his gaze flickered over the badge on Rhys’ belt and he relaxed and gave him a friendly smile. “I’m not sure, Sheriff. I’m done driving for the day, that’s for sure. I saw the lake in the distance and thought I’d find a place for the night here. The water looks wonderful.”

  “You like water sports, then?” That might explain the glow. A touch of sun. It was late summer, after all.

  “I do.” The man’s gaze was pulled away by Betsy as she sauntered over to them with her hand on her hip.

  “D’ya for?” she asked. Her gaze flickered toward Rhys. “You need more coffee, Sheriff?”

  “I would like another one, yes.”

  “Could I get the Cobb salad, please,” the blond man told her.

  Yeah, the healthy type. Rhys mentally sighed.

  “Sure thing.” Betsy took the menu from him and wandered away. She never seemed to hurry but tables got waited upon with invisible efficiency, anyway. It was another reason Rhys liked coming here.

  “I’ll let you get on with your supper.” Rhys turned away, intending to go back to his stool.

  “Stay and talk.”

  Rhys turned back to him. “Excuse me?”

  The man frowned. “I’m sorry…?”

  “You said something.”

  He shook his head slowly. “Nope.”

  Rhys pressed his hand against the counter. “My mistake.”

  The man turned on the stool to face him. “Do you check out every stranger that shows up in Erie, Sheriff?”

  Rhys got the impression it wasn’t an idle question. “I like to stay on top of newbies.”

  “New people are a problem?”

  Rhys grimaced. “I’m a county sheriff. That means I’ve got charge of a lot more than just Erie itself. The county is fifteen hundred square miles and there are three hundred thousand people living in it. I have seven deputies and I can call in the local police as I need to. But the Interstate runs right past the city, there’s the resort and the casino out on the island and the Canadian border is halfway across the lake. Yeah, strangers are an issue. Especially lately.”

  Betsy put a fresh mug of coffee in front of Rhys. “Awww, Sheriff, everyone knows why you like to hang out at the casino. The southern one, right?” She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, then held the pot over the mug in front of the blond man.

  He shook his head. “Do you have green tea?”

  Betsy tilted her head. “We’ve got normal teabags in the back, if you want.”

  “Just water, thanks.” He smiled at her without resentment and looked back at Rhys. “Why are strangers suddenly a problem, Sheriff?”

  Rhys sank onto the stool and picked up his coffee. “I’m Rhys. Rhys Wisherd.”

  “Luke Alvey.” He held his hand out and Rhys shook it, feeling the expected strength there, but Luke Alvey didn’t try to crush his fingers, either.

  “Alvey. That’s a rare one.”

  “It’s English. I looked it up, once. It means ‘elf-battle’.” Luke grinned. He nodded his thanks as Betsy put a big glass of iced water in front of him. “You were saying?”

  “I was?” Rhys asked.

  “About strangers and recent troubles.”

  Rhys looked around the diner, suddenly aware of the people who might be listening in. But the diner was almost empty. There was a couple in the far corner booth, their heads together. Even Betsy had disappeared into the kitchen.

  Luke was watching him, his expression patient.

  “I don’t know why the fuck I’m suddenly spilling my guts to you.”

  “I’m interested. I’m from Manhattan. Th
ere, the problems are self-evident, everywhere you look. This little city looks angelic in comparison. It’s difficult to wrap my head around the idea that you have troubles more serious than drunk high school kids and hunters going over their limit.”

  Rhys scratched at the steel countertop with his thumb nail. “I meet with the Erie police chief every Thursday night. He plays a rotten game of cards, especially after his third beer, but he likes to talk.” He shifted on the stool, uneasiness curling through him. A part of his mind was screaming at him. Shut up! Shut up!

  Luke rested his elbow on the counter and his head on his hand, exactly like someone who had been driving all day and was feeling the effects. “The police are worried, too? What’s happening?”

  “Missing persons. The number of missing person reports has quadrupled in the last six months.”

  “Did you have many before that?”

  “A few. Little Alison Howey might take exception to her husband banging the girl in his office and take off for Pittsburgh and not tell him. Some kids run away because the home life isn’t all great. But that’s usual. That’s expected and most of ’em, even if we never found them, we could figure out why they’d run. But lately….” He shook his head.

  “Everything is normal, then abruptly, they’re gone.”

  “Exactly.” Rhys knocked back a big mouthful of the coffee. From the sour taste he knew he’d reached his limit for the day. He would pay for it tonight if he kept drinking it.

  “What else?” Luke asked.

  “The park wardens pick up a lot of poachers during the off-season and there’s some funny stories coming from the hunters they catch. Claims that there’s more than bears in the woods these days. One or two of them I’d pass off as poachers trying to shift attention away from their transgressions. But you know what?”