Grave Expectations

Praise for Lina Gardiner...

Whether it’s urban fantasy or romantic suspense or action/adventure, Lina Gardiner knows how to deliver a great story. Basically, any world she wants to build, I’ll go there.

—Norah Wilson, USA Today bestselling author

Gardiner takes everything positive about romance novels, mixes it with a little bit of adventure, and throws in an evil villain or two, resulting in a perfect petit four for sating a romantic craving. Just don’t be surprised if you are hungry for more 30 minutes later.

—Kirkus Reviews

Gardiner writes her evil characters just as well as the good ones. Suspense abounds, guaranteeing shivers down the spine.

—PNR Reviews

. . . action-packed vampire police procedural will hook the audience into a vampiric hypnotic state... and never lets go for an instant.

—Harriet Klausner

Gardiner just crushed all the genre competition.... The best book I’ve read all year!

—Dark Angel Reviews of Grave Illusions

"Beyond the Grave, the second book in Lina Gardiner’s Jess Vandermire Vampire Hunter series, features all the elements that made Grave Illusions such a wonderful read—including great character development. I can’t wait to read the next book in the series!

—Keri Arthur, New York Times Bestselling Author

Books by Lina Gardiner

Jess Vandermire, Vampire Hunter

Grave Illusions

Beyond the Grave

Grave New Day

Grave Expectations

Sons of Horus

Black Moon Awakening

Grave Expectations

Jess Vandermire, Vampire Hunter

Book 4

by

Lina Gardiner

ImaJinn Books

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

ImaJinn Books

PO BOX 300921

Memphis, TN 38130

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-658-1

Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-660-4

ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2015 by Lina Gardiner

Published in the United States of America.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

We at ImaJinn Books enjoy hearing from readers. Visit our websites

ImaJinnBooks.com

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Cover design: Debra Dixon

Interior design: Hank Smith

Photo/Art credits:

Forest (manipulated) © Unhearted | Dreamstime.com

Stone cross (manipulated) © Unholyvault | Dreamstime.com

Woman (manipulated) © Simba3003 | Dreamstime.com

:Aegv:01:

Dedication

To Brenda Chin, award-winning editor.

I’m so glad you’ve taken me under your wing. It’s such a pleasure to work with you.

To my Oromocto Public Library Book Club friends, including Muriel and Gail (Librarians).

Thank you for everything. I adore you all.

As always, special thanks to my family for their continued support and to Nola Richardson for always having time to read my book. I don’t need timeline software when I have Nola. :)

Chapter One

JESS VANDERMIRE, Black Ops Captain of the secret NYPD vampire hunting unit, opened her eyes. Perfectly timed lamps illuminated slowly on her bedside tables while the floor-to-ceiling windows shifted from impenetrably black to opaque grey and then became crystal clear. From her penthouse apartment, she had a perfect view of the last rays of the setting sun being absorbed by the darkening sky.

In sync with the deepening darkness, her body regenerated. Rigid fingers lost their stiffness and paralysis bled away until she pushed up onto her elbows and gasped her first breath of the night.

First a breath. Then a kiss. She didn’t need to look around to know—she was alone for the second night.

Alone because John Brittain, her lieutenant and the man she loved, hadn’t shown up again.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he’d been keeping his distance in order to protect her since his own death and painful resurrection. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her, but maybe her lack of heartbeat and the chill of her flesh was more than Britt could handle these days?

She rubbed the base of her hands against her eyes and leaned forward on the bed.

She’d always wondered how he could love her. There was only one thing she excelled at—killing vampires.

Without Britt, only one other man had the ability to stop her from falling into the darkest pit of vampirism by reciting the essential regimen of prayers each day—her brother, Father Regent Vandermire. That presented another problem... Regent was in Rome.

Don’t give in, Vandermire, she said. You can make it for more than two days without going straight to hell. She stood.

After pulling on her fighting leathers, she crossed her expansive bedroom to stare at her image in the full-length mirror. She despised the sight of her own vampirism. Pasty unblemished skin, ruby red lips, and soulless black eyes stared coldly back at her.

When the soft click and swish of her three-inch steel door opening announced Britt’s late arrival, her insides reacted. Light filtered into her heart and she lost a bit of the dread weighing her down.

She spun to him. I thought you weren’t coming, she said a little too eagerly. Then she tamped down the urge to give her true feelings away. She’d never make him feel guilty about forgetting her.

I’m sorry I’m late, my darling. You deserve better, he said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and leaning against one of the decorative columns in her room. He probably had no idea how sexy he looked in that pose.

Sexy, but still on the other side of the room. Her shoulders sagged. Plus, he’d dressed in the Dark Ops trademark leathers tonight. Are you going to work today? she asked.

Not that it was his choice to make. She hadn’t given him permission to return to work. Fighting vampires took strength and it took damned good technique for a human to overcome a vampire. Until Britt’s death, he’d been one of the best vampire hunters she’d ever known. But now he suffered from localized amnesia and if he forgot even a portion of his training, it could cost his life—permanently.

Or... he could just annihilate every vampire in sight with a mere thought and have no clue how he did it.

I’m considering going back. I haven’t quite decided, he said.

I’d hate to see you die for good this time. Give yourself a chance to—

To what, Jess? I may never regain all of my memory, if that’s what you mean. Surely, that doesn’t mean I can’t go back to my job?

That’s not what I meant. Actually it was, but she didn’t want to shove it in his face quite so callously.

He exhaled. Believe me, I know what my shortcomings are.

She leaned over and picked up an elastic from the floor, where it had dropped. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and snapped it on.

I’m sorry if I’m touchy today, he said. It’s just that I need to know what happened to me and how the hell I’m standing here talking to you right now. His Adam’s apple bobbed and he looked away from her. Just saying coming back from the dead... it sounds ridiculous.

Why?

I guess because I don’t think I’m any different than I was before.

She chewed on her lip. She might argue that statement, but he needed a sense of normalcy in order to heal. Listen, instead of going back to work, why don’t you do a little reconnaissance. She slipped her blade into her boot, then shrugged into her jacket.

Besides, he’d never be able to focus on work until he got the information he was looking for about his abilities.

Let’s try to find the people who helped you. Maybe they have the answers you need.

It might be harder than you’d think, given my Swiss cheese memory. He smiled at her and his eyes lit from inside.

Her stomach clenched. It was a miracle how the soul showed itself in a person’s eyes. Sometimes, though, she imagined she saw a tiny spark of light in her own eyes. She was most likely deluding herself. There was no sense dredging up dreams of being alive again. She rubbed one hand over her mouth and focused on Britt.

You sure you didn’t notice anything about the exterior of the building when you left?

Nope, he said. I remember leaving, but not what the installation looked like or where it was.... He shrugged.

No surprise—you were in a bit of a fog, she said, not wanting to make him feel any worse than he already did.

On the upside, an hour ago I had a vague recollection of a male voice chanting over me.

Interesting, she said. The number of blanks in his memory was driving him crazy. Still, there’d been no mention of chanting before this. Maybe that meant memories were starting to burst to the surface.

No way would she’d tell him about the strange man who’d approached her after Britt had died. She hadn’t even believed the stranger when he’d told her Britt would return from the grave. She’d work on that later, after she helped Britt find what he needed.

I remembered something else this morning, he said. I remember screaming in pain until my voice gave out. His face contorted, while his hands came out of his pockets and clenched at his sides.

She pressed one of her palms against her chest and felt every inch the lifeless, cold-hearted bitch that she was. She’d done this to him—she’d recruited him and gotten him killed. How many more of his recollections could she take?

Is there anything else? she asked, biting her lip against cursing her own damnation.

His expression darkened. No, I can’t remember anything else.

That said, something was eating at him. She could see it in his expression, sense it in his demeanor. Okay, what’s really bothering you?

Something I’m finding hard to forgive, he said.

It can’t be that bad.

It’s you, he said. How could I have forgotten you for even a second? He turned away from her long enough to hide the emotion she’d briefly seen before he plastered on his professional expression and got control of his feelings.

The good part is that you remembered something important and came over before I left for work.

There’s another thing I need to know—why didn’t I become a vampire? If I died and came back, isn’t that what I should be, too?

She shook her head. I’m glad you’re not a vampire. Let me tell you, it sucks.

He shot an amused look at her, and her heart exploded with one of those rare sparks of pleasure only he could elicit.

Have you heard from Regent? he asked, moving to the window and staring down at the sidewalks below. He was the master of shifting the topic away from himself.

She joined him, pressing one hand against the cool glass. No, and I’m getting worried. Why would the Vatican summon an elderly priest?

Maybe they want to offer him a Bishop’s position.

It’s more likely that they want to interrogate him about the attacks and damages to Saint Eugenia and the rectory—because of me. He’s been under their scrutiny more often lately.

Do they know about you? Britt asked.

I certainly hope not. Still, he’s in his seventies. What could they possibly do if they found out his sister is a vampire or that he was a kick-butt vampire hunter in his day? He certainly can’t hunt vampires anymore.

He’ll be fine. He might be older than you, but he’s very capable of looking after himself.

Jess pursed her lips. Technically, I may look twenty-nine forever, but he is still my younger brother, she said, winking at him. Guess that makes you jailbait.

He grinned at her, and she turned all soft and pliable in a way a vampire should never be.

And your jailbait very much admires your wit, and your intelligence and your... He eyed her leather vest suggestively.

Yes? She opened one button and let her fingers dangle suggestively over the second one. Maybe tonight she could convince him to get over his fear of killing her during sex. It had been too long.

As soon as her excitement ramped up, he stepped back and she gritted her teeth. No, he still wouldn’t allow himself to go any further. Bad enough being a soulless vampire, but now she was a sexually repressed one too.

Her gaze strayed to him while she rebuttoned her vest. He’d dressed in his fighting leathers. How many times had she noticed how that outfit enhanced his tough, near perfect bod? Seeing him like that always lifted her spirits in a way prayers never could. Under his leather jacket, his black T-shirt clung to his wide shoulders and muscled frame, his black leather pants and motorcycle boots the perfect disguise.

How could she be so selfish? He desperately needed closure. Do you want my help? she asked.

No offense, Jess, but I might have better luck getting someone to talk to me if I go alone.

He was probably right, but she didn’t like it. He didn’t need her protection, either. Her chest tightened. He’d changed since he’d died. Last week, he’d killed a cavern full of vampires with a mere thought and had no idea how he’d done it. That’s why he didn’t trust himself around her.

I’ll have my cell phone with me if you change your mind.

He hadn’t said a word about why he hadn’t shown up at all yesterday. But it didn’t matter—she instantly forgot about it when his hands unexpectedly circled her waist and his warm mouth captured hers in a hungry kiss that lasted long enough for a nanosecond of pleasure to flutter inside her.

He released her hair from the ponytail and ran his fingers through her brown silky tresses before he brushed it back to give him access to her neck. Warm lips trailed kisses from her earlobe to her jawline, creating a path of delicious friction.

His heart raced under her palm. She’d barely opened the first two buttons on his shirt before he drew her fingers away. There’s nothing I’d like more than spending time wrapped up in bed with you, but since I’m dangerous... His voice trailed off and suddenly he wouldn’t make eye contact. We can’t risk it.

She slid a hand inside his shirt again. Only one way to find out for sure. She licked the edge of his earlobe and felt his flesh react under her hands.

He groaned but managed to ease away from her.

It’s more important than ever to find the person who brought me back from death. I daren’t make love to you until I know I won’t hurt you, my darling.

She sighed. Dying isn’t the worst thing that could happen to me, she said. Especially if it’s during some wild, fantastic sex.

Don’t joke, Jess. I won’t be the one who kills you. I’m the one who’s going to save you.

If she could cry at the futility of his hope, she would. I think we both need to be realistic, my love. That’s not going to happen. It’s bad enough my seventy-two-year-old baby brother has spent his whole life trying to save me. I don’t want you to do the same thing. How many innocent, freaking lives can I ruin?

Britt tipped up her chin. Don’t do that to yourself. I’m far from innocent, Captain Vandermire, he said, changing his expression from personal to business. I’ve killed my share of vampires or have you forgotten? They may be dark souls, but they are souls, nonetheless. So what does that make me?

She made an irritated noise. They have no souls. What you’re doing is no different than squashing a bug under your foot.

Actually, I’m a catch and release kind of bug guy. And I have a vested interest in one vampire in particular.

She smiled. You don’t catch and release bugs.

He grinned. Maybe not, but it was worth saying it to get you to smile.

I don’t deserve you. She forced herself to turn away from him and grab her gear. He waited while she repositioned her blade in her holster and flicked her long brown hair over her shoulders.

I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, he said.

Sure you don’t want me to come along? she asked, quirking one eyebrow at him and hearing his pulse quicken. He might be trying to convince her he wasn’t interested in a romp this evening, but his heart rate told her differently.

Thanks, but if I do find them, they’re more likely to be forthcoming if I’m alone.

You’re probably right, she said, but again, she didn’t like it.

I’ll figure this thing out. After all, I have a vested interest in getting our lives back on track, he said.

Promise me you’ll be careful.

He nodded. If I do find something, I’ll keep going until I get what I need. You might not hear from me for a while.

Okay, see you later, she said, wiggling her fingers in a flirty wave.

The second he left, her arm dropped like a weight and she paced around her room—a caged tigress damned to perdition.

Especially since he’d forgotten to recite the prayers that maintained her tiny remnant of humanity. He’d never done that until recently, and with Regent whisked away in the night to the Vatican, there was no one to pray for her wretched soul.

With fingers pressed against her temples, she recited a dozen prayers out loud. But she felt nothing—not even a tiny sensation.

The fact that Britt had forgotten to pray for her again tonight made her wonder how much he’d changed since his miraculous revival from death. Would he still love her if he continued to change? Or would she become just another vampire to vaporize?

After donning her leather jacket, she straightened her shoulders and pursed her lips. Britt’s cologne lingered in her room, reminding her that she had faith in him. She just needed to hold on a little longer.

Hunger gnawed at her, luring the beast to the surface. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to see she’d transformed into something as ugly on the outside as she was inside. Her eyes would be merciless black coals and her teeth deadly fangs ready to strike.

Unfortunately, with the inner darkness came a sultry sweet, exhilarating rush each and every time. It took steely resolve to ride the wave and emerge on the other side, partial soul intact.

She snatched a handful of ice-cold blood packets from the fridge. Cold because drinking warm blood reminded her of sucking the life from the one and only person she’d ever turned into a vampire, her ex-partner James. That, and the lack of warmth in the blood pushed back her bloodlust long enough for her to get a firmer grip on her tiny thread of humanity while she fed.

Tonight, she drank three packets of blood instead of her usual two.

A few minutes later, she ended up in the living room with its pristine white ultra-modern leather furniture, expensive paintings on the walls, and meaningless knickknacks that added splashes of red, black, and gold. All too perfect for a vampire with no soul.

Damnation! She had to pull herself out of this malaise or else she’d slip beyond the safety of accumulated prayers—and the realm of John Brittain’s touch.

The phone rang beside her, and she grabbed the handset like it was a lifeline. Hello?

Jess, my love. I’m at the airport. Can you come and get me? Regent’s blessed voice reached her ears.

She gripped the phone too tight, causing the plastic to snap, but not break. The big guy still answered her after all. Regent? You okay? What happened in Rome? Why were you there?

Silence.

Regent?

I’ll explain what I can when you come get me. He sounded tired. Probably jet-lagged.

I’m so glad you’re back, she said.

Get your butt out of that apartment and make tracks, then, he said, weariness evident in his words.

On my way.

Oh, Jess... bring Britt with you, he said, before she could hang up.

She frowned. I can’t. He’s not here.

Where is he?

He’s trying to find answers.

Still nothing, huh?

No. But he’s starting to remember little things. He’s hoping it will lead him to something concrete soon.

I pray he finds the answers he needs, Regent said. We all need to know what happened to him. The sooner, the better.

The truth was that Regent was afraid Britt might hurt her, too. She wanted to deny that possibility, but what was the sense? Both men believed Britt might be a risk to her. They needed facts. Answers.

Deep down, her gut feeling told her Britt loved her and he would never hurt her.

"Why did the Vatican summon you?" More like kidnap, but she didn’t say it.

We’ll discuss that in person when I see you. But don’t worry, I’m still a priest.

Even though he’d reassured her, something sounded off in his voice. Still, he was home. That, at least, was something she was very thankful for.

Chapter Two

WITHOUT WARNING, John Brittain’s nerve endings buzzed as if he’d been jacked up on a gallon of joe. He’d been traipsing down sidewalks for at least two hours without any luck. But now that he’d wandered into this part of the city, where the sounds of nightlife were muted and the alleys dark maws of palpable danger, where rodents scurried and insects clicked, his skin virtually crawled.

Big tough vampire hunter. Get a frigging grip, man, he said out loud, then realized there was no way he’d find the place if he kept using the analytical grid method. He needed to ignore his cop sense and follow his gut. With that in mind, he started walking and taking corners at random. The streets he knew well fell away, and before long, he was in unknown territory, which was strange because he thought he knew every inch of this city.

Somehow, he’d managed to get himself lost. Hell, he might as well give up for the night. After rubbing some grit out of his eye, he checked his watch. Midnight.

Suddenly, he froze and craned his neck back for another look.

Staring down at him from the side of a brick building was an unusual half gargoyle, half angel statue. How could he have forgotten this landmark?

This was the place he’d been searching for. Holy hell!

There were no discernible markings on the building, so he had no idea what to expect. He walked up and held his finger on the doorbell for a couple of seconds longer than was polite.

Considering the chanting he’d remembered, it didn’t surprise him when a monk opened the extra large oak door. Yes?

My name’s John Brittain. Do you remember me?

The monk vehemently shook his head. It’s late. You should go, he said, and started to shut the door.

Britt shoved his foot into the opening. You should remember me. I died. You brought me back.

The monk forced a laugh. That’s not humanly possible.

Who said anything about human? But here I am, Britt said, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the people who’d saved his life would act as if they’d never seen him. I have the coroner’s death report, if you need proof.

The rotund man in brown potato-sack-looking vestments looked suddenly anguished, rather than worried about Britt’s sanity. It’s late, he said, glancing quickly over his shoulder.

You do know me, don’t you? Your voice is familiar, Britt said, closing his eyes for a moment and recalling this man’s gruff voice trying to soothe him during one of his more torturous bouts of reanimation.

"I’m sorry,