Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 1

murders had been solved. A young man, claiming to be a newly turned vampire, had confessed to all of the murders when he'd been cornered in an alley with his latest victim. I'd lain in my hospital bed that night, flipping between channels, watching journalists flit between somber-faced psychiatric experts and wild-eyed psychics. I'd drifted into another drug-induced sleep only to wake in the early morning hours to the live scene outside the stationhouse as they prepared to transfer the young man to the courthouse for his arraignment.
    The reporters spoke in golf whispers and the sound of agonized screaming carried clearly enough over the morning airwaves. When the doors to the precinct opened, there was a moment in which the entire world was changed forever. It probably seemed much longer than it really was, because the image had been captured on newspapers around the world.
    One instant, Detective David Carmichael and an FBI agent wearing a deep blue windbreaker held the wailing young killer by his arms, manhandling him through the doors. The next moment there was a snap of electricity, a spark, and then there was nothing between the two law enforcement officers but a smoldering pile of ashes. All caught on live television. Apparently, vampires really were destroyed by sunlight.
    There had been no news worth reporting since that moment except the emerging story that vampires existed. A whole new celebrity culture emerged, with paranormal experts out during the day, and representatives of the "Vampire Council" on the air at night. The governments of all nations were working frantically to restore order and reassure citizens that the young murderer was a rogue, an aberration.
    As earth shattering as that moment had been, I'd not been able to take it all in. My mind shut down at the world's problems because I had enough heartache of my own. The Lieutenant had finally told me the rest of what happened the night I'd been attacked. I'd killed Gauthier and Trudeau. The first with intention, the second by luck.
    The two of them had met when Gauthier had been a guard at Angola, prior to joining NOPD. Trudeau was the driving force behind the attacks. He and the rat-faced man, known as Walters had been active in a gay-bashing gang near Baton Rouge before Trudeau went to prison on an unrelated charge. The three of them had been a match made in hell and brought their show to New Orleans in order to clean up what they considered to be a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. They'd been able to get the story from a weepy Walters, who was firmly placing the responsibility on Trudeau— who he considered the second coming of Christ.
    Travis had never made it beyond the courtyard. Gauthier and Trudeau must have been waiting for him and they'd fought viciously, before Travis had been left to die of his injuries and blood loss and they'd come after me. Walters denied they'd attacked Boudreaux, but since he'd been the closest behind me, he couldn't really know what the other two had done. Even though it could hardly matter, I vowed that as soon as I was healed, I would find out exactly what had happened. Just like Jerome, Travis was mine now.
    Wes pressed the blue square button to open the doors leading to a side entrance of the Emergency Room— out of the way of the press. Unlike the vampire, I didn't explode into flames and ashes, but I did have to blink hard against the late afternoon sunlight. My throat was tight with relief when I saw that both Dave Carmichael and Maxine Dupree waited for me. They were dressed in their service dress uniforms, pressed and polished, expressions alternately somber and smiles.
    They'd come to take me to Travis' memorial service.
    ****
    I know there were words, but I couldn't hear them. All I could hear was that voice that rasped against my heart. The voice that promised we would be partners… promised tomorrow… promised…
    I sat alone, at my request. There was no family, no close friends except the officers and detectives of the New Orleans and Baton Rouge Police Departments. They sat on opposing sides of the center aisle; like this was a wedding and they could only support one-half of the man he'd been. I don't think anyone there knew he was gay, except me, and I supposed that would have pleased his closeted ass. I couldn't help but wonder what could have been between us—
    My thoughts broke off as the formal part of the service ended and it was time for those who knew him to stand and say a few words.