by Lily Luchesi
“Leander is riling up the vamps, telling them their Empress is coming to lead them against the mortals, just like ancient times. It killed her to impress me.” Not a total lie: the vamp would have killed Helena to impress Angelica. “I’ll bring her body back for burial or cremation. I just need to get rid of the vampire remains first.”
“Do you want me there?” Danny asked. “I know you’re fine on your own, but still…”
“I’m okay. Well, not okay, but I can handle this. ...I’m really sorry,” she repeated. In her heart, she’d be apologizing for this until the end of eternity.
She heard him sniffle. “It isn’t your fault. Hurry back, please.”
She hung up. Would you want me back so fast if you knew what I’d done?
***
Danny clicked his phone off, sinking into the nearest chair. He covered his eyes with his hands and rubbed away the rapidly falling tears.
“How many more deaths are we going to have to go through?” he muttered. “How the fuck are we supposed to survive this when one of us is getting murdered every day?”
He looked up and saw Mark staring at him incredulously. Harriet had not spoken since Angelica left, and her neutral expression did not change.
“Helena too?” Mark asked, his eyes wide. Danny noticed his hands were shaking, and he was getting strong memory flashes. Death by vampire, just like Brighton. Mark had not seen either death, but he evidently had a wonderful imagination as he projected gory visions straight to Danny’s mind.
Danny stood up and opened the only working window in the room, desperate for fresh air. The biting cold helped make him feel less sick. He admitted to being very angry with Helena recently, for the way she treated Angelica. Now he regretted it, regretted ever thinking poorly of her when she had been hurt and insecure. He did not think of recent months, all the time they’d spent together. He thought about when she’d been a small, gangly kid with a book under her nose whenever he saw her. The innocent girl who thought he was a hero. Who went into Hell at his side. She’d never had a chance to be happy, and her death was his fault. She died in a dirty garage because he had let her in on the truth about monsters. Had he not indulged her curiosity, she’d still be alive.
“Daniel?”
It was Harriet, standing behind him. He didn’t bother telling her that he despised being called Daniel. Only Miranda had ever called him that.
“I had to learn the hard way that sometimes premature death is unavoidable. What Angelica helped me realize was that no death is ever in vain. They all have meaning, they all play into the greater scheme of things, even if we don’t see it immediately. It’s okay to mourn, but know that her death served a purpose...some purpose.”
“It doesn’t make me feel any better,” Danny admitted.
“What would?”
Danny scoffed. “A time machine. That way I can tell Helena to piss off when she asks me about the PID instead of drag her into this life. She’s dead because of my audacity. Angie and Mark warned me, but did I listen?” He kicked the wall. “I got her killed.”
He heard Mark sigh. “It wasn’t your fault. And if you tell Angelica that’s what you think, she’ll tell you the same thing...only probably with a few expletives thrown in for good measure.”
That made Danny smile a little. “How are we going to get through this?”
“We’ll find a way,” Harriet said. “I’ve almost got a strong enough trap. After I finalize that, it’s only a matter of time to get Leander into it.”
“I hope you’re right about the trap. I’d rather be tortured in the Pit for eternity than risk losing Angelica,” Danny said.
Mark grabbed his sleeve and said, “Believe me, I understand that feeling. I’m not going to let you go through what I went through with Brighton. I never want to see anyone feel that way if I can help it.”
As Danny was going to respond, the door opened and Angelica walked in. Her hands were stained with blood, as was the creepy-looking face on her t-shirt. Her face was stained as well, but that was from her tears. Danny knew her, and he knew that she took this loss much more personally than Bart’s because she had suggested Helena come with her.
He went to her and wrapped her up in his arms, knowing that even the strongest people sometimes needed to be held and have a good cry. She buried her head in his neck and he felt the warm blood trickle on his skin. The blood on her shirt was still sticky, and he hoped it was vampire blood and not Helena’s.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I thought it was a good idea in the moment.”
“I know you did,” Danny whispered to her. He didn’t blame Angelica for Helena’s death. Now, he didn't even really blame himself. He blamed Leander, for getting the vampires’ hopes up about their new Empress.
He let Angelica go and she furtively wiped her face clean of tears. “I think it would be better to cremate her. She had no other family, and few friends, according to what she told me. I don’t think I can handle a trip to the cemetery anyway.”
Angelica nodded. “I made sure the vamp didn’t turn her. She broke her neck. I had one of the guards bring her body down to the morgue when I got here if you want to...say goodbye. I’m going to grab a new outfit from the undercover room.”
“Thanks,” Danny said, dropping a kiss on her now clean cheek. He walked down to the morgue (where they also had a cremation chamber) and Harriet followed him.
“I just want to check the body. Make sure Leander didn't give the vampire anything that could have been put on Helena,” Harriet explained.
“Like Bart’s hex bag?” Danny asked, pressing the “M” button on the elevator.
“Precisely.”
Danny saw concern on Harriet’s face, and he tried to push with his mind to see what was wrong, but she was completely closed off from him. He was blocked by a poem written in Gaelic that he knew he’d need a lot more training to get past. He wondered if she did it for him in particular, or if it was common for witches to guard their minds from intrusion.
Helena’s body was wrapped in an oil-stained sheet, something Angelica had probably had in her trunk. Danny felt the tremor in his hand as he reached to pull the sheet back. He was first and foremost an investigator, and he wanted to view the body as open-minded as possible.
The first thing he noticed was that she was bloodless. The vampire had drained her down to the very last drops. There were two different bites in her neck: one was neat and the other was a jagged tear that looked like it was made by a wild animal. That must be where Angelica pulled the vamp away, Danny thought. Her eyes were bulging in their sockets, and her face was screwed up into a mask of pain and fear. Tears had dried on her cheeks. She had died without being glamoured. Her last moments had been filled with fear and agonizing pain.
He noticed she had no marks on her hands to indicate a scuffle. The vamp had apparently overpowered her completely. The last thing he saw was that her neck had been broken by someone who was obviously left-handed. He let out a few more tears for a life snuffed out too soon before he made the Sign of the Cross over her and stepped back.
“What kind of monster could do that to someone? Angelica gave them a way to feed without murder,” Danny said angrily.
Harriet was also studying the body, and the look on her face was a mix of contempt and consideration. “It’s not that they’re monsters. Sometimes their hunger gets the better of them. It’s not like how humans think of restraint. This isn’t a simple urge they can ignore. It’s built in. They’re born with it, and it doesn’t make them evil. Remember that Danny. They have a hunger inside that is sometimes hard to control. It is their nature to feed, and ninety-nine percent of vampires kill their prey at least once in their lives. It does not make them animals or monsters, any more than killing deer makes a human a monster.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Danny said, giving his old friend one last look before he went back upstairs, wanting only to sleep until this nightmare was over.
***
Danny and A
ngelica went home early that night, and she knew he’d want to talk about Helena’s death. She’d showered and changed her clothes, tossing the blood-soaked ones into the incinerator. The pants had cost three hundred dollars and the shirt had been from a memorable concert in 1999 at the Metro, one of the two times since Jonathan Price’s death she’d drunk from the vein. It proved to her how strong her hunger had been, to not care about something that had such sentimental value.
I killed someone. Someone I knew. Someone Danny cared about. I tore her throat out and bathed in her blood, and I have the nerve to go back with him. To act as if I’ve done nothing wrong, she thought as she cuddled up to him on the couch. She felt sick, but she also felt incredible. Her powers were not just restored, they were better than they ever were. The prophecy was completely fulfilled, and there was one small part of her that was not sorry for what she had done: it had been necessary.
“Can you tell me how it happened?” Danny asked, startling her out of her thoughts.
Oh, boy, here we go. “She wanted to be bait. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d let a mortal do that, so I agreed. The vamp evidently went straight for her throat, drinking like a woman dying of thirst. There was a lot gone already when I knocked her away from Helena. It was then we had the conversation about Leander. Next thing I knew, she’d hit me on the head and went for Helena again, who had been bleeding the whole time. I tore the vamp from her, but she twisted Helena’s neck as I did so. There was nothing I could do but crush the vamp’s jaw in my bare hands and slice her fucking throat.”
The first rule of lying: stick to the truth as much as possible. It’s harder to trip up later if almost everything is based on fact.
“I was partially in shock. The bitch bowed, like she was in some medieval fairy tale. The whole thing doesn't feel real,” Angelica said. “I’m really sorry. I admit I was not at the top of my game today.”
Danny ran his hand through her hair and she leaned into his soothing touch. “It wasn’t your fault. Every great detective has bad nights with perps. It’s almost comforting to know you’re not immune to that.” He smiled down at her.
“No, I am definitely not immune,” she muttered, still tasting a bit of her meal in the back of her mouth. I need mouthwash, she thought. Never had fresh blood left a sour taste in her mouth. Aside from Jonathan/Danny, she had drank from the vein of a girl when she was twenty, accidentally killing her in her hunger. It was a death she had long since come to terms with. She had been young, scared, and alone. After that, she had fed from many living donors until she started the blood banks and the PID. After Jonathan’s death, she’d drank from two people: an extreme wrestler in exchange for healing his wounds was one. The other had been at that concert she’s been wearing the shirt for. Local band at the time who didn't even have a proper album out yet, and the performance had been so driven it had brought out her hunger. The singer, a male siren, had even written a song about her on the band’s debut album. They were still friends.
She’d even drank from Helena, when the girl had rescued her from Hell. None of those times ever tasted too terrible afterwards. Then again, none of those times had given her unimaginable power, either. Things that were good for you always tasted like shit. Just like kale.
Danny went to sleep soon afterwards, and she had a couple of hours to go till sunrise. This had been the longest night in her entire life. She heard footsteps outside and was not surprised when their doorbell rang.
It was Harriet, but Angelica still splashed the woman with holy water to be sure she was not being possessed.
“What the Hell?” Harriet cried, cleaning off her glasses.
“Sorry. Precaution,” Angelica replied, leading her inside. “Why are you here?”
“Where is Daniel?” Harriet asked, dodging the question.
“Asleep. Now why are you here?” Angelica stood in the living room, arms crossed, as Harriet took a seat in the armchair.
“I want to know why,” she said simply. “It’s not like you, so tell me why.”
“Why what?” Angelica asked, pretending not to know what she was talking about. She should have known Harriet would figure it out.
The witch rolled her eyes. “Come on, don't pull that shit on me. Why did you do it? Why did you kill Helena Collins?”
Angelica sighed, leaning against one of the beige-colored walls, reminding herself to bring up repainting with Danny when all of this shit was over. “How’d you figure it out?”
Harriet inclined her head. “You were seriously ill, Angelica, and I know that the only thing that cures a vampire of any kind of sickness is to drain a person dry. So what was wrong with you? Because I know that you’d never have killed her if you had any other choice.”
Angelica looked her in the eyes, refusing to look away in shame. Harriet was right. She had not had any other choice, not tonight.
“You don’t find me a monster, then?” Angelica asked.
Harriet snickered. “Please. You scare the Hell out of me sometimes, but you’re no monster.”
“I was dying. My body was deteriorating to dust and I’d get weaker and weaker until I ceased to exist. One fully drained human was all I needed, and I was going to put it off for a bit, find a willing donor. Maybe someone suicidal, as awful as that sounds. Anything to ease my conscience. But I was so weak I couldn’t even pick Helena up after the vamp hurt her. And she was already bleeding. It was like I was in a thrall all my own, and it scared me.
“I’ve never felt more like a monster in my whole life.”
“Angelica, we’ve known each other for a century. Without you, I’d never have been able to defeat the Dark and save the majority of Britain’s Coven. You spent your life protecting mortals, building an empire of defense. You are no monster.” She stood up, but did not touch Angelica, because she’d been hit with the holy water. “I’ll keep your secret, but let me warn you: Danny will find out. And when he does, it’s not going to be pretty.”
Angelica prayed he’d not find out for many years. “Trust me, I know.” She said goodbye to Harriet, who was going to put up more wards back at the PID, and then went upstairs.
She peered in at Danny’s sleeping form. He looked peaceful, an expression she had not seen on his face for some time now, mostly thanks to his association with her. She did not know how someone as good and pure as he wanted anything to do with her, but she knew she was blessed to have him. He made this new, terrifying existence much more bearable.
***
Danny woke up around noon, stretched, checked to be sure Angelica was in her coffin, and then went to start coffee. She’d left him a note that he should go to the PID without her that Harriet’s wards were safer than the ones she had at the house. He was sure she was right, but was loath to leave her alone and defenseless. A sleeping vampire is at their most vulnerable then.
He dressed and left, going to get into his Cadillac when he smelled something odd coming from Angelica’s cracked open car windows. He wondered why she’d driven the previous day, when she usually used her vampire speed, but she hadn’t been feeling too well lately, so it was understandable.
He used her spare key to unlock the car and poke his head inside. The steering wheel was cracked, there was a CD with a creepy looking demon mascot in the player, and he immediately killed the sound as soon as it started playing. For a vampire with sensitive ears, she sure liked her music loud!
The bottom of the wheel was covered in the blood that Angelica had had on her shirt the day before, but that was not what he smelled. He smelled sulfur, and a chill went down his spine. Had Angelica been accosted by Leander again? If so, why had she not said anything? The thought made his blood run cold. At first he was worried she could have been hurt, but there was a small percentage of his mind that wondered if she had not met with Leander for her own reasons. For reasons Leander had told them to expect.
The thought made him feel like a louse, to doubt her yet again. But the seed of doubt had been planted back when he f
irst found out she was a vamplet, and it had lain dormant with no nourishment. Now Leander’s words were the sun and water that seed needed to grow and take root in his mortal mind.
He shook his head, locked up her car, and got into his own. Angelica was on their side. If she wasn’t, she would have killed him already. He was easy prey, after all.
Once at the PID, he greeted the succubus who ran the front desk and went up to Mark’s office, where he heard Harriet’s raised voice. He loved her accent, it reminded him of a young Maggie Smith, but now her voice was raised so high he could barely understand her.
“Slow down,” Mark said as Danny entered the office. “Lower your voice and repeat slowly.”
Harriet was hopping from one foot to another. “I did it. I made the perfect trap. I think Lucifer himself couldn’t escape it!”
“Let’s hope we don’t ever have to test that out,” Danny commented, smirking. “So, what is it?”
“A combination of a few different faiths. Of course Christianity and Wicca are predominant, but I found a few other things to use, and I am sure it will work if we could just get Leander into it. How do you think we can summon him?” Harriet asked.
“Angelica might know,” Danny said. “And if she doesn’t, I’m sure the two of you can figure it out. Meanwhile, I’ll keep looking in some of the books.” He paused. “I think Leander visited Angelica yesterday. In her car.”
Mark’s eyes widened. “What? Are you sure?”
“There was demonic residue in there. I noticed it when I left today. I don’t know what it means, but it can’t be good if she didn’t tell us. Why the fuck does she insist on keeping secrets?”
Mark shook his head. “He was probably trying to recruit her again. He isn’t a very patient man, is he? Regardless, she should have told us.”
“She’s so used to being alone that she doesn’t know how to put her faith in others,” Harriet said. “I’ve known her for some time, and even when she was trying to help me, she kept everything close to the chest. It’s not something to take personally.” She looked at both men but her eyes bore in on Danny. “We need to repeatedly reassure her that we are here for her unconditionally. She’s more vulnerable than she lets on to any of us. She’s the strongest woman I know, but she’s also the most hurt as well.”