by Naomi Clark
Elijah hopped across the table to him, regarding the business card with gleaming eyes. Kinley gave it to him, and Elijah started shredding it methodically.
“And Hugo and Viviana?” I prompted, when Kinley fell silent, watching Elijah intently.
“Oh, they were just...old school vampires. Hugo used to tell everyone he could trace his bloodline back to the old clans of Hungary, and Viviana said her maker was descended from the Bathory family. I think it was just bullshit, but they acted all fancy and better than the rest of us.”
I guessed Kinley wouldn’t be crying at their funeral. “Tell me more about Obsidian,” I said. “Is there a dress code?”
“It’s an alternative crowd, but there’s no real dress code.” He gestured at his own worn t-shirt and holey jeans. “They let me in like this all the time.”
That was a relief. I’d dressed up in some horrendous outfits to pass unnoticed in clubs, and I was way past the stage where I was getting decked up in leather corsets and spike heels for anybody’s benefit.
“So you’re heading there tomorrow? You really think Obsidian has something to do with all this?”
I shrugged and went to retrieve my tea. I took a sip and grimaced. It hadn’t steeped long enough and was far too weak for my tastes. The opposite of comfort. “It’s all I’ve got at the moment. All three vampires went there, all three are...” I stopped myself from finishing, seeing a spasm of grief on Kinley’s face. “It’s all I’ve got,” I said again instead.
“I’ll come with you,” he said, with an obvious effort of courage. “Maybe I can help. I owe it to Beckett to try.”
I petted Elijah and nodded absently. Even though I’d wanted him to come, my stomach still churned at the thought of working with someone else. Ezra hadn’t counted. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe because neither of us wanted to help each other. Kinley was different. He was lost and eager to please, eager to latch on. He wanted a relationship, even if he didn’t recognize that himself.
It made me want to shy away, throw up a wall. Elijah had been my only hunting partner. This felt like replacing him, and that felt like a betrayal, the same way dating anyone else had felt like a betrayal. Bea was the last person I’d tried with, and I counted myself extraordinarily lucky that I’d ended up with a best friend instead of a broken heart.
This was different, I told myself as I smoothed Elijah’s glossy feathers. This was a temporary alliance of convenience. Kinley and I weren’t going to become friends, and Elijah was irreplaceable anyway, however tragic that may be.
The three of us sat together in silence while I finished my tea, two of us raking over our personal demons, and one of us eating a business card. It was the closest to domesticity I’d ever had in this kitchen, and that was pretty tragic too.
Chapter Seventeen
I woke up to a text from Bea inviting me for lunch with her and Hayden tomorrow. I hesitated before replying. I didn’t want to draw attention to anyone I cared about as long as I was working for Mr. Cold. On the other hand, I didn’t want to start acting weird around my friends and colleagues and get them asking awkward questions. I was a creature of intense habit, and breaking my routines meant lying. Lying meant remembering my lies, and I wasn’t especially good at that.
Lacey had already started prodding, and although she probably did honestly think I was conducting a clandestine love affair, I didn’t want the mental taxation of dealing with questions and sly jokes while I tried to keep Mr. Cold off my back.
Besides, Bea was inviting me to lunch. In the daytime. Outside of vampire business hours. I replied that I’d be there and went about my day.
Hidden behind my wall of filing cabinets, I spent a good chunk of the day researching Obsidian. I’d never heard of the nightclub before now, but that wasn’t surprising. The Alice Rose was my only adult hangout, and new clubs appeared and disappeared around Ridderport all the time. Obsidian was no exception, in fact, having previously been a salsa club called The Heat, a 70s-themed bar called Wonderland, and a strip club also called Wonderland.
A man named Erik Kaminski had bought The Heat a couple of years back and rebranded it as the grungy rock dive it was today. The website boasted two-for-one cocktails all night, every night, cheap shots for the first hour, and free entrance for women on Fridays. Great. At least I wouldn’t have to pay for tonight’s experience.
There was nothing else to be gleaned from web-sleuthing. No shady activity or salacious stories associated with the club. That didn’t mean much, but it gave me the gnawing worry that I was heading to another dead end, like with Saul.
Well, hopefully not quite as dead.
I GOT HOME TO FIND Kinley and Elijah waiting on the porch in the gathering dusk. My stomach twisted at the sight, but I pushed the odd feeling down and let them both in. Elijah nestled on my shoulder as I headed for the front room. Kinley trailed behind. I swore I felt the air snap as he entered. So far he’d only been in the kitchen. Having a vampire in my front room set all my internal alarm bells ringing.
I’d put a little more love into the front room than the rest of the house. I spent more time here, normally. All the furniture was thrifted, but it was all cozy and snug, designed for curling up in with a good book and fuzzy blanket. The sofa was a two-seater, worn and faded and strewn with plump pillows. There was a bucket armchair in the corner, next to a bookcase stuffed with fiction and non-fiction history books. The coffee table in the center of the room was scattered with candles in autumnal scents that I loved, from pumpkin pie to cinnamon coffee. The color scheme was autumnal too, with plenty of warm oranges, browns, and faded gold.
I’d put up a shelf over the TV and it was home to the few truly sentimental things I owned. A plushy seal Bea had bought me when we first started dating. A locket of my mom’s, still in the little blue jewelry case it had originally come in. And a box of teabags. Just a regular box of English Breakfast teabags, never opened, nothing fancy about them. But they were the last thing Elijah had ever bought for me.
I had no photos of us together. I’d destroyed them all in a fit of grief-filled rage, and I’d spent every day since bitterly regretting that stupid impulse. But I had the fucking teabags, and even though the box was battered, the label faded by sunlight and barely even readable anymore, even though it was just a box of fucking teabags, I’d take them to the grave with me.
“Take a seat,” I said to Kinley, swallowing my misgivings with some effort. I resisted the urge to tell him not to touch anything.
He sat gingerly in the bucket chair, studying my book collection, fingers twitching nervously. “So what’s the plan?” he asked.
“Obsidian. We’ll go in, scout around. You can tell me if you see anyone you remember from that night. Maybe we can talk to the staff, ask about Hugo and Viviana going there. We’ll just play it by ear.”
He nodded, although he looked a little disappointed that my plan wasn’t more elaborate. That was the problem with this kind of nebulous affair, though. I’d had a couple of bounties like this, where all I knew was that people were turning up dead and the culprit was definitely a vampire. No hints of where to start looking or what to look for. They were always slow, grueling cases, and I was always glad to see the back of them.
I crossed to the window. I’d bought a huge parrot perch for Elijah a few years back, made of pale wood, with a few built-in toys for him to play with. He hopped off my shoulder and onto the perch, swiping at one of the bells with his talons.
“Give me an hour to get showered and changed,” I told Kinley, “and we’ll head out. You can too, if you want. Shower, I mean.”
He grimaced, finger-combing his hair. “You can just say I stink, you know. I won’t be offended.”
“I never said that,” I protested, although in fairness, he did kind of stink. Not just the regular vampire stink, either.
“You do keep telling me to take a shower though.”
“Well? I haven’t rigged it up with saltwater if that’s what you’re worried a
bout.”
“No, I just...No.” He shrugged, eyes glazing over. “There doesn’t seem any point. It’s taking all my energy to just get up in the evenings. I’m not hungry. I don’t care if I reek or if my clothes are dirty. I just...what does it matter?”
He wasn’t talking to me anymore. He stared at the floor, wringing his hands, pallid and thin in the lamplight. He probably hadn’t fed since Beckett died, I thought. This kind of depression, this all-consuming what’s-the-point apathy was a slow killer.
I shouldn’t care. If a vampire wanted to starve himself to death rather than steal blood from innocent mortals, that was just one less vampire in the world, right? I shouldn’t care at all.
“It matters,” I said. “Beckett would want you to take care of yourself.”
“You don’t know what Beckett would want,” Kinley snapped, raising his head to scowl at me. “I know the clichés, okay?”
“If Beckett loved you as much as you loved him, I can guarantee he’d want you to take care of yourself. Some things are clichés because they’re true. Nobody who truly loved you would say, nah, let him waste away after I’m gone. You guys risked everything for each other, more than once. Do you really think he’d want you to roll over and give up now?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, staring at the floor again.
I sighed, rising. I couldn’t force him through this process, and maybe I shouldn’t even be trying. Kinley was a vampire. No matter how young and vulnerable he seemed, he was a predator. I shouldn’t let myself forget that.
“Well I am having a shower,” I said, heading for the door. “Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”
I felt him staring daggers at me and was surprised at how guilty it made me feel.
I HAD NO INTENTION of dressing up for Obsidian, but I did need to put some thought into my outfit. I didn’t intend to go in unarmed. It was another hot, humid night, and I grimaced at the thought of layering up, especially if I was going into a dingy club full of sweaty people.
It had to be done though. I pulled on clean black jeans and holstered the Ghost at my hip. I added a black tank top and threw an old red and black check shirt over the top. It hid the shape of the gun well enough, and would be infinitely lighter than my leather jacket. I stuck Ezra’s knife in the jeans pocket, and then cursed as I remembered I still hadn’t gotten my stiletto back.
Once again, I wavered over whether to take a stake, and once again decided against it. I needed a backpack, I thought as I re-braided my wet hair. It wasn’t ideal in the middle of a fight to have to rummage through one and hope you grabbed a weapon in time, but on reconnaissance shit like this, I’d always carried one. Stakes, ammo, vials of salt water, a nasty hunting knife, and a chef’s blow torch had all been essential equipment.
I’d make do with the gun and the knife tonight. Honestly, I didn’t anticipate needing either, but it didn’t pay to be complacent. I pulled on my boots and went back downstairs. Kinley hadn’t moved from the bucket chair, but he was leafing through a book on the history of Arctic exploration. Elijah sat on the back of the chair, looking for all the world as though he was reading over Kinley’s shoulder.
“Interesting?” I asked, making him jump.
He slammed the book shut with a furtive look. “I like exploration stuff,” he said, almost apologetically. “The Lost World and Journey to the Center of the Earth, stuff like that.” He put the book carefully back on the shelf.
I nodded. “I’ve got a copy of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea somewhere,” I said, and noted the gleam of interest in his tired eyes. “I’ll dig it out later, if you take a goddamn shower when we get back.”
He grunted and shrugged. “Let’s just get to Obsidian,” he said. “If I can get through that, I’ll take a fucking bath in ass’s milk if it’ll get you off my case.”
I was about to snap that I hadn’t exactly begged him to move into my bus, but I took a deep breath and held my tongue. I might not like it, but he was here and he could be helpful. And Ezra’s veiled threat still echoed in the back of my mind. Kinley didn’t deserve to be Mr. Cold’s target, no matter how unwashed and bratty he was.
“Just regular water will do,” I told him. I gave Elijah a quick pet and mustered a grim smile for Kinley. “Let’s go clubbing.”
Chapter Eighteen
Obsidian was in Eerie Point, sandwiched between a dive bar blasting 80s rock and a greasy-looking burger joint. It was an unassuming building, just plain red brick and a single door painted matte black. The name was spray-painted over the door in lurid swirls of neon green and red. It was easy to imagine Ridderport’s alternative crowd spilling out of here at one in the morning to pour into the burger joint or head down to the beach for a sneaky spliff once the music stopped.
Easy to imagine, and impossible to actually see, because Obsidian was closed tonight.
“Shit,” I muttered, thumping my fist on the door. There was a piece of paper taped there, fluttering in the night breeze, stating that Obsidian was closed until further notice due to a burst water pipe.
“That sucks. They’re never closed. What now?” Kinley asked.
I glanced at him to answer, and noticed the way his eyes darted around, tracking other people on the street. He wet his lips constantly as he watched them. Worry and distaste churned in my gut.
“You need to feed, don’t you?” I asked quietly.
He flinched, dropping his gaze to the sidewalk. “No.”
“I’m not an idiot, Kinley. I know what a hungry vampire looks like.”
“So? What are you gonna do, follow me and stake me from behind while I’m feeding? That’s what you do, right? It’s your job.” He took a few steps back from me, glowering at the ground.
“I’m retired,” I said defensively. “And I’m not –”
I stopped myself, not actually sure what I was about to say. I couldn’t tell Kinley not to starve himself to death and encourage him to go suck on the neck of some innocent passer-by in the same breath. I just couldn’t drop the part of myself that had hunted down vampires just like Kinley for so long.
“You don’t drink blood, do you?” Kinley asked, almost accusingly. “You seem healthy enough.”
“It’s different, and if you know I’m a dhampir, you know it’s different,” I snapped. “I can drink it, I just don’t need it. You do.”
“You’re not my mom.”
“Christ.” I stared up at the inky sky and wondered why I was doing this. Any of this.
I flashed back to the image of Charlotte clutching a trembling Elijah in her hands and closed my eyes with a groan.
“Go home, Kinley,” I said. “Your home. And do...whatever you have to do on the way there.”
I opened my eyes to see him giving me that forlorn, kicked-puppy look.
“No,” I said.
“But –”
“Go home,” I said, more firmly. “There’s nothing we can do here anyway, and I don’t want a blood-starved vampire following me around. Don’t start a fucking frenzy.”
For a second, I was worried he was going to cry. His face crumpled, and he shrank in on himself, any spark of anger crushed. Guilt speared through me, but then he turned away, hands jammed into his pockets.
“Whatever. See you around, Georgia.”
He skulked off, quickly disappearing around a corner. The guilt twisted hard, and I almost took off after him. I stopped myself, though. He was a vampire. I was a vampire-hunter. I couldn’t get sucked into this. I’d already overstepped several of my own boundaries by letting him in my house and giving him a place to crash. When all this was over, I’d go back to my quiet retirement, and I didn’t have space for vampires in that life.
He’d figure it out. He’d be fine. In the meantime, I had to decide what to do next. With Obsidian closed, there wasn’t a hell of a lot I could do here, so I decided to head to the only other location that might hold some clues: St Clement’s cemetery. It was even more of a shot in the dark than coming
here, but the memory of Charlotte holding Elijah was seared into my brain now. I didn’t want to give Mr. Cold any reason to say I wasn’t doing everything I could.
Kinley and I had walked to Obsidian, and St Clement’s was right on the other side of town, probably an hour’s walk away. Normally the walk wouldn’t bother me, but the remnants of guilt I was feeling about Kinley were making me sour and resentful, and this whole shitty situation was making me salty as fuck, and the whole trip was likely to be a fucking waste of time anyway, so I called a cab.
The driver’s attempts to engage me in conversation thankfully stopped before I lost the will to live, and fifteen minutes later, I was standing outside the wrought-iron gates of St Clement’s. It was a medium-sized cemetery, surrounded on all sides by tall office buildings, which kind of ruined the mystique of the place. With its ivy-draped stone walls and solemn Celtic crosses and crying angels, it was perfectly gothic, and exactly the kind of place a pair of pretentious vampires would want to hang out.
It was empty now, save for me and a few bats darting overhead. Pale moonlight washed over the headstones and the wilting flowers laid there. Apart from the occasional rush of a car passing by, it was silent, and I suddenly found I could breathe easily again with only the truly dead for company.
I found a bench opposite a heartbreakingly small set of headstones and took a seat. Now there was some distance between me and Kinley, I could admit I was worried about him. Starvation wasn’t a fate I’d choose for any vampire. Varnham had run a long, painful experiment on it. I’d met Elijah at the tail-end of the experiment, and I’d seen the final result. A wasted, fragile wreck of a creature, rotting away from the inside out, begging piteously in a broken voice for mercy. Not for blood. For true death.
Sometimes, laying alone in bed at night, I still heard it crying.
I didn’t know if Kinley was capable of starving himself. It was a tremendous act of will to inflict on oneself. But a vampire that went too long without blood could become feral and supremely dangerous. I hadn’t been joking about him starting a feeding frenzy.