by Naomi Clark
And that wasn’t my only worry. If he really was in the shit with Mr. Cold, I felt I had some duty to shield him. I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I just didn’t want to see the big dog maul the little dog. I could just go tell the masked vampire to back off, that Kinley and I had settled our differences ourselves. A broken window was hardly cause for a blood feud, after all.
I stared blindly at the children’s headstones, kicking my heels in the grass. I was wasting time here. I wasn’t going to learn anything, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I was just brooding. I could brood just as well at home in comfort, with a pizza. I called another cab.
A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER, I was curled up on the sofa, sharing a gooey five-cheese pizza with Elijah while we watched a documentary on America’s last days in Vietnam. I’d managed to stuff my feelings way down under a thick layer of cheese and pizza dough, and was starting to doze off as the clock ticked toward midnight.
Two things woke me up. Elijah pecking me sharply on the hand, drawing blood.
And the sound of cardboard tearing.
It took me a second to realize what that second thing meant. Then I remembered the kitchen window and leapt off the sofa, sending food and bird flying. The Ghost sat on the coffee table, and I grabbed it as I ran for the kitchen, adrenaline shooting through me.
Elijah and I used to joke that nothing good happens after midnight. It wasn’t really a joke though. And I can absolutely promise you that nothing good crawls in through your kitchen window after midnight.
I kicked the kitchen door open. A wave of stench hit me, rolling over me like seawater. Wet rot, is the only way I can describe it. Gagging, I leveled the Ghost at the creature slithering in through the wreckage of my window.
I’ve seen a lot of weird shit. I’d never see anything like this.
It was humanoid, but its body was bloated and distorted, the skin a horrible grayish-blue, the veins pulsing dark through the paper-thin skin. Water dripped from its body, leaving glistening trails on everything it touched. There was something...loose about the way it moved, as if its joints and tendons had been stretched. All of that paled next to the sheer weirdness of its head. From the neck down, it was clearly a dead, waterlogged human. From the neck up, there was nothing but seaweed. Long, dripping green strands of it, a knotted nest that flowed down its back in slimy waves. Maybe there was a face in there, underneath the mat of kelp, but it was impossible to tell.
It blindly groped its way through the window, long fingers scratching at the sideboard and leaving puddles in its wake. A noise, like a wet, blurbling moan came from deep within the seaweed head, sending shivers down my spine.
I released the safety on the Ghost. The creature swung its head towards me at the sound, making another terrible moan. It suddenly propelled its body forward to crash onto the kitchen floor, and it began sliding toward me like a snake.
Repulsed, I took a shot. The creature reared up and the bullet slammed into his chest. Dark liquid gushed from the wound, but the creature didn’t stop coming. It hauled itself along faster, its moan rising to a pained, angry keen. I fired again, aiming for the head.
It slumped to the floor with a squelch, watery blood flooding the tiles. I waited a breath, my pulse roaring in my ears, then edged toward it, the Ghost still at the ready. Rule of thumb – nothing is properly dead until you decapitate it.
I nudged the creature’s body with my foot. Immediately it emitted a blood-curdling howl and grabbed my ankle, razor sharp nails tearing through my jeans and sinking into my skin. I howled back, kicking it in the head, but it wouldn’t let go. Suddenly it was pulling itself up using my leg, nails tearing at me. The smell of my own blood made my fangs drop, and an inhuman rage-fear swept over.
I dropped the Ghost. With a shriek, I grabbed two handfuls of seaweed-hair and yanked hard and fast, ripping the creature off me. It barreled into me, driving us both to the floor. I took the brunt of the fall, my spine smacking against the tiles with a jarring shock. While I gasped for air, the creature clawed at my chest wildly, slicing my tank top to ribbons and drawing more blood.
I fought back, one hand shoving at the creature’s chest, the other reaching for the Ghost. My fingertips scraped the gun handle, but I accidentally sent it skidding away. The creature slapped a clammy palm over my face. Panic threatened, and without thinking, I sank my fangs into its hand.
It was the vilest thing I’d ever tasted. The creature screamed and tried to pull free, but I clamped down grimly, like a dog with a bone, sucking down droplets of salty, sea-flavored blood.
Vile or not, the blood hit me like a line of coke. My whole body burned with supernatural energy, all tiredness, all pain vanishing in a flash. I was hyper-aware of the world, from the weight of the dead thing on top of me to the sound of Elijah shrieking in the front room, to the cool wind rushing in through the broken window, to the bloody water soaking into my clothes. My senses were on fire, almost overwhelmed, and it added to my desperate panic.
Head swimming, I shoved at the creature as hard as I could. With my vampire strength awoken by its blood, I suddenly packed a hell of a punch, and I sent it crashing into the kitchen table. It went down with a moan, and before it could rise again, I pounced, driving my knees into its midsection. It flailed its arms at me, but I smoothly dodged each blow, and drove my hands hard into its bare torso.
Ribs cracked. Revulsion had me gagging again, but I didn’t let up, using every shred of strength I had to break through rotting skin and fragile bone, pushing down, ignoring the cries of pain, ignoring the thrashing limbs, ignoring my own dark glee, until finally, finally, I held the creature’s withered, whitened heart in my hands.
I stared at it, breathing too hard, and felt the creature die beneath me. It went still, body limp and lifeless. I looked from the heart to the creature, absently closing my fist around the heart. My fangs ached, my throat stung. I wanted more blood. That was always the danger of having any. It felt good.
Disgusted with myself, I dropped the crushed heart and rose, trying to ignore the outrageous stink coming from the creature, which seemed to be getting worse now it was dead. A slow unhealthy anger started to simmer in my gut as I crossed my wrecked kitchen to grab a knife from the drawer.
Elijah darted into the room, crying his own disgust. He settled on the windowsill, watching me take the knife to the creature.
“Elijah,” I said, sawing with vicious enjoyment, “I’m just about done with this shit.”
Chapter Nineteen
I stormed into Chi Lin Garden like an avenging fury, my clothes bloodstained, my fangs on full display. The effect was ruined by the fact that there was only one poor cleaner to see my dramatic entrance, but her scream was gratifying enough. She dropped her mop and ran for the back, yelling for Harmony.
Harmony appeared seconds later, Ezra trailing behind her. “What on earth –”
I hurled the tote bag I was carrying at her feet. It landed with a splat, the creature’s head rolling out. Limp strands of seaweed flopped against her very expensive-looking high heels, and she stepped back with cry of disgust, banging into Ezra.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.
“What the fuck is that?” I shot back.
“I have no idea, and I don’t know why you think I would.” She eyed the severed head with suspicion. “Is this normal behavior for you?”
“That thing crawled in through my fucking kitchen window and attacked me. You think I ever had to worry about this shit before Mr. Cold inserted himself into my life?”
Ezra stared at the head, then at me.
in the red depths of my rage, I remembered I wasn’t carrying the kyanite. “She thinks Mr. Cold sent it as a warning, to get her to hurry up.”
I turned my anger on him happily. “Don’t you dare mess around in my head! I really don’t need any more reasons to be pissed off right now.”
“You’re pissed off at the wrong people,” Harmony said. “This is nothing to do with us.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“You can believe what you like, but if you thought about it for one minute, you’d know I’m telling the truth. Mr. Cold is paying for your services. It doesn’t benefit him to antagonize you. And we’re vampires. How and why would we work with salt-water zombies?” She nudged the head with her shoe and grimaced. “Ezra, get rid of it. It’s a health and safety violation.”
He shot her a venomous look, but knelt to grab the head and the bag I’d brought it here in.
Her salt-water zombie comment was completely reasonable, which I hated her for. I didn’t want reason. I was too blood-wired for it.
“He’s already shown me he’s not above blackmail and threats,” I said. “Excuse me if I don’t think this is below him.”
“Pull your fangs in and relax, Georgia. If Mr. Cold decides to hurt you, trust me, you’ll know it’s him doing it.”
There was a bleak note in her voice that sent a spike of worry for Kinley through me. Before I could answer, the restaurant door swung open, banging off the wall. I spun to see Mr. Cold walk in, followed closely by Charlotte. He wore the same mask he’d been in the other night, so of course his expression was lost to me, but his body language was as angry as my own. And bloody tears streaked Charlotte’s cheeks, starting alarm bells ringing in my head.
“Good, you’re here already,” Mr. Cold said to me. “Johanna is dead.”
Harmony rocked back, almost tripping over Ezra in her shock. “What?”
“The same as the others?” Ezra asked, rising.
Mr. Cold nodded and turned back to me. “Clearly you have not yet caught the warlock.”
“It’s been five fucking minutes,” I snapped. “I’m a bounty hunter, not a miracle worker.”
Everyone around us flinched at my tone, but Mr. Cold chuckled humorlessly. “What is that?” he asked Ezra, pointing at the bloody, wet tote bag.
“You tell us,” Ezra said. “Georgia is convinced it’s your doing. Tell him, Georgia.”
Ignoring Harmony’s squeal of protest, he tipped the bag up, dropping the head back at her feet. She shoved him hard, growling.
“That is a draugr head,” Mr. Cold said after a second’s pause. “I have neither the ability to summon one, or any reason to do so.”
Harmony shot me a smug, triumphant look. I ground my teeth.
“So it’s just coincidence that I start working for a master vampire and dead bodies start creeping into my kitchen?” I asked, although his arrogant, dismissive tone did deflate my surety a little.
“Perhaps not,” Mr. Cold said. “Perhaps our warlock is targeting you now, too.”
“You don’t even know there is a warlock.” I said it just for the sake of arguing. I’d come here geared up for a fight, and nobody wanted to fight with me. It was a little disappointing.
“Ezra, clean that up,” Mr. Cold said, pointing at the head. “Burn it. Georgia, since you’re here anyway, let’s talk. You should know about Johanna.”
I watched Ezra retrieve the head once more, feeling a prick of pity for him. He was clearly at the bottom of the ladder in this set-up, and I couldn’t help wondering why. Telepaths who were willing to be ruthless usually didn’t have to settle for being anyone’s lackeys. Maybe Ezra just wasn’t ruthless.
Mr. Cold and Charlotte took seats at the nearest table. I reluctantly joined them. The silence of the restaurant grated at me. The sharp smell of lemon disinfectant masked any enticing aromas wafting from the kitchen, and without happy, chatting customers to create an atmosphere, Chi Lin felt sterile and unwelcoming.
Maybe that was just the company, though.
Harmony and Ezra disappeared, leaving me staring at Mr. Cold’s demonic mask. Bright light did nothing to lessen the effect. If anything, it was worse. There was no avoiding the stark ugliness of the oni face.
“Why do you wear a mask?” I asked, partially out of curiosity and partially just to be antagonistic.
He ignored the question. “Johanna went to her usual feeding ground earlier this evening. By the time she returned to my lair an hour ago, she was already deteriorating. She died before she could tell us anything useful.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, more because Charlotte looked on the verge of hysterics than because I really was. “Where had she been?”
“Elmo’s,” Charlotte said, her voice thick and rough. When I looked askance at her, she added, “it’s a homeless shelter on Osgood and Fifth.”
“Oh,” I said, unable to keep the disgust from my voice.
Charlotte bristled. “We don’t have to justify ourselves to you!”
I raised my hands in self-defense. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to, you judgmental bitch,” she muttered.
Mr. Cold spoke over us both. “Harmony told me you found Saul Taylor dead. That is unfortunate, but I believe unrelated. Clearly his grief over losing Viviana and Hugo was too much for him. I would rather you pursued the case to Elmo’s now.”
“And while I do that, what about the next...draugr that comes calling?” I asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.
“You dispatched this one without any problems,” Mr. Cold said. “I have faith in your abilities, Georgia.” He stood, snapping his fingers at Charlotte. “We’ll touch base tomorrow night. Elmo’s is open twenty-four hours, I believe.”
Right. As if I was trekking out to Osgood and Fifth at two am to harass homeless people. I raked my hands through my disheveled hair and didn’t answer. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Mr. Cold as he left. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist leaping across the table at him. Charlotte shot me a dirty look as she followed him out and I flipped her the finger.
The door fell shut, and I thought of Kinley too late. With a curse, I slumped down, resting my head on the polished table. This wasn’t the worst night of my life by a long shot, but it had cracked the top ten.
“Cheer up,” Ezra said, making me jump. “One less vampire in the world is a good thing for you, isn’t it?”
He slid into Mr. Cold’s vacated seat and set down a steaming tea pot and a small, brightly painted mug. Harmony joined him, her expression severe.
“Don’t joke about it, Ezra. I could be next.”
His face turned somber, and he poured me a mug of green tea. “You won’t be, though. You don’t feed at Elmo’s or Obsidian.”
“No, but we don’t know that whatever killed the others is coming from those places. Or staying there. Everyone is at risk until this is solved.” She gave me a pointed look.
“I’m doing my best,” I said, trying not to sound petulant. “What’s a draugr?”
“It’s a Scandinavian word,” Harmony said. “It’s a revenant, but specifically of someone who died at sea. As you can imagine, Ridderport is a good place to find them.”
“I’ve never come across them before,” I said, sipping the tea. It was too hot, but the earthy taste was grounding and relaxing, and my fangs finally receded. The effects of the draugr’s blood had worn off while I raged my way here, but the fangs did their own thing. It was a relief to feel them shrink away. I drank gingerly as my mind raced.
Of course Harmony was right to an extent: vampires probably wouldn’t risk messing around with a sea-monster. A zombie soaked in salt-water could do some serious damage. But Mr. Cold wouldn’t need to be up close and personal with a draugr himself, not if he had a magic-user on his payroll, like a necromancer or a warlock. I had no proof he didn’t.
But what made more sense? That Mr. Cold, who was paying me to solve his dead vampire problem, decided to send a drowned zombie to attack me because I wasn’t getting results fast enough, or that someone else did it because...what? I was close to catching the culprit? I was pretty sure I hadn’t pissed anyone else off enough to warrant it.
But I also hadn’t found a damn thing so far. There was no way my piss-poor investigations could have tipped off anyone, let alone made them feel they had to take me out.
&nb
sp; Still, if someone had sent the draugr after me specifically, that did tell me one thing. Whether it was related to Mr. Cold’s dead vampires or not, there was a magic-user in Ridderport who had me on their hit list. So that was another shitty thing to deal with.
“Are you going to Elmo’s tonight?” Ezra asked. When I glared at him, he spread his hand in a peace gesture. “I didn’t read your mind. I read Charlotte’s. She was broadcasting so damn loud, I couldn’t help it.”
“She’s grieving and afraid,” Harmony said sharply. “Her best friend just died, and anyone could be next. At least pretend to respect her privacy.”
Ezra shrugged. “So?” he prodded me.
“No, I’m not. I’m going home, I’m going to bed, and I’m going to pretend all of this is a bad dream.”
“How fortunate you are to have that privilege,” Harmony said.
I studied her carefully. Her beautiful face was serene, but she tapped her long, elegantly painted nails on the tabletop with clear anxiety. I hadn’t considered any of this from a vampire’s point of view, because why would I?
But from Harmony’s point of view, she’d gone having very little to fear, to being vulnerable to an invisible, mystery killer. There were no clues, no warnings, just a quick, grim death.
She must feel mortal again.
I felt an uneasy worm of sympathy for her. “I’ll head to Elmo’s first thing in the morning,” I said. “I have a draugr body to get rid of first.”
She gave me a thin smile. “Burn it. It’s safest.”
I nodded and drained my tea. “Be careful,” I said, and was surprised to find I meant it.
“I would be,” she said, “if I knew what to be careful of.”
Chapter Twenty
Disposing of a corpse is hard work. I dug a rusted hacksaw out of my garden shed and dismembered the draugr there on the kitchen floor, with Elijah offering moral support by spitting pistachio shells at me.