Vampire Detective Midnight

by J. C. Andrijeski

  He’d been thinking about bringing her back some donuts and a sandwich on his way back to Washington Heights. Maybe a hamburger and fries, depending on what was still open.

  What the fuck was he doing?

  Even if she didn’t hurt him, just having her in his home pretty much guaranteed Nick was dead if he got caught. That, or he’d have to flee—go underground. If he did that, there was a good chance he’d end up going back to work for the same people he’d gone to a lot of trouble to leave, just a few decades earlier.

  Nick frowned.

  He wasn’t going to think about that yet.

  Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he gave a last look at the male human, Jerry.

  Jerry was already wandering away from him, one hand clamped over the bite mark on his neck, his expression confused. He seemed indifferent to Nick entirely by then, almost like he couldn’t see him—or maybe he had simply forgotten who and what Nick was.

  He definitely seemed to have forgotten it was Nick who bit him.

  Nick watched the human stagger off, still fighting a low-grade unease around how oddly the human was acting, and what he still felt in the human’s blood—blood that was even now running in his veins.

  He didn’t try to chase Jerry down.

  He just stood there, trying to decide if he should risk biting another human, or if he was just going to wipe their minds and memories away, as well.

  But that was crazy, wasn’t it?

  Frowning, he gazed back up at the mural.

  He was still staring at it, when a tone pulsed in his ear.

  Nick picked up without thought.

  “Midnight,” he said. “What is it?”

  “I have Ms. Veronica Racine for you, sir. Responding to your urgent request for contact with her employer, one Lara Phoenix St. Maarten.”

  Nick tensed.

  Tearing his eyes off Jerry, who was still wandering in the other direction down the dark street, Nick turned his back on the human, walking closer to the mural.

  “Yes,” he said. “Put her through, please.”

  There was a faint pause.

  Then a voice rose, younger-sounding than Nick expected, with a husky, sexy lilt.

  “Mr. Tanaka?”

  Nick flinched.

  No one called him that.

  Humans especially didn’t call him that.

  “Yes?” he said, after a too-long pause. “This is Nick Tanaka.”

  “Ms. St. Maarten has agreed to see you, Mr. Tanaka,” that husky voice said. “Can you come to meet with her now?”

  Nick froze, standing utterly still in the middle of the street.

  Whatever he’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that.

  He’d expected to get the runaround.

  Hell, he’d expected to get chewed out for waking her up in the middle of the night with nothing but some cryptic message and a police ident number.

  He recovered quickly, though.

  “I’ll come over at once,” he said, matching her polite tone. “Please thank Ms. St. Maarten for the courtesy. Could you please send the address where she would like me to—”

  “Already done, Mr. Tanaka,” that young voice said smoothly. “An invitation has been left for you at the Dorsal Community’s security gate. Someone will be waiting for you in the lobby of our building. Any time within the next thirty minutes to an hour is acceptable, in terms of timing. Please come when it conveniences you.”

  With that, and before Nick could reply—

  The young woman with the husky voice hung up on him.

  Chapter 12

  Phoenix

  Nick entered the lobby of the high-security tower warily, looking around as he strode down the center line of ornate tiles.

  Every one of those black and white tiles had the image of a phoenix in the center, with copper and gold inlays detailing the flaming outlines of wings and tails.

  After he’d made it about halfway through the cavernous lobby area, Nick found himself thinking it might be real gold in those tiles, along with semi-precious stones for the eyes and different semi-precious stones for the green-blue plumage.

  The high, cathedral-style ceilings pulled his eyes up, where he stared at gorgeous crystal chandeliers at least ten feet long, hanging down like waterfalls from the lobby’s center spine. On either side of that spine, graceful arches formed the bones of a church-like dome, made up of heavy, real-wood beams carved in intricate detail that made them look like they were made of feathers and bones.

  Nick couldn’t help but make the connection between the designs here and the tattoos worn by Tai’s brother, Malek—or “Bird,” as most apparently called him.

  The center spine of the building’s roof was covered in more inlaid decorative tile, bright and sparkling with vibrant colors caught by the light of the chandeliers and Art Deco-style wall sconces. In the same way the carved wood looked like the feathers of some giant bird, the spine was done primarily in copper and gold, evoking primeval flames.

  Nick didn’t look down until he smelled her.

  His eyes shifted to the view in front of him, where a stunning, twenty-something, or possibly thirty-something black woman rose from a dark-green, round sofa, and began walking towards him, hands clasped elegantly in front of her, her long hair done up in a series of perfectly symmetrical dreadlocks that hung down her back, well past her shoulders.

  She wore a white and silver skirt suit that fit her like a second skin, and white, shimmering high heels that had to be five inches tall.

  It was a dated-looking outfit in some ways, but Nick knew the style was in vogue again, at least for the wealthy.

  He also caught details that didn’t come from the human styles he remembered from back before he’d been turned, including an organic and very expensive-looking wristband, along with flickers of motion along the silver details of her skirt and form-fitting jacket, indicating some kind of organics in the clothes themselves.

  Reassessing her as he approached, it struck him that she didn’t move like a model, much less an office worker.

  She moved like a fighter.

  More tellingly, she tried to hide that fact, and not only with her clothes.

  “Mr. Tanaka,” she said, her voice calmly polite.

  She didn’t speak it as a question.

  Nick recognized the husky timbre he’d heard over the comm.

  “Ms. Racine,” he said, mirroring her polite tone and bowing his head. “I apologize if you had to wait.”

  “Given your location when I called, you were quite prompt. We appreciate that.”

  Nick gave her a faint smile, but didn’t answer.

  He heard the message living behind those words.

  This definitely wasn’t a secretary.

  Nick would bet good credits she was some kind of operative, or ex-operative.

  Bodyguard? Personal affairs manager?

  Personal assistant coupled with personal protection?

  Gertrude had more or less implied that already, but the combination was interesting to him, now that he found himself faced with it.

  Whatever Ms. Racine was, whatever her exact title or role, Nick suspected those flickers he saw in her suit weren’t wholly for show.

  As she reached where he stood, he found himself studying her features with more attention. From the almond shape of her eyes and lines of her mouth and cheekbones, he realized she was likely at least partially Asian, if not half.

  “Please come with me,” she said, lifting an eyebrow at his stare.

  It struck him only then that she’d clearly been watching him look at her.

  She must be used to that, whether from vampires or humans.

  She wasn’t only beautiful—although she was that.

  There was something else about her, something riveting, difficult to categorize or look away from. Nick wouldn’t call it an entirely comfortable feeling, but it was intriguing.

  Truthfully, it was also damned hot.

  Ms. Racine radi
ated intensity.

  She led him deeper into the lobby, walking him right up to a bank of glass elevators.

  Nick stared up a second time, then did a double-take, his jaw dropping in spite of himself.

  They’d left the formal lobby and its church-like dome, and now stood directly under the main tower of the building. When he looked straight up, Nick could see the deep black of sky overhead, dotted with pinprick stars, even a hint of wind-blown clouds.

  He blinked up at it, sure at first he must be seeing some kind of optical illusion, or a hologram—only to blink and stare in full wonder once he realized he wasn’t looking at a virtual screen, or a clever piece of art.

  The round hole in the elevator lobby went all the way up to the actual sky.

  He traced the city dome’s stars at the very top of that vertigo-inducing tunnel up through the middle of the building. Plants covered and filled balconies all the way up. He saw trees on most of those landings—big trees, in many cases, including adult palms and cherry trees, and what looked like a full-grown willow tree.

  Given the kinds of trees they were, and the variety, there must be a force-field up there, shielding the building’s insides from the elements.

  Still, the view was stunning, even from the ground.

  He could only imagine what it must be like at the higher floors.

  A soft tone brought his eyes back to the ground level, and to Ms. Racine.

  An elevator door opened to his right, just as she turned, smiling at him.

  “It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, her voice a touch warmer. “We were very lucky. Straven designed the entire Tower complex for us. The functional aspects are almost as impressive as the aesthetics.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” Nick muttered.

  He heard the sincerity in his own voice.

  She must have heard it, too.

  He heard her smile.

  “You are a man of impeccable taste, Mr. Tanaka,” she said, smiling wider when he glanced at her. “I must say, it’s extremely gratifying when one of our guests truly appreciates what we offer here. As I said, we all feel very fortunate to have been gifted with the creative visions of so many talented artists and engineers.”

  He entered the elevator after her.

  The insides were silver and mirrored, with the phoenix design from the tiles etched into the paneling of the back wall.

  He watched her bend down to use her fingerprint and a retinal scanner before she hit the “PH” button for the top floor. He couldn’t entirely stop himself from checking out her ass as she did it, or the way her dress shimmered at him while she was bent over, as if in warning.

  The warning was redundant.

  No way in hell was he going there.

  Given where he was, every single thing in this building, including Ms. Racine, was strictly look and don’t touch.

  Still, he was puzzled.

  This woman hadn’t once talked to him like a vampire.

  She didn’t even use his vampire name.

  It was beyond odd just how many times that had happened to him in the last twenty-four hours. It was like he’d stumbled into some alternate universe where no one knew what he was—or knew and simply didn’t care.

  He was still thinking about that, frowning vaguely as he stared at nothing, when the elevator car began to slow. It had glided upwards so smoothly and soundlessly, he hadn’t realized how fast it was going. They’d climbed over seventy floors in what felt like seconds.

  He’d barely adjusted to the car slowing when it came to a stop.

  Another low, melodious tone informed him the doors were about to open.

  He followed Ms. Racine out through the brushed steel doors as they glided open soundlessly in front of them.

  Here, there was no lobby.

  He entered the foyer of what looked like a mansion.

  He didn’t feel like he was inside an apartment at all.

  The first thing his eyes landed on was an elaborate mosaic of the phoenix.

  This one was done in semi-precious stones on black tile, and was so massive, it took him a few seconds to take it all in. The design filled the entire foyer.

  A fountain formed the focal point in the center, water running down over a three-dimensional, copper version of the design on the floor. The mosaic phoenix and its flaming tails and wings wrapped around the base of that fountain, forming a flaming, feathered circle with snapping beak and blood-red eyes.

  The foyer was so large, Nick could have driven his car around the fountain without touching the fountain’s base or any of the walls.

  The mosaic was so detailed, it looked three-dimensional.

  Tearing his gaze off those ruby bird’s eyes, he looked up.

  For a third time, the ceiling stretched high above him, although not so high as either of the two ceilings he’d seen from the ground floor.

  Still, the highest part of the curve had to be over forty feet above him, domed with glass—or, more likely, some kind of reinforced semi- or full-organic transparent.

  Whatever it was, it displayed an even more stunning view of the stars in the dome than what he’d seen from the elevator lobby.

  When he glanced down, Ms. Racine was smiling at him again.

  She was also waiting for him, he realized.

  Holding out a hand indicating that he should follow her to the right of the elevator doors, she smiled more warmly.

  “Would you like to accompany me, Mr. Tanaka?”

  He nodded silently, still staring around as he followed her past the softly flowing trickle of the fountain and a number of mirrors with elaborate frames that were jeweled with the same blue and green stones as the feathers in the mosaic.

  Between the jewels and the dense palms that lined the corridor, he felt like he’d walked into some kind of indoor tropical garden.

  Then the space opened up even more.

  He found himself standing at the edge of an enormous rounded room, with a long, curved wall of transparent organic that overlooked Central Park and a good third of the city of Manhattan.

  He’d never seen anything like it.

  He was still staring out over the lights on the other side of the dark swath of Central Park, taking in the virtual advertisements that climbed around buildings on the east side of the city, when a feminine-sounding cough drew his eyes, followed by a throat being cleared.

  Both came from his left, from deeper into the room.

  Realizing he was just standing there, at the room’s entrance, gawking like some kind of rube, he stepped forward, passing over the room’s threshold and looking for the space’s other occupant.

  When he found her, Ms. Racine was already standing over her.

  “Ms. St. Maarten,” Ms. Racine said politely, indicating towards Nick with one hand. “Detective Naoko Tanaka has arrived.”

  “Thank you, Veronica,” a voice said smoothly.

  The voice was competent, cultured-sounding, the voice of someone born with money.

  Apart from that, it revealed nothing.

  Nick watched Ms. Racine withdraw from the immediate vicinity of her mistress and him, without leaving the room altogether. He couldn’t help but think if he made a move towards her employer, Veronica Racine probably had some way of dropping him before he could fully extend his fangs.

  Maybe he was giving her too much credit, though.

  Looking back at the mistress of the house, Nick cleared his throat. He did that more for her benefit, to hopefully put her at ease, to convey humanity in a more visceral way.

  She might have even known why he did it, from the small smile that ghosted her lips.

  She was an attractive woman, and one seemingly comfortable in her own skin.

  Perfectly coiffed, dark brown hair in a stylish cut curled up at the edges and framed her face in a flattering way, one that somehow managed to bring out her eyes, which were a dark green, and her lips, which were painted blood red.

  Her hair and overall look
, especially in the form-fitting gray suit she wore, reminded him of women from classic movies he’d seen as a kid—movies that pre-dated even him, where women wore small hats and matching gloves and dresses that flared at the bottom, with nylons and sensible heels and pearl necklaces.

  She reminded him of one of the stars from that era—one in particular, that is—but he couldn’t remember the names of most movie stars even on good days, especially movie stars who were old ladies by the time he was born.

  Ava Gardner?

  Was she the one he was thinking of?

  He found himself thinking that might be the one he was picturing.

  When he met her gaze, she quirked a perfectly penciled eyebrow at him.

  “Well, Detective Tanaka?” she said humorously, that melodious voice holding a smile. “I assume you wished to actually speak to me? Given your rather cryptic and cute message? Particularly given that you sent it marked ‘urgent’ in the middle of the night?”

  Her smile grew coy, almost flirtatious.

  “You are aware that it’s the middle of the night, yes, Detective? I know for you, it may seem to be the middle of the day, but for most of us, it’s quite an unseemly hour for a casual visit, even by a vampire.”

  Nick blinked.

  Then he almost laughed.

  Instead, he made his face serious, pursing his lips to keep back a smile.

  “Yes, Ms. St. Maarten. And apologies for disturbing you so late at night… and for my rather cryptic note, as you said. It was an urgent matter—”

  “—So I presumed,” she said, quirking that eyebrow again.

  “—Relating to a murder,” Nick finished, his voice a touch harder.

  Her smile evaporated, like smoke.

  “Several murders, actually,” Nick added, before she could speak. “As you likely surmised, I ran into someone who claimed to know you tonight. A little girl of… unusual parentage.”

  He glanced at Ms. Racine, then back at Lara St. Maarten.

  Neither of their faces so much as moved.

  Nick went on, his voice neutral. “From evidence left at the crime scenes, of which there are now two, her brother is a possible witness to those murders. Someone we would definitely like to speak to, if only to find out if he could tell us anything about the killers.”