by E. A. Copen
Marcus waited until both Cynthia and I had selected a few pieces before getting anything for himself. I waited until he was chewing on the first piece to ask my first question.
“Why are you so interested in Mia?”
He chewed thoughtfully and cocked his head to the side after swallowing. “That’s not a very useful question,” he said, his voice pouty.
“I asked it just the same and you promised to answer.”
He sat back, sighed, and fidgeted with the cloth napkin, considering his answer. “Andre LeDuc was a geneticist who once showed great promise. Much of the technology BSI uses to identify supernaturals today is based on work he once completed for me. But eugenics was always his interest. The ability to control genetics and improve species by splicing bits of DNA together in favor of perfection is what drove his curiosity. In theory, his science was essential to understanding how populations of supernaturals grow and change over time on a micro-evolutionary scale. It couldn’t be tested. No ethics board in the country would have allowed it, and that’s what drove him rogue.”
He took up his sweating glass of water and sipped at it, grimacing as he put it down. “But, as you know, Andre didn’t care much for ethics boards and decided he would do it anyway. Mia is the result of a very expensive amount of research that Fitz Pharmaceuticals lost. When he created Mia, using the genetic material Zoe provided, he created a once in a lifetime opportunity to study a perfect organism. Where once we had to guess with mice or worthless lumps of cells, Mia was an opportunity to learn. Medical science can use her to grow leaps and bounds. Medicine for werewolves could advance as much as fifty years.”
My fingers tightened around the tablecloth. “She’s a little girl.”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed, his tone grave. “A little girl who was given an unfortunate gift. The mysteries in her genetic code could save hundreds of thousands over the course of her lifetime. Unfortunately, the cost is her captivity. Now we come to my first question, Judah. You object to her treatment. That much is obvious. You think Han and I are monsters for exploiting a child. Tell me, would BSI not have done the same, if not worse?”
I stared at the sushi on my plate, which I hadn’t even touched yet. My stomach rebelled at the idea of putting anything in it. I didn’t know what BSI would do with Mia if they got their hands on her, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I imagined her in a room with wires and tubes coming out of her, alone and afraid while agents stood on the other side of a one-way mirror taking notes. Their instructor droned on and on about the subject, reducing her to lab rat status. He spoke of the things BSI had done, new techniques for stopping and subduing out-of-control werewolves, techniques tested first on Mia.
I closed my eyes and turned my head away. “It doesn’t make it right, no matter who hurts her.”
“Maybe so, but you have failed to answer my question, Judah. Would your employer not have also carried out tests on her? The only difference is that I would use her to save lives rather than end them.”
“Yes,” I admitted through gritted teeth. The anger in my voice made even Cynthia look up and take notice. “BSI wouldn’t have been kind to her either.”
Marcus leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “Which brings me to my second question. You know BSI is corrupt. You’ve done everything in your power to circumvent many of the laws you disagree with, going so far as to bend many and even outright break a few. If you disagree so strongly with how BSI handles things, why do you stay with them?”
I opened my mouth but no sound came out. It was a good question; one I wasn’t sure I had the answer to. BSI did a lot of good. There were parts of the organization that improved people’s lives by exposing ignorance and training people, matching kids with mentors. The registration, the tracking, the breeding permits, and tight control, these were problematic. BSI broke up families. They fined or imprisoned people for nothing more than having children without a permit. BSI was fear and prejudice given the people’s blessing to operate at the federal level. Legislation introduced from a position of fear or misinformation rarely ever did good things for a country. Hitler rose to power by manipulating fear and the flow of information.
I’d promised to answer, so I settled on the honest one. “I don’t know. What else would I do? If I quit, they’d just send someone else. They might even kill me.”
An amused sparkle lit up his eyes. “Kill you? That’s interesting.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never met a retired BSI agent.” He started to speak, but I cut him off. “My turn. Have there been any unnatural or violent deaths in this house?”
Again, I’d asked a stupid question, and I realized that as soon as Marcus smiled. “You mean have I fucked anyone to death recently?”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
He sighed. “I am a Succubine vampire, Judah, with two children to feed. I have lived in this house a very long time. Self-control takes decades to master fully. I have killed. Because I value my freedom, I won’t tell you whom, when or where I have found my victims, but there is an old saying. Don’t shit where you eat.”
“Tell me how your wife died, then.”
Marcus’ face soured and he flashed his fangs at me. I smiled to myself just a little, knowing I’d touched a nerve.
The matter of Mrs. Kelley’s death wasn’t public record. I knew because I’d looked into it and found that Marcus had worked very hard to keep that information confidential. It had happened just prior to the revelation, and so, he wasn’t obligated to divulge that information to BSI. Her disappearance wasn’t limited to BSI records. Everything about her had been removed from local records. I didn’t even know her name.
I hadn’t phrased it as a question, though, since I only had one left, and so, he wasn’t obligated to answer me either. The question had served its purpose so I decided it was time to use up my last question.
“Would you be willing to give me a tour of the house?” I asked. “I’d like to search for residual energies. Mia’s bedroom or the room where she had her first seizure would be helpful.”
Marcus pushed his plate away. “I do not give personal tours of my home. However, Cynthia can show you to the study where Mia had her first fit and Mia’s bedroom. I have other business.”
I looked over at Cynthia. She’d finished her plate of sushi and let the chopsticks rest calmly on the edge of her plate while she sipped at her water.
“Well then,” I said standing.
“Just a moment,” Marcus snapped in a tone that commanded my attention. “You owe me one more answer. Just how did you break my hold over you earlier?” When I didn’t immediately answer, he tilted his head to one side. “You’re human. No human who was not under the protection of another vampire has ever resisted me like that. You’ve not been marked by another. I should have been able to take you, especially in here.” His voice wasn’t angry but on the verge of a purr. If snakes could purr, I imagined that’s what they’d sound like.
I didn’t have an answer for that question either, but if I said I didn’t know, I was afraid of what Marcus would do to find out.
I shrugged. “It wasn’t anything I did, at least not that I’m aware of.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” He sat back. “Oh well. Nothing like a good mystery, as they say. Cynthia, please show Judah around. And remember, she is our guest.”
Cynthia rose and went to the door. “This way.”
Cynthia led me out the door and back into the main room where she gestured toward the hall to the left of the front door. I went on ahead a few steps, but she caught up quickly and kept an even pace with me, eyes glued forward. As we walked, I paid less attention to my surroundings and more to her.
The delicate appearance I’d noticed at first was a ruse. She organized every part of Marcus’ life and kept him on schedule. A delicate woman never would have been able to keep a vampire on track, let alone speak to him with confidence. I couldn’t get a feel for her,
which was odd. I’m normally good at judging people by their auras, even on a first meeting. Cynthia’s aura was as tight-lipped as her face. It didn’t ebb and flow like every other aura I’d seen and didn’t show any damage. Almost everyone had damage to their aura from some traumatic event or another. Hers was so perfect, it didn’t even look real.
We reached the end of the hall where a set of oak doors waited. She pulled them open and gestured into the room beyond. “She took ill in the Master’s study with her first fit. She and her mother were having tea while I went over the week’s appointments with Marcus.”
“You spend a lot of time with Marcus outside the office?”
She wore a mask of boredom. “We go over schedules on Sunday afternoons. Marcus and I do not have a relationship outside of work.”
“Master Marcus.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You mean Master Marcus. That’s what everyone else calls him. I know he prefers it. But I’m sure you knew that, being his secretary and all.”
She stuck out her bottom lip. “Personal assistant.”
“My mistake. I’ll need the room to myself. If anyone else is in here with me, it will mess up the read.”
“As you wish.”
I stepped in and she closed the doors behind me. The tell-tale click of a lock turning echoed after the doors latched. Guess he doesn’t want me wandering around, I thought and turned to examine the contents of the room.
It looked like a typical rich person’s lounge. High backed couches with overstuffed, velvet upholstery and scrolled arms formed a U-shape over a Persian rug. A billiard table sat on the other side of that. To my left was a desk of cherry wood decorated with an array of office supplies and a desk lamp. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like cocoons waiting to open. In the center of the room on the wall opposite where I stood, a fireplace waited, cold and empty.
The painting above the fireplace drew my eyes after my first scan of the room. It was massive, stretching from the mantle to the ceiling. The woman in the painting was stunning enough to support such a grandiose piece of art. She was a slight woman of Asian descent, her dark hair pulled up into one of those braided buns that were popular in the Victorian period. Everything else about her fit the same era, from the white lace collar that covered her throat to the puffy sleeves. The artist had captured her with an enraptured smile and a black butterfly perched on her finger.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized I’d seen her face before. A slightly deader version of it had been staring at me in the hospital. The chill didn’t fade as the realization sank in and, suddenly, my teeth were chattering. Breath came out of me in tiny, strained wisps of cloud. The hair on the back of my neck and arms stood on end and lightning tore through my brain screaming, “DANGER!”
I turned around anyway.
She was floating near the door half a dozen paces behind me and paying me no mind. To her right, a pair of velvet chairs faced a small table where a silver tray bearing a porcelain tea pot waited. If I’d known who she was for certain, I would have addressed her by name. Names have power in the supernatural world. Addressing a spirit by it’s True Name would give me a lot more command power than what I said.
“Hey, you!”
The apparition turned her head without the use of her neck, eyes burning white. Well, I had her attention. Now what?
She must have recognized me from the hospital, even though she hadn’t interacted with me there. Her dead eyes went wide, and she let out another banshee screech before moving in a blur toward me. She hit me like a truck. I swear I felt my ribcage move when she slammed into it, not something I would have expected from a disembodied spirit. The force was enough to knock me over. I sailed into one of the two chairs near her. She went with me.
Scratch that. She went inside me. Or at least her hands did. Cold like ice jabbed into my chest and wiggled around while an intangible white cloud floated over me. I tried for a breath but all that would come out was a gasp as the cloud formed into a face within a face. Something wet dripped from mandibles jutting out of the creature’s face and stung like acid when it hit me.
Gritting my teeth, my vision white hot with pain, I pawed frantically at the floor, searching for something, anything that could help me. My fingers settled on the smooth, cool surface of the silver tray. Bingo. I picked it up and swung it. Had the tray been made of anything but pure silver, it might have been useless. But silver has a natural affinity for holding magick and affecting the supernatural. It must have surprised her as much as it did me, though, when magick shot down my arm and into the tray unbidden. The tray slammed into her head and black fire licked at her iridescent form. She screamed. The cold flew out of my chest and she exploded in an anti-climactic puff of smoke.
The door to the den jerked open and Cynthia looked casually down at me. Her stare was no less disapproving than it had been when I called her a secretary.
“Congratulations,” I said breathless as I rubbed my aching chest. “It’s a ghost.”
Chapter Twelve
It took some doing, but I was able to get up on my own after a while. It was a good thing, too, because Cynthia never made a move to help. My chest felt like someone had used it as a punching bag, except that it hurt on the inside of my ribs. I pulled my shirt up and saw big, red, finger shaped marks all over me. They’d be bruises tomorrow.
Cynthia surveyed the broken chair, overturned table, and smashed porcelain. “Did you get it?”
I dropped my shirt and looked around. “What? The ghost? For now.” She’d keep coming back until I knew what was keeping her here. “Who is that in the portrait?”
For the first time, I saw emotion in Cynthia’s face. She turned her head and beheld the painting as if it were the first time she’d ever seen it. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted. The expression crossed her face in a quick flash before she turned away. “I’ve never had an occasion to ask. I’ve only been to the house a few times.”
“I thought you said you came every Sunday to go over schedules?”
She gave me a bored glance. “I do. I’m a new hire.”
A new hire that Marcus trusted enough to leave alone in the house. That wasn’t like Marcus Kelley, the ruthless businessman and over-cautious vampire at all. I decided to let it slide. “Well, maybe one of the staff can answer that question.”
“I can answer.” I gritted my teeth as Zoe stepped up behind Cynthia and put a delicate hand on the woman’s shoulder. She smirked when she saw my irritation. “Hello, Judah.”
“I thought you’d be at the hospital with your daughter.”
“I needed a change of clothes.” Zoe dismissed Cynthia and asked her to wait outside. Cynthia hesitated, frowned, and then made her exit. Zoe shut the doors behind her.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“The late Mrs. Kelley. Emiko, I think her name was. She was a sight, no?” Zoe placed her hands behind her back and paced up closer to the painting. “I never met her, but some of the older staff here have spoken about her. They say she was a great woman. Powerful. Seductive. Fierce.” She turned her head to glare at me in profile. “All the things that you are not.”
“You sound like a pretty big fan, considering she’s the reason Mia’s suffering.”
Her head snapped toward me, and she narrowed her eyes, which had taken on a sickly yellow sheen. “Explain.”
“I saw her at the hospital, leaning over Mia’s bedside just as Mia went into convulsions. Just now she tried to rip my lungs out through my chest. She’s a vengeful spirit, almost certainly.” I paced up beside Zoe to stand in the shadow of the portrait. “Whatever she’s doing to Mia, though is something different. I got a strong sense of... impatience. Hunger.”
Zoe’s nostrils flared and she made a sour face. “You reek of him.”
“Who?”
“My worthless ex-husband.”
“Worthless?” I growled, going to stand in front of her. “Do you have any idea the shit
he’s gone through because of the stunt you and your boyfriend pulled last year? How much you hurt him by running away? How much you’re still hurting him?”
Dammit, it needed to be said. Here was this woman, the woman who he had given everything to, and she could do nothing but spit in his face. Even if Sal hadn’t been my boyfriend, he was my friend. Friends stand up for each other when monsters talk about them behind their backs.
Zoe snarled. “Hurting him? I haven’t seen him since...” She trailed off and then her painted lips twisted into a sadistic grin. “You’re in love with him. Poor thing.” She threw her head back and laughed shrilly. “Are you less of a monster than me? Are you better than me?”
She reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders, lifting me so that we were eye level. I couldn’t stop myself from hissing in pain. “He’s using you. That’s all he can do. That’s all any of them can do. They use you up and throw you away. You should get away from him, Judah, before he eats you alive.”
Zoe let go of me. My drop to the floor was short but sudden. With the injury the ghost had left me with, it felt like ramming into a speeding train. I lay there, trying to pull myself together and fight through the pain to breathe, but I managed to choke out a response. “Marcus and Han are using you. And Mia.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know Han wants her for medical experiments. That’s not something any decent mother would allow.” I glared at her. “You’re not fit to call yourself a mother.”
In response, she turned on her heels and stormed away. I tried to get up and follow her out when she left, but a sharp, shooting pain in my chest floored me all over again. I had to lie flat on my back, staring up at the ceiling, pain shooting through my chest with every breath, until Cynthia came to get me. It must have been a half hour or more before she appeared over me, a cell phone pressed to her ear.