The Undead Detective Bites

by Jennifer Hilt

  I walked deeper into the cave. Past the black soot etchings depicting hunts with my kind so many centuries ago. Such markings would make an anthropological team swarm the site if they knew about them, but they never would hear about it from me.

  My ledge was still there, waiting for me. I brushed off a fine layer of dust and cobwebs, and then climbed up and settled in. The rock was warm from the hot water running underneath it. The ledge fit me perfectly, just the right length and width, like a bunk on a ship—though I did miss my Egyptian six-hundred-thread-count sheets.

  From deeper in the cave, I heard the faint whoosh of running water from the hot spring. It wasn’t unpleasant at all but a rather soothing white noise. It calmed me as I lay there waiting for the oblivion that always overtook me when the sun rose.

  My heartbeat was still elevated. It wasn’t from the physical effort. I was in excellent shape, forever and always trapped in the body of my seventeen-year-old self. Even though my physical appearance was that of a brunette teenager, I was born in 1852.

  I died in 1872 along with my family in the Great Boston fire that year. Smoke inhalation killed us all. Elsbeth stole me from the morgue, made me vampire and ferried me to Great Britain, where she taught me how to kill. But that wasn’t enough for me. Immortality can be dull without a sense of purpose. In 1875, I graduated from Edinburgh University medical school.

  The sun would be up soon. I could feel my limbs grow heavy.

  Home sweet crypt.

  The next evening I came to consciousness with a feeling of dread. Trying to focus, I tracked a spider high above me crawling across a crack in the rock cave. All the while the previous night replayed in my mind. Seeing Fang again was complicated. Much more than I expected, though maybe I had known. There was a reason I’d kept myself sequestered down in LA for the past decade.

  For me that length of time should be a blink of an eye. I’d disregarded whole decades of my afterlife. I tried to regain the feeling of calm and power that I usually carried with me as a vampire. My crypt here was a sanctuary—and the center of my time with Fang. Ironic that a place that maintained the dead was the same place I’d ever felt truly alive.

  I should find another crypt. Someplace without all the memories. These canyons were covered with hiding holes. But I wouldn’t. It was as if I needed the pain here. Why? It was over between us.

  I moved around the crypt with the strange sensation that someone had been there. I didn’t detect any evidence, but it was a feeling that something in the air was slightly disturbed. I wished my spider friend would spin a web down low where I could keep an eye on it if it broke. It would be a super low budget security system, one Fang would find funny.

  The run back to town from the crypt had cleared my head, and I was happy to find there hadn’t been anyone at my crypt. The moon was bright over the desert with no snow tonight. A million stars shone their light on the desert landscape below. I let the chilled wind flow through me. Already I missed the controlled atmosphere of the morgue room. Real life was too unpredictable.

  With the motel in sight, I sprinted ahead, ready to start my night.

  “I’ve got good news,” Ben greeted me when I came through the motel office door. He sat at the desk with Mr. Figgles sprawled on his lap, typing on his iPad at a most awkward-looking angle. That dog was spoiled but he was also ridiculously cute.

  “Don’t talk to me until I get out of the shower.” I breezed through into the private apartment.

  It was hard not to be impressed. There was no sign a brutal murder had taken place here just a few days ago. Griz’s former apartment still had the odor of fresh paint. The furniture that remained was sparse but at least not blood covered, and an old leather couch seemed to have survived along with a coffee table and a dining set straight out of the 1960s. The turquoise vinyl seats, Formica top and hairpin legs must have had Ben cackling with glee. The walls were bare. I could only wonder what he was planning to put up next.

  “I packed up all his stuff in storage. The sheriff can go through it when he’s feeling better.” Ben stood behind me holding Mr. Figgles while I admired his handiwork.

  “Not bad at all.” I headed for the bathroom. Inside, I turned the water to its hottest setting, letting the steam accumulate while I stripped.

  I could not wait anymore. I hopped in, letting my skin tingle with too hot water. After this trip to Nowhere, I doubted I’d ever be warm again.

  “He’s doing much better, by the way.” Ben sat himself on the closed toilet seat lid, holding Mr. Figgles of course.

  I should have locked the bathroom door.

  He pushed a card through the space in the shower curtain. “This arrived. It’s a costume party invite at the new casino.”

  Hello? I was in the shower, I was hardly going to read anything especially something as frivolous as that. I was here to figure out what was going on with Glytr. I’d work on finding Griz’s killer too. I was not going to gamble at Leon’s fucking casino.

  I’d never gambled before and I certainly wasn’t going to start now. Having a head for numbers and no respect for luck, gambling held zero interest for me. Plus the whole enterprise was slanted toward the casino making money. The guests never stood a chance. I’d rather spend my money on new sweaters for Mr. Figgles. At least I’d get some entertainment watching Ben struggle to get them on him.

  Meanwhile, my PA motored on. “It’s a casino catering to paranormals having a costume party on Halloween. How perfect! My friends back in LA will be so jealous. I only wish I’d known before we left. I’m not well prepared. I wish I had time for us to do a couples’ theme like from The Munster’s?”

  I poured a generous amount of my lavender shower gel in my hand before scrubbing my body down with it. It was such a faint memory I could barely hold onto it, but I remember my sisters and I sewing sachets with this dried herb. This scent was the only reminder I had from my old life. Ben was always buying me new bath products to try but I stuck with my lavender, much to his annoyance. I never told him why. I never spoke of my family with anyone, though Ben would be sympathetic and it would ease his curiosity. Truth be told, a vampire’s mystique was part of our persona. And I found his attempts to get me to try new products endearing.

  Unfortunately, that was not my feeling about a costume party at a casino.

  Maybe I should just walk into the sunrise and end it now.

  Hopefully for Triana and Leon’s new business venture, many pararomals were looking to give them their time and money. It had the potential to be popular without giving Vegas any competition. Paranormals not wanting to venture to Las Vegas would have another option in Nowhere.

  That made the new casino a perfect place for drug distribution.

  With the lavender scent dissipated, even the scalding hot water didn’t comfort me. I let it pound on my head, drowning out Ben’s excitement.

  “I’m not wearing a costume,” I called from beneath the water. “I’m here on official business.”

  Luckily Ben had been busy with the motel all day. He had no time for costume preparation. A tragedy for him and a win for me.

  “According to this invitation that was hand delivered by the cutest cowboy ever, you do.” When I turned off the water, he handed me a towel. On the other side of the cheap plastic shower curtain, Ben said, “Too bad assless chaps aren’t mandatory around here.” He brandished the fancy cardstock at me as I stepped on the bathmat. This was a very small bathroom for three and Ben was a bit manic. “And yes, we traded phone numbers.”

  Humans were so obvious. He was all thinking of potential sex partners. Meanwhile I had real work to do.

  Ben left the bathroom and returned, sweeping a draped sheet off a hanger. “Never fear: I’ve got you covered.”

  I stared at the unveiled creation while I toweled off. “You’re kidding.”

  “I would never joke about something as serious as a costume party.”

  He was right. Personal attire was a serious subject for him.
>
  Strips of leather held together by safety pins dangled off the hanger. Ben held up my favorite pair of thigh-high black leather boots. “I picked you up some thigh-high stockings. Hurry and get dressed. I can do your hair in braids before the sheriff picks us up.”

  An ache started at the base of my neck. I had so many objections, I wasn’t sure where to start. “I’m investigating a murder and a possible epidemic but you’ve got me dressed like some BDSM bitch?”

  “Think sexy schoolgirl slayer, aka Buffy, but with you it has a self-referential twist since you’re a vamp, get it? I didn’t have much to work with. Sheriff Fang drove me to the town mercantile.”

  Oh God. Fang was in on this.

  “You found this at the only store in Nowhere?” I held up a leather bustier.

  “No, I made it for you.” Ben beamed. “I had to do something with all that leather.”

  How had I failed to notice Ben wore a leather duster, jeans and boots that screamed cowboy?

  My head throbbed. “Why were you driving around with Fang? He shouldn’t even be driving.”

  “You don’t let me drive your car.”

  He had me there.

  “But why are we going with Fang?” I protested.

  Fuck it.

  We’d leave early and miss Fang. He should be resting anyway.

  Ben waved me over to the bed, patting the space next to him. “Come on, I need to braid your hair.”

  “Tell me that’s not what you are wearing.” I wasn’t in the mood for Ben. I should have fed. I should’ve killed one of the rabbits on my way here. Now my hunger was making me irritable, and a long night was ahead.

  He worked in silence, a smart move on his part. Ben had great hands. I felt myself relax slightly while he combed my hair.

  I decided I liked the blank walls in the apartment. It gave the whole place a calm feeling. Certainly without all Griz’s stuff it appeared more roomy than I’d imagined. It was only a matter of time before carpet swatches arrived in the mail. The floor was a dinged up linoleum. It must be driving Ben straight up the wall.

  Fang’s knock came as Ben finished my hair. I wouldn’t have needed a mirror even if I’d had a reflection. The way Ben chirped around, he was pleased with himself.

  “Door’s open,” Ben called. He seemed to have adjusted speedily to Nowhere. An infusion of handsome cowboys did wonders for his trauma recovery. Then again, I’d never met a human who loved parties more than Ben.

  “What are you wearing?” Behind me, Fang coughed.

  I straightened from adjusting my stocking. “My costume. Where’s yours?”

  Meanwhile, Ben had sidled up to close the door behind Fang. He took the opportunity to study Fang’s weathered leather duster. Ben even reached out for his sleeve.

  Fang’s eyes hadn’t left mine, but he growled before Ben’s fingers made contact.

  It was too bad I needed Ben. It was like having a kitten in a shark tank.

  “Ben’s coming?” Fang jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The silver chains seem to be doing the trick just fine.”

  To be honest, I agreed with him. I didn’t want Ben going to a casino full of paranormals.

  However, neither did I want to be alone with Fang for any length of time.

  I ignored Fang’s pleading look while Ben still rattled on. “As Dr. Silverthorne’s assistant, I go wherever she does.”

  Close enough for now. I’d heard that humans used “buffer guests” for thorny social situations. It appeared I, too, had need of my own buffer human.

  Fang wore exactly what he always wore; apparently always dressing like a cowboy from the nineteenth century had its advantages.

  Ben scooped up Mr. Figgles in one hand and his new beige cowboy hat off the bed with the other. “I’ll wait outside. Shotgun?” He brightened.

  “No,” Fang and I said together.

  Ben’s shoulder drooped as he slumped out the door with Mr. Figgles.

  Tonight’s transportation was Griz’s old truck. Fang argued that he’d be bent over in my car, which was true given his size. In retrospect that concern was offset by the lack of any kind of functioning shock absorber system in the old truck.

  Fang winced whenever we hit an icy pothole.

  He should have stayed at the motel and let me handle checking out the casino. The only thing that wasn’t banged up was his ego. That was fully functional.

  Although this would be easier to do on my own, something like happiness spread through me at his improved condition. I’m not really clear what happiness feels like but I would say this was pretty damn close.

  It wasn’t long before I heard telltale human and dog snores from the back seat. My schedule was tough on Ben. To make up for the sleep he never got enough of, he had the wonderful ability to drop into a nap.

  “What’s to prevent a repeat of someone attacking our Boy Wonder when we get there?” Fang’s eyes strayed to my thighs then back to the road.

  Our Boy Wonder?

  The speed at which non-vamps formed attachments made me dizzy.

  “He’s mine.” I reminded Fang as I rubbed my hands together then held them before the vent. “Nobody will touch him.”

  “You’ve been living among humans for a long time if you think that.” Fang winced as he hit a bump in the road. He lowered his voice. “Let’s just hope everyone already ate.”

  I was freezing my ass off literally. I was highly suspicious this was the only costume Ben could produce. I’d have gladly worn a snowmobile suit instead. At least I’d be cozy.

  Outside the truck window, the desert slid by. The empty terrain mirrored my own feelings. Goosebumps rippled up my spine. It wasn’t just from the cold car. As a vamp, I liked being in control. Now I was like a deer in the woods during hunting season.

  “What’d you find on the autopsy?” Fang asked. He tried to sound casual.

  I knew him better.

  “Griz was taking Glytr,” I said.

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “I saw the evidence inside his body. I agree it doesn’t make sense. Anything different about him lately? New habits? Worries?”

  “I already told you nothing was out of the ordinary. I’d seen him a few days ago and he seemed fine.”

  I cast him a sidelong glance. There were two possibilities. Either Fang wasn’t as much of a sheriff as of late or someone was working hard to keep him out of the loop about Glytr.

  “He wasn’t happy about winter coming, he always wants to hibernate but never does,” Fang continued. Driving was tiring him out. He looked like he might collapse. “That was all pretty usual for him this time of year. He was worried the casino would hurt his business.”

  “He’s not near the casino,” I said, thinking there must be a connection between the two.

  “His main business was truckers. He worried that they might prefer to drive over there and spend the night. At least that’s what he mentioned to me.”

  “The dwarves stayed there while they worked construction. The witches coming through this weekend. He had other business, right?”

  “He was worried more than most what changes the casino was going to bring to Nowhere. He was an Old Timer. He liked things the way they were.”

  Fang slowed at a curve in the road. Ahead, a valley rimmed by red stone walls surrounded the casino.

  “It’s like a spaceship had landed in the Nevada desert,” I breathed.

  Steel, glass, and blinking neon lights signaled we’d arrived at the brand-new Twin Moons Casino. It was much larger than I expected.

  Triana Fang better be here. She had some serious explaining to do with dragging Fang all the way out here when he should be resting.

  12

  Fang pulled the rusted truck up to the valet park. The bright casino lights lit up the canyon basin like it was daytime.

  I blinked. Damn, it was bright.

  A demon in a bright red sports jacket trotted over to us. Little sparks shot off the demon like some unfortunate hum
an’s dandruff.

  The sparks reminded me of my Djinn. I wondered what he was up to lately.

  “Where the hell do I park?” Fang flashed his sheriff’s badge to the demon through his unrolled window.

  “It’s all valet, sir.” He eyed Fang’s vehicle mournfully. The place was packed with sports cars and top of the line SUVs. Word of the Twin Moon’s opening night was apparently on many paranormals’ radars. Many who had been banned from Vegas were eager to have a new venue. And as this casino was strictly paranormals only, quite a few guests would be looking to relax away from humans.

  I tried not to stare but it’d been a while since I’d seen a demon since they usually stayed in Vegas. This demon’s light blond hair was buzz cut on the sides with the top longer. Thanks to a combination of prominent Adam’s apple and skinny neck, he looked as comfortable as a juvenile ostrich parking cars.

  For Leon to have employed demons meant there was at least tacit approval from Hades. It was too early to tell if this was good or bad news in the long run. The gatekeeper to the Underworld was notoriously conservative with new business ventures.

  I glanced in the truck back seat. Ben and Mr. Figgles were still asleep. It amazed me that they could sleep through Fang’s refusal to relinquish his keys to the demon.

  Fang was attached to this vehicle because he still thought of it as Griz’s but did he really think some harm would come to it here? These demons had much greater temptations for joyriding than this wheezy contraption.

  After much wrangling back and forth between them, we were waved through to a small overflow lot where Fang got to keep his keys.

  Paranormals of all types were streaming into the casino. The number was alarmingly impressive.

  I turned around to face the back seat.

  “Wake up, Ben,” I said.

  Fang reached back, grabbing my human’s collar. “Kid, wake up.”