Dead-tective Box Set (Vampire Mystery-Romance)

by Flynn, Mac

  "Like he was in the Underground?" I guessed.

  "Yes, but we shall find the truth." He led us to the station down the row of shops. At the front desk sat another zombie, and a few others worked behind him among the rows of desks filing reports of phantoms and booking witches for illegal hexing.

  The zombie at the front desk glanced up from paperwork and glared at us. "How can I help you?" he asked in a brisk tone.

  "We wish to speak with Officer Romero," Vince told him.

  The zombie officer's mood darkened and his eyebrows crashed down. "He's been given time off for bungling the stakeout in the Underground." His cloudy eyes flickered between us. "It seems a vampire and novice messed up the works."

  Vince frowned, but bowed his head and turned away. I glanced at Vince's retreating back to the zombie officer and back. "Um, thanks for the help," I told the officer as I hurried after my partner.

  I caught Vince outside where he stood in contemplation. "You know, they make time off sound like a bad thing," I commented.

  "For a zombie that is very bad. If they find the creature is more trouble than they are worth then the spell keeping them alive will be revoked and they will die a permanent death," Vince explained.

  I furrowed my brow. "Is that such a bad thing? I mean, Harriet wants to find peace. Don't the guys at the Parasquad want to get some eternal rest?"

  "Some of them are proud of their jobs. Romero is one of them," he replied.

  I ran a hand through my tied hair. "Just our luck. We could have released two people for the task of one. Anyway, what kind of a dog are we getting from Romero that we can't find somewhere else?"

  "A dead one."

  I threw up my arms. "Why do I even bother asking? Of course a zombie guy would have an undead dog."

  "We will visit him at his home and see what we can find out," Vince suggested. He strode toward a different tunnel than that which we'd entered.

  I hurried after him. "Wait, the zombies have homes? They don't live at the precinct?" I asked him.

  "That is correct," he confirmed.

  "So where do they live exactly?"

  "At the outskirts of the sewers," he revealed.

  "Sounds fashionable. Why do they live there?" I quipped.

  "Zombies are less accepted than other creatures," he explained.

  "Because they come to pieces in a fight?"

  "Because they have a foul odor."

  "Some of the racism down here have the strangest origins," I mused as Vince led me into the depths of the sewers.

  Chapter 6

  We wandered our way through the giant culverts. The farther we traveled the fewer the torches until they stopped altogether. Without our vampiric sight we would have been completely blind in the near-darkness. Only slits of light through sewer drains allowed any light to shine into the damp, dank, drippy sewers.

  "Can't we go any place fashionable?" I muttered.

  "Such as the clothing store?" Vince quipped.

  I stuck out my tongue. "Hardy-har-har. You just want to go back there to take a bite out of that employee again."

  "Jealous?"

  I turned away, folded my arms over my chest, and pressed my lips in a pout. "No." Vince stopped so quickly I rammed into his back. He didn't waver, but I fell back onto the cold, wet ground. "Will you warn me when you do that!"

  "I have stopped," he warned me.

  I stood and tried to brush unmentionable trash off my rear and pants. "Oh thanks, that really helps now. Why the sudden stop, anyway?"

  He gestured to a widening of the tunnel in front of us. "We are here."

  Before us were the remains of an old subway station complete with tracks and a platform. The tracks ran to our left and right, and on the other side of them was the platform. At the far side of the platform sat shanty houses made from discarded roofing material. Overhead was a glass ceiling where most of the glass was painted over with black, leaving only a few small holes to allow artificial light from a higher sublevel. The stairs were boarded shut and filled in with rocks. Above us I could hear the rumble of trains as they made their way along used tracks.

  What really caught my attention, though, was the beautiful touches. The platform was tiled in white marble. The walls held mosaics formed from colored tiles, and many of the images depicted scenes from the Bible and ancient classics like the Iliad and the Odyssey. There was Odysseus sailing by the sirens, and there was God booting Adam and Eve out of Paradise.

  I stepped into the light and my mouth dropped open. "Wow," I whispered. "Somebody really wanted this place to look good."

  "The zombies created the mosaics and laid the marble tile," Vince informed me.

  I swung around and stared at him with wide eyes. "Really?"

  "They are undead, but not uncreative," he scolded me.

  I gestured with both hands to the beautiful layout. "Yeah, but this!"

  "It did take some years, but the effort was worth it," a voice commented. We swung around to find Romero standing behind Vince. Leave it to him to sneak up behind us at his home. I noticed he wasn't in his uniform, but in worn slacks with a faded white t-shirt.

  In one of his hands was a leash, and at his side was a dog much like him: rotting at the ribs and with filmy eyes. The dog took one whiff of our scents and pulled back its rotten lips to show off two rows of surprisingly healthy teeth. "Heel, Brutus," Romero hissed. The dog stopped growling and sat down, but its eyes never stopped glaring at us. Romero turned to us with a frown on his lips. "What are you two doing here, anyway? Come to ruin another stakeout?"

  "We wish to borrow your dog," Vince told him.

  Romero scoffed. "And why should I do that?"

  "Because you're a nice guy?" I spoke up.

  "As they say, nice guys finish last," he quoted.

  "We heard you were given time off," Vince commented.

  Romero gave a nod. "Yeah, I was given time off. I was blamed for the bungling of the stakeout at the Sea Slug." His eyes flickered to Vince. "Someone attracted werewolves and they alerted the buyers that danger was near, so they escaped."

  "We didn't mean to mess things up. We just needed to find somebody," I defended us.

  "Well, you messed things up for me, and the higher-ups are debating whether to de-life me," he revealed.

  I blinked at him. "De-life you?"

  "To extinguish his existence," Vince explained.

  "Oh, the permanent death. But it was only one mistake," I argued.

  "One big mistake, and there's a gluttony of zombies to use for the force. They can use me as an example for the others without losing manpower," Romero told us.

  I cringed. "How do they do it?"

  "They coat us with the blood of lambs. It purifies the body and forces our souls to rest," he explained. He hung his head and pushed past us with the dog at his side. "But what am I talking to you two for? You won't help."

  "What must you do to atone for your mistake?" Vince spoke up.

  Romero froze and slowly looked over his shoulder. His eyes were wide and he raised an eyebrow. "Why should you care?"

  "I do not, but we are in need of your dog," Vince insisted.

  "We do care, and it is kind of our fault you got into this mess," I admitted.

  Romero turned back to us and looked from one of us to the other. "You're not pulling my leg off with this? You really want to help?"

  "Yes," Vince confirmed.

  Romero rubbed his chin with his hand, and finally shrugged and dropped his arms to his side. "What do I have to lose?"

  "If we fail, your unlife," Vince quipped. I jabbed him in the arm, but he didn't notice.

  "What I need might cost you yours," Romero countered.

  I cringed. "What did you have in mind?" I asked him.

  "The stakeout at the Sea Slug was to find the manufacturing facility for the books. If you two were to find it for me then I could inform my bosses and avoid my permanent expulsion from the force and life," Romero explained.

 
I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Wait, so you want us to find out where the books are being made and report back to you? That's it?"

  Romero's frown deepened. "We've searched for months to find those books and we don't have a single lead. Not even a number in an address."

  "When is your review hearing?" Vince asked him.

  "Tomorrow night."

  I sighed. "And let me guess, you need us to find the place before the hearing?"

  "Yes," Romero concurred.

  I turned to Vince. "Mitch?"

  "Mitch," he agreed.

  "Mitch? The guy at the Boo Bar? I wouldn't trust him with a dime," Romero spoke up.

  "He is trustworthy if one has enough money," Vince argued.

  "Yeah, real trustworthy," Romero quipped.

  "We will have your information for you before the night is finished, and you will provide us with your dog. Is that a deal?" Vince questioned him.

  Romero looked long and hard at Vince before he stuck out his hand for a shake. "It's a deal."

  Vince shook his hand and turned down the tunnel we came. I made to follow, but Romero spoke to me. "You must have a hell of an influence over him because he's changed a lot lately."

  I half-turned to him and shrugged. "I guess all it took was some badgering to get him to be nice," I commented.

  A small smile slipped onto his lips. "If the look in his eyes was of a badgered man then there'd be fewer divorces."

  My dam cheeks blushed and I stepped away from him toward the tunnel. "Yeah, well, maybe it's all this dim light. You know, affects the eyes and stuff. Anyway, see you later." I waved to him and fled down the tunnel after Vince.

  I caught up to Vince fifty yards down the tunnel and we walked silently for a few moments. I allowed my eyes to flicker up to Vince's stoic face as he stared straight ahead. Romero's comment was the second time I'd heard somebody tell me Vince had changed because of my doing, Vera being the first person. I leaned closer to the vampire and studied his features. He was always handsome, especially with those new gray streaks in his temple hairs, but I detected a hint of softening around the corners of his lips. There was also a certain playful glint in his eyes that hadn't been there before, but maybe that was some remnant from his brief time as a human.

  "What is it?" he questioned me.

  I squeaked and whipped my face away. "N-nothing," I stuttered.

  "You studied me. What were you looking for?" he persisted.

  "I was just-um, just thinking back to when we first met. Not at the apartment, but at the warehouse where I learned what you really were. I just wanted to see if you'd changed."

  "I do not age," he reminded me.

  I shook my head. "Not that way. Just in the way you move and stuff."

  He paused and raised an eyebrow. "And what have you found?"

  I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I guess you just look nicer, but that could just be me because I know underneath that cold skin you're just a big softy."

  Vince's eyebrow raised higher so it nearly brushed against his hairline. "'Softy?"

  "Yeah. A couple of people said they think you've changed, and I-well, I was just seeing if I could see it," I explained.

  Vince pursed his lips and turned away. "I see."

  I lightly grasped his arm. "That wasn't an insult or anything. It makes you look a lot cuter-um, handsomer-uh, nicer without all that scowling. You know, more approachable," I soothed him. Damn me and my stuttering over his good looks. I blushed and escaped his detection when I looked at my feet and lowered my voice to a whisper. "I think you look better."

  I jumped when he wrapped his hand atop mine, and my head whipped up. Vince still faced away from me, but his tense face had relaxed. For the first time I saw what the others had seen: a man who lay just beneath the cold surface of that undead exterior.

  "I accept your compliment," Vince whispered in return. He shook myself and let his hand that held mine fall. "But this is no time for such sentimentalities. We have been hired to complete several tasks, and none of them are easy."

  He pulled from my grasp and strode down the tunnel. I was left not without guilt or confusion, but with the idea that, as Vince walked away from me, I was seeing a man in the last throes of denial. He was even cuter when he fought against the impossible.

  Chapter 7

  I hurried to catch up to his long strides, but halfway to my partner something slithered from a side passage and grabbed me.

  "Vince!" I barely had time to yell before a cold, three-fingered hand gagged my mouth.

  Vince lay twenty yards ahead of me, and I saw him swing around before a dozen shadowy forms emerged from the darkness between us. They appeared to peel themselves off the very walls and nooks of the tunnel, and I could see their skin that wasn't covered in short shirts and pants was a dark red like the color of old blood. Horns protruded from their heads, and from the backs of their pants swung a thin tail that ended in a point. They all had three fingers on their hands, and three toes on their bare feet. Their eyes glowed a bright yellow that illuminated the ground in front of them. Etched deeply into their skin like tattoos was the mark of the Supernatural Syndicate. They scurried across the ground toward Vince as quiet as church mice but for the wisp of wind that emanated from their quick movements.

  Vince ran forward and met his opponents halfway. He ducked down to avoid a swinging fist by the lead creature, and when he stood he lifted the thing by the chest and tossed it into its fellow creatures. The others climbed over and dodged their dazed companions, and dove at Vince. He disappeared beneath a doggy-pile of red skin and cracking tails.

  I struggled in the grasp of my captor, but their hold was surprisingly strong. Still, I noticed they all appeared to be male. I lifted one leg and jammed it backward into the creature's crotch. The thing let out a high-pitched howl and its hold loosened. I jumped forward, swung around, and punched him in the side of the face while he was down. The thing crumpled to the ground, but he was still conscious.

  I heard a howl of rage and turned in time to see Vince burst from the pile of creatures. Our opponents flew in all directions, but each one landed on all fours even on the walls. They pushed off from where they landed and dove at Vince. He socked, kicked, and ducked the creatures, and made his escape to where I stood. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a side tunnel with the creatures in hot pursuit.

  "What are those things?" I yelled.

  "Devils," he replied. That explained the tails.

  "Great. Got any holy water on you?" I quipped.

  "No, nor lamb's blood," he returned.

  "So how do we deal with these things?"

  "Decapitation." I stuck out my tongue, but our running meant I bit down a little hard when Vince yanked me into a small brick alcove that held a maintenance ladder. At the top was a covered manhole, but the dim, artificial light told me it didn't lead to the freedom of the streets. "Climb!" he ordered me.

  I hurried up the rungs, but paused halfway and glanced over my shoulder. Beneath us the devils forsook the ladder and instead used their nimble fingers to catch the tiny crevices between the bricks and climb up the walls after us. I yelped and climbed faster with Vince at my tail. At the top I shoved the manhole upward and over with my shoulder and stuck my head out.

  A train barreled toward me and I ducked down in time to avoid my own decapitation. The short train passed in a split second and Vince shoved me onto the tracks. He followed and jammed the manhole back into place. His strength caused the manhole to bend and warp in its hole, biding us some time. The creatures scratched and clawed at the manhole. Apparently we didn't have that much time.

  I took a step forward to escape, but Vince grasped my shoulder and pulled me back. "Don't touch the tracks. The voltage may kill you," he advised.

  "What?" I yelped.

  He pursed his lips and swept me into his arms just as the manhole flew upward from its resting place. Vince took off down the tracks, and I glanced over his shoulder in time to watch th
e devils scramble out on all fours like slithering snakes. They rushed after us and the distance between us shortened.

  "Must go faster! Must go faster!" I shouted. Vince didn't increase his speed, though I knew from previous experience that he could've gone faster. "They're catching!" I rephrased.

  A sound in front of us caught my attention, and I looked ahead to see an oncoming subway train. We sprinted along the same tracks. Another blaring horn behind us told me the other track was occupied by another train. We were trapped between a fast rock and a speeding hard place.

  "Any ideas?" I shouted at my partner.

  "Hold onto me," he ordered me.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and he released me so that my legs swung down in front of him. Vince knelt and snatched two pieces of rusted metal from between the tracks. I watched the rear train and the devils race toward us. They weren't as fast as the train so the machine barreled toward them and us. Vince stepped calmly between the tracks as the first train swept past us. We were blocked on one side, and the second train passed our enemies and flew past us. The wind from the long rows of passenger cars tried to blow us over, but Vince pressed his feet into the hard ground. My hair whipped to and fro as the trains fought to see which would toss us into the other.

  The devils didn't dare jump onto the walls of the trains and the small space between them meant they slithered in single-file toward us. The lead devil slid his lips back and showed off a row of sharp, pointy teeth, and he flexed his claws. They were ten yards and closing. I turned away and buried my face into Vince's coat.

  "This is not how I imagined dying," I muttered.

  "Do not lose faith in me," Vince whispered.

  I whipped my head up to look into his face. His eyes stared unblinkingly at our oncoming opponents and his lips were pressed into a thin line. There was such determination and cunning in those bright red eyes that my doubt was swept away. My eyes roamed down to his hands which tightly grasped the dagger-like pieces of metal.

  I heard a cruel, deep chuckle and turned my head The devils closed the gap between us to five yards, and the lead paused. "Nowhere to run, vampire!" it crowed.