Bad Vampire

by Lauren Dawes

  Sawyer plucked the cuffs from the case and handed them to me. “These are safe to touch. Carry them with you all the time.”

  “Got it.” I secured the cuffs onto my weapons belt and tried not to get the heebies. “What else have you got for me?”

  “What else would you need?”

  I glanced around the room. “I don’t know. What are those?” I pointed to what looked like a mace, only it didn’t look like the traditional mace. It looked like hypodermic needles had replaced the spikes, and the chain that connected the fun pointy ball thing to the handle was thin, like a cheap link chain you bought at the costume jewelry store.

  “It’s called an urticate. It’s for slowing down shifters should they lose control.” Sawyer moved over to the weapon and carefully picked it up by the chain. “Each needle contains a strong dose of ketamine, which will bring down a shifter in just a few seconds.”

  “Is it heavy? Why is that chain so thin?”

  “It might be thin, but it’s strong. The elves made it.”

  I held my hands out in front of me. “Stop. Just stop. Elves are real?” What rock had I been fucking living under my entire life?

  “Of course, they are. Who do you think makes all these things?”

  “I don’t know. And frankly, I don’t want to know. Ignorance is bliss.”

  “You know what? When it comes to you, I believe that.”

  I shot him the finger, then pointed at what looked like a fishing net. “What does that thing do?”

  “It holds merpeople without rubbing off any of their scales.”

  “And rubbing off the scales of merpeople is bad because…?”

  “Because they die,” Sawyer finished for me, using that same tone.

  “Huh. Merpeople. Where do they all live? In the ocean?”

  “Some. Some live in lakes.”

  “Swimming pools?”

  “Only if you’re unlucky and a water sprite has cursed you.”

  “What the fuck, dude? Seriously?” He couldn’t have been telling me the truth there. It was too weird.

  “Nah, there’s no such thing as water sprites.”

  “No water sprites, but merpeople. Got it.” I pretended to jot that information down into my invisible notebook. Remember that rug I told you about? The one that was no longer under my feet and a flaming remnant of all my beliefs? Yeah, that was all ash now.

  Fuck me.

  I felt so small.

  Shaking myself, I asked, “Can I have a cool weapon? Please?”

  “Cool?”

  Man, that word sounded weird coming out of his mouth. It made him seem like he was a lot older than he looked. “Yeah, you know, something that can slice a man in two if I want it to.”

  He laughed, the sound deep and weak-knee-inducing sexy. “Why would I give you a weapon? You’re dangerous enough on your own.”

  “See, here’s the thing, I’m human,” I said slowly. “H-U-M-A-N. I don’t have super strength or invincibility. I’m fragile, and if I’m going to be going out in the field where other things are stronger than I am, I want something to protect myself with, since clearly, a standard-issue sidearm is not going to cut it.”

  He pursed his lips. “Perhaps I can find something for you.” He perused the racks, stopping in front of a broad sword.

  “Ah, I can’t carry that,” I told him, eyeing the weapon.

  “I can assure you, you can.” He picked it up. Damn, he made that look easy. “It adjusts to the strength of whoever wields it. So for me, since I’m strong, it’s a little heavier, but still perfectly balanced for me to wield and be deadly.” His gaze shifted to me. “But since you’re a little shorter, a little weaker—”

  “Hey! I object to the short comment.”

  He gave me a smug smile. “The truth hurts sometimes.”

  I flipped him off again. Twice in ten minutes? We were going to be best friends.

  “In any case, the sword will adjust to whoever is holding it.” Flipping it around, he cradled the blade in his hand carefully and presented me with the handle. Like he was a goddamn king or something. I snorted. What a douche.

  Licking my lips, I took the handle in my hand and felt it settle into my palm like a cat cozying up to its owner. I braced my muscles for the weight, but even as I picked it up, I overcompensated and stumbled back a step. Holy shit. It was so light.

  I turned the blade over in my hands, studying the steel…or at least, I thought it was steel. It could have been some funky composite material I’d never heard of before, which was probably accurate.

  “Its name is Reaver.”

  “Why does it have a name?”

  Sawyer leaned his hip against a small table off to one side. “Names have power in our world.”

  “Oh?”

  “For example, a fae will never give you their real name, because if you knew it, you would be able to exert a certain amount of power over them. Nobody likes being controlled.”

  “Is it just the fae that are strange with names?”

  He shrugged. “Some vampires are too, but the fae are the ones who really take this no name matter to heart.”

  “Is Sawyer your real name?” I asked, flashing him a smile at the subtle frown he gave me.

  “It’s Sawyer to you.”

  Damn it. “Well, I’m just Cat. There’s nothing special about me.”

  His shifted his gaze from my face to my chest. It was barely a flicker of movement, but it was enough to make the opal warm. I had no idea what was going on with the damn thing. It was just a necklace up until this morning. Now, it acted like it had a mind of its own.

  “We shall see how special you are, just Cat.”

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “Can I keep this?” I raised the blade a little to show him what I was talking about.

  “For now.” His fingered the sharp edge of the blade delicately. “It seems to like you.”

  “How can a sword like someone?”

  His crystal gray eyes met mine. “Magic doesn’t play by the same rules that we do.”

  I loosened my grip on the hilt, the idea that the sword was real magic that was touching my skin, and that it actually liked me was next level. The opal flared briefly, then settled back into body temperature warmth.

  “How am I supposed to carry this thing around. Do I need a permit?”

  Sawyer actually laughed at that. “No.” He tapped something at the base of the blade, a glyph I hadn’t noticed, and the sword simply disappeared.

  “Well, this is great and all.” I motioned to my now empty hand, but it wasn’t empty, was it? I could still feel the hilt lying snug against my palm. “It’s still there.”

  “It is. It’s simply vanished from view…for now.”

  “Ooo, sounds ominous.”

  He ignored my comment. Smart guy. He was learning quickly. “It’ll reappear when you need it.”

  “How will it know?”

  Again, he gave me that infuriating shrug. “Magic knows what the heart wants. Plus, if you blood the blade, it’ll be more in tune with you.”

  “Look, I don’t know a lot about magic and the supernatural world, but forgive me if I don’t jump at the idea of cutting myself and bleeding all over the blade. Magic can be sinister and unforgiving.”

  “A lot like people,” he said. “If you don’t want to blood it, that’s fine. It’ll still work. Still kill. But it won’t be as receptive to you.”

  “But you just said it liked me.”

  “It does. But liking someone does not bind you to them. Sharing blood will though.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  He gestured for my sidearm.

  I was hesitant to give it to him. “You’re not putting blanks in it, are you?”

  “No. Silver ammunition. Silver can damage a lot of supes.”

  “Let me guess, you won’t tell me which ones.”

  He shook his head, reloaded my gun, then handed it back to me. With the co
nversation clearly over, he turned around and began selecting a couple of blades and a gun that looked like it had come out of the old west. He strapped the blades to holsters on his thighs and concealed the gun in an underarm holster. I had to admit, if I saw him coming for me, I’d probably piss my pants…after I threw my panties at him.

  “Ready?”

  “Sure. But where are we going armed to the hilt as we are?”

  “Elementary school.”

  I grunted. “It would have been cooler if you’d said ‘hell.’”

  “How do you know ‘elementary school’ isn’t a euphemism for hell?”

  I nodded. Well, he had me there.

  Four

  We didn’t go to hell. We rolled up in front of Buxton Elementary School before pulling into the parking lot. We’d taken my truck because apparently, Sawyer only had a motorcycle, and there was no way in hell I was about to jump onto the back of that thing.

  “Could you have driven any more slowly?” he asked, irritated, from the passenger seat.

  “Possibly, if I’d known it would piss you off so much,” I shot back sweetly. I’d always been a careful driver. Taking the driving test at the academy had stretched my limits of fear of dying in a fiery, fiery crash. I’d still passed, so I could drive like I was being chased by a dinosaur, but chose not to when I didn’t have to.

  “We could’ve been here twenty minutes ago if you hadn’t balked at the idea of my bike.”

  “Seriously? You seriously expect me to get on the back of that death-trap with you when I hardly know you?”

  “What does knowing me have to do with it?”

  I put my truck into park. “If I don’t trust you, I’m not getting onto the back of a freaking bike with you.”

  “You fill my heart with warmth,” he replied in a drawl.

  “Hey!” I shoved my finger into his chest. “I’m the snarky one in this relationship.”

  He growled. “Noted. Now get out of the truck because this is getting weird.”

  He had no idea what weird was. But I got out and waited for him at the tailgate. He prowled along the side of the truck, his face a mask I couldn’t read. He was definitely playing bad cop today.

  “You want me to do the talking in there?” I asked.

  “No,” he barked.

  “Geez, you could at least let me down easy,” I replied, secretly happy that I didn’t have to take the lead. I would’ve been happy to just disappear into the background.

  “Just keep your mouth shut and your ears and eyes open.”

  I mock saluted him. “Yes, boss.”

  He led the way into the main reception area and walked up to the desk. The older woman behind it looked up and smiled. She was dressed in a pressed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life dress jacket that I suspected had a matching skirt hidden beneath the desk.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m Detective Taylor with PIG. We’re here about the incident that occurred last night.”

  “Of course!” the woman practically shouted. Cleary, she was excited the cavalry was here. She stood up and revealed the matching skirt to her jacket.

  “Ha!”

  Sawyer glared at me, and I shrugged.

  “If you could follow me please?” the receptionist said, bustling through a door to our right. I trailed behind Sawyer, peering through every open doorway as I went. We eventually came to a closed door at the end of the hallways, the words ‘Principal Watts’ written on the front. The woman knocked, then popped her head inside briefly before ushering us in.

  I stepped into the room behind my partner and looked around. The walls were covered in framed artwork…kids’ artwork. There must’ve been hundreds of them, covering every single square inch of the walls. Either Principal Watts had a few dozen kids and grandkids of his own, or he was lucky enough to be given artwork from the students.

  “Good morning. Thank you for coming today. Although, we were expecting you half an hour ago?”

  Sawyer glared at me his shoulder. “I apologize, Principal Watts,” he said so smoothly, even I felt sorry for driving as slowly as I had. “All I can do is blame car troubles this morning.”

  “No problem. Shall we get down to it? Please, have a seat.”

  Sawyer sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, and I took the other. The sword, which I’d put on my hip, got snagged, and I had to shuffle around to make sure it slid in between the arm and seat. If I kept getting caught on stuff, I was going to leave it in the truck next time. Why couldn’t it have shrunk as well as gone invisible?

  Sawyer glanced at me before he tapped open the recording app on his phone and placed it on the table. “Can you tell me what happened last night, Principal Watts?”

  “Yes. We had our Thanksgiving concert last night. We had our kindergarten and first graders backstage waiting to go on, when a young girl, who doesn’t attend this school, was seen approaching a couple of students. Apparently, the young girl had candy and was trying to lure the children away from the rest of the group, but one of our teachers appeared and chased the girl away.”

  “Who was the teacher?” Sawyer asked.

  “Her name is Jasmine Wolfe. She teaches kindergarten here.”

  Wolfe? “Can we speak to her?” I asked.

  “I assumed you’d want to speak to her first,” Watts said to Sawyer, and he nodded. Wait, had he just ignored me? Sawyer tapped my arm and tilted his head to the side. He wanted me to listen.

  “What else can you tell me about what happened?” he asked.

  “The children finished the play and were sent home.”

  Sawyer asked, “Did anyone see the girl again?”

  “No.” Watts sighed. “Apparently, the young girl wasn’t human. She was a vampire.”

  “And who verified that?”

  “Ms. Wolfe. She’s a werewolf.”

  I sat back in my chair and muttered, “I thought this was a human only school.”

  Without looking away my way, Sawyer said to Watts, “Can we speak to Ms. Wolfe this morning?”

  “Of course you can. After you’ve chatted with her, I’ll bring the two children who had direct contact with the vampire to my office so we can talk in private. I’ve already secured verbal permission from their parents.”

  “That would be helpful. Thank you.”

  Principal Watts rose from his chair and showed us out of the room. We entered the school from a different door, and I tried not to cringe at the amount of noise coming from each of the classrooms. I wasn’t saying I didn’t like kids. I was just saying I didn’t want to hear them, see them, or be near them.

  Eventually, we stopped at a classroom that had cut out painted hands all over it and the name of the class on the glass panel. Watts knocked, then entered without waiting, greeting all the children warmly. He told them he would be teaching them for a little while as Ms. Wolfe had to speak to the nice detective outside. Clearly, he was referring to me.

  I said as much to Sawyer, and he shrugged. “He kind of doesn’t even know you’re here.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that so much.” I hovered my palm over my chest. “Right here.”

  A woman stepped from the classroom Watts had disappeared into. She had a sweet face, blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was rocking the sexy teacher look in a black pencil skirt and pale blue blouse. “Hello,” she said, her blue eyes warm. “Mr. Watts said you were here to ask me some questions?”

  Sawyer bobbed his head. “Is there somewhere we can talk in private?”

  Jasmine took us into an empty classroom that was littered with art supplies. Dried clay was stuck to the tables and smeared on the backs of chairs. She perched on the edge of one of those tables and folded her arms.

  “What do you need to know?”

  “Can you tell me what happened last night?” Sawyer asked, recording the conversation once more.

  Her throat worked before she said, “Last night, I was backstage with the children so I could usher them on stage when it was
their turn.”

  I walked around the perimeter of the room, looking at the pictures hanging on the yellow walls. “What time was that?”

  She folded her arms, pushing up her cleavage that peeked out between the V in her blouse. “Around six-twenty, if I remember correctly. The concert started at six o’clock, and we were about a third of the way through the program.”

  “How many children were backstage with you?”

  “Just kindergarten and first grade. That’s why I paused when I saw the second grade kids there. They should’ve still been out in the audience. When I approached the pair to find out why they were backstage, that’s when I smelled the vampire.”

  “What do vampires smell like?” I asked.

  She wrinkled her nose. “Usually like dried skin and earth. And old blood.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”

  “So, two second graders where there. Where was the vamp?”

  “Standing a few feet away, hiding in the shadows.”

  “What did she say to the kids?”

  “They told me afterwards that the girl had offered them candy, but they were scared of her so they didn’t take it.”

  “Smart kids,” I murmured.

  Jasmine shrugged. “I think it was just instinct, honestly. Human survival instincts are pretty strong.”

  “What did the girl look like?” Sawyer asked.

  “Maybe eight or nine. No older than ten, I would say. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. She was wearing a pair of pajamas with little unicorns on them.”

  Unicorns, huh? Maybe I had the same pair. “Shoes?” I asked.

  “Slippers. Also unicorns.”

  “Niiiice.”

  My comment was met with a glare and a strange look. Right, not cool talking about my love of unicorns while on the case. “Wait. Are unicorns real?”

  Jasmine laughed. “If they are, I haven’t seen them.”

  “Are you related to Captain Vaile Wolfe at Buxton PD by any chance?”

  She flushed and looked away. “He’s my father, yes. He’s your boss?”

  Fuck! I knew it! I knew Wolfe was a fucking supernatural, and a werewolf no less. That explained so much. I wanted to punch my fist into the air, but I held myself back. Getting back to the conversation at hand, I jerked my head in Sawyer’s direction. “He’s my boss right now.”