Until he opened his mouth. “Anything I can do to help you protect Juliette,” he said. Spoke her name like it was music to him. “I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here, detective.”
Absolutely sincere. “You said you’ve never missed a show.” Gerri opened his file. “You’ve traveled extensively to see her perform.”
Bunch nodded aggressively. “She’s worth every penny,” he said. “I arrive early so I can get the perfect seat.”
“To the side.” Gerri prodded him gently, feeling his crazy appear.
“Sight lines,” he said, leaning forward, smiling, suddenly eager and at ease at the same time. “I’ve found the perfect ratio between stage size and Juliette’s presence on it. Too far away and her beauty is lost. Too straight on and the music is harsher, more intense.” His hands splayed outward on the table, fingers tapping as though to the beat of a song. “The right side is the best at the 27 Club. The new Bose speakers are at the perfect angle for optimum listening. And her profile is perfection from six seats back, table ten.” He pushed at the center of his glasses. “As long as they don’t move the table. I’ve had to shift #8 myself a few times. They ruin the sound bounce when they do that.”
“Shame on them,” Gerri murmured. “Mr. Bunch, how well do you know Juliette?”
“Better than myself,” he gushed. “She always drinks honey tea before she sings, loves performing outside more than anything and has over a hundred pairs of shoes.”
“All information you’ve gleaned from talking to her?” Gerri needed him over the edge and thought she knew how to push him.
He sat back abruptly, paling, swallowing. “Oh no, I’ve never spoken to her.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t. She’s too perfect.”
Innocent, her gut whispered. She almost felt sad and forlorn for this poor little man.
“She has no idea who I am,” he said, tears in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, smiling ever so gently. “I’m okay with that. I’m nobody, just a chemist, a nerdy shmuck. And she’s amazing.”
“She is.” Gerri drew a breath. “Mr. Bunch,” she took a chance, “we’re pursuing the possibility the three men have been murdered. By chemical means.”
He nodded, not seeming to get what she was saying. Then gasped a little while her gut growled at her for being an asshole.
Oh, shut it, she snapped back.
“You think I…?” His hands clenched on the table before him. “That I killed…?”
“Did you?” She had her answer already. But had to ask.
To her surprise, Bunch drew himself up with more dignity than she’d given him credit for. And didn’t ask for a lawyer.
“I may be a chemist,” he said, “and a fan of Juliette St. Clare. But I’m not a murderer, detective.” He paused a moment. “Nor am I the only one who pays close attention to her.”
Gerri nodded. “I already know about Terrance Atherton,” she said.
Bunch frowned. “Who?” He shook his head, leaning in again, fishing in his pocket. Pulled out his cell phone. “No, I’m referring to a staff member at the 27.” He showed Gerri a photo.
She frowned at it, trying to distinguish faces in the dark. The only person who was clear was Juliette. Bunch must have sensed her confusion, because he tsked before using his index finger and thumb to widen the shot.
Gerri’s eyes widened. The last person she expected stared at Juliette from behind the bar with a look of ravenous hunger on his face.
“I think his name is Nate,” Bunch said.
***
INT. – 9TH PRECINCT INTERROGATION – EVENING
Gerri grasped the phone in her hand and stared closer at Nate’s face. The bartender at the 27 certainly looked intent on Juliette, but it was one photo and could have been just that particular moment making him appear so hungry.
Until Bunch leaned in and swiped at the screen, scrolling through countless photos, all of Juliette. Some of her from the vantage of the crowd, some close up. But, from the angle, the wide shots always had the corner of the bar in focus. And Nate.
Always Nate.
“He’s been following her.” Bunch’s forehead scrunched tight. “I’ve seen him at shows in other cities.” He cleared his throat. “I know what that sounds like. I’ve been following her to. But for her music. He gives me the creeps.”
He gave Gerri the creeps, too. In the final photo, time stamped Saturday night, Nate’s face was the clearest she’d seen. Utter starvation, like a ravenous dog waiting for a table scrap to fall to the ground.
But, if it was Nate, how had he killed the victims? And why? She scrolled through again, noted there was a month or so where Nate went missing. That the man she’d met looked thinner, frailer, than the one in earlier photos.
She turned the phone around to Bunch. “Where was he?” Gerri already had that answer, from Nate himself. Brazil, soccer, with friends. But she asked anyway. Because people lied, didn’t they?
The small man shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “He was gone about a month. When he returned to work, he looked like he’d been sick.”
“Did Juliette have a show in Rio?” Gerri’s gut whispered the question to her and she jumped on it.
Bunch grinned, bobbing his head. “That same month,” he said. “It was amazing. The outdoor concert was the best one I’ve ever attended.” He grimaced, wiped his mouth with one hand. “I could have done without being mugged. But Juliette shone like a star that night.”
There was a scar on Nate’s wrist. From what? Gerri left Bunch with his phone, staring down at the love of his life, and went to her desk.
Found a message waiting for her on her computer from Robert. The tox screen’s findings. Pulled up Nate’s file. Hit on April. Frowned.
Picked up the phone and made a call. Cursed when she had the information she needed.
And ran for the door.
***
INT. – PHILO’s BAR AND GRILLE – EVENING
Ray sipped her wine, happy to see Kinsey, grateful her friend made the invitation open and warm, without a hint of an agenda. It helped, being here with the anthropologist, after Cici blew her off. Saved her from the hurt she felt, from the cold creeping in around the edges of her pain.
She hadn’t expected Gerri to arrive, but held still when the tall redhead sank into her chair, the crowd at Philo’s naturally moving away from her as though the wolf inside her nudged them aside. Instead of ordering her customary beer, Gerri leaned in, green eyes intent.
“Tell me about spider venom,” she said.
Ray was so surprised by the question, she choked on her sip of red before setting down her glass. “What about it?”
“Could there be a variety of spider venom that could kill the way our vics died?” Gerri stole a French fry from Kinsey’s plate and munched, still intense. Almost happy. Like she got when she was close to cracking a case.
Ray thought about it, nodded. “I believe so,” she said. “I have a friend at the CDC I can ask.” It would be nice to talk to Janet again, though old flames and Ray didn’t have a good track record recently.
Gerri shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she said. “I was just talking to them.”
Ray almost snapped at her in annoyance, while Kinsey spoke up, voice mild, amused.
“Then, why did you ask?”
Gerri winked at both of them. “More fun this way,” she said. Stood up. “Excuse me while I go make an arrest. I’ll be back in time for a beer.”
Kinsey leaped to her feet, dropping a $20 on the table. Ray sighed into her wine, stood and joined them as the anthropologist spoke.
“If this is about Juliette, I’m coming with you.”
Gerri didn’t argue. Just turned on her booted heel and strode out of the bar, leaving her friends to follow. Ray scowled to herself as the parted crowd fell back into place behind the redhead, leaving them to struggle through.
***
INT. – GERRI’S CAR to 27 CLUB – EVENING
Gerri was waiting, impatient frown on he
r face, when Ray climbed in the back seat, Kinsey snapping on her seatbelt in the front. Unsure as to why she was feeling so antagonistic, so out of sorts, Ray held her tongue and stared out the car window as Gerri drove away.
She refused to believe the wakening of her vampir power would turn her into her mother.
The 27 Club was quiet and empty when they arrived, though the front door was unlocked. Ray held back, one hand on Kinsey’s arm while Gerri eased inside, gun in hand.
“We should stay out here,” Ray said. Not out of fear. This had nothing to do with her. The chill in her heart agreed.
Kinsey wrinkled her nose at Ray. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, Juliette was rehearsing this afternoon. I want to talk to her.”
Ray sighed, following the blonde inside. And froze, though the fear spike she expected—the one she lived with at the hint of confrontation her entire life—was absent. Enough she saw clearly the situation at hand in a detached and precise way.
Gerri stood, legs apart and feet firmly planted, shoulders bunched with her hands on her gun, pointed at the back of the bar near the stage. Where a young man stood, one arm around Juliette St. Clare’s neck, a syringe of some clear fluid pressed to her neck.
“I’ll kill her!” His voice vibrated, cracked and warbled.
“Put it down, Nate,” Gerri growled at him. “You hurt her, I put a bullet in you. It’s that simple.”
Nate’s whole body shook, Juliette crying out in fear as the needle punctured her skin, retracted. “You can’t have her,” he said. Wept, really, tears running down his face. “I need her.”
Something flickered around him. A ghostly afterimage, like a wash of color in a brushed line stroked softly over his whole perimeter. Ray took a step closer, frowning as she studied it. The chill inside her observed, sharpened, tightened the edges of the image until she saw it clearly.
And understood.
“He’s been feeding from her,” she said, cold and clinical. “He’s part vampir.”
Kinsey’s head snapped around. “You can see that?”
Ray didn’t respond to the obvious question. “And something else,” she said. “Cubi.” The heartless and desperate race who craved love. What a combination. Ray felt the chill respond to the vampir in him, tasted copper on the back of her tongue, realized she’d bitten the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood.
And wanted more.
Gerri shifted her weight forward, gun still level and steady in her hands. “Okay, Nate, I get it. She’s part banshee, right? Her voice, it feeds you, is that it?”
He nodded, snuffled, while Juliette settled in his arms, expression sad, less fearful.
“Why kill them?” Kinsey’s voice was soft.
“They took her power.” He sobbed into Juliette's shoulder, jabbing her again while the singer gasped. “I needed it, she gave it to me.” He shuddered. “Every night, she fed me and I wasn’t hungry anymore.” Nate bit his lower lip. “But she started singing to them. And they took her power and left me starving.” He shouted the last word. “Starving! Do you know what it’s like? To be fed and fed and finally be full for the first time in your life,” he pulled down on Juliette with his arm, screaming like a madman, “only to have it taken away from you?”
“When did you first know she could feed you, Nate?” Ray understood Gerri’s question, her attempt to calm him, to get him thinking of happy memories, of the past.
It helped, at least enough to pull him out of his shrieking rage and into more sullen anger. Juliette’s fear was back, mingled with so much regret Ray could feel it.
“I was eighteen,” he said. “I had no idea I could feel that… good.”
“I’m sorry,” Juliette whispered. “If you’d told me—”
“Bullshit!” He screamed the word in her ear. “You would have had me put away.”
“That happen to you a lot, Nate?” Gerri’s tone matched Kinsey’s from earlier.
He snarled at her. “Not so you’d find out,” he said. “Records are sealed.” He wiped his cheek on the shoulder of his shirt, leaving a sweat trail behind. “By the time I was eighteen, I figured out how to feed. From people.” He laughed, bitter, broken. “I’m fucking crazy.”
“We know you’re not,” Gerri said.
Ray nodded when Kinsey did.
Nate seemed bemused by their understanding, calmed further. “You don’t, do you? You said I was what… a vampire?”
“Vampir,” Kinsey corrected him gently. “And cubi. Two powerful races that live among us, Nate. Your parents passed on gifts to you.”
“They died when I was a kid.” He snuffled into his shirt sleeve again.
Explained a great deal.
“You were bitten by a spider in Rio,” Gerri said. “The records are at the CDC.”
Nate choked on a sob. “I had to go, to be with her. To feed. But that fucking spider…” He looked down at Juliette. “I almost died. And you were gone. I had to feed from normal people again. And it wasn’t enough.” He shook his head, sorrow written on the lines of his face. “It was never enough. When I came back to the States, when I was starving and saw you sing, it wasn’t enough. Then, you gave them your power and I was dying.”
Gerri’s gun didn’t waver. “It’s not her fault, Nate,” she said. “You poisoned those men with the same venom that almost killed you.”
“It’s still in me,” he said. “It will always be in me.” Ray could see that, how it bonded with the blood of the vampir. Made him something new. And, for the first time, she realized it wasn’t just humans who evolved into paranormals.
“The spider,” she said. “It had power.”
Kinsey hissed a soft breath. “Jesus,” she said.
Nate’s face collapsed, expression fading from sadness to failure, dejection. “I’m dying,” he said. “And no one can save me.”
The needle was in Juliette’s neck, the plunger under his thumb, even as the bullet left Gerri’s gun and hit him in the shoulder. Nate spun sideways, the syringe turning with him, spraying venom over the floor, Juliette falling to one side with a cry. Kinsey rushed toward the singer, Gerri covering Nate who thrashed and wept on the ground, clutching his shoulder.
Ray stood there, trying to care.
Failing.
***
INT. – 27 CLUB – EVENING
Juliette hugged Kinsey, kissed her cheek, warm lips soft and light on her skin. She hugged her in return, smiling as the singer stepped back.
“I can’t ever repay either of you,” she said, grasping for Gerri’s hand. The detective shrugged, grinned.
“Lifetime free tickets to your concerts would do it,” she said.
Kinsey spun on her friend in offended shock, but Juliette just laughed, the giant diamond earrings hanging from her dark lobes catching the light. The club was filling up quickly, another Thursday night. It had been almost a week since the death of Bill Climpton, and though word must have gotten around about the three murders, it did nothing to slow the influx of patrons to the bar.
The new bartender was perky and female. Not that it meant anything she was a girl. But from the way she winked and flirted with the men buying drinks from her, she wouldn’t be obsessing over Juliette anytime soon.
Kinsey couldn’t wait to hear her mother’s friend sing live and in person.
“Done,” Juliette said, in answer to Gerri’s request. “For you two, anything.”
Kinsey shook her head at Gerri before nodding toward one of the tables in the back of the club. A small, balding man in a pinstripe shirt, clutching a magazine with Juliette’s smiling face on the cover to his chest like a doll watched the stage with rapt attention. Every once in a while he’d glance their way, eyes hidden behind the shining lenses of his glasses.
“Did you want me to do something about him?” Gerri moved to place herself between Juliette and Gary Bunch, but the singer just smiled, amber eyes sultry.
“I think it’s time I met Mr. Bunch in person,” she said. “A
fter all, he is my biggest fan.” Kinsey watched, grinning as Bunch lurched to his feet, pale as a plate of day-old spaghetti, when Juliette joined him. Hugged him. Pulled him down to sit beside her.
Gerri laughed. “Poor Gary. She might be a murderer after all if his heart gives out.”
Ray stepped through the door, waved at the girls. Kinsey’s chest tightened but she stayed quiet as the brunette joined them. Tonight, she wouldn’t think about paranormals or the Nightshade League, about Cici or her grandmother and the creepy guy she had following her. The worry maybe Margot had people following her friends. She should warn them. Would, when she had proof. Tonight, she would listen to Juliette St. Clare sing and Kinsey would think only of her mother.
***
EXT. – 27 CLUB – LATE NIGHT
Benedict stood on the rooftop across the street from Club 27, arms crossed over his chest. It was almost closing time. Kinsey would be emerging shortly. He would do his duty, follow the young DanAllart heir home and guard over her in her sleep.
She had no idea how many times he’d kept her safe. No clue the Collective sent messengers, assassins, infiltrators in her path almost weekly. And she didn’t need to know.
That was his job.
“Master.” Billy panted next to him, unable to fully shed the habits of his natural form. “Your orders?”
Kinsey was his responsibility. But, Margot made it clear the other two were just as valuable, if not as vital.
“Follow and guard,” he said. Billy grunted, Amber beside him. The brother and sister sighed from slim, red-haired human teenagers into large, black dogs with glowing red eyes. He ignored them as they leaped over the edge of the building to the dumpster far below, the fall one that would kill a normal dog.
They were far from normal.
Death Song (Episode Eight: The Nightshade Cases) Page 6