A Drop of Red

by Chris Marie Green

  “Please eat.” The last thing they needed was a newbie passing out.

  Natalia got out of her seat and headed for the kitchen.

  Kiko kept staring at the computer screen, even when his competition was gone. “Thank you. She’s like a monkey on my back, hanging over me, watching everything I’m doing.”

  “She’s just trying to learn.”

  “She’s out to make my life sheer bloody ’ell.”

  Dawn groaned. “Don’t do that.”

  “What? Talk like a local?”

  “Kik, no one’s going to mistake you for one. Ever.”

  He chuckled. “Just give me a month, and I’ll be saying things like ‘Crikey!’ or ‘That’s bloomin’ wonderful!”

  “And you’ll be such a celebrity that they’ll have to invite you on a BBC show like Strictly Come Dancing.”

  “Smashing!”

  Dawn made to go out of the room. She could handle a lot of things, but not a Faux-British Kiko.

  “Hold up,” he said. “I made contact with Kate Lansing’s stepmom. Thought you’d want to know.”

  “Wow.” Dawn leaned against the door frame. “I can’t believe she’s answering the phone with all the press that has to be cramming themselves down her throat.”

  “I’ve got a feeling about her, and I’d say that it’s because fame whores answer their phones twenty-four-seven.”

  “Is this an official feeling?” Dawn asked.

  “No, but I lived among fame whores, so I should know.” Kiko logged out of the computer and stood. “Sounds like she took the day off from work, so she’s available this afternoon for some ‘journalists’ who requested the honor of an interview.”

  “Great. That’ll give me enough time to get back here for Costin’s wake-up.”

  “Don’t you still have that bagged blood in your closet fridge?”

  “Always.”

  “Mate.”

  Huh?

  Kiko looked expectantly at her. “You should say, ‘Always, mate.’ Now that we’re settled here in Jolly Ol’, you’re allowed access to the language.”

  “I’ll work on my Britcabulary.” She began to leave, for real this time. “I’m just going to grab some quick target practice with a few weapons down below, then be ready in time to scoot out the door with you and Natalia for Croydon.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  And, two hours later, after emerging from the subterranean room where they trained, Dawn was shower fresh and ready to roll, wearing her crucifix necklace outside of her long johns and thick henley shirt today. If Justin Abberline had been shielding from Costin on the phone, she wanted to see if he was a vampire who’d react to holy-wear.

  A couple of Friends kept their distance as the trio took a near-empty tube train to Victoria Station. All the while, Kiko looked up at the map and chortled at the colorful stop names. It never got old.

  “Chalk Farm,” he said. “A place where school supplies sprout from the ground like corn in Iowa.”

  Dawn couldn’t resist, either. “Hackney Wick, where a man had best watch for sharp objects around his nethers.”

  Natalia stared at the map, as if dying to come up with one of her own, but she stayed quiet.

  Soon they came to Victoria Station, emerging from the underground and up into the bustling crowds, the aroma from scads of food vendors like bakeries, sandwich shops, and pizza places competing for the taste buds.

  They bought a bunch of roses from a flower stand, then used the western tote board to locate the next train stopping in East Croydon. Afterward, they headed for their coach terminal.

  In less than a half hour they’d arrived at East Croydon’s commuter station, using an online printout to find Drayer’s Inn, across from the massive Whitgift Shopping Centre.

  Croydon was an urban borough that had evolved from a market town, and it was sprinkled with everything from Victorian buildings to high-rises that looked like they’d escaped from the seventies. Instead of the village feel Dawn had found in the main city, with its tucked-away alleys, creaky pubs, and the odd Roman structure parked in the middle of more modern creations, their short walk to Justin’s workplace was all Starbucks and Subway—an America with dreamier accents.

  Drayer’s Inn wasn’t far at all, and when they walked past the doors into a warm lobby with potted plants and touches of marble, Dawn spotted Justin immediately.

  Or, rather, the jolt of her adrenaline signaled that it was their interviewee.

  Tall and thin and pale, just as Kiko had said. But he hadn’t been able to say just how tall. Almost seven feet worth of it.

  Just like the descriptions of the Highgate Vampire.

  She ignored the urge to touch her crucifix, to make sure it gleamed in the light and caught his eye right away.

  Kiko tugged his scarf away from his neck as he approached the desk first, standing a yard or two away so Justin could see him. Natalia and Dawn posted themselves just behind.

  “Hi,” he said, his American accent also snagging the attention of a businessman with a clipped gray beard who was checking out.

  The old guy looked Kiko up and down. So did everyone else behind the desk, even Justin.

  Yeah, Dawn wanted to say. My friend’s a little shorter than your average bear. Get over it.

  Instead, she nodded to them. With polite smiles, they went back to their dealings.

  Justin also smiled down at the group, his gaze catching on the flowers they’d brought. His hair was Earl Grey brown with a hank slumping over his brow, his eyebrows thick and long, emphasizing green eyes and red lips. His navy blue clerk’s suit draped on his shoulders like they were a wire hanger, and his gaze was soft, like the guy who sat next to you in chemistry class and offered to share his homework and never asked you to prom even though you suspected he might if you didn’t have such a prickly reputation when it came to dating.

  Or the lack of it.

  Dawn kept him in her sights. Was he a cemetery-lurking vampire or just a guy who put flowers on Mum’s grave?

  “I’m Karl,” Kiko lied as he stood on his toes and placed the bouquet on the counter. “I called you about visiting Colleen’s grave while me and my cousins are here?”

  “Ah, yes, thank you.” Justin’s voice was like the cream these people often put into their tea.

  After scooping up the flowers, he glanced at his gold watch, which had all the blunt shine of an item he probably hadn’t saved up too much cash for.

  “Would you mind waiting for five minutes?” he asked, motioning toward the coffee shop to the team’s left.

  Kiko unbuttoned his big jacket. He had that luxury today since he’d ditched the shoulder holster and relocated his revolver to an inside pocket. “We don’t mind at all. Can I get you anything while we’re waiting?”

  Justin shook his head and offered another polite smile.

  With that, Kiko and Natalia moved toward the shop, but Dawn loitered, veering closer to the desk with her fingers ready to squeeze the holy water wrist sack, if needed.

  Justin’s gaze flicked down to the silver crucifix she wore against the black of her wardrobe.

  Is he . . . ? she thought. Will he . . . ?

  When he met her gaze again, he showed no signs of fear, freezing, or suspicion. Nope—he only bent over to write something, his hair slouching over one eye.

  Okay. Not affected by a holy item. Maybe these vamps were immune?

  Dawn walked into the oaken coffee nook, where a few customers tapped away at computers and read trade paperback novels. Natalia had taken a circular booth across from the dessert case, and she was eyeing some éclairs. Kiko was at the counter, ordering.

  “Want anything?” he asked Dawn as she took a seat.

  “Nah, thanks.”

  Natalia leaned against the table. Her coat was still buttoned up. “Any reaction?”

  “None whatsoever.”

  The other girl reclined against the leather upholstery. “I didn’t have any indications of something
amiss, either.”

  Dawn turned that over in her mind. If Justin was the Highgate Vamp—or even a vampire connected to the legend—wouldn’t Natalia be getting those hollow vibes, just like at the cemetery?

  And if Justin wasn’t connected to a Highgate creature, then why had Kiko’s vision brought them here?

  Kiko came over with a mug of coffee for himself and a bottle of Orangina for Natalia. Under the table, Dawn set her PDA to record just before Justin arrived to drag over a chair and place it at the edge of the booth.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, “but I fear there’ll be little leg room with me in the booth.”

  “No problem.” Kiko shook the guy’s hand, then motioned to Dawn. “I brought my cousin Georgie with me.”

  Ugh. Dawn wanted to smack him for the cutesy alias.

  “And”—Kiko gestured toward Natalia—“our other cousin, Narda.”

  The new girl’s eyes widened a tad, but she went along with it, poor thing.

  “Narda,” Kiko continued, “doesn’t talk much.”

  Either he didn’t want to explain Natalia’s not-so-American accent, or he was just being evil.

  Dawn gently kicked Kiko under the table as she shifted position. “Good to meet you, Justin.”

  “Likewise.” The young man folded his large hands on the table, where the face of his watch was visible. “I appreciate your condolences.”

  How British, Dawn thought. He’d made it clear that this was going to be a quick chat without actually saying it.

  “Wow, it’s been a whole year since Colleen passed away.” Kiko began to draw upon tidbits they’d gotten from her obituary, which had mentioned that she’d enjoyed a holiday on the Algarve Coast every year since she’d been five. “It’s been a long time since we saw her ourselves. Our family used to spend summers in Portugal, too, and when she was a teen, she would babysit us while our parents went out. . . .”

  Kiko trailed off, cueing Dawn to come in.

  “Did Colleen keep visiting Lagos after she got out of school?” she asked, just to encourage Justin to talk.

  Natalia, aka “Silent Narda,” scooted toward the table, as if she wanted to get in on the questioning, too.

  “My mother went every summer for the duration of her life.” Justin glimpsed at his watch without making it obvious. But his move didn’t quite cover the grief that had overtaken his gaze. “Except when she became ill, of course.”

  Colleen Abberline had died of breast cancer, and unless these Underground vampires could cause tumors, there probably wouldn’t be a connection between them and her death.

  “So young,” Dawn said, meaning it.

  Justin drew in a breath, as if all this sympathy made him uncomfortable.

  Probably sensing this, too, Kiko wasted no time in touching Justin’s hand for a reading.

  And when he risked whispering “vampires” at the same time, Dawn almost flew across the table to shush him.

  But the word would get Justin’s mind on the subject, and if he knew anything about them, Kiko might be able to see it.

  The interviewee hesitated, probably because he was reacting to the psychometric touch. Dawn bunched the bottom of her jacket with one hand.

  Please have this work. Please give us something.

  When Justin snapped out of it, then icily extricated himself from Kiko, something sank through Dawn.

  And when the guy stood to leave, something broke.

  Anger and frustration boiled over until it burst outward, and before Dawn could stop it, her mental power clamped under Justin’s chin like a hand and whipped his face in her direction until his gaze was meeting hers.

  Got your attention now? she thought somewhere in the back of her mind.

  Both Kiko and Natalia gasped, but Dawn was too stunned to do anything but carry on.

  “We’d like to talk to you a little more,” she said.

  Panic invaded his eyes, and as the full impact of what she’d done hit her, she released him.

  Just as she’d released Jonah from those invisible shackles the other day.

  Justin fumbled back a step. Then he left without saying anything else.

  No one spoke, and when Dawn looked away from her team and found the other people in the shop glancing quizzically at the disturbance, she adjusted the wrists of her jacket. No one had screamed, so they probably hadn’t seen.

  She turned back to her coworkers, wondering why, once again, her mental force hadn’t come out as a punch or a jab.

  Kiko said it all. “What. The. Fuck?”

  Dawn tried to act like she didn’t know what he was talking about, but Natalia was gaping at her, making her feel like a traveling carnival attraction.

  “We’ll talk later,” Dawn said.

  Kiko made a “you betcha” sound. “We’d better.”

  Subject change. Now. “So on to plan B?”

  “No need, because, boy, did I get some stuff.”

  In spite of the circumstances, he was as chipper as ever, and she realized that was only because he’d gotten a clear reading off of Justin Abberline.

  “I’m so ba-ack,” Kiko said.

  TWELVE

  THE WickED STEPMOTHER

  JUSTIN seems like he’s always been a presentable guy,” Kiko said as they walked out of the hotel after the interview, “but he hasn’t always been that way, and he’s trying to make sure no one knows it.”

  Next to them, the red Tramlink rumbled by on its rails, and a few riders stared out the windows, their gazes lingering on Kiko, the little person, until they’d passed.

  He didn’t notice, but Natalia did. Dawn saw the new girl giving the gawkers a censuring stare right back.

  Yet after the transport slithered around a corner, Natalia made sure Kiko knew she wasn’t happy about being silenced back at the coffee shop.

  “Care to elaborate on your Justin vision?” she asked him. “Or do you plan on brushing me to the side once again?”

  “I’m sorry, was that whole Narda thing not appropriate?” Grinning, Kiko stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

  Dawn poked him. “Spill the vision, okay?”

  But Kiko wallowed in his awesomeness a tad longer. “You don’t even know how much time and effort I just saved us. I got more info out of Justin than he would’ve volunteered to any three complete strangers.”

  Natalia sniffed. “I’m surprised you didn’t save us even more work by hypnotizing him. That way, you could have asked him to share anything he knows about ‘clients.’ Or perhaps you knew hypnosis wouldn’t work, just as it didn’t on the gatekeeper at Highgate Cemetery?”

  Dawn held back a surprised laugh. One for Natalia.

  Kiko looked annoyed as they turned the corner, where a row of fast-food places, banks, and storefronts stretched toward the train station. The grimy stench of car exhaust from busy George Street mixed with the autumnal temperature as commuters and urbanites came at them in a rush.

  “So how does Justin tie in?” Dawn asked.

  Before answering, Kiko glanced around, then waved her and Natalia over to the front of a travel agency, where they stood by the glass door in relative privacy.

  The scent of jasmine signaled that a few Friends had circled around them, keeping a lookout for anyone who might get too close.

  “First off,” Kiko said, “I highly doubt Justin’s what we might call a ‘client.’ ”

  “How can you be sure if you can’t sense our ‘clients’?” Dawn asked.

  Natalia spoke up. “I have to agree with Kiko. Justin seemed very human. Very different from either Frank or even you, Dawn.”

  That little black spot Natalia had seen on Dawn charred into her even now.

  “Then what did you see in Justin, Kik?” Dawn asked.

  He lowered his voice and stepped closer, where they huddled over him.

  “First, I saw Justin sitting on the floor of what looked like a murky flophouse, with other kids smoking, drinking, bundled up in dingy blankets. It was Jus
tin and two other guys, plus a girl who looked real out of place because she seemed the type who would shop at Harrods instead of hanging around with them. They were all shooting up. I didn’t see any of them very good at first—too dark. I need to do a mental replay.”

  Natalia gave Kiko a sidelong glance. “Those people who were with them . . . Were they ‘clients’?”

  “Not that I could tell.”

  “This girl,” Dawn asked, “didn’t happen to be Kate Lansing, did she?”

  “Didn’t look like her silhouette,” Kiko said. “Kate had longer, reddish hair. And even though I couldn’t see an exact color for this girl, I know she had a short, smart, Posh Spice style. If this took place a while ago, maybe Kate could’ve grown it out. Or maybe it’s just a different girl.”

  “Maybe,” Dawn said. “By comparing how Justin is now against how he was then, can we suppose that this did happen a decent amount of time ago? He couldn’t have cleaned himself up that quick, holding down a good job in a business hotel and looking as healthy as he does.”

  Natalia was pensive. “He is rather pale. Perhaps he still goes out at night and indulges?”

  “No way,” Kiko said. “His eyes. He doesn’t have junkie eyes.”

  He cleared his throat, and Dawn rested a steadying hand at his nape.

  “Then perhaps,” Natalia said, watching Dawn and Kiko from her side of the circle, “his mother’s sickness, then death over a year ago, changed his life for the better.”

  “It cleaned him up,” Kiko added.

  Natalia kept on going. “And if that’s the case, Kiko’s vision would have taken place over a year ago.”

  The newbie was really catching on. “A year wouldn’t have allowed the girl’s hair to go from Posh Spice to Kate-long, would it? Unless she got extensions.”

  “Let me get a definitive answer right now.” Kiko closed his eyes, using the screen of his mind to expand the vision that’d come to him in such a flash at the hotel. “After Justin and his three buddies shot up, they went out on the town. I can see street signs . . .” He smiled. “They were in Brixton, going in the direction of the railway station.”

  “There’re warnings about that place at night,” Dawn said. “Druggies. Bad scene.”