Vampire (Alpha Claim 8-Final Enforcement): New Adult Paranormal Romance (Vampire Alpha Claim)

by Eros, Marata

  “Okay,” I said.

  Garcia looked first at me, nodding, then turned those cop eyes on Tiff.

  “Yeah, I won't talk,” she answered.

  “Good,” he said, tipping his hat to all the assembled parents, the silver shield winking in the low light of the end of the day.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tiff and I met at the door of the Kent Police Station at the same time. She had a wad of gum stuffed in her mouth and could snap, I swear, ten ear-splitting bubbles one right after another. Like she was doing now.

  “Tiff... please ...” I said, my ears in pain.

  “Calm down, you should try it, Hart, settles your nerves.”

  Yeah, it was so calming. And monkeys fly out of my ass.

  “I think I'm gonna be okay, after all, it's a bunch of the dead ...” I said while I held open the door for her.

  Slipping through, Tiff ripped her hood back as she came through. She stopped suddenly and I almost plowed into her, throwing my hands up to keep my balance as I went on tiptoe.

  She had her pulse in hand, her thumb depressed, nodding her head.

  “What?” I said, kinda irritated.

  “It's Bry. He wants to know if he can bring the chick he's been digginʼ on to the hide-a-way Friday?” she asked.

  I had to peer around the mammoth bubble to see her.

  She snapped it and suddenly, hazel eyes filled my line of sight. Geez... with the gum.

  “I guess. Wait—is she okay?”

  Tiff shrugged. “Don't really know her. Kinda girlie, kinda annoying.”

  “Why ʼcuz she's ʻgirlieʼ, or ʼcuz ...”

  Snap. “Yeah, all of that.”

  “You like Jade.”

  Tiff looked at me. “She's cool, even if she wears pink.”

  That was a crime, I guess. I liked the way Jade dressed. Huh.

  We walked in, and I scoped the receptionist's desk. An older gal sat behind the desk with a huge pulse-screen in front of her and three thumb pads. She saw us and held up a finger, her other hand with her thumb depressed on a huge thumb pad the size of my credit card-sized pulse.

  Tiff and I waited as she popped her gum. I think that's what finally got the gal off her pulse conversation. Who could think with all that noise? But whatever, it was sure effective.

  She looked up at us. “What do you kids want?” eying us up and finding us lacking somehow.

  I leaned forward. “We're here to meet with Officers Gale and Garcia.” Mom would have loved that.

  She straightened in her chair, looking us over again. “You're the AFTDs?” she asked, a look of suspicion on her face.

  I was used to that, didn't even faze me. I had been through too much to be intimidated by—my eyes flicked to her name tag, Lovestein— and her opinions of people with Affinity for the Dead. Besides, she had a lame name , I noticed uncharitably.

  I let what I was feeling show on my face.

  She pursed her lips. “I'll let the Officers know that you're here then.”

  Lovestein swiveled in her chair, pressing an aggressive thumb on the pulse. Staring at us disdainfully she turned away, lifting her thumb, then depressing it again.

  “Officers Gale and Garcia will be with you momentarily,” her eyes wandered to a hardass bench against a wall flanked by a plastic plant. “Take a seat, kids.”

  I didn't like the way she said kids.

  We huffed over there and threw ourselves down on the bench, our butt bones protesting.

  “Geez. What was her problem, the enraged cow?”

  “No, that's reserved for Griswold.” I scolded Tiff, knowing that there wasn't another Griswold in the world. She was one-of-a-kind.

  Tiff barked out a laugh. “True, dude.”

  Garcia came jogging up which made me sit up straighter. “Hey kids,” he said, his smile preceding his greeting. He might be okay for an adult.

  “Is somethinʼ goinʼ on?” Tiff asked.

  “Yes, we have not transported all the other bodies yet, thought we'd take the squad car over to the cemetery and get a gander at them there.”

  A gander?

  He looked at us and we looked at each other.

  “Not that it's not really cool to have a cop car ride and all—” Tiff began.

  Garcia's eyes narrowed.

  Nice intro. I interjected, “But maybe going back to the cemetery with all the fun ghost and Graysheet memories. Maybe, we're not feelinʼ it.”

  Garcia looked around, saw Lovestein giving us her full attention (I noticed how she suddenly didn't have any pulse answering to do) and said quietly, “Why don't we head to my office real quick and we'll talk more there.”

  We got up and as I passed a staring Lovestein, I had an insane urge to stick out my tongue. I swear it had been years since I'd felt that impulse. As I turned back to follow Garcia, Tiff stuck her tongue out at Lovestein.

  It was a moment.

  We left Lovestein back there with the open mouth, gasping fish look.

  Tiff looked at me, never breaking stride and I mouthed, nice.

  Garcia shut the door behind us and I looked around.

  His office was all homey and I raised an eyebrow. I thought he was a man's man, his office looked all metro-sexual.

  He shifted uncomfortably and said, “Gale and I share this space.”

  Gotcha , I was down with that.

  “Oh good.” Tiff did a mock-wipe-the-forehead, “You had us worried,” she said with a straight face, and I laughed.

  “Anyway,” Garcia said, frowning slightly, “we figure that you kids may get a better ʻreadingʼ if you're where the bodies were dumped.”

  I guess that made sense, but I didn't like going back there. A lot of Bad Bullshit had happened there and I had an aftertaste still.

  Tiff looked uncertain, “Is Bobbi gonna be there too?”

  “Yes, we have the whole forensic team there.”

  I said it out loud, “You must have had to pull some bigtime strings to get two minors on a crime scene this big.”

  Garcia started working over his tie, smoothing it down, cupping his hand and running it down the length, doing it again, finally, “Yes, ah, actually—there's been a lot of pressure from the brass to get this thing solved. And that's not the only pressure we've received. The only source.”

  “They want us to solve it. They need our help.”

  He nodded. So, the adults needed us.

  I liked it.

  Tiff turned and grinned at me, she liked it too.

  “Okay, we're in,” I said.

  ****

  We left the police station and got into the disgusting police car.

  I had to ask, “Don't you guys ever get these things cleaned?” I looked around, not able to make purchase on any surface because they were all mucked up with mystery stains, again.

  Garcia's brown eyes met mine in the rear view mirror. “Every week,” he said neutrally, and pulsed the engine on.

  He began backing out of his stall when another cop ran up frantically, knocking on the glass, the rapping causing Tiff and I to jump.

  Garcia opened the window. “What is it?”

  His wide eyes were panicked. “There's another one.”

  Garcia just stared at him. “Where?”

  “Scenic Cemetery.”

  “ Damn . Okay.” He looked at the two of us kids. “I'll be right there.”

  Officer Cline looked at us. “What about these two?”

  “I'll figure that out.”

  He looked at us dubiously. “Okay, but—”

  Garcia shot him a glare. “I said I'd figure it out.”

  Cline threw up his hands, begging for mercy. “Fine, whatever, it's your ass.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  He pulled away from the curb and got moving, throwing the lights on the cruiser, speeding toward my home away from home.

  “What's goinʼ on?” I asked.

  His eyes slid to mine, going back to the road, then back again. “Detour.”


  “What's happened?” Tiff asked.

  He exhaled loudly. “We've got another kid.”

  “A dead one?” I asked stupidly.

  “Is there another kind?” he asked.

  Tiff glared at him.

  “Sorry, it's just—this case is getting to me.”

  His eyes looked at us again. “Listen, you two wait in the car here. We're not cleared for you to be at a fresh crime scene.”

  “Oh, come on !” Tiff wheedled. It must have been effective ʼcuz I saw Garcia wavering.

  He pulled up, still eying us.

  “Let me get a verbal.” Whipping out his pulse, his thumb landed on the pad, and I knew he was gonna work his cop-magic.

  “What time is it?” Tiff whispered.

  I looked at my old Timex, the crystal busted during all the Cemetery Fun last year. I tilted my wrist back and forth until I could tell. “Straight up four o'clock.”

  She looked back at Garcia, busy on his pulse and whispered, “Do ya hear ʼem?”

  How could I not? The dead were howling for release, the kind of release only I could give.

  I nodded.

  “It seems worse today.”

  “Maybe it's this murder. Maybe, it causes a different ʻvibeʼ or something.” I shrugged.

  Garcia turned to face us. “Pulse your folks. If they give a verbal then it can be umbrella-ed under the consent they pulsed last night.”

  We stared blankly at him. English-please. I mean, damn, make it snappy. There was a corpse-a-coolinʼ.

  He sighed, “Pulse your parents and see if it's okay for you to be at a fresh murder scene and if they say yes, I won't get in trouble.”

  Huh. Okay.

  My pulse to Mom went something along the lines of this:

  Hey Mom. -CH

  Hi honey, how are things going? -AH

  Uh—Officer Garcia needs us to see a fresh body ʼcuz some kid just got creamed today and they think they may get to the murderer faster.- CH

  Oh... well, I don't think your father and I want you having those images in your head, Caleb. We're going to have to say no on this.- AH

  I'd nail her with reason. I figured since Mom wasn't really logic-driven. (Although, sometimes that bit me on the ass . )

  I depressed my thumb again.

  Mom, come on—what difference does it make if the body is all bones or if it's all guts and stuff? - CH

  Caleb, listen to me. This will never leave your head, these things will live inside you, be a part of who you are forever. -AH

  I know, Mom. This is what I am now. I was meant to do this. If I can help, I should.- CH

  sighs , alright, but know this: the minute you can't handle this, we need to reassess what direction we choose in the future. Just because you're AFTD doesn't mean that chunks need to be taken out of your emotional health.- AH

  I lifted my thumb. Geez, Mom (mental face-palm).

  I depressed it again and thought :

  Okay, thanks. -CH

  Wait. -AH

  Yeah? -CH

  Did Officer Garcia have you phone—I mean, pulse? - AH

  Yeah, he did. -CH

  Well that's something, I guess. We'll talk more when you get home. -AH

  Okay Mom, thanks. -CH

  Love you, sweet pea. -AH

  Geez.

  ... You too. -CH

  I looked at Tiff, who nodded. Lifting her pulse. “My dad.”

  “You didn't talk to your mom?”

  “Nah, she'd have a pineapple if she knew I was gonna see something like this.”

  Her parents were birthing fruit now.

  “Well, my mom wasn't thrilled either.”

  “What would your dad say?”

  I waved that away. “He's totally into the Science groove, they'd have to put up the yellow tape just for him.”

  She laughed. “Seriously?”

  I nodded. “For real.”

  Garcia was gearing up outside and opened the door. “What'd they say?”

  “It's okay,” I said and when he swung his head to her she nodded.

  “Okay, hop out.”

  We did (and I avoided a big scaly patch of something on the corner of the seat just as my butt cleared it).

  Garcia smirked when he caught a load of my expression.

  Funny, real funny .

  ****

  We got out of the cruiser.

  All comedy disappeared when the sea of noise came rushing in like the tide coming to shore. Geez. The dead were loud. So much noise.

  I covered my ears with both hands, feeling momentarily dizzy. I'd gone the whole summer, avoiding all cemeteries. After all the accidental corpse-raising, I'd just had a normal summer, goofing around at Grampsʼ and hanging out with the Js and Jade. But that was like smoke in the wind now. I better re-acclimate, fast.

  Tiff looked at me, she was okay but she wasn't what I was. I knew where the body lay the minute my foot hit the ground. Where was John when I needed him? I sure could use his psychic Null skills about now. He'd tune the worst of it out.

  “You okay?” she asked, Garcia looking on.

  “Yeah, but I could use a Null about now.”

  “We have one on the way, you going to be okay?”

  I nodded. I was gonna have to be.

  We walked forward, the warm breeze of Indian summer lifting the sweaty strands of hair off my forehead.

  We started up the knoll, the great Douglas Fir trees swaying at the top, sentinel and waiting. The yellow tape swayed in the light breeze, the color standing out like a flag of warning.

  Hiking up there, my head buzzed like a swarm of bees were trapped and searching for escape.

  Tiff made a low sound in the back of her throat and went to take my hand but I shook my head. Contact would make it worse for sure. It'd notch my undead crap up to something I maybe couldn't deal with.

  “Let's pull out the big guns when we absolutely have to, and not a minute before,” I said.

  She nodded, looking a little buzzed.

  At the edge of the tape, I could see where the corpse lay and Garcia turned me bodily, his large hands cupping my entire shoulders. “This is going to be really bad. Don't feel bad if you throw up. It can happen. In fact, it happens to all of us at some time or another.”

  Throw up? The barf-o-ma-tic was not in My Plan.

  I nodded. I wasn't gonna back down now. He looked at Tiff and she nodded, already shaky.

  It was the smell that hit me first. Somewhere between the copper of blood and open sewer. Like the shitters you had to use at the crappy rest stops. I felt my lunch start to rise and was sure that I was gonna spray it when I had a sudden inspiration. Maybe I could just think about the kid as a zombie already and that'd rein in the reaction. Because, right now, inside my head, I was definitely thinking about the kid as a kid, not a zombie.

  I turned to Tiff. “Listen,” I started, but she had her eyes glued on the corpse and was doing the shallow breaths through her mouth, “I have an idea.”

  When I told her she said, “That's kinda brilliant, Hart. But if I upchuck in the next ten minutes, call me a liar.”

  We looked back at the team and the dude that looked in charge nodded to Garcia and he lifted up the tape, at the same time he clipped name badges on our shirts. We walked forward and that's when I knew visualizing wasn't gonna work on this one.

  This was way-worse than road kill.

  I sank to my knees beside the corpse and it spoke to me.

  Screamed to me.

  My head filled with the mudslide of its pleas. Its pleas for release.

  A boy, a boy my age, and his head leaned at an awkward angle. Things had been done to him, I didn't know what, but it didn't take a great amount of imagination to figure it out. I looked over the chest, seeing the fragility of bones and ribs. They offered no protection now.

  His intestines had been splayed out, looking like obscene worms.

  Tiff gasped, doing the quick swallows, then split for the perimeter, where I hear
d her start gagging.

  That made me want to puke too, but I was hearing stuff and that overrode the horror in front of me.

  Who I was rose to the surface, but the AFTD squelched it. Me- Caleb , was horrified. But the AFTD part spoke for me.

  That power rushed through me now. There was no warning, no bartering. It poured out of me like the vomit spewing from Tiffany in a spine-tingling moment of shattering glass, spilling over the dead boy, his body jerking in response.

  Oh shit-in-a-sack, I thought dreamily. I'd forgotten how great it felt to let it loose. Garcia saw the body twitch in response to the growing power and yelled, “Oh hell. Get the Null, I wasn't ready—Gale! Where is she?” he bellowed.

  The lead forensic guy said, “Hell if I know, Williams said she was running behind.”

  Garcia flung a hand through his hair and strode over to me, the muffled sounds of Tiff puking in the background. “Listen Caleb, let's just pull back until Gale shows up. The Null will be here any time.”

  He reached out as if to touch me.

  “Don't touch me right now, it'd be bad,” I said with real feeling.

  His hand hovered. He thought about it then snatched his hand back.

  Just then a frantic-looking cop came running up, his uniform all out of whack. “Why'd you let him get going?”

  “I didn't. He just—I don't know— oh hell, look at that,” Garcia said tonelessly.

  Yeah, look at that.

  The corpse sat upright, and started piling his guts back into the open cavity of his body.

  Tiff took that opportunity to turn around in her barfing to check out the activity, took one look at the corpse, and started puking again.

  Geez.

  I concentrated on the corpse, sorry... zombie , and gave him the last of the juice, concentrating my efforts like a weapon, I shoved out everything I had and said, Live.

  And he did.

  Right before our eyes he filled out like water in a cup. He transformed before us, standing as he did. A reversal of fortune, his eyes coming alive in their sockets.

  They moved to me. “Master,” he breathed out, the wash of it like a stain of rot.

  “My God,” the forensic tech said.