by W. J. May
“I hate this part,” Ace murmured.
“Well, good luck with that,” Patrice said, nodding toward Erick. She waved her hand and a shimmering portal appeared, and she stepped through it and disappeared.
Ace helped Erick back up to the couch.
“It feels like my insides are on fire,” Erick panted.
“I know, kid.”
“You’re right. Nothing going on here,” Ace said as he stared at Elias’s quiet mansion. “He’s already turned that girl into a bloodsucker. There’s nothing we can do until he brings her into public. Let’s head to Club Muse and see what’s shakin’.”
The duo paid the cover charge and walked in and looked around. It was already crowded and very loud. Ace had to resist the urge to put his fingers in his ears.
“How do these kids listen to this shit?” he asked, pointing at the speakers mounted on the ceiling.
Erick shrugged. “Can I get a drink, grandpa?”
“Funny. One, that’s it. I need you alert,” Ace said.
As they made their way to the bar, Ace looked over where they knew Quinn hung out and nudged Erick. “That black dude, he looks familiar.”
Erick’s eyes got big. “Holy crap, that’s Lauren’s BSI partner. Remember when we were in here last time and had to leave ‘cause I thought Lauren might spot me?”
Ace nodded and they watched in horror as Quinn suddenly locked eyes with Tristan. He had a glazed-over, almost drunk look on his face, and his hands were wandering shamelessly all over her body.
“Well don’t just stand there, doc. Go pull him off!” Ace barked.
They rushed over but Quinn’s large vampire bodyguard put his arm up as he saw Ace and Erick approach. “Go away.”
Erick pushed the vampire in the chest as hard as he could, which sent him flying. This was the best part of his Immortal job; Erick loved his special gift and grinned. The vampire got up and hissed, his teeth out, his eyes starting to turn black.
Ace tackled the bodyguard’s legs as he got up.
Erick grabbed Tristan by the back of the shirt and tossed him to the dance floor, where he went sliding on his back, clearing a path through a line of dancers, who all stopped and gasped at the fight.
The club’s security came running over as they saw the vampire bodyguard fighting with Ace, and Erick grabbed Tristan again, hoisting him to his feet.
Ace jumped up and grabbed them both. “Time to go.”
They found a backdoor emergency exit and left before security reached them.
∞∞∞
“Who the hell are you people?” Tristan asked as Erick put him up against the Camaro and held him there by his shirt.
“Get in the car or I will force you in,” Erick said.
“Do you know who I am? I work....”
“We know who you are,” Ace answered. “And we just saved your ass. So either get in the car so we can take you home, or get in your own car. But you are not going back into that club and that succubus.” He pointed at the building.
Tristan’s eyes grew wide and shooed Erick’s hands from his shirt. Erick let go. “What do you know about a succubus?”
“You were almost her dinner,” Erick answered flatly, backing up slightly, seeing that Tristan was being compliant.
“Who are you guys?”
Erick and Ace looked at each other. “Let’s just say we also police the vampires and shifters around here.”
“Oh, you BSI, too?”
“No,” Ace answered flatly.
Tristan straightened out his shirt where he’d been grabbed and then folded his arms. “So... you two part of some secret government organization or something?”
“No, that would be the BSI,” Erick said with a laugh.
“You look familiar,” Tristan said.
“I have one of those faces,” Erick responded.
“How did you fight off that bodyguard? Vampires are wicked strong,” Tristan said, eyeing Erick suspiciously.
“I’m also wicked strong,” Erick responded.
They sat staring at each other in silence for a few more minutes. “Well, you can go, but promise us you won’t go back into that club by yourself,” Ace said.
“So that’s it. You come and do this big rescue and don’t tell me anything?”
“That pretty much sums it up.”
Tristan huffed. “You going to tell me your names?”
“No, you probably won’t see us again,” Ace said.
The two got into the Camaro and drove off, leaving Tristan standing in the dark parking lot, scratching his bald head.
* * *
Chapter 15
Special Agent Tristan Ellis didn’t sleep at all that night. He tossed and turned, horrific images of Quinn’s black eyes dancing behind his eyelids every time he closed them.
Each night was the same, so by the end of the work week, he congratulated himself for not calling in sick once, even when he really wanted to because of pure exhaustion. He was looking forward to a weekend of rest.
The dreams of the succubus had become increasingly disturbing. Some of them were very sexual, causing him to not be able to get back to sleep; others were just as disturbing, horror-filled images of him turning into a vampire and biting random strangers, drinking their blood and leaving their empty husks behind just so he could stay alive... or undead, as it would seem.
The most disturbing of the dreams, however, were the ones where Quinn seemed to be calling to him, her alluring red lips and glittering blue eyes, beckoning him forward, red painted fingernails giving him a come hither sign and him floating forward, no control over his body. He wondered how long he had locked eyes with her, as he didn’t remember anything except going to sit next to her on the couch, and then suddenly being ripped from the ecstasy of her stare by the two strange men.
And who were those guys, anyway? What an odd encounter it had been. He wanted so badly to tell Lauren and SAC Morris about them, but feared he’d be castigated for going back to Club Muse by himself, so he’d kept silent. He cursed himself for not at least snatching part of the Camaro’s Louisiana plate number so he could run it through the new computer system the Justice Department had just received.
Tristan leaned back at his desk, four p.m. taking forever to make its way around the clock, and thought about who those guys could be. They seemed unnaturally strong, and they knew an awful lot about vampires and succubae. They were secretive, and the taller blonde one spoke as if he were a lot older than he looked.
“Vampires,” Tristan mumbled under his breath. “It was nighttime. I bet they’re a secret organization of vampires that keep their kind from being exposed to the public.”
While Tristan was wrong about the Immortals, he was surely going to be getting an up close and personal view of the world of vampires very soon.
∞∞∞
“You wanted to see me?” Lauren asked as she walked into SAC Morris’s office Monday morning.
Sheila Morris looked up from her paperwork and scratched a bright blue fingernail into the top of her braids. “Yes, I have an assignment for you and Special Agent Ellis.”
“Well, he’s not here.”
“What? It’s nine a.m., he better be here,” Sheila replied.
Lauren was confused. “I assumed he called in sick since he wasn’t here. I know he said he was having trouble sleeping last week. I thought maybe he took a sick day.”
Sheila shook her head. “Nope, and I’ve been here since six.”
“That’s odd. He never calls in sick.”
Sheila waved her gold pen in the air. “Go by his place and check on him, then get back here. This assignment’s in Baton Rouge so it’s gonna be a long day.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lauren got into the white government-issued sedan and drove to Tristan’s apartment on the outskirts of New Orleans. She had only been there twice before; the other night when she’d dropped him off, and once when she had to drop off his Bureau ID he’d left in her ca
r one Friday.
The apartment complex was moderately new, plain, but well kept. The grounds were well manicured and it was quiet, especially for a Monday morning.
Lauren knocked on the door, but the force of her rapping caused the door to creak open slightly. Her stomach flipped over in her gut and she put her hand on her holstered gun, easing the door open slowly.
“Ellis! You in here?”
She noticed the apartment was in darkness. All the curtains were drawn and the TV was on, but muted.
She got no response so she went to the bedroom where she saw a thick Minnesota Vikings blanket draped over the only window. It was very dark, but she could see Agent Ellis lying in bed, his still form looking to be asleep.
She crept over to him and shook his bare shoulder slightly. “Tristan, you okay?” His skin was cold to the touch and she feared the worst.
Then she saw him move and breathed a sigh of relief and shook him again. “Ellis, get up. You hungover or what? The boss sent me –”
Tristan bolted upright and blinked a few times looking confused. Lauren stepped back, alarmed. “You okay?”
He focused in on her and inhaled deeply through his nose. Then he jumped out of bed and Lauren backed up out of the room and fumbled for her gun. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she got goose bumps everywhere. Something wasn’t right. Especially since Tristan was completely naked and didn’t seem to care.
“Tristan...” she said, walking backward into the living room.
He slowly stalked after her, and once she got into the living room where there was a bit more light, she could see the smile on his face. She could also see that his eyes had turned completely black with no pupils at all. Lauren pulled her gun up and began to walk backward toward the door.
That’s when he lunged.
Lauren screamed.
Two shots rang out, hitting Tristan in both the head and stomach. He went down with a thud and lay still on the carpet.
Lauren ran into the kitchen and grabbed the corded phone attached to the wall and could barely dial her boss’s number, her hands were shaking so badly. She kept the gun trained on Tristan’s still form. A blood pool began to form around his body, turning the light brown carpet black in the dim light.
“Oh, my God,” she sobbed, “Sheila send someone to Tristan’s place. He’s dead. I just shot him. Please help. Oh, God...”
“What! Why did you shoot him?”
“He... he... he’s a damn vampire, Sheila. Oh, God please, I need to leave in case he wakes up.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’m on my way and I’m bringing the cavalry. Hang up and get out of the apartment. Try to lock him in but stay near his door and shoot him again if he tries to leave.”
“Okay,” she choked.
She put the phone back on its cradle with a shaky hand and wiped at her tears with the back of the hand that was holding the gun. As she went to leave the apartment, she looked at the window and had an idea.
Keeping a wide berth around Tristan’s body, she went over to the window and pulled the curtains open, bathing the room in bright morning sunlight. None of it hit Tristan, but in about an hour, the sun would move and fry him.
If he was still... alive.
She wanted to go to him and see if he was still breathing. She knew feeling for a pulse wouldn’t do any good. She also thought about shooting him again in the head for good measure. After all, she had only told her boss she’d shot him; she didn’t say how many times. As she thought about it, she just didn’t have the heart to shoot him again. Her shoulders slumped and the tears began to fall again.
Then she heard police sirens.
Shit! Neighbors must have heard the shots!
She left the apartment quickly. Thankfully, Sheila and a crew of men in a van pulled up a few long minutes later, and Lauren told them which apartment it was. Then two men in a black Camaro pulled up.
“What apartment?” asked a tall blonde guy with a buzz cut. He shot Lauren a look, smiled at her, then looked back at Sheila. His partner stayed in the car. Lauren couldn’t see him very well.
“Apartment twelve,” Lauren responded.
He nodded and stalked off toward the stairs.
Just then NOPD pulled up, blazing lights and sirens, and two young uniformed officers got out of their car.
Sheila cut them off. “Special Agent in Charge Sheila Morris, FBI,” she said, flashing a badge. “You here about the gunshots?”
“Yes, ma’am, neighbors called it in.”
She nodded. “My agent here had an accidental discharge. We were here on a separate matter.” She handed the officers her business card. “Have your sergeant call me if he has any questions.”
The officers took her card, shrugged, and drove off.
“There’s a reason NOPD stands for, ‘Not our problem, dude’,” Sheila muttered, shaking her head.
Lauren was still shaking. “I can’t believe Tristan’s a vampire. What happened? Oh, God, Sheila, what happened?”
Sheila hugged Lauren. “It’ll be okay. We’ll take care of it.”
“What does that mean? Are you going to kill him?”
She said nothing, just continued hugging her on the sidewalk outside the apartment.
Two agents she recognized as colleagues came out wearing obviously fake paramedics uniforms. They were pushing a gurney with a body inside a black body bag past her and into their unmarked van. Lauren watched them load Tristan’s body inside and hoped her fellow agents had taken precautions.
“Who are the two guys in the Camaro?” she asked Sheila, wiping her eyes.
They were both still looking at the van. “Let’s just say they’re my clean-up crew.”
A week later, Lauren was sitting in her personally owned vehicle in the parking lot of Club Muse. It was a Friday night and she was debating on whether or not to go in. Her head was a foggy mess, her emotions numb. Tomorrow would be Tristan’s funeral and she felt he needed some vindication before she had to face his family. She was done crying, feeling like she failed Tristan, and now she was just... pissed off.
She hadn’t decided if she was going to kill the succubus or just scare her, although she didn’t think the bitch would scare very easily. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw it was well after midnight. She knew the club closed at one a.m. and decided to just wait and see if she could catch her outside.
The thought that she might be committing suicide here tonight had crossed her mind. But again, her emotions were now numb, save for the buzz of angry adrenaline that coursed through her body and kept her awake at night, making her very difficult to get along with. Most of the agents in the office would smile sadly at her and offer her superficial condolences, but she also knew none of them had lost a partner, and couldn’t empathize. She hoped they never would have to.
She looked over at the submachine gun that was lying on the seat next to her. Knowing she had another round of shells in her right coat pocket, she wondered if it would be enough. She had taken a huge risk stealing it from the evidence locker in the basement of the FBI building, but she didn’t really consider it stealing. She’d return it when she was done. And if the bullets found at the scene tonight matched the ones from this gun, then so be it. Her prints won’t be on it when she’s done.
Lauren saw the back door of Club Muse open and was glad her instincts were right. That bitch was too good to exit out the front door like everyone else. And of course she had an entourage of bloodsuckers around her, which Lauren was also prepared for and smiled. There were no humans around. And if one of the four with her was a human, well, then she’d save them the slow death of being drained dry or being turned into one of them herself.
Oh, my God I have truly lost it! she thought.
She grabbed the machine gun and it felt heavy and clumsy in her hands. She said a silent prayer she wouldn’t shoot it off before she needed to. She hadn’t been trained on these types of weapons at the academy but felt confident enough sh
e could hit all four of them quickly before she was attacked.
Lauren quietly closed the door, and as she begun to make her way across the parking lot, a hand grabbed her arm. She was jerked backward behind her car and large hands made her slide to a sit where the vampires couldn’t see her. There was a hand clamped over her mouth. She blinked with wide eyes up at Dr. Erick Collins.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
She nodded tear-filled eyes.
He removed his hand and she launched herself at him, hugging him around the neck. “Oh, my God, Erick, I thought I’d never see you again. What happened after the...” she was about to say ‘shapeshifter’ but thought better of it, “incident in the morgue?”
“Oh, the voodoo shifter lady? They made me quit the medical examiner job and I work for another, uh, agency now.”
“So you know?” she breathed.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m happy now, Lauren, no worries. Now, what in the hell do you think you’re doing taking on four vampires by yourself?”
She pulled the gun from her jacket and said sheepishly, “Uzi submachine gun.”
He snatched it from her hand and whispered, “Are you crazy?”
He peered over the car and saw Ace walking toward the group and could hear the conversation.
“Excuse me,” Ace said to the vampires, jerking a thumb behind him. “My car won’t start.”
“Get lost, Lurch,” the bald vampire said, spitting a stream of brown liquid on the ground. The group was heading toward a black Chevy van with flames painted on the side.
Erick rolled his eyes.
“What is he doing? Do you know him?” Lauren asked.
Erick nodded. “Yes, that’s my partner.”
“And you called me crazy?” Her eyes were wide again.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
She, of course, did the exact opposite of that, got up and followed him, snatching the gun from the ground where Erick had laid it.
Lauren and Erick watched as Ace pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. “Hey, assholes!” he said to the group of vampires, who were all seated in the van now. The big bald guy was driver’s seat, and was about to close the door.