No, I’d bet he’s been in the States for quite some time.
“So, what do you have for me?” I ask, tossing my jacket onto the back of my chair and taking a seat at my desk.
Ramirez hands me a file, and I open it. An image of the dead vampire female is on top. “The M.E. finished her autopsy.”
“And?”
“The vic’s stomach was full of blood,” he says, eyes wide with a mixture of horror and intrigue.
“Isn’t that to be expected? She probably choked on it when her throat was ripped out.” I keep my tone level, a feat that took quite a bit of time to master once I realized I was going to have to toe a line between both the human and supernatural worlds.
“It’s not her blood.”
I raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “What?”
“The blood in her stomach isn’t from her.”
“Was it from the killer?”
“It didn’t match anyone in the alley, so I ran the DNA through the system, and we got a match.” He tosses the image of a man I only briefly saw in the club. He’d been in a haze and probably won’t remember the blonde who interrupted his near-death. However, as I stare down at the dark-haired man, I can’t help but feel a bit nervous.
He could be one hell of a loose end.
“Meet Darrell Smith.”
“What’s the guy in the system for?”
“Mr. Smith here has been in and out of the system for the last ten years. Drugs, traffic violation, an aggravated robbery. He’s bad news.”
“And our female vic had a stomach full of his blood.”
“Exactly.”
“Then I say we go pay Mr. Smith a visit, shall we?” We’re getting to our feet when the phone on Ramirez’s desk rings.
“Ramirez.” He meets my eyes and nods. “Send me the address.” After hanging up the phone, he starts to shrug into his jacket. “Looks like Mr. Smith is going to have to wait. We’ve got another one.”
“Where?”
“South of the city. Apparently, we’ve got five dead this time.”
“Shit.”
“Let’s get after it.”
9
Rainey
The tinfoil covering the windows is a dead giveaway.
“You’re going to want this,” an officer steps forward, a container of Vicks in his hand. We each take a swipe and put it beneath our noses to block out whatever smell is waiting for us on the other side of the front door.
Climbing the rickety porch steps, I listen intently for any extra heartbeats. If there are more vampires lurking inside, I’d rather know before going in.
An officer steps out, lifting the yellow caution tape so Ramirez and I can duck inside. The door’s been kicked in, leaving wood splinters scattered inside the living room near the first body. He’s been badly burned, his skin black charcoal now.
Sunlight can be a real bitch for these fuckers.
The stench hits me like a pile of bricks, my enhanced senses picking it up even beyond the vapor rub beneath my nostrils.
“What do we have?” Ramirez asks, and the officers inside turn toward us. “Other than a fucking rancid crime scene.”
“Two bodies look like they’ve been dead for a while. This one here,” he says, gesturing to a nearly naked man on top of the kitchen island, “and a female in one of the back bedrooms. They’re covered in small puncture wounds near each of their major veins. Honestly,” he starts, chuckling darkly, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say some vampires got to them.”
I stiffen, his half-assed attempt at a joke hitting far too close to home. “Great, we’ll put out an APB on Dracula,” I reply dryly. “What about the others?”
“More recent kills, blood is still fairly fresh.”
“I’d estimate they died sometime this morning,” the M.E. straightens and wipes her forearm across her forehead.
“What about this guy?” Ramirez gestures to the well-done vampire in the doorway.
“Probably the same, though I’ll know more once I do a full autopsy.”
“Did someone pour accelerant on him?” I ask, keeping up the ‘this is weird as shit’ ruse I’ve grown accustomed to the past couple of years.
She sighs and shuts the case on her iPad. “That would be a logical explanation, though I don’t know how the fire didn’t spread to the rest of the house.”
I move further into the house, covering my nose and fighting the urge to run outside and hurl. Remember how I said our enhanced senses can make things distracting? This is definitely one of those times. The stench of the dead is overwhelming.
I stop beside the first headless vamp. He’s dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, the injury to his neck not a clean cut. “How did this guy lose his head?”
“Honestly? Looks like it was ripped clean off. The skin isn’t even near the tear, and the blood spatter indicates something a hell of a lot more violent than a blade.”
Ripped off? Even as strong as we are, there’s no way this was done by a hunter. “Where’s the rest of him?”
“Near the couch.”
I turn and take one step before stilling completely. I recognize him. Kneeling beside his head, I stare into the dead eyes of the fifth vamp from last night. The one who escaped up the alleyway.
So this is the Gale clan’s hidey-hole? Guess he didn’t get far. I stand and head toward the actual victim, a man who looks like he’s been chewed on for days. His skin is a pale grey, and bite marks mar the skin over every one of his major veins along with some scattered in other locations on his body.
The guy did not die peacefully, and I sure as hell hope whoever took out these vamps made them pay for what they’d done. “Where’s the other body? The one that’s been dead as long as this guy.”
“Back here.”
I follow the M.E. through the house, passing dark spots in the carpet I know aren’t normal stains. I can feel the death permeating the air around me, wrapping me in its dark embrace.
The room is small with a mattress on the floor as the only furniture inside. There are no blankets, and the body is lying spread eagle, facedown, in a red stain. The woman is topless, wearing nothing but a pair of stained white underwear.
My hands clench into fists at my sides. “What do we know?” I ask through teeth clenched so tightly I have the brief thought that they may shatter in my mouth.
“I wish I could say there was no sexual trauma, but based on the findings from the blacklight, I’d say she had sex sometime prior to her murder. Though, I won’t know whether it was consensual or forced until I do a more thorough examination.”
My guess is she thought she wanted it. “How many puncture wounds?” I ask. Can’t really suggest bite marks since vampire fangs leave tiny holes rather than jagged tears.
“Two.” The M.E. gestures to the woman’s exposed throat and the two wounds on her jugular.
So the asshole kept her to himself while the others fed on the man. “Do we have an ID on her or the man?”
“Not yet.”
“Let’s figure it out.” I turn and nearly run into Ramirez. His eyes are narrow slits, his nostrils flared.
“No need. I know her.”
“Who is she?”
“Ollie Patrick. She was my CI. Worked with me on a few cases before we got partnered.”
A CI who wound up in a vampire den? Could be a coincidence.
Could be she ratted on the wrong person. A lot of the more dangerous humans in and around Billings know full well about the supernatural world. And most of the time, they pay vampires to do their dirty work.
“You sure it’s her?”
He nods. “I recognize the tattoo on her wrist.”
I glance over at the single band of ink encircling her left wrist.
“She was homeless,” he adds. “Hooked on coke.”
So, whoever drained her was after a high. Probably is a coincidence then. As much as I hate to admit it. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, clasping him on the shoulder
as I walk out of the room and into the hall.
“Let them have the scene,” Ramirez tells the beat cop near the door as we walk out into the sunlight.
We climb into our service car—a black Malibu—and I glance over at my partner, who looks like he’s one shred of bad news away from losing his shit. The relationship between cop and CI is complicated. While I wouldn’t call it genuine affection, you come to rely on the other person. “You good?”
He glances over, lips flattened in a tight line. “I hate that she went out that way. She’d gotten clean a few times, and I was hoping, eventually, one of them would stick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He pulls out of the drive. “Shall we go pay a visit to Mr. Smith now?”
“Might as well. We won’t know more until the M.E. gets back to us, which will probably be quite a few hours.”
“What the hell is going on?” he asks me. “Two back-to-back crime scenes, both with beheadings, puncture wounds, and both multiple victims. Is it possible we have a serial killer on our hands?”
We do. It’s just not what you think. “I wish I knew.”
10
Rainey
Darrell Smith lives on the outskirts of one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Billings. It’s well known for drug and crime and is so dangerous even the beat cops avoid it unless they have to come in response to a call. And as coincidences would have it, it’s only about five miles from the last crime scene. Still located firmly in Gale territory.
The small trailer is situated in the center of an empty field, its white siding stained brown. Ramirez and I climb out and follow the patio stone path leading up to the door.
Alongside the bottom of the trailer; garbage is stacked up, empty beer cans, bottles, and various other shit I have no intention of looking at too closely.
“You want to knock, or should I?” Ramirez asks with disgust, gesturing to the brown-smeared door. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a blue latex glove and hold it up.
“I’ve got it.” At least if that is actual shit on the door, I won’t catch anything I can’t wash off from accidental contact. I knock three times before yelling, “Mr. Smith, this is the police. We need to talk to you about an attack late last night.”
Something crashes inside. Glass breaks, and Ramirez mutters a curse as he draws his weapon. “I’ll head around back.”
I draw mine and call out one more time. “Mr. Smith, I’m coming inside!”
“No! Stay out! I’m warning you!”
“Probable cause, Mr. Smith!” I yell out right before I kick the door in. Boot to warped tin, it caves in on contact, and I rush through as sun pours into the entry. The place smells like a sickening combination of death and human shit. And unfortunately for me, I wiped off my Vicks in the car.
Fucking lovely. I cough, unable to cover my mouth since my weapon is drawn. Instead, I do my best not to focus on the nasty ass particles I’m probably inhaling.
“You shouldn’t have come in.” Someone whimpers in the corner, and I turn, weapon in front of me. “You should have stayed outside,” he cries again.
I move further inside, coming up to a stained, ripped armchair sitting in the far corner. Moving to the side, I angle around the back and get my first look at a terrified Darrell Smith. He stares up at me with blood-red eyes, his tear-stained cheeks bruised, the purple and yellow covering most of his face.
“What is that stench?” Ramirez chokes as he comes inside.
“I know what you are. They warned me about you,” Smith cries out as he backs further into the trailer.
“We’re Detectives with the Billings Police Department,” Ramirez replies from the doorway. He doesn’t know that it wasn’t our day jobs the new vampire was referring to.
“Who told you I was coming?” I ask. Shit. Ramirez comes to stand beside me, getting his first full look at Darrell.
“What’s wrong with your eyes? Were you attacked?”
The blood-red of their eyes fade away when vampires are killed. It takes a few hours, but once the bloodlust is gone, so are the red irises.
“She is going to kill me!” he yells, pointing to me.
“No one’s going to kill you.” Ramirez holsters his firearm, and I lower mine, not willing to put it away completely. He doesn’t know what we’re up against. I do. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
“I don’t know nothing!” he yells, spit flying out of his mouth.
“Think you can come with us down to the station? Just to answer a few questions.” Ramirez reaches down.
“No, don’t touch him. Looks like he could be contagious.” No way in hell I’m letting this vamp bite my partner.
“I ain’t going nowhere with you.”
“Maybe go call it in?” I suggest. I need a few minutes alone with the freshly turned vampire because I very much doubt my particular brand of questioning will be received well by Ramirez.
“Yeah. You good?”
“Don’t leave me alone with her!” he yells.
“I’m good.”
With a nod, Ramirez steps out of the trailer. The moment he’s out of earshot, I holster my gun and kneel in front of the vampire, withdrawing the silver blade safely tucked away in my boot.
“Who turned you?”
“I ain’t answering nothing.”
“You were still human last night when I pulled that female vamp off your throat.”
His eyes widen.
“Yeah, that was me. So how about you tell me who turned you?”
“I ain’t telling you nothing,” he says again.
“Listen, dickhead. I don’t have much time.”
“You can’t do shit to me.”
“Actually, I have a dead female vampire in the morgue who has a stomach full of your blood. Which places you at the crime scene. So I can arrest you, drag you outside, and watch you burst into flames. Or, you can answer my questions.”
He bares his fangs at me. “The hunter bitch is going to die.”
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what they told me when they turned me loose. ‘The hunter bitch is going to die.’”
I swallow hard. “Who is they?”
“They’re going to kill you, and I get to live forever.” The weak, whimpering man from minutes ago is gone, his fear-filled gaze replaced with a murderous grin as he gets to his feet, still shielded from the sunlight streaming in through the broken door. “You shouldn’t have brought a human to a supernatural fight,” he says.
I turn to the door. Ramirez is outside—alone.
“Better hurry, bitch. They’ll be here soon. If they aren’t already.”
“Hey, Astor!” Ramirez calls in from outside. “We got some company.”
“Get to the car!” I scream as I turn on my heel and race outside when an SUV with tinted windows rolls up, skidding to the side. A black-gloved arm holding a weapon appears in the window, and I dive for Ramirez as the bullets begin to fly.
“What the hell!” Ramirez yells as I land on top of him, rolling him out of the way and in front of our car.
“Call it in!” I yell, pulling out my weapon and peering around the corner. I fire at the SUV, but my bullets don’t even make a dent.
Bulletproof. Fucking perfect.
“This is Detective Ramirez. We need backup immediately. We’re taking heavy fire from an unmarked black SUV.” He rattles off the address, and I reach up again, firing one last time. A bullet makes it into the cracked window.
Someone curses before I can hear an electric window rolling up as the car peels away. I waste no time. “Stay here,” I order and race into the trailer. It’s riddled with bullet holes, and as I make it to the corner where Smith had been before I ran outside, I find his dead body.
They must have used silver bullets. Which means this was not just a hit on me. These fuckers wanted him dead, too. Apparently forever was all of a few hours.
“What the hell just happened?” Ramirez questions as he
looks around the trailer.
“I have no damn clue,” I answer. And for the first time involving a supernatural case, I’m not lying. We walk outside, stepping into the bright sun as sirens screech ahead. And there, on the roof of our car, are three black crows.
11
Rainey
The diner just on the outside of town is well known by the supernaturals for two things.
Delicious fucking pancakes and the handoffs you want no one to notice. From my perch on the roof of the place, I scan the nearly empty parking lot, waiting for anything—anyone—doing something they shouldn’t be.
It’s nearing two a.m., and since I’ve been up here for the better part of four hours, smelling the delicious scents of the aforementioned pancakes, you can say I’m getting a tad antsy—and really fucking hangry.
I roll my shoulders, my hunter senses picking up meaningless chatter from inside the diner, even as I focus on the sounds beyond the dim parking lot lights.
After nearly dying today, I needed a way to expel some fucking energy or I was going to go insane.
And according to Ramirez, his CI used to frequent this place as the owner would feed her out of pity. Chances are good that someone grabbed her from here. Could be they’re already dead, but this place is outside of Gale territory, which means someone more than likely sold her to the low-life vampires.
Sold her for a fucking high.
I bite back a growl as I clench my fist.
Someone moves just beyond the line of shadows, and I narrow my eyes, listening for the sound of a heartbeat but get none. Which means, the party has finally fucking arrived.
I hear a soft thump and someone falling to the ground.
I hop down, my boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud. Reaching into the holster secured around my right thigh, I retrieve my blade, palming it as I creep forward, using the few parked cars as cover.
“Tell us how he found them.”
“I don’t know. I swear it.”
Blood Hunt Page 7