by L. J. Red
I didn’t think, just snapped out my hand, reached into my powers, and sucked.
His flames snuffed out.
“What the fuck are you?” he said, his voice hollow.
His friends, who hadn’t seen the play-by-play in the half world, thought he’d ended his flames deliberately and were looking between us in confusion. The one on the end snatched the remote off one of the others and switched the TV over to a different station. “She’s just some chick, Chris. Forget about it.” He tugged at his arm. “Come on,” he said. “Leave it.”
Yeah, Chris. I narrowed my eyes. Listen to your buddy. But part of me was hoping he wouldn’t. I was suddenly hungering for a fight. I wanted something to get my blood pumping, something other than drink that I could lose myself in. Perhaps it was the half world still shifting around me, but I felt antsy.
He stood abruptly, draining his drink in one go.
“Fuck it, I’m not staying in a bar full of creeps.” He strode, a little unsteadily, toward the door. Whoops. Had I taken a bit too much?
I turned back to my drink as they left and was surprised when someone slid onto the stool next to me. It was the guy who had been sitting on the end, the one who’d switched the channel. “Sorry about my friend,” he said. “I don’t know what got into him.”
I was pretty sure it was me, my magic that had got into him. I’d only meant to snuff out the fire. “Whatever, it’s fine,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t turn away, but gave him a once over. He had soft brown hair, hazel eyes, and a snub nose, not bad looking in a white bread kind of way
“So, you come here often?”
Despite myself, I grinned at the cheesy line and he smiled back, a dimple in his cheek. I felt a tightening in my lower belly. How long had it been? Too long if I had to ask that question. I shifted toward him, the leather of the barstool creaking underneath me.
I opened my mouth to speak when canned laughter suddenly echoed through the room.
My gaze fastened on the TV, some sitcom.
But the moment had been broken, and for a second the image of that freckled kid flashed through my mind. His body found drained of blood. Old memories stirred and I shivered. My choker was tight around my neck.
I stood abruptly and swayed as the room tited.
“You okay?” He looked up at me in concern. My vision returned to normal but I was too unsettled to stay.
“Sorry, man, I’m calling it a night.” I drained my drink and slammed the glass back onto the bar, stepping away, only a little wobbly. “See you round, Joe,” I said, turning away.
I walked out and up the stairs that led to my apartment. The light in the hallway was flickering. I paused at Michelle’s door and knocked loudly, leaning my head against it as I waited. No sound from inside. Where was she? Spending the night with a friend? That didn’t explain why she’d stood me up. I sighed, reaching into my pocket to text her. Shit. I‘d left my phone down on the bar. I rubbed my thumb between my eyes. I would pick it up tomorrow morning, or whenever I woke up after sleeping off this hangover.
I stumbled to my door. It took me a couple of tries to get my key in the lock and then I slammed the door behind me and walked through to the bedroom, collapsing on my bed fully clothed. I rolled over onto my back and stared up at the cracked ceiling.
My vision swam and I saw again that young man’s freckled face. In my mind’s eye, it merged and shifted, his skin darkening to a healthy tan, the lines of his face turning more delicate, feminine, his hair lengthening until it was someone far more familiar.
I rolled over and stared at the photograph by my bed: Me standing tall with my unruly hair for once staying in its ponytail. The light catching my green eyes, making them almost glow in that way that mundanes always found unsettling. Next to me, my sister, a couple of inches shorter and a bit curvier, wearing a smile that lit up the room. I had the same smile, not that anyone ever saw it. She’d always been so much brighter, happier than me. You would never have guessed we both had the same death magic running through our veins.
Was that why our parents had abandoned us? Had Violet’s imaginary friends turned out to be not so imaginary after all? Had they grown sick of ghostly whispers and objects moving of their own accord? I wished I could ask her. Fuck, I missed her.
I pulled the photo toward me, curling around it, tracing the lines of her face. In the photo, she was looking at the camera and I was looking at her.
Five years. I couldn’t believe it had been five years. I looked so young in that photo. So innocent. Three months after that photo had been taken, she was dead.
And now some kid had turned up drained of blood and the vampires were calling Joe’s bar. None of that was good.
I didn’t care. I didn’t want to know. I rolled back over and slammed the photo down hard enough that I heard the glass crack. Fuck. I raised it slowly and the glass cracked and crumbled and fell down around it.
I let it go and rolled back onto the bed, closing my eyes. Another thing broken.
My thoughts drifted and scattered, sleep catching me and dragging me down. The next thing I knew, I was being woken by a heavy banging that seemed to be coming directly from the back of my head.
Finally dragging myself to consciousness, I realized it was coming from my door.
I stumbled off the bed, tripping over the blanket and catching myself in the doorway. “All right, all right,” I shouted. “I’m coming.” What time was it? Was it light outside? It looked like it was still dark. Half in a daze, I gripped the door handle. The cold metal was a shock, but not enough to wake me up, not enough of a warning to stop me from pulling the door open wide.
There was a vampire on my doorstep.
Chapter 3
Valerian was just as handsome as the last time I’d seen him. Tall enough to look down on me with his deep, magnetic eyes, hair tousled like the wind couldn’t stop running its fingers through it, and those sinful rosebud lips always hitched into a knowing smirk. My body reacted involuntarily, heating every place his gaze touched. My heart started beating faster, thundering through my ears.
“Hello, Tiana,” he said with a voice rich and thick like liquid velvet.
“No,” I snapped, my body coming back under my control, and I went to slam the door. He smacked his hand against it, fingers splayed, his thick forearm close to my face. He leaned in close enough that I could smell cedarwood and smoke, and underneath it that faint, almost imperceptible tang of death. A sharp scent only someone like me would notice.
I felt it tighten across my skin, the pressure of his presence, the magic beneath his skin. Vampire magic.
“Whatever it is,” I said roughly, “I’m not buying, so fuck off.” And there it was, familiar and comforting. Oh yeah, pure, undiluted rage.
Maybe he heard it in my voice because his smirk disappeared and his eyes turned serious. “Just hear me out—”
“Not happening,” I said, shoving the door harder. It was impossible to move. Like his arm was made of solid metal. “You’re not invited,” I snapped. How was he keeping his arm across the threshold? He didn’t even seem to be struggling. Then I noticed the tension in his muscles, the tiny vibrations running through his grip. The hair on his forearm was raised. It was costing him to keep the door open.
Good. I wanted him to hurt.
“You need to listen,” he said.
“I don’t need to do anything,” I replied. “I don’t want anything to do with you. How did you even find me?”
“Tiana,” he said, and my name on his lips was like sin, “I’ve always known where to find you.”
“Well great,” I said, “you sure know how to make a woman feel stalked.” I glared up at him. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been calling Joe at all hours.”
“Yes,” he said.
“I don’t know how I can say this any more clearly,” I said, anger rising within me. “I don’t want anything to do with you, and you made it pretty damn clear that you didn’t want
anything to do with me when you—” I broke off with a jerk of my head. “Just fuck off, all right?” I was too tired for this shit. It was still nighttime—clearly, since he was standing here, not dead asleep like any vampire would be during the day—which meant I had barely slept. I was still muggy and exhausted from getting Mr. Anderson’s sexual acrobatics photographed last night. I didn’t need this right now, or ever.
“I need you,” he said.
I stared at him, the words cutting straight through me. Rage sparked and took like wildfire. “You don’t need anyone, Valerian,” I said, my voice empty and chest hollow. “You only care about yourself.”
His arm trembled. Finally, I thought, shoving the door as hard as I could. It shifted and his arm finally buckled, the lack of invitation pushing him back across the threshold.
“It’s about the murders,” he said at the last moment. “Someone is killing people the same way they killed your sister.”
Chapter 4
I rested my forehead against the closed door.
Killed like my sister. Fuck. Valerian sure knew where to twist the knife. Was he right though? I thought of the man on the news, a body drained of blood. Did he have family? Did he have a brother somewhere out there waiting for a phone call that would never come?
I rocked my head against the door. It wasn’t my problem. I wasn’t a cop. It wasn’t a case for me to solve. I had tried that and look where it got me. “I don’t care,” I said out loud, but I knew it was a lie.
I groaned, hating myself even as I gripped the door handle and pulled it back open.
Valerian was still there, but the smirk at least was gone.
“Vampires,” I said. “It’s vampires. There you go, I solved it for you. Now why don’t you go and stake yourself in the heart and save us all the trouble.”
“It’s not, Tiana,” he said, his voice serious. “It’s not us.”
Jagged memories swirled through my mind and anger twisted my insides. “Right, sure. It just so happens that somebody is draining humans and leaving them in the garbage exactly like last time, but sure,” I drew out the word, “it couldn’t be vampires.”
“It isn’t us, not this time. We are being framed.”
I scoffed. “Who would frame vampires? You do a good enough job of poisoning your public image as it is. Everyone already hates you.” But even as I said it I knew it wasn’t true. Magicals might mistrust them. I certainly had reason enough to hate them. But mundanes bought right into that seductive mystique bullshit.
“Just hear me out,” he said. “Take a look at the files, and then if you want to walk away you can.” He raised his hand and I realized he was carrying a slim file. I hadn’t noticed, so distracted by the sight of him.
I didn’t want to take it because I knew if I opened the file and took a look at the photos it would become real. Not just a dead guy on the news but a person with a name and a life and a family and a reason to be avenged. I glared at Valerian. He knew this; he was counting on my better nature showing through. God damn him.
I slammed the door in his face, grabbed my keys, and then opened the door again just in time to catch the edge of his shocked expression before stepping forward and closing the door behind me.
“I’m not inviting you in,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You think I trust you enough for that?” I didn’t even wait for an answer, just pushed past him.
We went downstairs and I unlocked the bar. It was silent and dark.
Joe had given me the key for emergencies. I was pretty sure letting a vampire in after-hours wasn’t exactly the emergency Joe had imagined. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
I walked over to the bar, pointing at a stool. “Sit,” I said. “Speak.”
Valerian slid onto the barstool, his long legs tucked underneath him, his eyes dark fastened on me, like he was drinking me in. What did he see? The sucker that had trusted a vampire? His expression wasn’t right for that, he looked almost hungry.
I turned away and grabbed the whiskey bottle from the wall, pouring myself a drink.
Where did he get off looking so good? I left the lights in the bar off and the streetlight from outside caught highlights in his dark blond hair. Shadows caught and gathered in his eyes until they looked black. I remembered what color they were in the light, a deep indigo blue. Unusual, impossible, a mark of his vampiric nature. I had loved that about him once. His soft, kissable lips looked unfairly inviting. Remember what’s behind those lips, Tiana. Remember what’s behind his kiss. Memories shifted in the back of my mind like quicksand, sucking me in. Hard fangs, a sharp burst of pain against my neck. I jerked my eyes away, down to the sticky bar top, my hand going to the choker that never left my throat.
“So,” I said roughly. My voice felt raw. I told myself it was just the whiskey and took another swig. “Show me what makes this case so important that you came to me.”
“Because everyone thinks it’s us,” he said, sliding the file over and flipping it open. The first image was a young woman, her body still and stiff in death, her eyes closed, skin greyish white, and standing out dark on her neck, a bite mark.
My shoulders tensed, and for a moment I saw my sister lying there on the slab, her face in the photograph.
I tore my eyes away from the photo and back to Valerian.
“Six months ago, Sevda Sahin, the court’s PR officer, turned up dead, drained of blood.”
“So, someone got a little to bite-happy at one of your fucking parties.” Goosebumps raised all over my skin. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” I added, my hands clenched into fists by my side, my skin crawling. I was hyperaware of how close Valerian was to me.
“It wasn’t us,” Valerian said. “We didn’t kill her. Queen Alexandra wouldn’t let that happen, not after—” He paused, and the silence filled the room, heavy and uncomfortable.
“You can’t even say it, can you?” I said bitterly.
He looked away, his eyes dark. “Someone is framing us,” he said. “They are making it look like vampire kills but we didn’t kill this woman, or this one.” He flipped the page over and there was the dead guy from the TV. This time a post-mortem shot, looking as pale and as cold as the woman on the other page. “Oliver Carpenter. A student at Washington University, a new blood donor at the court.” Blood donor. I shivered.
“So, take it to the police,” I said. “Tell them.” I reached out and flipped the file shut so I didn’t have to stare at their faces any longer.
“They’re not listening,” Valerian said, voice heavy, his hands braced on the bar. “It has taken all of the queen’s maneuvering to keep our names out of the press, but it won’t last. Everyone wants to blame us for this.”
“You shouldn’t be surprised,” I said, he was too close to me, I couldn’t think past how near he was. I pushed away from the bar.
“I’m not,” Valerian said. “I know it looks like we did it. I know what it looks like, and I know what we have done in the past, but there is someone out there killing people and making it look like vampires, and they are not going to stop.”
I slammed the bottle onto the bar top. “Why would anyone do that to you?” I said with mock surprise. “Who on earth could hate vampires enough to frame them, I wonder.”
“Frame us for murder? Tiana, be serious,” Valerian growled, leaning forward. “Do you really want to see more people die just so this sick bastard can make their point?” He loomed over me and I trembled, hating the fear that rose in my limbs, hating my weakness. I could see the flash of fangs behind his lips and it made my skin crawl, my choker heavy around my throat.
“Don’t put this on me,” I said. “I’m not the one who drained them to death.” My throat closed. I couldn’t bear to look at him. The streetlight was painting his face pale; the shadows in the pits of his eyes made his face look like a skull. I felt death press around me, and for once it wasn’t familiar and comforting but cold and terrifying.
“You should go to the police with t
his,” I said.
“We have,” Valerian said. “They’ve done nothing. We need you. They don’t know us like you do, and you’ve already worked this case once.”
Anger twisted in my gut. “Yeah,” I said, “I have, and it’s not like I got justice for my sister, did I?”
“It’s different this time.”
“Oh, right,” I said. “Because this time you’re trying to pretend someone else is doing the killing.”
“Fine,” he said. His eyes flashed and he shoved away from the bar in an explosion of movement. “If you really think it’s us, then prove it. We’re offering you full access to the court. Come and interview every damn vampire, go wherever you like. We’ll open the court to you.”
“The queen okay with that?”
“Who do you think sent me here?”
I stared at him. I shouldn’t feel disappointed. All he ever did was live down to my expectations, but still I felt a pit open in the bottom of my stomach. “Of course she sent you.” He wouldn’t have come here of his own accord. I leant against the bar, limbs feeling heavy
His expression flickered. “You think I want to be here?” he said after a moment, his expression going so blank it almost looked like a mask.
“Of course I don’t,” I said, and I ignored the tiny, treacherous part of me that had flickered into life the moment I saw him on my doorstep. “I certainly don’t want you anywhere near me, and you made your opinion of me pretty fucking clear.” My mind shied away from the memories, my skin crawling.
“The queen sent me here—”
“Since when are you her little lapdog?”
“I had no choice,” he growled, his eyes dark.
“Whatever.” I slumped, exhausted by it all.
“Tiana, she will give you access to the court, to anything you want.” He leaned closer still. “If it truly is vampires doing the killing, then you will get your proof. You can take it all to the cops. You can put us behind bars, hell you can sentence us to death. Queen Alexandra isn’t messing around this time; whoever is guilty is going to die and it will be up to you to find them. You can bring them to justice, Tiana. You can make it so these humans didn’t die in vain.” He placed a hand on the file, so close to my own, his fingertips just brushing the edge of mine. An electric shock passed between us and I jerked backward, stung. “All right,” I said. “Enough. You made your point. You’ve given me your pitch, now fuck off.”