Past Due

by Catherine Winchester

  “I’ll make you a deal, Miss Wright. If you will be honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. Sound fair?”

  It wasn’t an issue of trust any longer, she did trust him. At least she trusted him not to kill her. After all she was here and she hadn't told anyone she would be here so if she went missing she would become just another statistic. The problem now was whether he would trust her if he knew who she worked for.

  Before she could come to a decision Alexander held his hand up. “Tracy’s here,” he told her.

  “How do you know?”

  “I can hear the key in the back door.” A few moments later Tracy came into the bar. She was petite, with short black hair cut into a pixie-like style.

  “Tracy, thank you for coming.” He went over to greet her and guided her back to the table with his hand in the small of her back. “This is Miss Wright.” He introduced Frankie.

  Frankie had taken her gloves off and held her hand out. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. Alexander tells me you know Brad.”

  An image of Brad came forward from Tracy’s memory. “You know Brad?”

  Frankie hadn't released Tracy’s hand and now put her other hand on top, as though she was sharing a confidence. “Yes, I’m worried about him. His friends haven’t seen him in a few weeks. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  Tracy was running over recent memories of Brad, searching for something to help but Frankie could tell there was nothing useful in her memory. She had a feeling Bradley was too smart to have left clues behind.

  “I’m sorry, I haven’t seen him for at least a week and I don’t know where he could be.”

  “That’s okay. It was still worth asking.” She released the girl’s hand.

  “Tracy,” Alex redirected her attention. “I asked you to come in early because there’s a discrepancy in our last stock take. I was wondering if you could check the stock and sales tallies for me? Time and a half for coming in early.”

  “Of course. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” She disappeared into the storeroom.

  “Miss Wright, shall we adjourn to my office?”

  Frankie picked up her bag and followed him.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked, closing the office door behind him.

  Frankie headed to his desk and picked up a pad and pencil. “Okay. Where do you want to start?” she took the items back to the sofa and sat down.

  “Let’s start with names. I’m Alexander McNabb.”

  Frankie looked up from the pad. “Really?”

  Alex smiled. “All right, I was born Alexander Rutherford but McNabb has been my legal name for the last five years. Your turn.”

  “Francis Wright but I only answer to Frankie.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Frankie,” he held his hand out towards her. “Please call me Alex.”

  Frankie realised with a start that she hadn't put her gloves back on. She ignored the hand and turned her attention back to the pad she held. Alex raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment.

  “Who do you work for?” he asked.

  “The Security Service. You could call my department the British equivalent of the X Files, only we don’t chase aliens.”

  “You keep order among the supernatural community.”

  “Not quite. We keep it hidden. If someone or something is killing, like it is here, we stop them but our primary job is to prevent a public panic. So what is your illegal act?”

  “I visited both crime scenes last night.”

  “That was dangerous if you’re trying to stay below the radar.”

  “But necessary.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Probably not much more than you did.”

  Frankie looked up at him, wondering how he knew she’d been there.

  “I could smell your perfume there,” he answered without being asked. “What I also noticed was a smell of decay.”

  “From the blood, maybe?”

  “No, I checked. Besides it would have been stronger at the older crime scene if that was the case yet it was the other way around.”

  “So are we talking animal or vegetable?”

  “Animal. certainly.”

  “Any idea how long whatever died had been dead?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Frankie was concentrating on the pad in her hand. Alex wondered what she was doing but decided not to pressure her, yet.

  “I mean can you smell the difference between a little mouldy and putrefaction?”

  “It’s not flawless but whatever died hadn’t been dead very long. Perhaps four weeks maximum.”

  Frankie stared at the pad for a moment, her features screwed up in thought. “It doesn’t make any sense. It must be something he brought with him. I would say a spell ingredient except he didn’t perform spells.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Alex agreed. “So what does a detective do with information like that?”

  “File it away for now under “doesn’t fit” but don’t forget about it. You’d be surprised how many mysteries are solved when the one piece that doesn’t fit finally slots into place.”

  “Then why not continue to work on theories?”

  “Because we’ve covered the most likely ones. You’ve thought about it, I’ll continue to think about it but there’s obviously something we’re missing, something we don’t know yet that will make sense of this.”

  “So what have you learnt about Brad?”

  “Full name Bradley James, 22 years old, only child, parents are dead, probably killed by him and he’s been off the grid since then. He’s about 5’6” tall, his build is on the slight side and he looks like this.” She handed the pad to him.

  He looked at the sketch. “You have a good eye. I recognise him; he began coming here a few years ago. Never seemed to have many friends, he’s a secretive, sneaky sort.” He handed the pad back to her. “How did you do that? You said you didn’t know what he looks like.” He had a theory but he wanted to hear her explanation.

  “I saw it in Tracy’s memories.”

  Alex grinned. “You’re psychic. How wonderful!”

  “Don’t get excited, it’s nothing helpful like seeing the future. I can’t predict who will win the Grand National or where our killer will strike next.”

  “You see the past,” he was slowly understanding. “Touch makes what you see stronger. Animate or inanimate objects?”

  “Both. The impressions I get from people are much stronger than I get from the objects they touch but also more confused.” Frankie was smiling. She was talking about her gift and smiling, a completely new sensation. Usually she was fearful of being called a freak, of being laughed at, ridiculed or even called a liar. To talk so freely was unheard of. Even those she worked with who knew about her gift didn’t seem comfortable talking about it.

  “I haven’t met a true psychic in, oh must be over two hundred years. This is fascinating.”

  “Was the other psychic immune to your mind games too?”

  “No, she was as susceptible as everyone else, but her gift was slightly different. She used cards and sticks and tea leaves to give readings. She could see the future on a good day but she wasn’t very accurate. The future fluctuates far too much for that sort of gift to be useful.”

  “You have no idea how wonderful it is to tell someone what I can do and have them accept it.”

  Alex leaned forward. “I understand what’s it’s like to have to hide your true nature, Frankie.” He looked almost vulnerable.

  “Yes, I suppose you do.” She had never thought about how it would feel for other supernatural creatures. “Doesn’t anyone know?”

  “There are a few other supernaturals who come here, they can sense what I am, like you can but we don’t really socialise.”

  “Why not?”

  “Vampires don’t play well with each other for very long and other supernaturals are wary of us.”

  “And no humans? You don’t have like a…”

&nbs
p; “A consort? No, not for a while. I have to be very careful who I trust. Humans are a very frightened race and when they’re scared they lash out.”

  “You’re trusting me and I’m a spy.”

  Alex went to the mini bar and got two bottles of water. He handed one to Frankie, figuring she’d be happier opening it herself. She accepted it without comment.

  “We know about your secretive group. In this day and age, we have to. When humans hunted us with pitchforks and torches we could outrun them mostly but now… now you have rifles and missiles and weapons of mass destruction. You pose a greater threat to us than ever before, we have to be careful. If we thought you meant us any harm you would have been wiped out decades ago.”

  “But you can’t vamp me into forgetting. I can report all this to my superiors.”

  “You could, but I don’t think you will.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you are a decent person. Your sense of fair play wouldn’t let you.” He sipped his water. “And of course, there's the fact that you aren’t human either.”

  “What? Of course I am.”

  Alex shook is head. “No. I thought you were being evasive when I first asked what you are but you really don’t know, do you?”

  “I’m human. Just as human as anyone else.”

  “As human as me?”

  She glared at him.

  He placated her with a smile. “You’re mostly human, I’ll agree, but not completely. Your gift is off the charts for strength, I’ve never encountered a human with that much ability. I’d also be willing to bet there’s more you can do but you’ve been denying your talents. Have you ever tried to hone your craft?”

  “Trust me, what I have is bad enough.”

  “The gloves. You can’t stand touching people, can you?”

  Frankie was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “If you trained your ability it would give you greater control over it, perhaps even the ability to block those visions you don’t want.”

  “I have to go,” she stood up and headed for the door.

  “Frankie, please wait. I’m sorry.”

  She paused, stopped by the sincerity in his voice.

  “Stay, please.”

  She turned slowly and in her eyes he could see a lifetime of rejection.

  “You have no idea how wonderful it is to talk of what I am so freely,” Alex explained. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries.”

  “I really do have to-”

  “You could question me. Ask me anything, I will answer honestly.” She still looked torn. He held up three fingers. “Scouts honour.”

  A reluctant smile finally broke through. “You were never a boy scout.”

  “No. I ate a few, does that count? I’m kidding,” he told her when she looked appalled. “I actually have no need kill these days.”

  Frankie took a deep breath and sat back down. “I’m sorry. I know I have a lot of issues. I even tried therapy once.”

  “Did it help?”

  “Hardly. I nearly got sectioned.”

  Two hours later Frankie was settled. She’d graduated to whisky and Coke, kicked her shoes off and was enjoying an evening completely free of censoring herself. Frankie told him stories of the dirty secrets she’d seen and Alex had told her of his travels, of his experiences of history.

  The club had opened and they could hear the muffled beat of the music through the walls.

  “So how old are you, exactly?” she asked.

  “Hard to say with any accuracy, but nearly 700. I was born here, in Scotland, near Dunfermline.”

  “And how did you become a vampire?”

  “Ah, well there was a woman.”

  “Isn’t that a bit of a cliché?” she teased.

  “A lot of a cliché, actually, but there’s a reason why things become clichés.” He looked up at the ceiling but Frankie thought he was looking into the past. “I had joined the church, or rather been forced to and I wasn’t happy about it. One evening I was walking the grounds. I was supposed to be meditating but my anger issues were hindering me somewhat, and that’s when I came across her.

  “She was beautiful. I offered her assistance thinking she was lost but she said she was just taking a walk herself. She showed up every night for two weeks and I was infatuated. She seduced me with tales of far off lands and adventures I would never have while stuck in the monastery.

  “Then she told me she was leaving and asked me to come with her. I didn’t need asking twice. The next night we ran away together. She took me to her house and showed me what she truly was. I didn’t care. I didn’t think anything as beautiful as her could be evil. So she made love to me and when I woke up I was a vampire.”

  “So sex turns you into a vampire?”

  He laughed. “No, I was just being polite. After we’d made love she drank my blood until I was nearly dead, then I fed off her.”

  “How long does it take? I mean to come back from death.”

  “Three days, give or take.”

  “And where is she now?”

  “We had a good run, stayed together for about fifteen years but it’s hard for us. We’re not naturally inclined to pair up.”

  “Then why did she turn you?”

  “I think she was lonely. It’s hard always having to hide what we are.”

  “But isn’t there a way you could still be together?”

  “What we feed on, the blood we ingest whether human or another vampire is full of power. It’s almost magical. When we’re first turned we’re full of our sire’s magic and that allows us to stay together, synchronises us almost. It means we can teach our children what they are, how to handle their power, how to hide.” He sighed. “But as we feed off more and more people that initial harmony is overpowered with human life force. The disharmony brings out our true natures and eventually drives us apart.”

  “That must be lonely. Isn’t there any way around that?”

  “If we keep feeding from each other, yes, but eventually all vampire children feel the need to strike out on their own, the need to make our own way. Once we stop exchanging blood with our sire we begin to see each other as a threat, a fellow predator. We argue, we fight and if one doesn’t leave, we eventually kill each other.”

  “Wow. Don’t invite me to the reunion, then.”

  He smiled. “We can tolerate each other in a setting like this club where there is plenty of prey but when alone our instincts eventually win out.”

  “Do you have many children?”

  “Three.”

  “Only three in seven hundred years?”

  “There have been others. They died. Immortal doesn’t mean invincible.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He flashed her a sad smile. “It’s not your fault.”

  “That must be awful.”

  “When you live forever, you get used to losing people. You have to.”

  They sat silently for a few moments. Until Frankie decided to move the conversation on to lighter topics.

  “So what other myths are untrue. Obviously you don’t die again during the day?”

  “In the beginning we sleep most of the day but as we get older, we get stronger. We need less sleep and less blood to sustain us.”

  “And you can drink water,” she pointed to the bottle he was sipping from.

  “Every living creature needs water.”

  “What about not casting a reflection in mirrors?”

  “Myth.”

  “Crosses?”

  “Nope.”

  “Photographs?”

  “We avoid them because they are evidence we don’t age.”

  “Garlic?”

  “Uh uh.”

  “Holy water?”

  “No.”

  “Are any of them true?”

  He grinned. “Not many. Sunlight, fire, beheading are true. Stakes hurt like hell but won’t kill us. We don’t need an invitation to enter a home, we do cast a shadow, we can eat bu
t not digest regular food, we can walk on hallowed ground just like anyone else and we can’t turn into smoke or bats.”

  “Okay, you just killed my enjoyment of every vampire film from now on.”

  “Don’t blame the film makers, we created most of those myths ourselves or played up a few of the good ones. If people think vampires are afraid of crosses, what better way to prove we aren’t one? And the bat and smoke theories are just very cool.”

  “Cool?”

  “We have to keep up with modern vernacular, Frankie. It’s all part of the cover.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, but you can’t pull that one off. It’s like me trying to say ‘totally awesome, dude’ or ‘you go girl,’ it just doesn’t work.”

  “Well, now that you’ve taken my ego down a peg or two, would you like another drink?”

  “Sure.” She handed him her glass and as he poured her another, she wondered about the one question she really needed to ask and hadn't.

  He handed her the glass and frowned. “You look worried.”

  “Can I ask you anything?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have you ever killed?” she really doubted she’d get the answer she wanted and a part of her was happy about that. She liked him, perhaps too much and an excuse to walk out would be a welcome relief.

  “Yes. I don’t kill for pleasure and I don’t kill to eat but in the early days I did have accidents from time to time.”

  “And now?”

  “Now when I kill it’s for other reasons.”

  “What sort of reasons?”

  “I’ve turned lovers when they’ve asked me to. I’ve killed for justice. To protect the weak.”

  “You call killing justice?”

  “A form of it, yes. Sometimes it’s the only justice.”

  “Give me an example.”

  “This case. When we find whoever’s doing this I will kill him. He deserves nothing less.”

  “So you’re a vampire vigilante?”

  “No. I kill to protect those that I love and what is mine. This club is mine as are its patrons. I will not allow someone to get away with harming them.”

  As reasons went it wasn’t actually a bad one. “You can’t just kill him, Alex. I can’t let you.”

  “Do you have a better solution?” he asked.