Past Due

by Catherine Winchester

  Alex sighed. “You really want to discuss this?”

  Frankie nodded.

  “Okay. He was a zombie.”

  “Like radioactive waste, Night of the Living Dead, zombie?”

  “Not quite. We were so busy focusing on the demonology side of the Grimoire that we forgot about its other subject. Necrophilia.”

  “Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick.” She leaned forward and Alex gently rubbed her back.

  “Take deep breaths, you’ll be fine. Everything will be all right.”

  Frankie answered him through clenched teeth. “The dead are walking, Alex, it is fucking not going to be all right.”

  “It will, Frankie. We’ll stop whoever’s controlling him, we’ll end this.”

  When her nausea passed, Frankie sat back, leaned her head on the sofa and closed her eyes. “You would think, with all the weird shit I’ve seen, that… This crosses a line, Alex. That… It’s sick. He probably has a family somewhere that wants to bury him, to say goodbye and instead he’s…”

  Alex took her hand. “Shhh.”

  “I need a cigarette.”

  “You smoke?” He was surprised, he had never detected the smell of cigarettes on her.

  “No, not really. I quit five years ago. Almost.”

  “I have cigars.”

  “That’ll do.”

  Alex fetched her a cigar from a box under his coffee table. He snipped and lit it for her.

  “Vampires smoke?” she asked, inhaling deeply.

  “It doesn’t do anything for us physically but I like the aroma sometimes.”

  Frankie nodded. “You know, it might be completely in my head but I already feel better.”

  “Then does it matter if it’s the cigar itself or the expectation of its effect.”

  “I suppose not.” She took another long drag before asking, “What now?”

  “Now you need a shower and some sleep.”

  “I only just woke up.”

  “Being unconscious isn’t the same as sleeping.” He stood up, still holding her hand. “Come on.”

  Frankie left the cigar in an ashtray and followed unquestioningly. She needed a shower, not just because she was covered in blood but because she felt unclean, tainted. She doubted a shower would rid her of that feeling but it was a good place to start.

  The bathroom was pure opulence. Bigger than Frankie’s living room, its centrepiece was a large art deco bath tub. The shower was in the corner, sectioned off from the room with glass bricks rather than a traditional shower stall. Above the sink a mirror ran the length of the wall and it was this that let Frankie know she was much more of a mess that she’d originally thought. Her face was smeared with blood and the right side of her head was matted with it. Her clothes were torn and dirty. She didn’t examine them too closely. The attack had obviously been much more brutal than she'd imagined and she tried not to think how close she must have come to dying. Alex had saved her life, literally.

  “I’ll find you something clean to sleep in,” Alex said, closing the door behind him.

  She walked into the shower area, thinking how nice it was to have a spacious shower. The water was hot and powerful and she gasped as she stepped under it. It stung in a few places and she guessed they were injuries that were still healing. She was remarkably intact. In fact she almost felt good, physically at least.

  She washed thoroughly until the water ran clear rather than pink, then she washed again. When she emerged she saw that Alex had lain a shirt and boxers out for her. I was a little early in the relationship to be swapping clothes, she thought, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Alex was leaning on the wall outside the bathroom door, his arms crossed over his chest. “Feel better?” he asked.

  “A bit. I’m not tired though.”

  “You will be.” He put his arm around her and guided her back into the bedroom.

  Frankie got under the covers. “Will you stay with me?”

  Alex smiled kindly, understanding how hard it was for her to ask that. “Of course.” He climbed into the opposite side and lay on his side, facing her. He took her hand under the covers and rubbed her palm with his thumb.

  “You’ve never had anyone else in this apartment, have you?” She hadn't picked up any psychic impressions since she’d been here.

  “Not many. And no humans, that’s what the bed downstairs is for.”

  “Why?”

  “The same reason you don’t have visitors in your home I suspect.”

  Frankie frowned. “How do you know…?”

  “There were no other scents there. I don’t have many visitors up here because this is the one place I don’t have to hide. I know I’m completely safe here, there’s no direct sunlight in any room and I don’t have to move at a human pace, I can relax.”

  “I’m sorry I invaded your space.”

  He reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I don’t have to hide from you, remember?”

  Frankie was beginning to feel sleepy, which was good because it stopped her thinking about his words too much. “What will you do after I go to sleep?”

  “Research. I no longer think vampirism is the reason you can’t detect Bradley but I’m still waiting to hear from the contact I called earlier. I also asked for information on the Grimoire. We need as much information as we can get.”

  “Use my phone, it’s in my bag. Don’t make those calls from your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll be discovered. All calls, texts and emails in this country are monitored for code words. We have a program and the GCHQ monitors all communications. They’re searched for certain words and combined with tone of voice, speech patterns, geographic area and recent intelligence info. Suspect communications are red flagged and listened to or read by a human. If you make a call and start talking about vampires, witchcraft, magic etcetera, it will red flag you and someone will read or listen to your call.”

  “No one queries that you search for those words?”

  “They think those words are a test system so we can check its effectiveness. If you place the call from an MI5 phone it will be red flagged but classed as a test call and quarantined. No one outside our department will be able to listen to it.”

  “That’s useful information.”

  “Don’t use it to plant any bombs.”

  “Promise.”

  Frankie’s eyes were growing heavy but she still needed some answers. “Alex, why can’t I sense zombies? They’re dead so I should have gotten a lifetime of memories when I touched him.”

  “It’s powerful magic that’s animating him, like the magic that resurrected me. I think that’s what is blocking your gift.” He could hear that her heartbeat had sped up since they began talking about the case again and he needed her relaxed if she was going to get some sleep. He tried distracting her. “How did you end up working for MI5?”

  “Nice change of subject,” she grinned. “They found me, I suppose, when I was at Uni. Students began coming down with rare diseases. If it had been the same rare disease it probably wouldn’t have raised any attention from MI5 but when you get separate cases of Ebola, haemorrhagic fever, the Nipah virus, Guillain-Barre and Dengue fever, it tends to attract attention.”

  “Someone poisoned them?”

  “Sort of, they used magic. All those people died of the symptoms of the diseases but didn’t have the actual infection in their blood, hence it caught PaST’s attention.”

  “PaST?”

  “My department, the Paranormal and Supernatural Taskforce. Not exactly an innovative name but it fits. Anyway, they interviewed everyone who took the same classes as those who fell ill, posing as doctors. I had to shake their hands when they interviewed me so I found out who they really were and why they were there.”

  “They could tell you had a gift?”

  “No, I think they suspected something but not that. When I realised these diseases were malicious I began touching people, t
rying to find out who was responsible and when I did, I went back to them. Of course, I had to explain how I knew. It took some convincing but they believed me in the end. Before they left they suggested I sign up, said they could use someone with my skills. I thought it would be nice to be among people who wouldn’t think I was a freak.”

  “And is it?”

  “No,” she smiled and closed her eyes. “They still think I’m a freak but at least I’m doing something useful with my gift.”

  Seconds later she was asleep. Alex carefully leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Sweet dreams,” he whispered softly.

  Alex tidied up the bathroom and put the bloody clothes on to wash. He had never really minded housework; he found it comforting. No matter how many centuries passed, there would always be housework.

  When he was done he used Frankie’s phone to make his calls and made a mental note to tell her about his earlier calls. If she was right he’d just alerted MI5 to the presence of one of the most powerful vampires in Britain.

  Josh had come through with a number for one of the professors in the rare printed books department at the library, Klaus Habsburg. Through a friend of a friend, Josh had discovered that as well as studying the book, Klaus was also a witch and his unofficial job was to prevent the book from falling into the wrong hands.

  As Alex suspected, there was no trace of a sire for Bradley James and Alex told Josh to stop asking. A vampire wouldn’t need to enslave a zombie so he was 99% certain that Bradley wasn’t a vampire.

  It was only 1am, far too early to speak to Klaus Habsburg yet. If you wanted someone’s help, waking them up in the middle of the night was never a good idea.

  Instead he logged onto his computer and began surfing the Internet for information both on the grimoire and zombies. Most of it seemed inaccurate but it was better than nothing.

  At half past five Frankie’s phone rang. Thinking it was one of the vampires he’d spoken with tonight since it was too early for most humans, he answered it without looking at the caller ID.

  “Hello?”

  “Who is this?” a male voice asked.

  “Alex McNabb.”

  “Where’s Frankie?”

  Alex wondered if this was the policeman whose car he’d disabled earlier. “She’s sleeping. Can I help you?”

  “Wake her up, I need to speak to her.” He sounded tired and a little desperate but Alex didn’t take orders from anyone.

  “No.”

  There was a pregnant pause. “This is Detective Chief Inspector William Campbell and I want to speak to Francis Wright immediately. Please wake her up or I’ll charge you with obstruction.”

  The frustration in William’s voice amused Alex. “It’s not illegal to let someone sleep, Detective Chief Inspector.” He somehow made the title sound derisory. “She’s had a hard night and I won’t wake her.” He was aware that his words could be taken two ways and he had no problem with that.

  “Don’t fuck with me. I have a fresh corpse and I’m not in the mood to play games.”

  Alex considered for a moment. “She would want to know about that. I’ll have her call you back shortly.” He hung up.

  Chapter Eight

  Alex lay down beside Frankie on the bed and gently shook her awake. He’d let her get her wits about her before he told her the bad news.

  “Frankie, sweetheart, you need to wake up.”

  “What time is it?” she asked, stretching.

  “Too early. How do you feel?”

  She thought about it for a moment, mentally searching for the aches and pains of last night. “Pretty good. Great, actually.” She sat up and looked around, her expression thoughtful. “Okay, this is weird.”

  He sat up beside her. “What’s weird?”

  “Everything. I feel 20 years younger, like I’m full of energy. Even in this dim light I can see you have a spiders web in that corner,” she pointed to it, “and I can hear a conversation from somewhere.”

  “Your senses are heightened and will be for a few months. The conversation you hear is on the radio in my study, I often have it on low for company when I’m alone.”

  Her brow furrowed but there was a whisper of awe in her voice. “I shouldn’t be able to hear that from here.”

  “Please don’t worry, it’s normal after taking a vampires blood. It will wear off again.”

  Frankie ran her hand over the sheets then took a deep breath. “Everything, it’s like there’s more depth to everything, touch, smell, sight-”

  “Frankie, I have some bad news.”

  Her head snapped round. “What?”

  “Your detective friend called a few minutes ago; there’s been another murder.”

  Frankie sighed and lay back down on the bed, covering her eyes with one arm. “Shit.”

  “I think he’d like you to call him back.”

  “I need to get over there. I have to go home and get changed then-”

  “I washed your jeans, they survived relatively intact, your shirt is ruined but you can borrow one of mine and I found a jacket in lost property that should fit you.”

  “You did my washing for me?”

  He flashed her a beaming smile. “Don’t get used to it.” He handed her the mobile. “Here, call him back, I’ll round your outfit up. Oh, and you’d better take my car, your back seat is covered in your blood.”

  Will sent all the other officers out as he escorted Frankie into the house. This murder scene was just like the others, only the body was still there. Frankie closed her eyes and turned away from it.

  “Look,” Will commanded.

  “I just did.”

  He grabbed her arm and turned her towards the body. “Look!”

  She looked, keeping a tight lid on her revulsion.

  “That woman had a family, Frankie, people who loved her and are devastated.”

  Frankie easily tore her arm from his grip thanks to Alex’s blood. “You think I don’t I know that! You think I don’t want to find this bastard too?”

  “Then why are you hiding things from me?”

  “Because you wouldn’t believe me if I told you!”

  “Frankie, this is a murder investigation, three women are dead, and it’s time to stop worrying about your personal issues and what people think of you.”

  Frankie took a deep breath to calm herself before she replied. “This has nothing to do with me or my so-called issues, which, by the way, you are totally barking up the wrong tree about.”

  Will was having a hard time keeping his temper in check. “Fine, I’ll sign your goddamn Official Secrets Act, if that’s what it takes.”

  “Will, if I thought there was even a chance you would believe me, then I would tell you, I swear. There are things going on all around you every day that you don’t see or don’t want to see. Until you’re ready to, I can’t help you.”

  “Frankie, I…” All at once the fight left him and he seemed to sag. Without the anger to fuel him he looked tired. “Fine, whatever. You can go.”

  “Can I look around first?”

  Will shrugged. “Sure, why not. Why don’t you just take over the whole investigation?”

  Frankie headed towards the stairs and up to the second floor. She couldn’t blame Will for his reaction, she was hiding things from him but she also knew he’d never believe her even if she did tell him. She was in a lose-lose situation.

  She put Will out of her mind as she headed for the front bedroom. As soon as she’d arrived she’d felt it was still here. She didn’t have time to talk properly with it now but she still wanted to acknowledge it. Poor girl had been murdered and now her soul was trapped here, alone.

  She closed the door behind her and looked around the room. Although she couldn’t see it, she could feel that the ghost was sitting on the bed, facing her.

  “Hi, I’m Frankie.” She kept her voice low so Will wouldn’t hear. “I’m sorry about what happened to you but I want you to know I’m going to find the man who did it. I don’t
have time to talk properly right now, not without being sectioned, anyway, but I’ll come back tonight okay? I promise.” She looked over her shoulder as she heard footsteps quickly ascending the stairs.

  The ghost still hadn't shown itself but it had heard her. The footsteps were at the top of the stairs now.

  “I’m sorry,” she told the girl, slipping back onto the landing. The detective there nodded to her and Frankie descended the stairs. Everyone had resumed their duties, searching the rooms for evidence, cataloguing items and photographing the scene. Will was waiting for her in the hallway.

  “Who were you talking to?” Will asked.

  “Wow, you have good hearing.”

  Will gave her a sarcastic smile. “Or there’s a heating vent between here and the front bedroom that carried the conversation.”

  “I was on the phone, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Frankie had thought he’d press her for further information but he didn’t. When one of the SOCO officers came up to him, she took the opportunity to slip away.

  When she left Will, Frankie went home and changed clothes. She also packed an overnight bag with some more clothes to keep in her car and packed a copy of the police reports, the newest of which were still printing out after she’d had breakfast.

  Although it was still only 8am she called her boss to update him on her progress, knowing he would likely have been in his office since 7am. He sounded suitably offended when she told him the direction the case had taken with regards to zombies but she knew him well enough to know it was an act. He wasn’t a sociopath but his emotions had been locked away for so many years that very little humanity remained close to the surface.

  Still, he was good at his job and fair with his officers. She knew from his bio that Maxwell Holden was fifth generation military and she knew from shaking his hand at so many meetings that he has been “bred” for leadership and his individuality disciplined out of him from a young age. His nickname was The Robot and it suited him well.

  He offered her extra manpower but Frankie refused since she was already using all the resources MI5 had. Extra bodies would just get in her way.