Shadows & Dreams (Kate Kane: Paranormal Investigator)

by Hall, Alexis

  “Thierry,” I said. “Do you mind if I ask a personal question?”

  He perched on the edge of a low bookcase. “Not at all, Katharine.”

  “Why would you make someone a vampire? I mean, vampires in general, not just you.”

  “All sorts of reasons—love, jealousy, loneliness, pity, guilt, obsession. Sometimes you think someone will be useful.”

  “Could it ever be an accident?”

  “Thank heavens, no. We are not like humans. Making someone a vampire takes time. It is a delicate process.” His eyes went all dreamy. “When I turned Acton, I stayed with him all day and all night for a week.”

  “So you’d normally stay with the person? You wouldn’t, say, just let them wander out of hospital on their own?”

  “That would be highly dangerous. Unless you were very old and very powerful, you would have no way of controlling them.”

  I got that sinking feeling. “Just how old and how powerful are we talking?”

  “Older and more than powerful than me.” He shrugged. “But it would still not be a good idea. Without care, they may simply die.”

  “So if, just hypothetically, someone had been turned and left to fend for themselves in a hospital in Highgate, what sort of vampire would have done it?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Someone very cruel or very careless.”

  “Thanks, Thierry. You’ve been really helpful.”

  “Of course, chérie. Can I get you anything else?”

  “We’re good, thanks.”

  “And the hot water and ice cubes are what you wanted?”

  Elise took a sip of the water and then picked up an ice cube. “They are perfect, thank you, Mr. Thierry.”

  He beamed. “You must join us for dinner, this evening.”

  She glanced at me uncertainly.

  I gave her my best Oh God, yes please, come to dinner look.

  “Thank you, Mr. Thierry, that would be lovely.”

  He went to the door and then paused. “I apologise if this question is a little intimate, but are you, in fact, human?”

  Elise turned slowly to face him. “That is an interesting philosophical question, Mr. Thierry. I can think of no qualities that humans do not share with me that they do not also share with other entities that are not human. Certainly I am a representation of a human. And I believe, on reflection, that I consider myself to be one.”

  “I think,” I said, “he’s asking if you’ll be eating the food.”

  “Oh. I can eat, Mr. Thierry, although I derive no pleasure from it. I can, however, simulate pleasure if you so wish.”

  “But—” Thierry’s forehead creased. “—you like ice and hot water?”

  “And,” I added, helpfully, “washing machines and helicopters.”

  “I will see what I can do.” He rushed out.

  “So,” I said, as the door swung closed behind him, “as far as we know, Hugh had no vampires in his life. That means we’re looking for someone who would turn a complete stranger in a building full of other people, and then just leave them to wander out on their own. That pretty much narrows it down to a psycho, probably a powerful psycho.”

  “Where does that leave us, Miss Kane?”

  “It sounds callous, but our best chance of finding this guy is to wait until he kills someone.”

  “That seems suboptimal.”

  I fiddled with the chair again and managed to get it more or less upright. “It’s all we can do. Our best hope of keeping everyone alive is to protect the people who were in his life before his transformation, but unfortunately, fifty percent of our operation is currently under house arrest.” I struggled off the chair and started pacing while I gathered my thoughts. “It’s most likely he’ll go for the girlfriend, assuming he doesn’t just randomly start killing people in the middle of Trafalgar Square. Of course, we can’t rule out the possibility that it’s someone so powerful they’re controlling him from a distance. In which case, it was probably targeted, in which case, it was probably about Eve.” I sighed. “Which means when I get out of here, I’m going to have to call my ex.”

  “This thought appears to sadden you, Miss Kane. If you prefer, I could go in your place.”

  “It’d be better coming from me,” I said. “No offence, but sending an employee would look really, really pointed.”

  Elise was silent a moment, and then, “I am sorry, Miss Kane. I am only eleven months old, and sometimes the subtleties of these things pass me by. My creator imbued me with all his knowledge of conventional social interaction, but I am discovering that this seems to be inadequate.”

  “It’s okay, it’s complicated.”

  “What would you like me to do now?”

  “Just dot the Is, cross the Ts. I think we’re on the right track, but take another look at Hugh’s background in case he had a secret trip to Transylvania we somehow overlooked. Or, y’know, was cheating on his girlfriend with a vampire. And after the dinner party tonight, could you just swing by Sarah’s house and make sure she’s not being murdered or anything.”

  “Would it, perhaps, be more prudent to watch Miss Katz’s residence all night?”

  Walking wasn’t helping, so I dropped back into the chair. “That shouldn’t be necessary. He’s been quiet for the last three days, which means he’s either controlling himself or something’s controlling him. Most vampire attacks happen around midnight. It’s when they’re strongest and hungriest.”

  “That is good news.” She smiled happily. “I was so looking forward to tonight’s party.”

  I stared at her. “It’s going to be awful. It’s going to be me, you, the dickhead ex you helped me stab, his new seventeen-year-old girlfriend, and his crazy vampire family.”

  “But Mr. Thierry seems very pleasant. And I have never had the opportunity to see so many people interacting in a confined space.”

  Wow, way to make me feel like a loser, Elise. “Well, at least one of us is going to have a good time.”

  Elise leaned down and gave me a hug. “Do not be sad, Miss Kane.”

  I patted her back awkwardly like the way straight dudes do when they hug each other to show they’re not gay. “Uh, thanks.”

  She packed her things and left me alone with my mobile, a laptop, a glass of cloudy apple juice, and the realisation I was going to have to ring the love of my life to ask if any vampires wanted her dead.

  I still had Eve’s personal number in my address book because I’d never had the bollocks to delete it. It was strange that I could still dial Patrick’s number from memory because we dated in the 1990s when mobile phones were these weird luxuries only posh people had. But I couldn’t remember any of Eve’s contact details because they were all stored under Eve in a file somewhere in my phone.

  I was going to need more than cloudy apple juice to handle this.

  A couple of hours and the key to the Knight family drinks cabinet later, I was just about ready to talk to my ex.

  I pressed dial.

  She picked up after three rings. “Kate?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “What do we need to talk about? I know I didn’t get you pregnant, and you’ve already broken up with me.”

  Wow. Harsh. “I broke up with you? You walked out on me.”

  “Because you told me to.”

  “Because you were never there anyway.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Let my company go under to make you feel better?”

  This wasn’t going the way I’d planned. “I was there for you when you had nothing but a half-built smartphone app.”

  “And you held that over me for three years.”

  Okay, change the subject. “Look, Eve, is anyone trying to kill you?”

  There was a very long silence.

  “Well, that’s a new one,” she said, finally.

  “I’m looking for one of your interns. I think he’s been turned into a vampire. I’m worried someone’s trying to get to you.”

  �
��I’m not a faery princess, Kate, but I’m pretty sure I can handle one neonatal vampire.”

  “It’s not the intern. It’s whoever sent him. And you didn’t say no one was trying to kill you.”

  “Not your problem.”

  The line went dead.

  The world was a bit fuzzy, and I wasn’t thinking too clearly, but I had a feeling that hadn’t gone so well.

  I staggered downstairs and slumped onto a sofa. Thierry was still whirling around the kitchen, and Acton was trying to lend a hand with the bemused sincerity of someone who, never having cooked a meal in their life, nonetheless feels they ought to be helpful. That used to be me with Eve. Endymion was back at the piano, playing something slow and evening-y.

  “While staying at the monastery of Valldemossa,” he purred, when he saw I was listening, “Frédéric Chopin became convinced all his friends had died in a sudden rainstorm and he himself had drowned in a lake. This prelude is the result of that conviction.”

  He closed his eyes and continued playing.

  “It’s, uh, nice,” I said.

  He didn’t reply.

  This was going to be a long evening.

  There was a rap at the door, and Acton glided across the room to open it.

  Oh shit, it was Patrick. I made a determined attempt to hide inside the sofa.

  “Good evening, Father. This is Sofia Kyprianides.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” That was Acton. “Please come in.”

  They came in. I reluctantly sat up.

  “Sofia,” Acton went on, “this is my husband Thierry—” He waved from the kitchen. “—our son Endymion—” He ignored them and continued playing. “—and this is—”

  “Katharine,” snarled Patrick.

  Patrick’s new girlfriend was very seventeen. Long dark hair and big dark eyes. And, from the way she was glaring at me, it seemed like he’d been saying things.

  Patrick looked just like he always did: tousled copper-coloured hair, intense copper-coloured eyes, very pale skin, and an expression of deep personal despair.

  “Uh, hi,” I tried.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked, as if he’d found me raiding his underwear drawer. He clutched Sofia’s hand protectively.

  “Long story, Council business.”

  His eyes narrowed. “So you say. I must speak with you, Katharine.” He paused for effect. “Alone.”

  I took a moment to relish the memory of ramming a metal spike through his heart. “Whatever, Patrick.”

  He dragged me into the study and slammed the door. “Why are you really here, Katharine? Don’t you know it’s over between us?”

  I twisted my arm free. “Oh, thank fuck. Yes, Patrick. It’s over. It’s been over for a decade.”

  “You must stop following me.” He posed dramatically with his hands pressed up against the wall. “Every time I turn around, you’re there.”

  I’d known Patrick for fifteen years, and I really thought I’d seen the full extent of his psychosis, but this was shiny and new. I had a horrible feeling that Patrick getting over me was going to be worse than Patrick refusing to get over me. “I’m not following you. I don’t give a fuck what you do.”

  “How can you say that when you’ve wormed your way into my family’s home to come between me and Sofia?”

  “Really, I don’t care. You’ve found another needy seventeen-year-old. I’m happy for you. I feel sorry for her, but that’s not my problem.”

  I realised about three seconds too late that Sofia was standing in the now-open doorway. She was giving me a look that said I do not know how you became the twisted old woman you are, but I both fear and pity you.

  Patrick bamfed over and took both her hands. “Do not worry, Sofia. I will not let her come between us.”

  Back when I was seventeen, he’d said exactly the same thing to me when we ran up against Katya, the vampire who’d made him. I remember her as a jealous, obsessive creature trapped in a past she could never reclaim. With hindsight, for all I knew she might have just been trying to buy some milk. Or, y’know, the vampire equivalent.

  “I’m okay, Patrick,” said Sofia. And then to me: “Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

  I left them alone.

  When I got back to the living room, I was relieved to see that Elise had arrived. Before I had a chance to hide behind her, there was another knock at the door, and Sybil floated into the room. She was wearing a long white dress, her hair was trailing down her back, and an honest-to-God python was draped around her neck like costume jewellery gone wrong.

  “Sybil,” cried Acton, “what a lovely surprise.”

  That’s not quite how I would have put it. I would have said something more like holy fuck, you brought a snake to a dinner party.

  Sybil said nothing.

  “Of course, you know Katharine already. This is Elise, her assistant.”

  Sybil said nothing.

  “And our son, Endymion, is at the piano.”

  Sybil said nothing. I was starting to sense a pattern.

  “Well, this is nice,” I exclaimed. There’s a reason people don’t ask me to dinner parties.

  “Canapés!” trilled Thierry, swooping in with a plate of artistic nibbles.

  As the only living mammal in the room, I felt a certain amount of pressure to eat the food. Thierry watched me excitedly. “Delicious,” I offered, through a mouthful of thing-wrapped-in-other-thing.

  “I do like your snake, Miss Sybil,” said Elise.

  Sybil said . . . well, you get the idea. But she did smile. I didn’t know if that was a good sign.

  “I am very much enjoying the music,” continued Elise.

  Endymion not only said nothing, but showed no signs of even having heard.

  “Miss Kane,” Elise tried again. “I appear to be the only person speaking. Am I doing something wrong?”

  “Not at all, Elise,” Acton was quick to reassure her. “Sybil is a woman of few words and Endymion is, frankly, just being a little surly tonight.”

  “Endymion can hear you, you know,” drawled Endymion, without looking up.

  “Tell me, Elise,” Acton went on, “do you enjoy being a private investigator?”

  “Oh, Mr. Knight,” she said gleefully, “I am so excited to have this opportunity to practice small talk. I am not precisely a private investigator. I assist Miss Kane in her investigations by doing what she calls ‘the shit she can’t be bothered with.’”

  He flicked up a mischievous brow. “Is that so, Katharine?”

  I mumbled something incoherent about Elise being a valued member of the team.

  There was another knock at the door. Acton went to answer it, and the Prince of Wands sauntered inside. He was wearing a gleaming cream-coloured linen suit, and a Panama hat. The weirdest thing about this was that he was not the most outlandish-looking person in the room by a long way. Not that Little Miss Dresses-Like-Bogart over here has a right to complain.

  “Hephaistion, the gift.” He gestured gracefully.

  The pretty-boy who’d fetched me from the cellar appeared at his side. He was holding something bottle-shaped and wrapped in tissue paper.

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” said Acton, pressing a hand to his heart.

  The Prince of Wands smiled wickedly. “Oh, I should, Acton. I refuse to spend all night drinking the hospital surplus you favour. This is from my private reserve. It was siphoned in a moment of desperate hope, and has a subtle but memorable flavour.”

  “Thank you, Sebastian.” Acton took the bottle less reluctantly than I’d expect from a man with his principles.

  We endured another round of introductions and long silences. And then Thierry, who had been darting back and forth into the kitchen throughout the ordeal, came back to tell us dinner was served. Patrick and Sofia were retrieved from what I was sure had been an intense, romantic conversation about how terrible Patrick’s world was and how he could not bear to bring another person into it. And we all sat
down, except Hephaistion, who stood behind his master. I was seated between Elise and Endymion, the two guests least likely to want me dead.

  Thierry emerged from the kitchen bearing a vast tureen of what he excitedly proclaimed was a minted pea and watercress soup. He ladled out portions to me and Sofia. I didn’t know what he was going to do with the rest. Probably donate it to the homeless or something. For Elise, he’d prepared a small silver bowl full of ice cubes. And in front of each vampire he set a crystal glass into which he decanted a measure of blood. When I’d first come to one of these events fifteen years ago, it had freaked me the fuck out. It said something about the way my life was going that now it felt just a little bit twee.

  “Our aperitif tonight,” announced Thierry, “comes courtesy of Sebastian. Now, bon appétit, mes amis.”

  I tucked in. I like to think of myself as a pie ’n’ chips sort of girl, but truthfully, Thierry’s an amazing cook, and sometimes it’s nice to have a meal that contains more garlic than batter. Although I still sometimes have trouble working out what you’re actually supposed to eat and what’s just decoration.

  “Thank you, Mr. Knight,” said Sofia, in that careful voice you use when talking to your boyfriend’s parents. I bet when she left she’d say thank you for having me. “The soup is lovely.”

  “Call me Thierry, chérie. You’re family now.”

  Run, girl. Run, and don’t look back.

  She smiled prettily.

  Sigh.

  Elise was passing an ice cube over her fingertips, frowning slightly. “May I ask,” she said, indicating Hephaistion, “why this gentleman is not sitting down with us?”

  “He is my servant, Elise,” returned the Prince of Wands, with a sardonic smile. “A created being, hewn from stone and animated with stolen fire.”

  “That is no reason he cannot dine with us.”

  “He has no need to eat or rest. Indeed, he has no physical desires. What benefit could he possibly derive from a dinner party?”

  “Is that not his decision?”

  The Prince of Wands tilted his head, still smiling faintly. “Hephaistion, do you wish to join us?”

  “I wish only to please you.”

  There was a horrible silence.