“It can’t. I can’t.”
“See? Law mean shit here. All this darkness around? It’s getting darker. Bad. Really bad. You wanna help people but you got nothin’ to help them with. No magic.”
“There is no such thing as magic, Calen.”
Calen gave him a withering look, shook his head slowly and tapped his temple with his finger.
A knock made Solomon stop the recording. “Pausing as officer Rebecca Neilsen has entered the room.”
“The tech guys want to have a quick chat.”
Solomon nodded and then clicked the recorder again. “Well, Calen. Unfortunately, I have to insist you be held here. I don’t want to, and if you give me the contact details of your family, I’ll inform them so they are aware.”
Calen gave an uncaring shrug. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be gone tonight.”
“No, you’ll be held overnight. And it will be up to my superiors what happens after that. But there will be time tomorrow to improve your co-operation, which would help you.”
“You won’t see me again, white fulla. My brother knows you’ve got me by now.”
Solomon sighed. Damn this kid was tough work. “So you are refusing to give contact details for your family, is that correct?”
“No point. He’s coming. And he won’t be talkin’ to nobody.”
“Well, he will if he wants to get you out of here.”
“Koha doesn’t ask.”
Solomon clicked the recording again and left the room, passing Rebecca on the way. “Beck? No matter what, no one goes in to that room, yeah? I’ll talk to the tech guys, put the kid in a holding cell myself, and then head home. This day has just done my head in.”
She nodded affirmation and he moved down the corridor to the tech lab, knocking and then entering. “What’s up? Did you find out what was wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” Brianna said over the top of her half-moon glasses. She finished the last of her cheeseburger and rolled her chair to the opposite side of the room. She typed a few buttons on her keyboard and reset whatever program she was using to test the walkie talkie. “You gotta hear this.”
The speakers next to the screen came alive with some static and before long, Solomon heard his own voice, repeating his words from earlier, advising despatch of the situation.
“Did it actually carry through?”
Brianna shushed him and turned the volume up. Solomon listened carefully as the sounds and creaks of the floor brought him back to the house, to what he found inside the room. Staring at that poor woman. What was left of her.
“Wait, what was that?” He had just heard that raspy sound again.
“That is what I wanted you to hear.” Brianna clicked more buttons and brought the cursor back along the audio line a few seconds. Playing it again, slower, deeper. When the sound came again, the words were out before Solomon could stop them.
“Are you doing that?”
Brianna shook her head, staring at the screen before leaning back and crossing her arms. This is what Brianna had discovered, what she wanted him to hear. That noise that escaped the victim, that appeared amplified by the room itself, was amplified even more here. Although he couldn’t explain it, there was no denying what the two sounds were. One low and then one high, a sinister screech of loathing.
“…Ssssolomonnn.”
Solomon could feel a tingle creeping up his neck. If he closed his eyes, he imagined the tingle was disembodied fingertips. Corpses could make sounds. It had happened before. He could explain that. But he couldn’t explain how a dead woman could have said his name. It doesn’t make sense. It’s almost like—
Crane leapt up from his seat and ran towards the interview room.
“Sol?” Beck yelled at his speed.
“Has anyone been in there?”
“No, I—”
Before she finished, Solomon burst through the door and found another thing that he knew was fact, but he couldn’t explain. Calen was gone. The cuffs lay on the table. Beside them, was a sticky note in a poorly handwritten scrawl, probably by Calen himself.
There’s no such thing as magic.
Chapter 18
The Hunt Is On
“You’ve got some explaining to do.” Koha said. He and Calen had put a few hundred metres between them and the police station, finding respite in Sir Joseph Banks Park. The lush gardens and tall-yet-trimmed trees provided good cover. As did the dark sky.
“Yeah…I know.” Calen shrugged.
“What the hell were you doin’ there?”
“They caught me.”
Koha gave him a tap at the side of the head. “Not there. The house. What the hell was going on?”
“I just… I wanted to see the teacher lady.”
“What teacher lady? We don’t know any.”
“I do. She was helping me.”
“Helping you what?”
“Study. Learn stuff.”
“Learn what? I don’t get it. What was she going to tell you that we can’t?”
“I wanna go to school!” Calen screamed. Koha clapped a hand over the boy’s mouth briefly and checked that no one had heard. There was nobody else about so Koha let Calen shake himself free. “All I hear every day is fight, kill, fight. I’m sick of it.”
“Welcome to the world. That’s life. That’s our life.”
“But why does it have to be for me? All I do is train. I’m tired of movin’ around in the dark. I wanna live in a nice place. I wanna grow up and get a real job, earn my own money. Not steal off vamps we kill. The lady was helpin’ me.”
Koha couldn’t get his head around what he was hearing. “How? Who was she?”
“She taught sometimes at St Therese’s. She saw me hangin’ out and watching the other kids through the fence. Then she started talkin’ to me. She was gonna help me on her days off. Just little bits and stuff.”
“Just little bits…?” Koha sighed in frustration, confused as to what had made Calen want to turn to the school so badly, and turn his back on their way of life. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
“What for? Koha…” Calen upturned his left hand, and then his right, “…hunting. There is no room for anything else. That’s why you’re the best.”
“Greasin’ me up ain’t gonna change what I gotta do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gotta tell the Night Mother. If you want out, that’s the only way. But I don’t like your chances.”
Calen gave a submissive nod of his head. He too would know the task of walking away was near impossible. But with Koha’s reluctant help, the boy was clearly ready to try.
*
Clive wiggled in the driver’s seat of the combi van, trying to reach his buzzing phone. “Yeah, Dante?”
“Have you heard from Lauren and Melina?”
“Yeah, they crashed at mine last night. They were pretty, um…beat.”
“Do you know where they are now? I can’t get a hold of them.”
Dante’s voice sounded deflated, exhausted. Perfect opportunity for Clive to change the subject. “They were fine when I left. But what about you. You ok?”
“I just got up. I saw they weren’t here and I was concerned. Just…as long as they’re all right. Have a good night, Clive.”
The call disconnected and Clive let out the huge breath he had been keeping in his chest.
“Nicely done, Clive,” Melina said.
“I hate lying to him. Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
“As long as this dump is the right place.”
Clive looked at the run down, decrepit building nearby. When using the program to seek the four new-born vampires, he had seen a report that a vampire tenant had been killed here in the last few days. The landlord, also a vampire, had told Clive he’d only come over when the rent payment was about a week late, since usually the tenant had been pretty prompt. He’d mentioned that the door was locked and there was no answer to his knocks, but that he cou
ld hear both the TV and some AC/DC blasting on the radio. Through the window, he’d spotted a very tall figure inside with blonde hair, and had called Clive for some help to either collect the rent or preferably kick the guy out.
“It’ll be a hell of a coincidence if it isn’t.”
Clive waved a hand out his driver window and before he could drop it, twelve vampires whooshed alongside the van and appeared in front of it. Four newborns and their makers.
“What’s the plan?”
“What’s the take, more like?”
Clive was saved from answering by Melina, who spoke matter-of-factly while sharpening a bowie knife. “Fifty grand to the one that brings me his head. That is, if you can beat me to him. Let’s go.”
Beside him, Lauren made to move but Melina halted her. “No. You need to stay here. Just in case he jumps and runs.”
Lauren leaned back in her seat. “He doesn’t seem like the running type. But ok.”
Clive watched her next to him. The moonlight glistened on her glossy lips and he thought about how those same lips had been on his neck just thirty minutes ago. Pressing against his skin, sucking…moaning…needing him.
“Clive!” Melina hissed.
Clive startled. “Huh? What?”
Melina tapped her earpiece. “Might want to turn yours on. Pop your cherry later. Focus now.” She climbed out of the van and slammed the door behind her.
Clive swallowed and clicked his earpiece on, trying not to make it obvious he was gauging Lauren’s reaction at Melina’s words. But she didn’t appear to have heard them, instead watching the group disappear into the building.
Ever since her encounter with Nightingale the night before, she had been different.
“Are you ok?”
Lauren shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking about that bastard. Even now I still see those red eyes.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like.” He tried to sound sympathetic.
“The scariest thing was that I was this close to death. And he acted like he didn’t give a shit. I’ve killed, but both of those guys deserved it. They hurt me…” Her chin started to tremble and Clive looked away to save her from having to cry in front of him. “I can still hear the bones of my face crack as he punched me. And that smile…” Lauren shuddered.
After a moment, she sniffed and wiped her eyes. She turned to Clive with furrowed eyebrows. “What did she mean by popping your cherry later?”
“Clive…” came Melina’s whisper through the head piece. Either the best or the worst timing in the world.
“I—uh.” Clive pointed weakly toward the vampires preparing to enter the house.
“Yeah, never mind.”
*
Melina indicated the door handle and two newborns readied themselves behind it. The landlord had tried to break down the door but something heavy seemed to have been blocking it.
They hit the door with the tips of their shoulders. The impact snapped the door in half and destroyed the doorframe. They flung the pieces aside and inside, the entrance opened up to a small hallway. Melina led the way, drawn by the scent of more blood. She treaded carefully, listening for any sudden movement. He could be anywhere, and there was no way he wouldn’t have heard them approach. She didn’t have to wait long.
He sat in the living room, barefoot and shirtless with his feet up, watching some reality TV program with several scantily clad twentysomethings talking about wanting to find true love. A brunette woman lay on his lap facing the ceiling, his mouth at her neck, her fingers trembling.
“Nightingale! Show us your hands and get up slowly.”
Nightingale raised both hands in the air and raised his middle fingers, still glued to the woman’s neck. Melina indicated to the TV and within a second it had shattered from a bullet fired from one of the makers.
With a thud, Nightingale dropped the body to the floor. “I was just about to find out if Jody and Cody fucked.” With a deep breath, he rose to his full height, towering above all of them. “Fuck me. You lot look like the B squad from a travelling circus. So…how can I help you?”
“By order of the King of Sydney—”
“Yeah, yeah. King of Sydney. Listen here Mary Lou. I know what’s really going on here. I see ya lookin’ at me like a diamond-encrusted dildo. This is twice in two nights you’ve come knockin’. If ya need a root just ask, luv,” he finished, pursing his lips for a kiss.
“I just decided I’m not taking you in.” Melina raised her knife. “Your arse is mine, fucker!”
Melina flung her blade directly into his throat, bringing him to his knees as the wound spurted a crimson foam.
“Now!” Melina screamed.
Within two seconds, his body was pumped full of bullets, shredding his chest and face, leaving holes in both his flesh and the wall behind him. Blood splattered the cracking paint as he keeled over onto his back. His eyes stared up at the ceiling.
“That was easy.”
“Don’t be stupid. Give me your gun.” Melina reached behind herself, not taking her eyes off his still body. She gripped the pistol handed to her and marched over, pointing it directly at his face.
In a flash, her arm was snatched out of the air and brought down, bringing her whole body down on top of him.
He gripped her throat tight and bore into her with those red eyes. “Right… NO dick for you.”
Melina only had time to crease her eyebrows before she was launched into the remains of the TV set.
*
Screams, shouts and rapid gun fire blasted through the earpiece. “Melina!” Clive cried. “What’s happening? Hello…report!”
It wasn’t just through the earpiece anymore. The chaos in the room was audible plain and clear from inside the van. Gunfire burst from the room as did shouts and curses. Chaos reigned for what seemed like an age. And then, all was quiet.
Clive could only imagine what those newborns were doing to Nightingale when suddenly the front of the van caved in, sunk forward and then righted itself. Nightingale had landed on one knee, directly on top of the engine and crushed it. In one hand, he held an unconscious Melina. Nightingale stared at both of them through the curtains of his thick, curling blonde hair, as if he had all the time in the world. Unmoving. Unblinking.
Both he and Melina looked like they had been hosed down with blood.
“Excuse me!” Nightingale pulled back the mop of her blood soaked hair, held her lifeless form by the neck, and smacked her face on the windscreen, as blood trickled down from her facial wounds. “Oi! Excuse me? Does this belong to either of you? It wandered in off the street.”
He looked like he was waiting for an answer, but Clive couldn’t think, he couldn’t move. He chanced a look at Lauren again, but she seemed just as frozen in terror as he was. It didn’t help that Nightingale addressed her only with his next question. “Oi! Girlie! Can you sew? Might wanna put a few stitches in this.”
Nightingale shoved Melina face first through the windshield. Lauren’s eyes were wide in fear but she made no sound. She tried to hold Melina up and ease her inside. Half her body was inside the van, her legs draped down out on top of the ruined front. The glass of the windshield had cracked, yet there was an almost complete half circle around her waist, such was the force she went through.
Clive could see that Melina’s cheeks were lacerated, the wounds cauterised and bruised around the edges. Blunt force trauma with a burning object. He tried to help Lauren, but when Nightingale leapt off the van and casually sauntered away, something made Clive keep his eyes on him. Nightingale was watching the ground as he moved, following something. He had reached roughly ten metres away when he stopped and turned. He spotted Clive looking at him and a grin spread across his face.
Clive gulped at the lump that grew in his throat. That grin sent a chill through him. Nightingale’s expression was one of a child ready to perform an act his parents expressly forbid him to do. The red-eyed vampire reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cig
arettes.
“Got a light, mate?” Nightingale called, pressing his hands over himself slowly.
Clive moved his gaze down to Nightingale’s feet. A glimmering trail lead back to the van. Oh shit. Fuel. “Lauren!”
Lauren looked up and saw what was happening.
Nightingale was now almost yelling. “I know it’s around here somewhere!”
“Oh my God…” Lauren frantically dragged Melina into the van. The shards caught and tore at the skin of her hips. “Go, Lackey! Get out of here!”
Clive looked up. Nightingale was lighting his cigarette. He tried to help Lauren and ignore the stings as glass cut into the tips of his fingers. “No.”
Nightingale dropped the cigarette at his feet just as Melina’s whole body came into the front seat. Lauren clicked open the passenger door as the trail caught fire. In urgency, Clive pushed her out and to the pavement. She whirled around, grabbed Melina’s top and his hand, flinging them backwards and out just as the van rose in a ball of fire and exploded. Clive felt Lauren place her hand on his chest and he stilled as Nightingale strode around the burning van and looked over to where they all lay.
Clive expected him to advance, but instead Nightingale gave the area one sweeping glance of contempt and walked up the stairs back into the building. Clive looked down at his chest and saw nothing but the cement of the sidewalk. Of course. Lauren’s power.
With the threat of immediate danger gone, Clive’s adrenaline ebbed a touch and a shooting pain throbbed in his shoulder. Lauren obviously noticed and gripped his chest hard with her nails. “What is it?”
“My shoulder…I think it popped out when you pulled me out. It’s ok. It went back in when I landed.”
Shadow Chaser (Undeadly Secrets Book 3) Page 12