“Then ya gotta stand in the center of that circle. See the holly berries? Santa loves them.”
She nodded and made sure to stand right in the middle. “Then I can tell that meanie in school that Santa is real!”
“Ya sure can,” the voice replied. Malice dripped from it, but the girl was too little to hear the nuances.
Gloved hands came in front of the largest knot of holly and the fingers snapped. On the tip of the glove’s index finger came a spark of blue flame. The little girl’s eyes widened in surprise and delight.
The person behind the voice bent down and touched the flame to the bough, and it quickly ignited, moving in opposite directions to quickly engulf the ivy and holly circle. It met on the other end of the circle, rising in a large blue flame, the point looking eerily similar to a longsword, its tip pointed to the sky.
The little girl turned to regard it, eyes now wide in fear rather than delight.
The tip of the flames bent and moved, pointing downward directly at her before it began to descend at a rapid pace.
Shrieking in fear, the little girl could do nothing except stare as the tip of the flames reached toward her throat.
Danny woke in a cold sweat, the scream of a small child dying in his ears. As was the norm with his visions, it took him a moment to orient himself in the moment. His brain had yet to realize he was at home, in bed, and there was nothing amiss. No scared child, no white flame, no mystery assailant trying to apparently summon something evil.
But even knowing those things, it unnerved him. Because that meant they were happening and out there somewhere. Thing was, was it happening that moment, did it already happen, or was it going to happen and he had time to stop it?
He checked the clock. Since Angelica became fully turned, he stayed awake with her from sunset to sunrise, but his body was naturally inclined to wake with the sun, so he always wound up awake before her in summer, and most of the time in winter as well. It was three in the afternoon, which meant Angelica could wake within the hour, hour and a half at most.
He needed to be ready. Not that she would be pleased with this turn of events, especially since it would require them to leave without her doing her makeup, and most likely drinking bagged blood warmed in the microwave, since it was faster than biting him, drinking, and healing his wounds.
Yep, my wife is going to kill me, he thought as he dressed and brushed his wet hair after a shower.
When he heard her wake upstairs, it only took a moment for her to come down, already dressed and sunglasses on with black lipstick in place.
“You’re never up and showered this early on a Sunday,” she said. “What is it?”
“I had a vision. A bad one. In the clearing where the reindeer were.”
Instead of getting upset, she gratefully took the tumbler of O positive he handed her and chugged. “Let’s go. You can drive while I eat.”
They climbed into his white Cadillac Coupe Deville, which looked like a monster parked next to her shiny, small, black Lamborghini, and hit the road.
On the way, Danny explained to her what his vision foretold. “Problem is, I don’t know if it happened already, if it is going to happen, or is happening as we speak, since it was at night.”
“Then why the fuck are you heading to the PID?” she asked. “Go to the woods and I will call someone to meet us there. If there is no evidence, then we have an old-fashioned stake-out.” Her lips twisted into a grimace of a smile. “As long as nobody stakes me.”
“The last guy who staked you, you tore him apart. I think everyone knows better,” he said as he made an illegal U-turn. His inner cop berated him, but he knew there was a child’s life potentially at stake.
“Drive slower, you might reach the woods by the Spring Equinox,” his wife taunted him.
“I am breaking the speed limit,” he commented. “Not everyone drives like they’re auditioning for The Fast and the Furious, you know.”
By the time they arrived at the woods, there was already a PID van and a vintage Harley Davidson motorcycle parked at the entrance. Danny wondered when a traditional PID vehicle ceased being a black Mercedes until he saw who walked out of the woods to lean against it.
Sean Wireman looked ill as he seemed to catch his breath. Danny parked behind him and he and Angelica walked up to the siren. For once, despite his innate dislike of the man, Danny felt something other than annoyance when he saw him.
“What the Hell?” Angelica asked.
Sean looked up, face so pale he looked green. “Crime scene back there,” he informed them.
Duh. As if the yellow tape and PID coroner vehicle didn’t give that away.
“Kid?” Danny asked.
Sean nodded. “Haven’t seen anyone look that vicious in death since World War Two.” He wiped his forehead with a bandana stuck in his back pocket. “You saw it in a vision?”
Danny nodded. “I have to go check and see if—”
Sean put a palm flat on Danny’s chest to stop his forward momentum. His first instinct was to break Sean’s wrist, but he restrained himself.
“Listen to me, man, you don’t want to do that. You think your vision was bad? Reality is a thousand times worse. Her throat was cut. Her body was burnt … but the burns were blue. Just … let the ghouls take her, all right?”
Danny nodded, surprised that the siren was being so considerate.
Angelica, as usual, broke up any sort of sentimentality. “Burned plant residue found at the scene?”
Sean stood up straighter, as if he was answering to his drill sergeant in the military. “Yes. Two separate kinds. I asked the Coven to take samples and see if they can decipher what kind—”
“Holly and ivy,” Danny cut in. “They need to look for magical residue.”
“They’re taking samples. One of them said it was Dark magic, but not anything he recognized.” Sean made a face. “I mean, there are tons of other creatures that can harness magic — even humans — but it would be easier if it was a witch.”
“Yeah, because we keep track of them,” Angelica added. “Can we at least get an ID on the kid so her body can be returned to her family?”
Sean nodded. “Already sent the info back to HQ. Anyone specific you want sent?”
“Us.”
Danny turned to look at her. “Excuse me?”
She shrugged a little. “Who better? You think this kid was picked randomly? I doubt it. It happened before dawn, no kid is outside in their coat and boots at that time unless they’ve snuck out. In the age of smart locks and cameras, I doubt that happened.”
He looked at her in mixed horror and admiration. Her mind worked ten steps ahead of most other people, even the best detectives Chicago had on the force. It was a huge part of why she had a one hundred percent success rate when it came to cases at the PID.
The rest was because she was an expert killer.
The combination of beautiful, deadly, and intelligent made Danny’s head spin and heart swell with love for his Undead wife.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go tell a family their kid is dead.”
Chapter 3
Angelica knew she didn’t look at all approachable to normal people. Part of it was natural: her skin was ice, her eyes were nearly black, and her hair was the color of ink. Of course, the rest of it had to do with the way she dressed and carried herself. Maybe her tattoos, too.
When it came to appearing normal, she had Danny to give her advice. No one wants a creepy Goth girl on their doorstep at six in the evening telling them their child was murdered.
Sacrificed, Angelica silently corrected herself. She wasn’t murdered. She was lured out, or brought out by someone she trusted, and ritually sacrificed. And I still don’t know what the purpose for the sacrifice even was.
The unknown was one thing Angelica despised. Right up there with glittery vampires and khaki pants. Which she now had to wear to look less intimidating.
“Believe me,” Danny said. “When the cop
s came to my door to tell me Miranda was found dead when I was twenty-two, it destroyed me. And a huge part of why it hurt so much was how severe they were, both in appearance and manner.”
She grimaced at her lower half. “I believe you. But khaki?”
He chuckled. “You look hot in them. You’d look hot wearing a potato sack and mud.”
“Great. Just … take the helm tonight. I have never been the one to deliver news like this. Not in all my two centuries of life.” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was worried she would make this situation worse by being as brusque as she usually was. But the thing was, she had to be. Ever since she watched her mother be destroyed — not simply murdered, but completely dismantled — she knew it was better to bury any sort of grief deep down.
Death happened. The only thing that mattered was, did you come quietly or did you go down swinging?
Her mother went down swinging. She planned to do the same when her time came.
The girl’s family, the Whartons, lived in a nice neighborhood not far from the woods where the corpse was found. It was mostly Ukranian and Italian, and the houses went for half a million dollars when the market was doing poorly.
Angelica went over the autopsy file as Danny drove them from downtown Chicago to the neighborhood near Norridge.
“They can’t see the body if they ask,” she commented.
Danny glanced at her. “Please don't tell me they beheaded the poor kid.”
“Plucked out her eyes,” she corrected. “She’s recognizable under the blue scar tissue, but still…”
“Jesus…” Danny ran a hand through his hair. “For once, I am glad my vision gave me a fade to black.”
She turned to him and asked, “Did you see the person speaking at all?”
“Hands. Long, thin. The nails looked kinda dark, but who knows? I think it was a man. Again, I can't be sure. You know my visions rarely give me voices. It was almost like I was … looking out at the girl from their eyes. But all I got was their point of view. That’s it,” he explained.
“It’s better than nothing,” she replied. It pained her to ask him to recount some of his visions. Vampires don’t dream, so she could only imagine how terrible it was to go to sleep and have your brain show you the violence du jour. She saw enough horror in her waking hours to drive any normal person insane. To see them while she was asleep and rejuvenating sounded like the worst possible torture.
She glanced out the window at the perfectly manicured lawns, now covered with a few inches of fresh snowfall. Only the edges by the curbs were sullied with soot and dirt. Lawns were dotted with twinkling, multicolored lights, animatronic reindeer, and inflatable Santa Clauses who looked fairly monstrous.
Winter was a beautiful season if you knew where to look. The houses in this neighborhood looked like mansions on the inside, but on the outside they looked like a Hallmark card. Warm, cozy, snow-covered.
Eventually they arrived at the Whartons’ house. It was just as brightly decorated as everyone else’s, but there was an empty sort of feeling about it. Angelica was certain that the parents must have been beside themselves. She knew that, were she to have gone missing as a small child, her mother would have been more than distraught and probably organized a search with her father to get her back before the constable could even blink.
Danny knocked on the door while Angelica straightened her coat over her holstered weapons.
The door swung open, revealing a petite woman, most likely only in her mid thirties. Long blonde hair fell around a thin face, and large, almost wild, grey eyes looked up at the duo. Not wanting to think ill of someone who must be enduring so much suffering, Angelica couldn’t help but compare her pointy tipped nose to a chicken’s beak, as well as her wide, unblinking eyes. Her skin was so fair, Angelica felt like she might be considered tan compared with this woman.
“Mrs. Wharton?” Danny asked.
She nodded.
“I’m Detective Daniel Mancini. This is Special Agent Angelica Mancini. We’re here to speak with you about your daughter’s disappearance.”
The woman’s eyes widened.
“May we come in?” Angelica asked, understanding that she must be in shock.
“Oh yes, yes, of course. You have word on my little Bui?” Her voice had a pleasant Scottish brogue.
Danny nodded. “If you’d let us in, ma’am?”
Finally, she stepped aside. “Dear?” she called, trotting into the house. “Dear, there are police here.” Turning back to the duo she said, “Come to the parlor.”
For some reason, Angelica thought about the old poem, “Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly…”
It was ridiculous.
The house was magnificent, with smooth vanilla tile and opulent throw rugs. The parlor was on the second floor, off the dining room. Everything was done in winter tones: silver, white, and pale blue. A man sat on a white sofa, sitting rigidly straight. He had white hair, prematurely, with pale eyes like his wife.
“These policemen have word of Bui,” Mrs. Wharton said. “Sit down, both of you. May I offer some tea?”
Angelica shook her head. Who offers tea when their kid is missing? “No, Mr. and Mrs. Wharton. If you don’t mind, we’d like to ask you some questions before we get into any findings.”
Danny glanced at her, expression hooded. They were supposed to merely tell the couple their daughter was dead. She knew this wasn’t in their plans, but she wasn’t just a killer, she was a detective, too. She had an inkling that questioning them would lead to a break in the case, and she wasn’t letting that opportunity go away.
“What time did you notice your daughter was missing?” she asked.
“Well, I got up for tea around three, as I couldn’t sleep,” Mrs. Wharton said. “I felt a chill and noticed her window was open… Do we need to go over this again? The police already took our statement.”
Angelica nodded. “I’m FBI. It’s procedure, ma’am. Go on.”
She continued, “So, as I went to the window, I saw the bedclothes were moved and I went to go cover her up. That’s when I realized she was gone. In my panic, I tore the house apart, rousing my husband. I never thought to look at the window until the end.”
Danny spoke up. “Mind if I take a look at that window, Mrs. Wharton?”
“No. Go ahead. Up the stairs, last door to the right.”
He got up and walked in the direction stated, while Angelica wanted to call him back. The words “don’t go” stayed behind her lips. She would not let irrationality screw everything up. Not when every nerve in her body was screaming at her that she stumbled upon a clue, and a large one at that.
“And at what time did you phone the police?” Angelica asked.
“At that time it was about three-thirty,” she said. “Please, tell me, what did you find about my girl?”
Angelica held up a finger, indicating she wait a moment, as she fired off a text message. Looking back up at the concerned couple, she said, “Were there any suspects?”
“They never got back to us since last night,” Mrs. Wharton replied a bit indignantly.
At that moment, Danny came back down the stairs. “Excuse me, but did the police find any evidence of a ladder or something against the window? That’s an awfully high distance.”
Unless something supernatural got her, Angelica thought.
“Well, it was snowing an awful lot,” Mr. Wharton interrupted. “Look, can’t you two see how much you’re upsetting my wife? Just tell us whatever ya came to and feck off, all right?”
Angelica’s phone beeped and she opened the message, which was from her contact at the local police precinct. She had one at each station house to ensure that no paranormal criminals got away. The message was two words, but it changed the entire course of the evening.
“No reports.”
She stood up and took Danny by the sleeve. “I do apologize to you both. Give us a moment, will you?”
Mrs. Wharton nodded. “You may sp
eak in the kitchen should you require privacy.”
“Actually, I’d like to see your daughter’s room, too,” Angelica said.
Danny went up the stairs first, and the house was large enough where they were out of earshot as soon as they hit the landing at the top of the stairs.
“Angie, the screen is still on the window, and no one can get up there unless they can fly or levitate,” he said quickly.
She waved her phone at him. “Chicago PD says there’s no record of a missing person’s report even matching the description of Bui Wharton. Something’s not right, but I can't put my finger on it.” She sniffed, then sniffed again. “But I can smell it. Do you smell that?”
Danny shook his head slowly. “What is it?”
“Blood. Not too old, maybe a day or so? It doesn’t smell deadly, just enough to make me vomit if I drank any.” She turned and, like a bloodhound, began to sniff her way to each door. She finally hit paydirt in a room that appeared to be the master suite. But while the rest of the house looked picture perfect, this room appeared as though there was a struggle. Lamps overturned, bedclothes soaked in blood, pictures broken. The shades were open, the moonlight glittering off the shattered glass.
The blood trail led to the large walk-in closet. The stench was overwhelming for Angelica, but since it was still fairly fresh, her stomach rumbled. She needed to feed again.
Walking quietly so as not to be heard by the couple below, she went to the closet door and nodded to Danny, who pulled his gun and trailed it on the knob as she twisted it open. It gave easily, and out tumbled two fresh corpses. A young couple, one with red hair, the other blond, were sleeping peacefully, judging by their clothing, when someone or something came in and carved them up like Christmas hams.
“Whoa!” Danny exclaimed without meaning to.
“They had to have heard those thumps,” Angelica said. “How much you wanna bet that these are the Whartons?”
“If these are the Whartons, who or what were we just talking to?” Danny wondered. “I mean, at least gimme a species! Silver bullets? Iron?”
Holidays Bite: A Limited Edition Collection of Holiday Vampire Tales Page 63