A Vampire's Bohemian

by Vanessa Fewings

  Perhaps Anaïs had merely been manipulating me all along, hoping she’d convince me to help find Beatrice? I understood her desperation. Still, she’d put me through the ringer both physically and emotionally, and if anything Anaïs had threatened my ability to function at my optimum.

  I took two more Tylenol and chased them down with a gulp of coffee.

  I grabbed all the files out of my in-tray and set them before me. It was time to close these once and for all. Enthusiasm surged though my veins with the possibility of finally getting on top of my workload. With these taken care of I’d be able to dedicate time to finding Beatrice. Though it would still have to be off the record.

  An envelope slipped out from the stack and slid across my desk, spiraling to the floor. Inside was a gold embossed invitation to the annual police charity ball. I’d completely forgotten about this event being held tomorrow night at the Waldorf Ritz in Covent Garden. The last thing I needed was a social event where I’d need to pretend everything in my life was business as usual, and all I had to look forward to was an evening of enduring small talk. Surely I was bright enough to figure a way out of it?

  Mulling over that idea and refusing to let this week derail any further, I went in search of Sgt. Miller and Constable Noble to inform them of today’s goal, which was wrapping these cases up.

  Within the hour I’d debriefed them on the day’s plan and they were both up to speed. Helena didn’t bring up her dental appointment, and though I doubted that’s where she had been I felt a girl had the right to privacy. Our job was so stressful at times that taking a mental day off was allowed in my book. Though for me there could be no such luxury. I had to put off going home and curling into a ball on my bed until the weekend.

  Yes, two days of licking my wounds while watching back to back episodes of Doctor Who and enough chocolate to lull me into a sugar coma was in my future. Who was I kidding? A torrent of grief welled beneath the surface, threatening to flood out at any minute. There was nothing that would soothe this knot of pain wedged in the center of my heart. Nothing.

  My ability to make polite conversation with Helena and Miller hid the fact that anything was wrong. With Helena at the wheel of our police rover and Miller sitting in the back seat, we made our way through London traffic.

  “Anything on that car accident?” I asked Miller.

  He leaned forward. “There were two cars involved. A Ford Escort and a BMW. The driver in the Ford was over the limit. He was arrested and charged on scene. This is the bit I imagine you’re interested in. The driver of the BMW disappeared. Whoever was driving that vehicle would have been seriously injured. They wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  “Do you think someone dragged the driver from the car?” I asked.

  “Witnesses on the scene didn’t see anyone.”

  “Who was the BMW registered to?”

  “It wasn’t registered.”

  “Was it stolen?” Helena said.

  “No,” Miller said. “Purchased in Dagenham and never registered.” He sat back. “Get this, the car was apparently bought with cash.”

  “Is this a new case for us?” Helena said.

  “I’m looking into it as a favor,” I told her. “Any reports from local hospitals?”

  “All MVA patients admitted to London hospitals that night had registered vehicles,” Miller said. “I’ll send traffic’s report over to you.”

  “You always have the most difficult cases,” Helena said.

  I smiled her way. “We have the most difficult cases.”

  She beamed a smile.

  Our first stop was at Regency High School on Mayberry Street to check on this building that had sustained a spate of vandalism. The security system had caught the activity of thirteen-year-old Bryce Arnold spraying red paint on the science lab walls and sabotaging the computer equipment. The lawyers defending Bryce were delaying him being expelled despite the obvious danger to the other children. His parents donated heavily to the school so the case was being delayed by the headmaster, or so it seemed.

  Much to Miller’s chagrin, I forced all three of us to spend the morning in a spare classroom enduring a month’s worth of security recordings and tracking Bryce’s every move throughout the school.

  Hours later, Miller and Helena both agreed it had been worth it when we found last Monday’s footage of Bryce in the home economics lab, alone, trying to set light to a wastepaper bin. Bryce had been interrupted by other students entering the class and they’d evidently caught him in the act, but had been too afraid to report him. Our vandalism case was upgraded to arson, which was all that was needed to get Bryce thrown out of school and add a juvenile conviction that would stick.

  After grabbing a quick lunch at a Greek cafe, Miller, Helena, and I drove over to Rumple Street to check in on Sally Summers, our domestic abuse victim.

  We found Mrs. Summers rolling pastry at her kitchen table, flour splotched over her face. Her tired eyes and worn out smile revealed she took little pleasure from her domestic duties. Makeup applied earlier had made a good go at concealing her black eye. Her husband’s abuse wasn’t letting up.

  Sgt. Miller and Helena stood at the back of the kitchen and let me do all the talking. My speech flooded out like a Shakespearean sonnet. A plead for Sally to see what she was enduring and offering her a way out of this miserable life.

  “He’s under your skin,” I told her. “He threatens you and then pulls the ‘feel sorry for me card.’ I’m afraid it’s the classic M.O. of an abuser. He probably tells you he’ll not survive without you.”

  Sally rolled the pastry, half-listening.

  I grabbed the rolling pin. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. I’m terrified that tomorrow, or next week, I’ll be the one zipping up your body bag and watching the medics wheel your lifeless corpse off to the morgue. Your husband’s getting more violent. He is going to kill you. It’s a matter of when, not if.”

  She glared up at me, aghast.

  As did Helena and Sgt. Miller, who’d never seen me so agitated.

  “I know how it works,” I said. “They seduce you with their charm. Tell you what you want to hear. Make you feel special, needed. As though without you their world will fall apart.”

  Tears rolled down Sally’s cheeks.

  “They woo you,” I continued calmly. “Take you to places you never dreamed you’d see. They take your breath away. There’s this sense you’ll never find anyone quite like them again. Your self-esteem is decimated. You’re grateful for the scraps of affection they give you no matter how few they are. But this is not living. It’s a slow death, and you and I both know we deserve better.”

  Silence.

  “You deserve better,” I corrected.

  “I do,” she muttered and wiped white powder and pastry off her hands with a stained cloth.

  “We’ll get you out of here and place you somewhere safe,” I told her.

  “Thank you.” She looked as stunned as Helena and Miller.

  I squeezed her arm and handed her over to my colleagues to wrap up the arrangements for her extraction.

  Waiting for them in the car, feigning to be busy on my BlackBerry, I tried to cease my hands from shaking. My outburst might have just saved her life and it had also revealed a lot about mine. Both Miller and Helena knew well enough not to discuss what they’d witnessed. I hoped they put it down to my versatility and hadn’t picked up any hint of personal experience. I kept my life private and it was going to stay that way.

  Miller asked to visit a local cafe to pick up some tea before making our way over to our next destination.

  Sipping the dark brew while gazing out of the window, my thoughts kept circling back to Jadeon. Scrutinizing each and every moment we’d ever spent together, my mind searched for missed signs of his artful deceit but found none. Thus proving the genius of his cruelty, just as Anaïs’ had so deftly explained. I’d never seen it for what it really was. For what he really was.

  We arrived in Highg
ate within the hour. The on-going dispute between two neighbors had been seemingly settled. Happy the Chihuahua was no longer digging up next door’s flower beds apparently, which was a good thing. Unfortunately the reason was he’d been missing for two days now, and despite the owner, Mrs. Simms, placing flyers all over the neighborhood they’d been no sight of him.

  Standing on the front step of Mr. Lazlo’s house, the neighbor who had initially filed the complaint against Happy, I listened intently to his denial of all knowledge of the dog’s whereabouts while reading every nuance of what he didn’t say from his animated body language.

  “Oh bloody hell,” I said, reaching into the boot of the rover and fishing around for a shovel.

  Despite Helena’s look of horror, which matched the dog owner’s as she watched from her front porch, I made a beeline for Mr. Lazlo’s garden via the side-alley. Though Lazlo had only given a brief nod of permission, it was all I needed to enter his property.

  I should have been searching for Beatrice, but no, I was on the hunt for a lost dog. Everything was wrong with this picture.

  Everything.

  Several calming breaths later, I continued on down the garden. After a rudimentary search of the flowerbeds in the far left-hand corner, I spotted the disturbed shrubs and began to dig. With a gloved hand, I wiped away more layers of dirt from the remains of the decomposing Chihuahua.

  Terror stricken, Mrs. Simms peered over from her side of the fence.

  Miller turned toward her. “I’m afraid it looks like Happy’s dead.”

  How poignant that statement was when applied to my own life, I mused.

  I offered her my condolences as Miller set about arresting Mr. Lazlo. Happy’s owner wailed us out of the garden.

  We were back at Scotland Yard by 5 P.M.

  I now had the task of completing the reports before I could finally drop these files into the records department. No longer would they haunt my in-tray. After thanking Miller and Helena for their help with today’s crime fighting activities, I sent them both home.

  Miller expressed his admiration for my ability to get things wrapped up so quickly, and even went on to question my caffeine intake. I wondered if blue illuminate was finally kicking in. More alarming still, I’d forgotten to ask about any possible side effects.

  Well it’s too late now, I scolded myself.

  After doing a quick Google search on the stuff and predictably coming up with nothing, I reminded myself the blood results would end up revealing what I’d put in my body. Stretching my arms out wide and twisting my back, I tried to ease the tension out of my weary limbs. If I was going to get out of here by a reasonable hour, more coffee was needed.

  I grabbed a large mug of vanilla blend from the staff break room and returned to my desk. Clicking open the program, I set about documenting the day’s activities in standard reports. My fingers swept over the keyboard faster than they ever had and I couldn’t help wonder if I really had imbibed something magical.

  Halfway through the second report, I shot to my feet.

  Jadeon leaned casually against the doorjamb as though nothing was wrong with him visiting Scotland Yard. He looked beautiful, his face serene and framed in a dark flock of hair, his iridescent brown irises locked on me with that familiar intensity. One of the many reasons I’d fallen for him. I found myself melting in his presence, surrendering, failing.

  “What are you doing here?”My heart pounded with the danger he’d put himself in.

  He’d put me in.

  Then it came back to me in all its painful glory. Everything he’d ever done to me. All those lies. A wave of gut wrenching betrayal made my legs go unsteady.

  “How are you?” he said, looking devastatingly sincere.

  A shrill shattered the quiet.

  I reached for the phone. “Jansen.”

  From the reception desk, Constable Rutledge informed me that a gentleman was on his way up to see me. Despite the call being late, I thanked him.

  And returned my focus. “What do you want?”

  Jadeon raised a manila envelope.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Orpheus wants you to have all the recordings.” Jadeon shut the door. “Footage filmed through the fox. It’s all here. I’ve watched it myself. You’re not in any of them despite what Anaïs told you. She also lied about Orpheus threatening to send them here. That was never his intention. Anaïs also lied about us.”

  “Get out.”

  Desolation swept over his face. “Surely you don’t believe—”

  “She explained everything.”

  Jadeon drew back, his expression aghast.

  “I thought you and I weren’t meant to be speaking?” I fisted my hands on my hips. “For fear of alighting the elder’s wrath?”

  “Your peace of mind is worth it.”

  “Do they know I’m still mortal?”

  “I can be very persuasive.”

  “Manipulative.”

  “Actually, I’m not.”

  “I have evidence to the contrary.”

  He stood taller. “You have hearsay, which is not the same thing.”

  “Do you have a yacht?”

  He hesitated. “Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  “Technically, it belongs to Alex.”

  “Why never mention it?”

  “It’s not like I can take you out on it to sunbathe.” He shrugged. “I bought it for Alex for his two hundredth birthday. Seemed like a reasonable gift considering the milestone. Do you want to go out on it?”

  “No.”

  Confusion marred his face.

  My glance at the wall clock warned his time was up.

  He reached into his jacket pocket and removed a flash drive. “A record of Hauville’s movements leading up to his disappearance.”

  “Anything stand out?” I said.

  “I’m afraid not, but you might catch something we didn’t.”

  “Why didn’t anyone approach him? Ask him what he’d done with Beatrice?”

  “We were about to when he went missing.”

  “That’s it?”

  He placed the flash drive into my palm and invisible sparks were set off merely with his touch, sending shivers into my fingers. I snapped my hand back, throwing him a glare not to try any kind of seduction.

  Worry clouded his eyes. “You didn’t drink blue illuminate.”

  My legs wobbled at the humiliation. “What?”

  “Your blood test will validate—”

  “How do you know about that?”

  With a tilt of his head, he gave me that look. “You were minutes away from drinking it when Orpheus swapped out the bottle. He replaced blue illuminate with schnapps from the hotel bar, added Ambien, and a spot of his blood to give you an orgasm to convince everyone in the room, including you, that you had in fact just imbibed it.”

  I cringed; flushing brightly.

  “Orpheus didn’t tell Mirabelle he’d done it so that Anaïs wouldn’t suspect.”

  “But—”

  He arched a brow. “You’re smart, Ingrid. You don’t need some concoction to make you smarter. Besides, blue illuminate is reserved for vampires. The stuff would fry a mortal’s brain.”

  “Why not let Anaïs know he’d switched them out?” I said.

  “She’s fragile. You’ve seen her. She’s not herself. Orpheus is doing his best to help her through this difficult time.”

  “So Orpheus allowed those witches to put me through that for nothing?”

  “He’s trying to appease Anaïs.” He gestured his sincerity, or attempted to. “He’s trying to handle her the best way he can.”

  “What about me?”

  “Well, your relationship with Orpheus is complicated.”

  I rolled my left sleeve up to reveal my circled brand. “Why did you give me this?”

  “To protect you.”

  “You marked me as his.”

  “You’d stepped into a vampire’s lair. They were g
oing to either kill you or turn you, Ingrid. That saved you.”

  “Did you give me to Orpheus?” I said. “Is that what this is really about?”

  His expression hardened, his jaw tensing. “Do you want to belong to him?”

  Jadeon should have left the door open. There was no air in here.

  “Ingrid?”

  “I need you to leave.”

  “We need to talk this through.”

  “Out.”

  “At least give me the chance to—”

  “Now.”

  He stepped forward and rested the envelope on my desk. “Don’t let the memory of me become a stain on your life.”

  I reached for the phone. “Security will escort you.”

  “Listen to me—”

  “We can upgrade it to SWAT if you’d prefer.”

  “I care deeply for you.”

  “You’re a monster.” My hand stayed on the phone. “And I’m drawing on as much reason as I can in order to deal with you.”

  He sucked in the deepest breath. “I will always love you.”

  “Then you’ll be wasting your time. Like you’ve wasted mine.”

  Jadeon looked lost, and for a moment I believed he might be, and that his heart ached right alongside mine. But this was the mistake I’d made on so many occasions when I’d allowed his deception to devour my life and steal my love that he wasn’t worthy of. That he could never reciprocate. His gaze swept over my office as though the words he needed lay just out of reach.

  As quietly as he’d appeared he was gone.

  I stared at the place where he’d been standing, the loneliness threatening to choke me, and slumped into my chair before burying my face in my hands.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Waldorf Hilton’s grand salon had apparently been influenced by the style of Louis XVI. Or so Inspector Brooks’ wife, Nadine, informed me. We sat beside each other at the senior officers’ table. The charity ball was in full swing.

  And I didn’t want to be here.

  Fine food, wine, and good company should have all added up to a pleasant evening, but I felt too riddled with guilt for taking time off. Though it was hard to feel down for long. Nadine really was the life and soul of the party. She was a forty-something stay-at-home mom. Plump and extraordinarily pretty, with long blonde hair fluffed to perfection and kind blue eyes. She had a laugh that made you smile. During the course of the evening, she’d shared with me her story, telling me she’d given up teaching to devote her life to her children and support her husband’s career. It wasn’t hard to tell that Nadine was a tremendous influence on Inspector Antony Brooks, and from their gestures of affection toward each other they were still very much in love. Nadine and I had read many of the same books and much of our conversation centered on literature, art, music, and our mutual love of chocolate.