Supernatural Vigilante series Box Set

by D. R. Perry

  “Well, thanks again.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  I’m going to, of course. Stephanie will expect a full briefing after we leave. As I put the notebook away, I find a sticky note attached to it. Hargrove must have put it there while he held it for me. But it’s blank. I attach it to the page I put my notes on and close the cover, a mystery to delve into later.

  Stephanie does need an arm to lean on, which I give her until Scott arrives. Together, we help her up and onto the middle of the truck’s threadbare bench seat.

  It’s late by the time we get back to the big house on Ocean Avenue. Well, not for me, but all of the children are sleeping. Frankie’s turned in too, probably so he can work on the day job idea. A note on the kitchen table tells us that DeCampo’s resting in his basement room, while Raven has gone to the twenty-four-hour Super Walmart with Esther to get more supplies for their projects.

  My brain and notebook are full of questions with nobody to ask. I head downstairs, hoping to find Maya watching over the king. I find that she tried, but fell asleep on the sofa in the laundry room.

  My first impulse is to lift her, carry her back to one of the vampire guest rooms, and tuck her into the bed in there. That’s not happening with my one arm, so I do what real men do when faced with a beautiful slumbering woman. Find the coziest blanket in the linen closet and drape it over her sleeping form, of course.

  After that, I grab a bag of blood from the fridge down here and drink it cold, then head into my room for some shuteye of my own.

  I’m in the Temple to Music at Roger Williams Park, wearing what feels like the makeshift toga I had to don at a frat party during college. I’m also singing, but in a voice with a much higher register than my own.

  In this dream, I’ve got a feminine stature and build. But that’s beside the point and nothing new when it comes to blood-induced visions.

  The words aren’t comprehensible to me. The vowels and consonants ring out over the field in front of the amphitheater. Though nobody is visible out there, it feels like a full house is watching. It’s as though they’re on the other side of a veil or a wall, one that’s thinning by the moment.

  Something’s around my wrist, but I can’t turn my head. Red and white sparks shimmer at the corners of my eyes, blocking any other clues from my peripheral vision.

  The last light of the sun squeezes over the horizon, hitting my face as the notes in my throat reach a crescendo. But my borrowed voice cracks, the sparks fade, and darkness falls as I drop to the marble beneath my feet.

  I wake, expecting a mass of ashes on my pillow, desperate hunger, severe heartburn. But there’s nothing. Which can only mean one thing.

  The blood I drank wasn’t from a dead person. I’m getting visions from the living now.

  It’s still midday, so I go back to sleep. As I drift off, my gut tells me to keep this new development a secret for now.

  Chapter Ten

  I spend part of the next afternoon in my windowless basement room, transferring things from my spiffy new notebook into the battered composition book I compile everything into. Details about the assault investigation also go into an old Acer Netbook I affectionately call “the Craptop.”

  Internet searches on what kind of cryptid bruises wrists with a side effect of lost time give me next to nothing. I shoot off an email to Sasquatch, the only real expert on rare supernatural folk and critters. An automated reply comes back, telling me he’s in the field. I knock on wood, hoping he’ll have something for me within a week or two.

  After the sun sets, I grab a cup of warmed blood from the downstairs coffee maker. Some other vamp is already awake, so I bring my breakfast upstairs.

  All four of the kiddos are in the back parlor with a movie on, sitting around a bowl of what smells like caramel kettle corn. With cinnamon. If I wasn’t already undead, I’d die of envy. Food is still the number one thing I miss about having a functioning digestive system.

  “How’d it go last night?” The slender, cool hand slipping into mine is instantly familiar and comes complete with a deep undertone of curiosity.

  “Um,” is all I manage verbally. I give Maya the whole obnoxious experience at Whitby’s version of the vampire club without saying another word.

  “Wow,” is all she says back.

  “Yeah, Stephanie had it worse, I bet.” I squeeze Maya’s hand.

  “She’s with Raven, talking about blood and alchemy.”

  “Ah.” I’d be staring out into space, but the images on the flat screen catch my eye. “Teenagers watching Phantom of the Opera. Brings back memories.”

  This time the kids hear me. Levi presses a button to pause the movie. Sarah rolls her eyes and elbows her brother. Sparky tosses me an idle wave. Leora’s eyes home in immediately on my hand, intertwined with Maya’s. She smiles and drops me a wink.

  “You know, Maury and I did most of that show back in the day, for the Thespian Society Regionals. Even made it to State a couple of times.”

  “Well, it’s what they’re doing this fall at our school.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, we’re watching it to get ready for auditions.”

  “When are those happening?”

  “Next week.”

  “Cool.”

  “You know, Tino might be able to teach you a thing or two about that.” Maya lets go of my hand and jerks her thumb at me. “He’s got it down.”

  “I don’t need help.” Sarah flips a lock of dark hair over one shoulder.

  “Well, I’ll give it a try.” Levi shrugs. “He knows more than I do.”

  “This is so awesome!” Leora jumps up from her seat on the floor and rushes me. It’s totally unexpected, so I just roll with the spontaneous hug. Well, as much as one-armed little old me can manage while holding a half-full mug, anyway.

  I’m her legal guardian, so acting at least a little bit paternal is something I should get used to, I guess. Especially after the court gave me and Frankie custody instead of the big money crime family. But that’s another story.

  “Hey, me too, man?” Most people would frame Sparky’s question as a statement. Then again, most people aren’t acquainted with magical shapeshifting salamanders. He’s still a teen like the other three, even if he’s not enrolled at their fancy private school. And I did catch him eyeballing a flyer advertising voice lessons a couple months ago.

  “Yeah, sure.” I flash him a grin because I’m still not sure whether my fanged smile bothers him or not. That kid’s hard to read.

  “Tino, you’re the best.”

  “Nah.”

  That makes Leora break out of the hug. She steps back and gives me a grave look, the same one from the first night we met while sincerely thanking me for finding Sparky. I realize the whole self-deprecation angle isn’t going to fly around my ward, so I’d better keep it quiet in front of her.

  “Fine. I’m okay, I guess.”

  “I think you’re better than that.” Leora puts her hands on her hips.

  Sarah Pickering lets out a snorting little laugh. “But not better than your new friend at school. Seb—”

  I think she’s about to say “Sebastian.” As in Caprice, the Lethian. I open my mouth.

  Leora blinks, then cuts Sarah off pronto. “So, do we start this performance coaching tonight?”

  “Of course not, witchbait.” Sarah grins at Leora. “We’ve got homework.”

  It’s not the nicest expression, but it gets returned. I’m not sure Leora loves Sarah’s snark or this nickname, but it doesn’t seem she can’t handle it, either. I decide to deflect the bout of foster-sibling rivalry the girls have going on instead of freaking out about their monstrous Mafioso classmate.

  “You know, maybe I didn’t really think this all through.”

  “You’re not gonna teach us, buddy?” Sparky’s mouth turns down into a pout.

  “Of course, he is.” Maya pats my shoulder. “You are, Tino.” It’s not a question. Apparently, my paramour
is at least as big a softie for these kiddos as I am.

  “My missing arm is kind of conspicuous.” I clear my throat.

  “Esther’s on her way over.” Sparky smiles. “She’s got something you can use.”

  “Well, that’s awesome. Thanks, kid. But there’s one more problem.” I clear my throat even though undead people don’t generally get postnasal drip. “How am I going to help you three out while I’m confined to the night shift?”

  “You can help them in the daytime.” Sarah shrugs.

  “He can’t teach us in the basement while the other vamps are sleeping.” Levi sighs as though this fact should have been obvious to his sister.

  “I’m not saying he should.” Sarah sniffs.

  “Well, where then?”

  “At the regular time, right in Stout Academy’s Theater.”

  “My sunlight allergy kind of prevents that, though.” I jerk my chin at the early evening sky peeping through the parlor’s bay window. “In the daytime, I get the worst sunburn ever.”

  “There’s a tunnel, and theaters have no windows. As your generation likes to say, ‘duh.’” Sarah taps one cheek with her first finger, making a fake dimple.

  “Wait, what?” I blink, ignoring for a moment that the word “duh” is a Gen-X thing and I’m a Millenial. “A tunnel? Where?”

  “Oh, they’re all over this old place.” She waves one hand toward a large oil painting of the ocean on the other side of the room. “You can get into the one I’m talking about behind that monstrosity.”

  “Huh.” I shrug. “Frankie never told me.”

  “He didn’t know. Us Pickerings are totally hooked up with the Deep Ones, including literally with tunnels. They run all under Warwick and most of Roger Williams Park. Some of Cranston and Providence, too.”

  “Wow. I had no idea.” I get my notebook out, resting it on a table as I scribble something down about the tunnels and the park. That’s going to help me big-time in the assault investigation.

  “Well, now you do.”

  “Thanks, Sarah.”

  “Oh.” She blinks. I guess maybe she’s not used to being thanked most of the time. And I get it. Went through a phase like that while I was a beat cop. Nobody likes you when you’re writing them a ticket, believe me. And Sarah’s more than a bit of a taskmaster. “Um.”

  “You’re welcome!” Sparky belts out the line from that song in the Disney movie. Maybe the salamander kid is something like a shapeshifting demi-god, though not nearly as surly as Maui, and seriously lacking in the magical fish hook department.

  It’s enough to break the tension, so everybody laughs. Two more voices I hadn’t expected join in from the other door to the parlor. I look up to find Frankie and Raven there. I peer past them, looking for Stephanie.

  “Your sire took off.” Frankie crosses the room, heading toward the painting. “I heard what Sarah said, and I’m boarding this up. Go do your other homework. Movie night is over.”

  The kids all grumble and groan, but none of them challenge their foster co-parent. Apparently, Frankie’s the disciplinarian in this household as far as the teenagers are concerned. They gather up their pillows and blankets, then head upstairs.

  Sparky goes with them, and I don’t have the heart to tell him he should head back to Baba’s. What’s the harm in letting the salamander hang around with people he can relate to who know what he is and don’t mind?

  Turns out, I have no idea.

  When I look back toward the parlor, Frankie's gone. I glance at Raven and then at Maya. They both shrug. When I hear the back door slam through the kitchen, I remember what Frankie said he'd do.

  "You don't think he's really going to—" Maya blinks at the ugly old portrait.

  "I hope not." I sigh. “But he probably will, even though limiting exits is a total fire hazard. Along with every other advantage these tunnels can give us."

  "Don't worry guys, I got this." Raven steps out of the door from the hallway.

  When Frankie strides back through the door from the kitchen, carrying a bundle of two by fours under one arm and a toolbox under the other, Raven stands in his way.

  "Move it,” Frankie snaps.

  "No."

  "You're not the boss of me."

  "Yes, I am, Francis."

  "Tino, back me up, dude."

  "Sorry, Frankie. I can't."

  “What?"

  "You heard me. I promised the kids I'd help them practice, rehearse. You know, the coaching thing?" I reach out, grabbing one end of the off-balance toolbox. “And I promised to help Maury with a case. Those tunnels will help me help them.”

  "Shitballs. Vampire vows for the lose." He passes the box of hammers and nails over to me but keeps the boards, which I wouldn’t want to hold anyway. Splinters and vampires don’t mix well.

  "Yeah, that's about the eternal size and shape of it."

  "Times two." Raven gives Frankie a twisted grin. "I've got a whole pile of those between this family and the Deep Ones. Trust me, Frankie, you don't need to board up any of the tunnels. I've got our safety covered already."

  "You actually trust those bastards?" Frankie's arms tighten, causing the wood under one of them to click and groan. He smells different right now too, acrid somehow. But this is nothing new to my nose. It’s adrenaline.

  "They’re supernatural creatures, Frankie. They're not like magicians or werewolves. If they break the agreement and lose their powers, they die." Raven’s statement makes me wonder whether that’s what happens to vampires when we go back on a promise.

  "And your new agreement stops them from just walking in here whenever they feel like it?"

  "Yes." Raven places a hand on Frankie's shoulder. "I still have nightmares about them too. I'd never have agreed to a contract without a rule keeping them out of our house."

  With clash and a clatter, the wood drops to the floor. Frankie's head bows. Raven pulls him into a hug, hiding his face against their shoulder. They stand, swaying like a couple slow dancing at a prom, except way underdressed. Before you get any icky ideas, this whole interaction has a definitively platonic vibe.

  In this, the two of them are partners. Both of them went through similar abuse at the hands of those monsters from the deep. The hitching breaths Frankie takes, punctuated by the occasional sniffle, are the only indications this isn't just your garden-variety familial embrace.

  "Are they going to be okay?" Maya nudges me with one elbow.

  "Yeah." I go to loop my left arm around her. But of course, it’s still missing. I turn to face her instead. "Sometimes you need a rock to lean on. Other times, a couple of trees in the same wind are just as good for each other."

  "Wow. Zen.” Maya tilts her head up and gazes into my eyes. "You ever write any haiku?" She smirks.

  "Nah." I grin. "Limericks are way more fun. Let me demonstrate. There once was a man from Nantucket—"

  "Do any of you have a bucket?" Sparky pokes his head out from the door to the hall.

  Everybody stops what they're doing and turns to look at the salamander kid. We stand there blinking at each other.

  "What?" Sparky shrugs, stepping into the room and glancing around. "We’re cleaning up a massive boba tea spill. There's not one in here, is there?"

  "No, kid." Frankie shakes his head, then points at the dropped wood and tools on the floor beside him. "Just a Lamb, dealing with his old Lamb baggage again. Bucket’s in the kitchen."

  "Oh. Sorry." Sparky strides over, bends down, and starts gathering the wood back into a bundle. “I got this.”

  "Thanks, Sparky." Frankie reaches for the toolbox, so I hand it over.

  "Want some help bringing those back out to the shed, buddy? I’ll get the bucket on the way back."

  "Yeah, if you don't mind."

  The strange pair walk into the kitchen, headed outside to put the unneeded materials and tools away. Raven steps forward, putting their hands on their hips. Maya and I give them our full attention.

  "Before they get b
ack, I wanted to tell you two where Stephanie went."

  "Okay."

  "She called Dr. Maris the second she got up this evening. By now, she's probably going through Kent County’s stock of dead blood."

  "That's awesome."

  "Maybe." Raven shrugs. "I'm cautiously optimistic, but only a little. It's unlikely we'll find anything to help the king in there."

  "Why?"

  "I can't say exactly what he needs. Neither can Stephanie."

  "That goes double for me." Maya shakes her head. “But I can tell you it’s not likely to be found in supplies of dead blood.”

  "Can’t I just ask DeCampo?" I shake my head. "I can't help if I don't know what he needs."

  "You could try, but I don't recommend it." Raven's eyes are everywhere except on my face. I'm actually kind of freaked out right now. “Your arm’s…” The rest of their words are so soft even I can’t make them out.

  "I'll take your word for it."

  "Wow, Tino." Raven blinks. "You never give up on anything this easily."

  "I'm not giving up, just preparing to explore from a different angle."

  "I knew you were a fast learner." Raven turns their back, facing the kitchen door.

  "Hold on a minute there, attaché." I chuckle. "I'm not done with you yet."

  "Oh?" Raven doesn't turn around but stands still.

  "I'm going to need either a tour through those tunnels or a map and a compass."

  "Why?" This time Raven turns around and looks me full in the face.

  "I promised to train the kids. Unless you guys want me to have them do scales in the basement while you all are trying to sleep every day."

  "I don’t, but that's a family secret, Tino. And you're not a Pickering, even if you are co-parenting with one."

  "Okay, if that's not enough incentive for you, I need a way into Stout Academy on school days." And ways out of here in general, especially while my car’s in the shop and I’m armless. Maury’s short on time.

  "Still doesn't give me good enough reason to share information this sensitive."

  I need to give Raven a good reason, one that doesn’t make them look over my shoulder the entire time I’m investigating Maury’s case.