Hoofin’ It: A Magical Romantic Comedy (with a body count)

by RJ Blain

  Justice came in many forms, and some officers took the hard line, believing justice belonged to those who followed the letter of the law rather than its spirit. Loopholes, such as the one indemnifying people under the influence a demon, allowed Ernesto to continue his operations.

  A talented incubus or succubus could influence a vampire, thus clearing the vampire of wrongdoing. The demons took minimal risks, as most wouldn’t dream of pressing charges. Few on the receiving end of the night of their lives did. The vampire got a legal drink, the victim got government-funded health care insurance companies couldn’t touch, and the demons got the energy they needed to survive.

  Marian put herself in danger to catch the worst criminals, those abhorrent even to the operators of the tolerated underground crime networks. Within the CPD, women like her washed out like Casey, addicted to what only a demon could provide, sacrificing far more than their bodies in the pursuit of justice.

  The thought sickened me.

  When Marian reached the elevator and pressed the up button, she asked, “Penny for your thoughts?”

  Courage came in different forms, and I braced for the answer I feared. “How long have you been in the business?”

  “Investigating trafficking operations?”

  I nodded.

  “A lot longer than I care to think about. This was my first really bad run, though. They’ve gotten a lot sneakier. Why?”

  “Call it curiosity.”

  “You don’t approve.”

  The annoyance in her voice startled a laugh out of me. “It has nothing to do with approval.”

  The elevator dinged. I stepped through the opening doors, holding my hand out so they wouldn’t close. She hesitated, watching me before joining me inside and pressing the button for the lobby. “Then what does it have to do with?”

  I shrugged. “My first two partners got addicted and washed out, putting the public at risk because they wanted sex when they should’ve been doing their job. You tell me.”

  “You’ve been burned.”

  “You could say that. Maybe I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

  “Unlike many police forces, the FBI requires all agents working in the field who have had exposure to a sex demon go through therapy. It’s a two week session designed to prevent addiction. Your partners weren’t treated?”

  “No.”

  “That explains a lot. Good way to get rid of unwanted cops on the force. What I don’t understand is why those brothel operators hadn’t gotten rid of you in the same way.”

  “I amuse them.”

  “But you could threaten their position.”

  “That’s part of what amuses them. Casey had ambition, but he didn’t have the wits to do anything about it.”

  “And your other partner?”

  “Had the brains but not the ambition.”

  “And you?”

  “I recognize when removing certain individuals would leave a vacuum someone far worse might fill. That’s the name of the game. What kind of enemy do you want to fight? One with rules, or the unknown quantity who might turn my home into a place like Des Moines, buying and selling people for profit and sex?”

  “If Ernesto doesn’t deal in human trafficking and sex slaves, what does he deal in?”

  “Death. What else? He’s a vampire after all. Then you need to think about the kind of people he kills—and who pays him to do it. Don’t get me wrong. The vamp runs a brothel as a front for feeding his vampire children. He lures people in with his demons and takes them off the streets, sometimes midday with witnesses around.”

  “Which is a disgusting practice.”

  “Ah, but is it? According to Chicago law, insurers must pay for all care associated with the kidnapping, even if it results in someone being treated for cancer, organ failure, or another severe disease. Vamps know when they’re drinking from a healthy human, so when they take someone sick off the street and dump them on the surface after a bite…”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Deathly serious. He’s no knight in shining armor, but I’d rather share my bed with a devil with questionable morals than one with no morals at all.”

  The FBI took twice as long to get half as much information, a practice I found annoying but tolerable. Marian kept quiet, allowing me to do most of the talking, although I could hear the anger in her voice whenever she needed to speak. We learned nothing new, which didn’t surprise me.

  The human-dominated FBI could never match vampires with thousands of years of experience. While the FBI investigators wanted all the pieces of the puzzle, Ernesto and Pierce hunted specifics, the details they could use to begin their hunt. I couldn’t guess who would crack the ring first, but if I were to place bets, I’d be siding with the vampires.

  Discord between members of the FBI wouldn’t help. They treated Marian as though she wasn’t one of them, something I’d experienced often enough in the CPD. She handled their behavior with the cool calm of someone who’d been subjected to questioning before, limiting her displays of temper to a frigid tone and occasional scowl.

  After the first few hours watching the FBI agents spar, I decided to place my trust with the vampires. Violating a vampire’s territory stirred their ire and spurred them into action, and once they decided to take matters into their own hands, they wouldn’t quit. The FBI spread itself too thin through no fault of its own. Vampires spent decades—or centuries—building their alliances, gathering favors, and honing their skills.

  In their eyes, humans could never compare. I was beginning to wonder if the vampires had it right.

  We escaped at midnight; the pair of agents questioning us decided it was time to go home, and my stomach growled complaints about being mistreated. We delayed leaving the building long enough to retrieve my Rugers. The FBI reclaimed their vehicle, so I had to call a cab. Marian’s expression soured, and I suspected the agency had neglected to provide accommodations for her.

  “I can’t promise haut cuisine, but I can make us something at my apartment plus there’s enough space for two. You look ready to kill anyone who comes between you and a place to crash.”

  “And shower.”

  “You could even soak if you want. It’s not the greatest tub on Earth, but it works.”

  “Sold.”

  The cab took twenty minutes to show up, and I regarded the driver, one of Ernesto’s vampire children, with a resigned sigh. Complaining about capturing too much of Ernesto’s attention wouldn’t do any good, so I held the door open for Marian and slid into the back beside her. “Hey, Larry. Small world.”

  “Papa said your broad was a pretty picture, so I wanted to see for myself. It seems he was right. Where’d an ugly mug like you get a lovely thing like her? Once you get tired of him, lady, you should pay me a visit.”

  “Can I kneecap this one?” Marian grumbled.

  I was pleased I didn’t have to tell her our cabbie was a vamp. “No. Larry’s one of Ernesto’s younger children. It’s considered rude to kneecap one of his younger children without also kneecapping him at the same time.”

  “But we had our way with him earlier. Doesn’t that count?”

  I was amused Marian shared a few similarities with my mother; both women leaned towards acts of violence when stressed, although Mom targeted Dad, who could handle her at her worst. While I’d gotten lucky when I’d been shot, compared to him, I classified as fragile. “Afraid not.”

  “Papa wanted me to tell you he’s had dinner brought to your apartment. He suspected you wouldn’t have had time, and our sources tell us those idiot feds gave you nothing but coffee.”

  Marian sucked in a breath. Larry’s words redefined the battlefield, and the real target of his ploy sat beside me. Only a fool would think Ernesto didn’t have people on the inside. Information won wars in the crime world, and the best information came directly from the source.

  “He played that card early,” I observed.

  “He thought your lady might need a
nudge or two in the right direction to understand she no longer swims in shallow waters. That, plus he’s learned not to underestimate your stupidity, you who will starve yourself in the pursuit of justice. Papa wanted me to remind you humans require multiple feedings each day. Do try to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow.”

  “And how did you know Marian would be with me?”

  “It’s midnight, she’s a lady, and you have opinions about escorting ladies to safe locations after midnight.” Larry chuckled. “You ruin so much of Papa’s fun with your rules. Had you not been with her after midnight, my cousin and his partner would have been relocating her, and she would have been presented to you as a gift. Papa’s disappointed he couldn’t surprise you tonight.”

  I sighed. Larry’s human cousin liked to pretend he belonged in the crime world but couldn’t quite get the hang of breaking laws. Of all the people I’d cuffed during my career, Al was the most amusing and pathetic, and I’d nailed him on a questionable misdemeanor so he’d stop pestering me for a while. No charges had been pressed, and I’d gotten away with it because Al had made a nuisance of himself to most of the station. “Who’s your cousin partnered with now?”

  “Donovan.”

  I groaned. Some troublemakers wanted to have fun. Others, like Donovan, wanted to have fun at the expense of others. The prankster enjoyed a good laugh, and he liked his schemes as elaborate as possible. Most of the time, his ideas didn’t work, but when they did, the CPD ended up climbing the oddest places retrieving the oddest things. His last heist before I’d lost my eye, he’d robbed an entire department store of lingerie and decorated the Franklin Street Bridge with the laciest garments he could get his hands on.

  “Admit it, Gibby. You love Donovan. He makes you laugh.”

  “Just because I laughed over his creative use of panties on the Franklin Street Bridge doesn’t mean I love him.”

  “You’re merely upset because you wished you could have been involved with the case.”

  Conceding Larry’s point with a shrug and a grunt, I wondered about that old case. The panties part of the stunt I’d found hilarious until a closer look revealed the body of a murdered stripper along with a bag of evidence implicating her killer, a note from Ernesto, and photographs sufficient to pin the murder on a rival crime lord who’d overstepped his bounds. Without the tip-off and creative dumping of her body, I doubted anyone would have found her.

  Larry knew me too well. I’d wanted to be involved.

  “What case?” Marian asked.

  “You want me to explain, Gibby?”

  I’d have to thank Larry later for sparing me from describing the details. “Sure.”

  “A street girl got knocked up during a rape, and someone close to the rapist didn’t want anyone to find out about it. She refused an abortion, so he took matters in his own hands. Killed her, left her to rot—tried to make an example of her to other street girls. Papa took offense; wasn’t one of our girls, but our girls got scared, and that’s bad for business. So, once Papa found out who did it, he made an example out of him. Papa needed to get the CPD’s attention since they don’t care about the girls; they blame them for any trouble, trying to make it look like they deserve it. Best way to get the CPD’s attention is to embarrass them. Add in a threat or two to go public with some information the CPD would rather stay private, and the girl got some justice.”

  Marian straightened in her seat. “And the rapist?’

  “Papa ruined him in the business. After he made sure his name was shamed, he encased all but his head in concrete and dumped him in the drink, deep enough the sunlight won’t get to him. I figure he’s got a few more years before he starves to death. The old vamps take their time dying when they aren’t exposed to sunlight—and even then, he’s old enough he can get away with a few walks under the sun.”

  “But doesn’t your lot work the market, too?”

  “Won’t lie to you, babe. We take people off the street for a good sip and a ride, too, but we handle it better. We make it worth their while, we don’t get the girls pregnant, and if something goes wrong, they get a good payout, right? No unexpected daddies, either. Papa’s a stickler for that. We mark our prey, learn about them, draw them in, get them hooked, and take care of them. We want our vics healthy and happy. They taste better that way. I like the sick ones, because they bring a tasty amount of gratitude to the table once they’ve been fixed up in the body shop. Papa prefers the cops, but he’s gotta team up with one of my sisters for a drink on those nights.”

  I remained quiet, staring out the window while Larry kept to Upper Chicago and took the long way home. For the next few hundred years, exposure to sunlight would spell his death, so he settled like most nocturnals did, hoping for a glimpse of the sun’s reflection on the moon.

  “So you pick your targets carefully?”

  “Usually. Keeps the accidents down, but if a vamp goes into the frenzy, it gets ugly. Happens when we’re young. It’s part of why we team up with demons; the demons can help control the frenzy and keep things pleasant for our donors. Haven’t had anyone drained dry in over a year.”

  “And what makes you different from other rapists?” Marian growled through clenched teeth.

  “We leave our victims better off for having met us. The demons ensure they like it, they receive the health care they can’t afford because we helped make sure the laws favor them, and we funnel donations to them for the inconvenience of having been selected. We lure them in and get them hooked so they come back without us picking new targets. It works out for everyone. What’s a little anemia a couple of times a month when, because of us, they’ve got the treatments they otherwise couldn’t afford because the system views them as worthless?”

  Marian didn’t say a word, and when I glanced in her direction, her cheek was twitching. I hadn’t reacted well to the discovery, either, but it hadn’t taken me long to realize the truth of Donovan’s words. “In the eyes of the law and society, the way Ernesto’s children hunt isn’t considered rape. They’re influenced first, drawn in, and the vamps feed alongside their demon partner. When the pairs go after a street girl, she’s paid double what she’d get for taking a human to bed, but there aren’t enough of them to feed all of Chicago’s vampires.”

  Marian sucked in a breath. “And Ernesto doesn’t buy girls.”

  Smiling over her understanding of the situation probably made me a monster right along with the vamps and sex demons preying on the city. “It’s all a matter of perspective. Which kind of monster do you want lurking beneath your streets? The one who takes the street girls and gives them a better chance for a future, or the one who takes the street girls and sell them for profit? In the eyes of most, the girls get used either way, but there’s more to the story than what first meets the eye. One devil at least tries to toe the line. The other devil ignores the line completely. Both are devils, but at least I can live with the one. The other…”

  “Don’t judge Gibby too harshly, babe. Papa tried to make sure Gibby was the one who picked up our girls and got them to the hospital, so he’s seen more than most. He’s seen the girls before and after, and he knows what we do for them. We aren’t perfect, but at least we’re doing something.”

  “And that’s more than I can say for us humans,” Marian muttered.

  None of us said a word the rest of the way to my apartment, although I caught Marian staring at me more than once, her expression thoughtful.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Debts and favors ruled a vampire’s world, which meant I spent twenty minutes haggling with Larry. Ultimately, I paid more than I would have to any other cabbie to make sure I won the round; Larry got a big tip along with the owed fare.

  I’d lost the previous round to Ernesto and his preemptive strike of arranging for dinner, which made us even. Larry chuckled and took my money, shaking his head. “Will you and Papa ever learn?”

  “Probably not,” I admitted, sliding out of the cab, closing the door, and thu
mping my palm to the roof. “Drive safe.”

  “When do I not?”

  “Let me count the number of speeding tickets I’ve written you over the years…”

  “Please don’t. Papa counts them for me, and he laughs when he does so.”

  Chuckling, I headed for the entry, where Marian waited, her eyes narrowed to slits. “What was that all about?”

  “I forced Larry into accepting his fare plus a twenty dollar tip. Ernesto wanted the ride on the house. If I’m going to owe a vamp, it’s going to be for something more than cab fare.”

  “What about our dinner?”

  “I kneecapped Ernesto and gave him some extra love taps. We’re even there.” I chuckled, shook my head, and guided Marian upstairs to my unit. “More accurately, by kneecapping him and shooting him with a few extra rounds, he’ll need to feed extra tonight to repair the damage, which will let him work with his youngest fledglings more than usual. He’ll probably take Kelly and an incubus out in case she grows her wings.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Don’t let Kelly fool you. She just looks young. I’ve always suspected she was a succubus, but I wasn’t certain until today. He’ll probably go to a bar, let the incubus go to town, and have a few drinks during the festivities. No one should get hooked. If he’s feeling charitable because he likes you, he’ll pick a strip club over a random dive. It could go either way with him.”

  “So he’d be causing a party like the one at the nightclub.”

  “Except public and everyone gets to play. He’ll pay a fine of a thousand per person for his incubus losing control. Everyone will know he did it on purpose, but since everyone walks away a bit wealthier and a bit happier, everyone will turn a blind eye. Kelly’s a bleeding heart, so there’ll be some celebrations in the next few weeks.”