The Sweet Scent of Blood s-1

by Suzanne McLeod

  ‘Genny, I shouldn’t be telling you this’—he pressed his index finger against his lips—‘but the most recent bites match the boyfriend’s dental mould.’

  ‘What about the blood counts?’

  ‘High levels of V1 and V2 as expected, VM3 present but inactive.’

  I nodded. Vampire Venom and Virus—3V—isn’t exactly what the name suggests; the scientist who discovered the different components back in the seventies was a fanatical Souler. He identified the clear fluid injected by a vampire’s small retractable fangs as a combination of hormones and proteins, only he decided it made more sense to promote it as a poisonous virulent disease, and back then the Department of Health agreed with him.

  The Venom—V1—part is the initial ‘infection’. It boosts production of the red blood cells and addicts the victim, which makes for the ideal blood-slave—lots of hot thick blood on tap, and someone who is dying (literally, on occasion) to have a vamp sink fangs into them. As the infection builds, V1 mutates into V2, and the morphogens alter the DNA, upping the slave’s immune system to the point that every other disease is killed off. It’s a great health benefit—that’s if the slave manages to survive the side-effects of the 3V itself. VM3 is the trigger for the Gift, the marker that the original scientist never found.

  But then, he couldn’t see magic, and VM3 is the magic part of the equation.

  The high levels of V1 and V2 made sense. Melissa not only worked for vampires, but dated one too. But with VM3 still being dormant . . . I frowned, that meant Melissa’s death had nothing to do with a botched Gifting.

  Something else Hugh had said caught my attention. ‘Recent bites?’ I asked.

  ‘The pathologist reports that she had multiple bites, inflicted over an extended period of time. He thinks he’s narrowed it down to four, maybe five, regular partners. But only the boyfriend matched the bite wounds made in the last week.’

  ‘He must’ve overdosed her on V1.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Still, at least she’d have been too hyped-up to know much about it, so what killed her—a stroke or a heart attack?’

  ‘The victim died of blood loss, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. ‘Almost drained dry was how the pathologist put it.’

  What Hugh was saying didn’t tally with Alan Hinkley’s tale of true love between Bobby, aka Mr October, and Melissa. Draining someone infected with 3V would be almost impossible for just one vampire. They just couldn’t ingest that amount of blood fast enough—unless it was deliberate.

  ‘Shit,’ I muttered, ‘the sucker must’ve gorged himself.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Hugh sighed. ‘Case solved. Except for the father, who just can’t accept what’s happened.’

  Damn.

  ‘Maybe the father just needs to hear it from someone else.’ I took a sip of water. ‘Someone not connected with the police. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that his son would’ve been staked and burned almost as soon as you’d nabbed him, is it?’

  Hugh’s expression turned disapproving. ‘Vampires have the same legal rights as any other human, Genny. They have had for the last fifteen-odd years, since the High Court ruled—’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I interrupted. ‘So once the injunction’s lifted, there’s no harm me looking, is there?’

  His mouth turned down as he picked up a file. ‘Genny, getting involved with this is not right for you.’

  I so didn’t want to hear this. Not when I agreed with him.

  ‘C’mon, Hugh.’ I tried an appeasing smile. ‘I checked out a couple of things like this for your old boss.’

  More red mica shimmered above his head. Hugh really was dusted about this. ‘Twice you worked for the old man, both times the victims were witches. Neither case was connected to the vampires,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘What can happen?’ I waved at the room. ‘We’re in a police station. So this has something to do with the vamps, but my client isn’t one, and neither was the victim. I deal with vampire victims at HOPE all the time. It doesn’t cause me any hassle.’

  ‘You’re splitting hairs.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Genny, you’ve coped better, these last few years—and I’m proud of you—but any contact with the vampires isn’t going to improve matters.’ His frown cracks deepened. ‘What if one of them decides to take an interest in you? What’s going to happen then?’

  ‘I can handle it.’ I glanced at the bruises circling my wrist. An image of the Armani-suited vamp sliced through me. I clenched my left hand as something fluttered deep in my stomach. Yeah, like hell you can.

  Hugh leaned forward, hands flat on the file. ‘In the past, so long as a fae didn’t venture into Sucker Town, they could be reasonably sure of not falling foul of the vampires. Even then, an adult fae doesn’t have much to fear from them. They can’t trick you with mesma, they can’t mind-lock you.’ He drummed his fingers insistently, then stopped. ‘But that won’t stop them from using force if they think it’s worth it.’

  I kept my voice calm, hiding my exasperation. ‘We’ve been over this—’

  ‘You could end up dead, Genny.’

  Of course, dead would be my first choice.

  ‘And don’t bother telling me fae are hard to kill,’ he continued. ‘I’ve seen it happen before. Injure any fae badly enough in mind and body and they can’t help but fade.’

  ‘Hugh, I know all this.’ I swirled the water in my cup, watching as it formed a tiny whirlpool. ‘I don’t need a lecture.’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what you need,’ he rumbled quietly. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t afford to reveal what’s wrong with you.’

  I pasted an attentive look on my face and tuned him out. Hugh’s advice had always kept me safe, and I loved him to bits. But sometimes it felt like listening to his ‘advice’ was like having a stake hammered through my heart: Don’t get too friendly with the witches. Keep your distance from the fae. Stay behind a threshold after dark. Never Glamour a human, however much you trust them— Of course, the times I’d actually ignored his advice hadn’t ended up a resounding success.

  Never mind that if my having 3V became public knowledge, getting the sack from my job would be the least of my worries—I wouldn’t have the chance to feel rejected when the fae gave me their collective cold-shoulder. No, the vamps would have me auctioned off to the highest bidder faster than I could shout, ‘One sidhe blood-slave, going, going, gone.’

  I tuned back in as Hugh’s lecture got to the point I’d been waiting for. ‘—and it won’t take much for the witches to withdraw their protection.’

  I took a deep breath, tried for another conciliatory expression. ‘Stella knows all about Alan Hinkley and who his son is. She agreed he should speak to me.’ Okay, so she hadn’t actually expected me to take the job, and she hadn’t actually answered any of my texts yet—neither of which I was going to tell Hugh, but hey, sometimes you have to go with what you’ve got—and so I added the clincher, ‘I think they’ve got some sort of thing going on between them ...’ I trailed off at his expected horrified expression.

  ‘What sort of thing?’ he demanded.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter!’ he jabbed his finger at me. ‘She might be willing to risk her own position, but she’s one witch among many. You’ve got more to lose than she has.’

  ‘Fine.’ I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. Damn. Why was he so angry? I placed my cup carefully on the coaster and swallowed back my frustration. ‘Hugh, all I’ve been asked to do is look at a dead body and check it out for magic. It will take five minutes, tops. I really can’t see how the witches can possibly object to that.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s all?’

  ‘Yes, of course! ‘Hugh, I know you’re worried.’ I leaned forward, put my hands over his. His skin felt hot and gritty. ‘But I can take care of myself now, and this is just a job.’

  He withdrew his hands. ‘You can tell me if there’s anything else, you know. I’d understand.’

  Puzzled, I frowned at him. ‘W
hat else could there be?’

  His brow ridges lowered as he slid a sheet of paper from the file and pushed it towards me.

  I looked down, blinked when I read it. It was an official form of some sort, something to do with a blood visit. I skimmed it, seeing Roberto October handwritten next to the section marked vampire.

  My eyes shot up to Hugh’s. ‘What the fuck is this?’

  ‘Part of the updated vampires’ legal rights. They now have the right to live blood.’ He glared at me. ‘Obviously they have to provide their own willing donors, so we insist on a waiver of responsibility.’

  ‘I get that, Hugh, but what I want to know is why my name’s on it.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me, Genny?’ He slapped his hand on the desk. ‘Explain to me why a vampire arrested for murder has put you down as his first choice on his nightly menu card?’

  Before I could even think of an answer, the door swung open and the curly-haired constable came into the room. She smiled at Hugh, looked at me like I was a toad, and headed towards us.

  Hugh smiled back at her, the anger clearing from his face like the sun banishing the shadows.

  Shit. Why would a vampire I’d never met think I was going to put out for a free meal? There had to be some mistake. Gritting my teeth, I read down the page again, checking out the various clauses.

  ‘Shall I take Ms Taylor down to the cells, Sergeant?’ Constable Curly-hair stopped by the desk and leant her ample hip against it, very obviously giving me the cold shoulder.

  ‘What?’ His distracted tone made me look up.

  As she patted her hair I caught a flash of pink at the cuff of her uniform. ‘Has she signed the form, Sir? The sucker’s getting a bit restless.’ She threw me a scornful glance. ‘Think he might be hungry.’

  I narrowed my eyes. Was this why she was so down on me?

  Hugh slowly turned back to me. ‘Give us a couple of minutes, please, Constable.’

  ‘Sure thing, Sarge,’ she said, patting his bare arm as she walked past him. ‘I’ll get some water. You just shout when you’re ready.’

  Hugh twisted round to watch her go.

  An idea slid into my mind and I bent my head again, skimming down the form until I found the clause I was looking for. Damn. Ignoring the anxious leap in my pulse, I read it again. So that’s what this was all about.

  I leaned forward, tapped Hugh’s hand. ‘Something going on between you two?’ I nodded at Constable Curly-hair, busying herself at the water dispenser.

  He shifted his attention back to me.

  ‘You can’t keep your eyes off her.’

  ‘Can’t I?’ Bewilderment fractured his face. ‘But Janet’s human—a nice human,’ he added quickly, ‘and I’m a troll.’

  I shrugged. ‘So? It’s not like it doesn’t happen.’

  Another large puff of dust glinted above his head ridge. ‘Human females are very nice, but they’re—’ Hugh’s skin flushed an even darker red than normal. ‘They’re too slim for me,’ he finished diplomatically.

  ‘Shit, Hugh.’ I snorted, throwing an unbelieving glance at the overweight constable. ‘If you think she’s slim, what do you think I am?’

  ‘Oh, you’re just skin and bones, Genny,’ he blurted out. ‘Not as bad as you used to be, maybe, but you still look like a good gust would blow you away.’

  And there was I thinking I’d actually filled out, that my curvy bits had finally got enough curves on them to justify the description.

  Hugh’s face screwed up in dismay. ‘I’m sure you look very pretty to another fae, Genny—or even a human.’ He was getting flustered. ‘Look, I can’t let you see the victim, not with this injunction, but let me ask the DI if you can at least see the initial report.’ He pushed himself up out of his chair and hurried out of the office.

  Suppressing the twinge of guilt because I’d deliberately embarrassed him, I picked up one of Hugh’s overlarge pens. Pulling the Waiver of Responsibility towards me, I did my own few seconds of wavering, then signed on the dotted line. Taking a deep breath, I picked up the piece of paper and flapped it at Constable Curly-hair.

  She ambled over, a sneer playing round her mouth. Plucking the Waiver form from my hand, she looked down at me. ‘What made Hugh dash off like that?’

  I looked innocent.

  ‘Never mind, it doesn’t matter.’ She slipped the form into the folder with a satisfied air. ‘Suckers are kept in the basement. You’d better follow me.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Time to go have dinner with a vampire.

  Chapter Seven

  The cell had a dead, airless feel to it, a wrongness that made my chest ache. The white-painted walls and floor should have felt cold, but the temperature in the small box-like room made London’s current heat-wave feel like a cool winter’s day. Coughing at the faint scent of blood that caught the back of my throat, I looked, but there was no magic, not even the flashing pink spell I’d expected to see at the constable’s wrist.

  The heat was making sweat prickle down my spine ... of course, the fact that it was going to be just me and a murderous vampire, alone together, might be another reason why I was less than cool and collected. The Waiver form had specified total privacy for a blood visit and not even the lawyers were given that. I was gambling that Mr October wasn’t just angling for a quick bite, but wanted to tell me his secrets, in secret.

  ‘The heat’s keeping the sucker docile.’ Constable Curly-hair gave her truncheon a swing. ‘Can’t have him getting all agitated now, can we?’

  Roberto October, aka Bobby, huddled on a plastic mattress against the back wall, long legs drawn up, arms clutched tight across his chest. His eyes were scrunched shut, his face half-hidden by his lank hair. The black leather had been replaced with a white paper coverall that covered him from neck to ankle, leaving his feet bare. He looked more lost boy than dangerous seductive vampire.

  ‘C’mon, Sucker,’ Constable Curly-hair crooned, ‘wake up. Dinner’s here.’

  What was her problem?

  Bobby didn’t move, didn’t even open his eyes.

  ‘Life and soul of the party, Handsome is,’ she smirked. ‘Maybe he’ll be more fun when you’re alone together.’

  She was really starting to piss me off. ‘Oh, I’m sure he will be,’ I said sweetly.

  ‘Right.’ She waved at the cell. ‘There’s a silver lining beneath the white: walls, floor, door and ceiling. So don’t bother trying any of your funny magic stuff.’

  Mentally, I raised my eyebrows. They were painting the cells in liquid silver now? The new DI must be really busting the budget on that one. Even the HOPE clinic didn’t have that particular magical mod con. Still, it explained why I couldn’t see any magic: the silver was blocking it. And that was why the air felt like sludge in my lungs. I’ve always reacted badly to silver, more so in the last three years.

  Constable Janet held up an electronic keypad and slapped her truncheon against the steel door. ‘Just bang when you’re finished and I’ll come and let you out.’ She didn’t need to add if I feel like it; it was made plain by her tone of voice. ‘I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone then.’ She pressed a button on the keypad and the door slid open.

  My gut clenched. Crossing my arms, I walked towards the silent vampire. Was this really such a good idea? He might look helpless, but that didn’t mean he was.

  ‘Constable?’ I called over my shoulder.

  She stopped and turned back to me, scowling. ‘What?’

  I smiled, like I knew a secret she didn’t. ‘You won’t forget to turn off the CCTV, will you?’

  ‘No,’ she snapped, then muttered, not so sotto voce, ‘sucker slut!’ as the door hissed closed between us.

  I snorted. The insult was apt, even if she didn’t know why ... but I wasn’t planning on opening a vein or anything else for this particular sucker if I could help it.

  ‘He said you’d come.’ Bobby’s voice was rusty, as if he hadn’t used it for a long time.

 
; My pulse sped up. I swung back to face him, working to slow my heartbeat. ‘Who said I’d come?’

  Bobby sat up, arms hugging his knees. ‘My Master.’ He lifted his face to me. ‘He said you’d be able to help.’

  Shock sparked through me as I recognised him. I’d been right with my ‘lost boy’ thought: I’d met Bobby, four years ago, and he’d been sitting in the exact same position, saying the exact same words to me.

  ‘They’ve got her in there.’ He lifted his arm slowly and pointed behind him at the blank wall.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  ‘She’s in the basement.’ His shoulders hunched over again.

  I stared in disbelief. He was either auditioning for an Equity Card ...

  ‘The Master said to wait here, to tell you where she is.’

  ... or somehow Bobby was reliving the past.

  A past that was burned into my brain.

  Bobby hadn’t been a vampire then, just one of their blood-pets. He’d kept watch all that night, after the girl had been found, waiting for the morning. Waiting for me to come.

  ‘I tried to get her to come out once they’d gone.’ His face crumpled. ‘But she started screaming ...’

  It had been January. I took a deep breath and hugged myself, unwillingly replaying the scene in my mind. The morning sun was a cold disc in a sky streaked with red warnings. The place had been a rats’ nest—or rather, a fang-gang’s nest—of squalor, right in the heart of Sucker Town. My stomach roiled. Even now, I could still smell the gagging stench of urine, fresh blood and pain...

  Bobby’s expression was bleak with horror.

  I’d scrambled into the basement to get her. By then her screaming had disintegrated into whimpers. Her rainbow eyes dripped tears of ice that shattered like glass as they fell. After a while, she let me pick her up. Her fingers dug in my shoulders even as she flinched from my touch. I wrapped my coat around her, smearing the ruby dots that pitted her green skin like a macabre sprinkling of bloody sugar balls. The bastard suckers hadn’t left her with enough blood for the bruises to bloom.