by Helen Harper
‘Burke and Hare were a couple of Scottish murderers,’ Finnegan explained. ‘They supplied corpses to a doctor for dissection purposes. Unfortunately, they murdered the occupants of those bodies first. As you can imagine, their actions caused a considerable stir. The laws around corpse donation changed quite dramatically, so we had to change too. Ghouls, like most supernatural creatures, are skilled at adapting.’
I wetted my lips. ‘I still don’t…’
‘Some humans donate their bodies to medical science. Some humans donate their bodies to us. Not a lot,’ Finnegan continued, as the man on the doorstep nodded, ‘but enough.’
‘We treat them with respect,’ the woman said earnestly. ‘Donors understand that they will die but also that they can sustain life with their death. If we could survive on broccoli alone we would, but the simple truth is that we can’t. Think of us as a version of a Tower of Silence.’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘A what?’
‘Zoroastrians use a Tower of Silence for their dead. Bodies are placed high up within a built-up circular structure and left open to the sky and scavenging birds. It’s nature at its most sensible.’
‘I’m a vegetarian,’ I told them both. ‘I understand the logic of what those donors do but—'
‘You couldn’t imagine doing it yourself.’ Finnegan’s tone was kind. ‘You’re not alone. Our actions are considered monstrous by many. That’s why most humans who know of our kind prefer us to look like monsters. Please understand, we don’t go looking for donors or pressgang any poor souls into donating their bodies. They come to us.’
The man on the doorstep nodded vigorously. ‘I can attest to that. My funeral parlour offers this service, together with cremation and burial.’ His chest puffed up with pride. ‘We are the only funeral parlour in the country that does. When someone wants to give their body to the ghouls, they come to us. There are more people who want to do it than you’d think. I can show you all the paperwork, if you like.’
I’d take him up on that. I’d also be scouring the law books to double check that all this was above board. It continued to amaze me what sort of things went on that I had no idea about, not just in the supe world but the human world too.
‘You said there are eleven ghouls in London?’ I asked.
Finnegan nodded. ‘And they all use this service. I can guarantee that no ghoul has robbed a grave for almost two hundred years. We don’t need to. Neither do we want to.’ He gave me a long look. ‘I heard about what happened with the young werewolf. I’ve been expecting your visit and I was keeping an eye out for your arrival. Whatever happened to that boy had nothing to do with us. For a start, we gain no nourishment from the bodies of werewolves. Something in their blood doesn’t agree with us so we would have no reason to take any human from their grave. And even less reason to take a wolf. I promise you that.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Regardless of public perception about our kind, I’m upset at the idea that we are being blamed for such a thing.’
I thought about what Knight had told me. He’d said there were two occasions since he’d started at St Erbin’s when he believed that graves had been disturbed. ‘It’s not the first time,’ I said quietly. ‘Julian Clarke was not the first.’
Finnegan’s mouth thinned. ‘Then I doubt he will be the last either. Something very sinister is going on here.’
I met his eyes. I certainly agreed with that. And I would find out exactly what.
Chapter Eight
Tallulah spluttered all the way to Supe Squad. When we finally made it, I turned off the engine and leaned forward. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘I get it. You don’t enjoy being forced to work in the dark. You have to remember, Tallulah, that this is the way things are. You’re a Supe Squad car and I’m a Supe Squad detective. We do our best work at night. You’ve had things easy for the last few decades because humans have been pushed out of supe business, but that’s changing now. It’s a change for the best. We’re less likely to end up at the knacker’s yard as a result.’ I gestured to the sky outside. ‘And look. Dawn is here already.’
Then I saw the tall figure leaning against the Supe Squad wall watching me. ‘And,’ I added quietly, ‘so is he.’
I climbed out of the car. Lukas eyed me, his expression hooded. ‘Tony often spoke to Tallulah, too,’ he said. ‘Does she ever talk back?’
‘She’s not the chatty type.’ I tilted my head and gazed at the vampire Lord. ‘Dropping by for a wee visit and a chat of your own?’
He pushed himself off the wall and moved towards me with his long-legged stride, coming to a halt a few inches from me. His black eyes searched my face then he nodded to himself as if satisfied. ‘I wanted to make sure that you were okay. And that there are no ill side-effects after your most recent encounter with death.’
I stretched out my arms. ‘As you can see, I’m fine.’ I glanced to my right, noting the cantankerous bellman eavesdropping on our conversation. ‘Let’s go inside. We can talk better in the office.’
Lukas didn’t disagree. He waited while I unlocked the door, then followed me down the narrow corridor and into the main office space at the back.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked. ‘We don’t have anything alcoholic or any blood, but the coffee is passable.’
‘No,’ he said. He sat down on the sofa usually occupied by Fred. Despite its squashy appeal, he didn’t look comfortable in the slightest. ‘You need to take more care,’ he said suddenly, his voice surprisingly rough. ‘You have to train harder with the crossbow so you can defend yourself.’
‘It was a human who killed me this time around,’ I replied, with more lightness than I felt. ‘A crossbow wouldn’t have done me any good. I’m only permitted to use them against supes.’
Lukas’s expression tightened. ‘Not if your life is in danger, as it so often appears to be.’
I waved away his concerns. ‘I told you, I’m fine.’ I peered at him. In fact, I was feeling a darned sight better than Lukas looked. His clothes were as immaculate as ever, his tailored suit moulded to his body and his white shirt crisp against his neck. But there was a shadow around his jawline, indicating the beginnings of stubble, and a weariness around his eyes that I’d not seen before.
‘Something’s wrong with you,’ I said softly. ‘What’s happened?’
He ran a hand through his ink-dark hair. ‘There was an incident with one of my vampires. I’ve been dealing with it.’ His eyes met mine with silent apology. ‘It’s the reason why I wasn’t at the hospital when you woke up.’
‘It’s not your job to look after me, Lukas,’ I told him. ‘I’m not a vampire and plenty of other people have my back.’
He didn’t answer. He simply dropped his hands into his pockets and looked away.
I walked over and sat next to him, then I reached out and touched his arm. His gaze snapped to mine. ‘What happened? Is your vampire alright?’
A brief spasm of anguish crossed his face. ‘No. She’s not alright. She died.’
I sucked in a breath. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘She was attacked.’ Venomous rage rippled through his voice. ‘Some fucking bastard did this to her deliberately. We believe it was a human.’
I rocked back on my heels. I’d never heard of a human daring to attack a vampire. There might be plenty of people out there who disliked the vamps but, as a rule, they were sensible enough to avoid them. A million questions sprang into my head but, rather than press Lukas for answers, I waited and gave him the time he needed.
His jaw tightened. ‘She was in Knightsbridge,’ he said. ‘Shopping.’ He rolled his eyes, not at the fact that she was shopping but at the thought that she was killed while performing such a mundane activity. ‘She had coffee with an old friend, bought herself a scarf and some make-up from Harrods, and was mugged on her way home.’
‘Mugged?’ I blinked. ‘In broad daylight?’
‘Her purchases were taken.’ He shook his head. ‘The theory is that it was a spontaneous attack. She fought back
because she was a vampire and that’s what we do, and she was killed while defending herself.’
It wasn’t easy to kill a vampire; in fact, unless you deliberately set out to do so and were properly equipped, I’d have said it was nigh on impossible. ‘How?’
‘She fell,’ he said starkly. ‘And landed badly. There was a stack of broken wooden pallets next to where she was attacked. Moira fell, and one of the pieces of wood pierced her heart.’ He took his hand out of his pocket and held it out, uncurling his fingers to reveal a memory stick. ‘I have the CCTV footage here.’ His mouth flattened. ‘In all its bloody glory,’ he added.
I glanced at the memory stick then at him. ‘Do you want me to have it?’ I asked carefully.
‘Yes.’ His tone was clipped. ‘Take it and find the fucker who did this to her. He looks human, and that means my hands are tied.’ Lukas stared at me. ‘I don’t have the means to find him, but you do. You can track him down and tell me where he is.’
‘Lukas,’ I said, ‘five weeks ago I found the werewolf who was responsible for Tony’s death. I wanted her brought to justice.’
‘Cassidy was taken care of,’ he growled. ‘She was brought to justice.’
‘Werewolf justice. Not my justice. You and Lady Sullivan were very clear about that. And you were right. This is exactly the same situation, but in reverse. I can and will do everything in my power to find the man who attacked your vampire, but any punishment will belong to the human legal system.’
His fingers curled round the memory stick and his grip tightened. Then he released it. ‘I understand.’
I knew he understood; it was whether he accepted it that concerned me. It had been a bitter pill for me to swallow when I’d been forced to walk away from Cassidy – and I’d barely known Tony. There wasn’t much I could do about my worries right now; I’d have to take Lukas’s words at face value.
‘Very well.’ I reached over and took the memory stick and our hands touched. I was surprised again by the jolt I received at that touch, not to mention the heat of Lukas’s bare skin. Until I’d come to work at Supe Squad, I’d assumed that vampires were cold to the touch. Lukas’s face betrayed nothing apart from his pain at the loss of his vampire.
‘Her name was Moira,’ he said. ‘She was fifty-seven years old. She was turned when she was twenty-five. I’ve known her for a long time. Find the man who hurt her, Emma. Her death might have been an accident, but her attack was not.’
‘I’ll do my best.’ It was all I could promise for now.
Lukas nodded. ‘I know you will. Thank you.’ He stood up. ‘I should go. Typically, services for vampires are held twenty-four hours after their passing. I have to oversee the preparations.’
‘Will she be buried?’ I asked, still mindful of my investigation into the mysterious disappearance of Julian Clarke’s body and my conversation with Albert Finnegan.
‘No. We consider that fire is cleansing. Her body will be cremated, as per vampire tradition.’ He paused. ‘Why do you ask?’
I chose my words carefully. ‘The reason I was only just returning to the office is that I was meeting with the ghouls.’
A ghost of a smile crossed Lukas’s mouth. ‘Their proclivities are … interesting. Vampire bodies don’t offer sustenance to ghouls, so at least we’re spared that particular problem.’ He gave me a long look. ‘I imagine that you have many questions about what you’ve learned from the ghouls. I heard about the young werewolf – Julian, was it?’
‘Yes. It was his father who shot me.’
His expression hardened, but he didn’t comment. ‘I can fill in any gaps in your knowledge. I know the ghouls reasonably well, better than most supes do. And we should discuss a few other matters, too. I can tell you more about Moira. I’ve also been speaking to Kennedy. He had some observations about you that would merit closer inspection.’
Like the fact that I was far stronger now than I was prior to my first death. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Let me know when is good for you.’
‘Tonight would work. We can talk over dinner. Moira’s funeral will be finished by then, and I could do with the distraction. I’ll pick you up in front of your flat at seven o’clock.’ He hesitated. ‘If that suits you.’
I pushed Liza’s earlier comments firmly out of my mind. He was grieving. He definitely had no ulterior motives. ‘Perfect,’ I said. ‘I’ll see you then.’
***
After Lukas left, I made a coffee and wrote out a list, prioritising what needed to be done, then plugged the memory stick into my computer. As I opened the video file, I steeled myself for what I was about to see. Police detective or not, I wasn’t immune to pain and suffering – and for that I was glad. The day I became inured to such things was the day I should resign.
The United Kingdom has more CCTV activity than any other European country. In London alone, there is one CCTV camera for every fourteen citizens. There are tough privacy laws that prevent the cameras’ footage being used for nefarious purposes, but the vast majority of cameras are still operated not by the government but by private businesses and people. As soon as the video started, I knew that was what I was looking at. Lukas had no doubt tracked down the owner of the camera and persuaded them to hand over the footage. With his almost magical vampiric skills of manipulation, that would have been easy.
I sipped my coffee and leaned in to watch.
I didn’t recognise the street but it looked like the camera was positioned at the rear of a restaurant. It wasn’t long before Lukas’s vampire came into sight, swinging her shopping bag with its famous Harrods’ logo. Her face had the fixed, blank expression of someone lost in thought; there wasn’t so much as a flicker of wariness when the man in a hooded top came up behind her. Feeling the tremor in my own hands at the reminder of the attack when I’d died for the first time, I put down my coffee mug and tried to remember to breathe. I was past the worst of that trauma but the memory could still attack me when I was least expecting it.
The hooded man was walking quickly, his pace far faster than Moira’s. He caught up to her and, to begin with, it looked like he was merely attempting to pass her. At the very last moment, though, he swung towards her with his arm raised.
Moira was a vampire and therefore had lightning-fast reflexes, even when she was taken by surprise. She raised her hands and blocked his first lunge, while her face transformed into a silent snarl.
I paused the video and examined his hands. He was holding some sort of weapon. I squinted. A knife – and a lethal-looking one at that. I took a screenshot and started the video again.
The attacker lunged for Moira. She did what I suspected any self-respecting vamp would do and lunged right back, her jaws open and her fangs fully extended. She wasn’t planning on taking any prisoners; she went straight for his jugular.
It was difficult to see what happened next. The attacker lifted his arms, although whether it was to block her attack or to swipe at her with the knife was impossible to tell. Either way, it didn’t matter; Moira’s teeth were already at his neck. His hood fell down, revealing the back of his shaved head. Then she staggered backwards and stumbled. She lost her footing and fell, straight onto the pile of broken pallets. That was when I realised that whatever shard of wood pierced her heart had done so by entering through her spine. She’d barely had time to blink. My heart wrenched. It was over in a matter of seconds.
I rewound the video and watched her fall again, this time focusing on her attacker. At the very moment she stumbled, he reached for her. He wasn’t fast enough to grab her and stop her falling, but it was an instant reaction on his part.
I chewed on my lip. Even after it must have been clear that she was dead, he didn’t leave the scene. With his back to the camera, he knelt down beside her. From what I could tell, he seemed to be trying to hoist her up again. There was a panicked jerkiness about his actions. He hadn’t wanted her to die. He probably hadn’t realised she was a vampire until it was too late.
The attacker
stepped back and stared down at her body. Then his head snapped to the left, and my eyes narrowed. What was that about? Was someone else there, just out of shot? A moment later, the mugger swooped down on Moira’s body and grabbed something – presumably her jewellery – before scooping up her fallen shopping bag and sprinting away.
I scratched my neck and continued watching, hoping that whoever had caught the attacker’s attention would wander into view. Unfortunately, no-one appeared until Moira was discovered by some poor soul who came out of the rear of the restaurant with a cigarette in hand.
I rewound the video yet again. For almost the entire attack, the man’s face was turned away from the camera. When he panicked and started to run away, however, there was a fleeting moment where his features were visible. I crossed my fingers and focused my gaze. There. It might have only been a split second in real time, but it was more than enough for the camera.
It isn’t always possible to tell who is supernatural by their appearance. Sometimes it’s a small thing that gives them away, such as Albert Finnegan’s unnaturally smooth and unblemished skin. Sometimes the differences are far more stark. For example, naturally born werewolves’ bodies are often heavier and more squat, and they tend to have more hair when they’re in human form, and vampires’ physical attributes are enhanced after they are turned. Sometimes there are no obvious supernatural characteristics, as with werewolves who are made rather than born into the clans, or with some of the Others.
Moira’s attacker looked and acted human. Like Lukas, I strongly suspected that was the case, but I would reserve judgement until I had proof. The good thing was that if he were indeed a run-of-the-mill mugger, he probably had form – and that meant that the police at the Met would already have his face on file.
I copied his image and enlarged it. He looked to be around thirty years old, with heavy dark eyebrows and a shaved head. I couldn’t see any earrings or piercings, but there something under his chin that made me think he might have a tattoo. Unfortunately, the angle wasn’t clear enough to be certain no matter how hard I squinted.