Mixed Blessing (Mixed Blessing Mystery, Book 1)

by Nicola Claire

  "Running errands," I replied, leaning gratefully against the wall too. Mine was not to look in charge and intimidating. Mine was because I needed support or I'd fall.

  Jett stared at me for several seconds, then leaned forward and inhaled deeply against the skin at the side of my neck. I use scent all the time, so do many vampires. It's a handy tool. For me, it is my talent. I don't need to get up close and personal to smell emotions or moods. Nor to smell the signature scent of someone. But, I forget that others do need to get up close and personal, in order to pick up the nuances that make up a scent. I forced myself not to react to what was considered a normal vampire move, sniffing at someone's neck.

  "You smell of fairy," he said, not moving away. Instead his hand came up and rested on my shoulder. I'm not sure if it was a move to steady himself, to calm me, or to offer support. But, it was on the shoulder Aliath had already wrenched out of shape. I jerked away from his touch and he growled.

  Never run from a vampire, in any way, shape, or form.

  His other arm snaked out and around my body, pinning me between his chest and the wall at my back. At least he was no longer touching my shoulder. That hand had been removed and now sat beside my face flat against the wall. I was trapped. One arm around my waist securing me to his body, which pushed me back against the wall, the other boxing me in.

  After everything that had happened tonight, this was too much. My fangs came out and down, the hunger returned with a vengeance, my eyes bleeding all blue, skipping straight to purple and I growled right back at him. Pushing against his hold and placing my face in his. Back off!

  He laughed, a low chuckle, that rumbled through his chest, directly into mine. I couldn't get a bead on his emotional scent, but I was betting there was a fair amount of sticky toffee in the air between us. And it was not mine.

  "What have you been up to, kitten?" He didn't move away from my fangs, instead I noticed his were also down, although he hadn't made a show of them extending, like I had.

  I took a measured breath in, there was no point ignoring him, he wasn't going to go away. "It's been a busy night, Jett. I needed somewhere to catch my breath." A figure of speech, he knew as well as I that I didn't need to breathe.

  "Why haven't you healed yourself?" he asked, still too close. And when I still didn't answer, he added, "Why come here? You're obviously not here to work, so why not head home?"

  I hesitated. It was natural for me not to trust anyone. Jett fell into that category and some. Despite being the Master of the City, he didn't automatically warrant full disclosure of my life. But this was different. He had made it quite clear that the murders reflected on Auckland and could garner the attention of the Iunctio. I did not want the Iunctio here, neither did Jett. So, could I work with him on this? Did I have a choice?

  I licked my lips, deep in thought, Jett's eyes swept down my face to watch the movement, then flicked back up to meet mine.

  Ah, hell. I came here because I knew he could protect me from a fairy. The least I could do was let him know that's what he had to do.

  "I had a run-in with a fairy," I said, quietly.

  "I gathered that," came his slightly sarcastic reply.

  He wasn't going to make this easy, was he? "I needed somewhere safe to recover. I knew I'd be safe here."

  He did step back at that. I was momentarily relieved at the distance, then just as quickly concerned as to the reason why. Would he not offer protection?

  "You thought I would... protect you?" He sounded surprised. I still couldn't get a reading on his emotional scent, my hunger was taking too much of my depleted strength, leaving nothing spare for talents.

  "Well," I said, shifting uneasily under his intense gaze, "I only had the run-in because he was at the first murder scene. I went there..."

  "You went to the Alison Danvers murder scene? Why would you do that, Georgia?" He asked the question as though he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it from me.

  I quickly ran over what he had told me to do in regard to the murder investigation and realised his only instruction was to get close to Detective Mark Anderson. My going to the murder scene was way out of line, in regards to what he thought I could do.

  I shifted again and he crossed his arms over his chest, adapting the intimidating Master of the City pose. Looking down his crooked nose at me and piercing me with those pale blue eyes. He expected me to come clean, but no one, other than Kara - oh, and the fairy - knew about this talent. Any vampire can scent signatures, but emotions? That's a whole different ball game and although Jett knew I had smelled burnt peaches, apple and cinnamon at the second murder scene, he would not have required me to check for that signature scent at Alison's murder scene. Any of his vamp underlings could have done that for him. His instructions had been clear and did not relate to me visiting that scene tonight. Still, was this emotional scenting talent such a bad thing to confess? It was better than the shadow one, which now I come to think of it, the fairy knows about too.

  Damn that bloody fairy!

  "If I tell you, will you keep it confidential?" I had no right to ask him this and absolutely no grounds to believe that he would comply, but I couldn't stop myself trying, at least, to minimise the damage this knowledge could cause. Jett would hound me for this, he was like a dog with a bone when he got an idea into his head. And by the looks of him now, his canines were already latched on.

  "It depends on what you tell me, Georgia. If it relates to the murder case, then I cannot guarantee I can keep it between you and me. I have more people than just you investigating this. In fact, I have had people instructed to check out the murder scenes and you being there could well have tampered with evidence." That last sentence was said with a very grim face. He was definitely not happy with my stepping over the mark tonight, but what could those other vampires/people have ascertained? I knew of no supernatural with my specific talent. But, then again, no supernatural knew of mine either. Except the fairy.

  I shifted my feet again and couldn't look him in the face. This went against absolutely everything I had told myself I would not do. Since discovering this new night time world and my inclusion in it, I have set up some hard and fast rules. One: trust no one. Two: keep to myself. Three: never join a line. Four: feed as little as possible. Five: keep my talents hidden.

  I was about to break rule numbers one, two and five. With the possibility of breaking number four before the night was out, by the way I was feeling right now. All I had to do to make it a full house, was join Jett's line and then all of my faith in myself would be well and truly shot. This sucked.

  I looked back up at Jett and crossed my arms over my chest, mirroring his stance. Not intentionally, it was a defensive manoeuvre, I knew, but I couldn't help it. This felt so wrong, but I couldn't risk the Iunctio coming here. A Nothus just can't take that kind of chance. Telling this to Jett was not my greatest secret, that secret was already too widely known. Lucinda, Samson, Doug, Michel. I couldn't let that circle of knowledge widen further. I was already battling my Dark Shadow not to stake those who knew what exactly I was.

  "One of my talents is scenting emotions. I can even catalogue scents after the person has gone. I could scent Alison's emotions in her office, as well as the murderer's."

  OK. I didn't actually expect the reaction I got. He went preternaturally still. No breathing, no heartbeat, no blinking. Just stared straight at me as though I wasn't even there. A full minute passed before he spoke.

  "How accurate are you?"

  "Very. I have yet to make a mistake."

  "Who knows about this talent?"

  "My best friend and the fairy tonight."

  He paused. "How did the fairy know?"

  "I'm not sure, he was extremely powerful. The Herra of the Grey Lords."

  And oh my God, his eyes flashed the most amazing combination of azure and turquoise, bathing the whole hallway in his stunning glow. I inhaled deeply, to get an angle on what he was feeling, but my hunger was sti
ll blocking all talents and all I could do was guess. He was excited, maybe impressed, but didn't look alarmed at who Aliath was, but he did recognise the significance of this talent and no doubt had already decided how best it could be used. That didn't worry me. It's a vampire thing, I would have thought the very same way. What did worry me, was who he would tell this nugget of information to? I could only hope he would want to use me for his own purposes and not want to share me around.

  "I won't join your line, Jett." He blinked at my change of topic. "But, I will offer my talent when required, if you agree by blood bond not to share your knowledge of it further."

  It was a bold move. I held no sway over his decision. I was grasping at straws.

  "Join my line and I will keep your secret."

  "What part of 'I won't join your line' do you not get?" I said through gritted teeth, which surprisingly also allowed for a fair amount of lisping.

  "Then I shall announce your talent to the Iunctio."

  "That would bring their attention to our city and right now, you don't want that." My fists were now at my sides, ready to strike if the need arose. I would not go down without a fight.

  He considered my words. "There will come a time when these murders have been dealt with and the need to keep the Iunctio from my city will not be so dire. At that point, I will announce your talent. Join my line before then and your secret is safe."

  I frantically tried to think of an answer to this monumentally fucked-up problem. Jett had me backed into a corner. He knew something I did not want the world to know. Information of this magnitude was a powerful bargaining chip. I had nothing of equal importance to hold over his head.

  But, I sure as hell was going to find something.

  So, he would keep my secret as long as the murder case was still unsolved and could cause problems for his city with the vampire governing body. I had some time. Probably not much, but a brief reprieve was better than nothing.

  "You're an absolute arsehole, you know that," was all I could think of to say.

  He laughed. The bastard. "Only you could think saying that to the Master of the City and your boss was a good idea." He laughed some more.

  Well, at least I entertained him. Better than angered, anyway.

  When he finally managed to get himself more or less under control, he returned to his languid lean against the wall and watched me, still standing with my hands in fists at my side.

  "So, tell me, kitten, what did you scent?"

  I glared at him for a moment more and then resigned myself to the fact that I had created this little warped alliance. I could have stood my ground and kept my mouth shut. Let him rant and rave and worry at the bone for as long as he liked, but no, I had to go and open my mouth, like a stupid naive, trusting innocent.

  It has been a long time since I could call myself innocent.

  "Alison felt fear, desire, lust and guilt. The murderer felt amusement."

  "Huh," he said. "That's... kind of impressive, kitten. What did you scent at the second murder scene?"

  "Only the signatures and those emotions of the police and forensic team present."

  "Why no emotions from the victim or murderer, do you think?"

  "My guess," I said, thinking the puzzle through as I spoke, "was the murder was carried out somewhere else and the body dumped. Otherwise, the emotional scents would have registered."

  "You're sure?" he asked, quietly.

  I hesitated. Was I sure? Yeah, I was. My talent was specific, accurate and able to pick up scents from a considerable range. I had been able to sift through all those emotions present and determine with relative ease what they were and who they belonged to and none registered for the victim or murderer. If there had been scents there from them, I would have smelled them.

  "Yeah, I'm sure," I said eventually, with a nod.

  He smiled. "Good. I must admit, I am impressed. And tangling with the head of the Dark Fey police, admirable." I guess I now knew what Herra of the Grey Lords meant. Great. Jett gave my body another once over and then said, "You need to feed, but before you leave, you have a visitor out in the club."

  I glanced up at his face. Maybe he was about to tell me off for meeting up with friends in the bar when I should be working. The only visitor I could imagine would be Kara.

  "Ah, OK, who?" I ventured, as he didn't seem to want to say anything else.

  "Detective Anderson." He watched me intently for a moment, but when I didn't visibly respond, hiding my slight surprise and then the instant tiredness at the task ahead, from my face.

  "OK," I replied, moving off from the wall. "I guess I'd better see what I can find out from him, then."

  I went to walk past Jett and his hand shot out and grabbed my arm. Thankfully the arm not attached to the still sore shoulder.

  I felt his Sanguis Vitam wash through me in a healing wave. Ordinarily I would have put up a bit of a fight. The stronger the vampire, the harder it is to block their power, but even a level four master, such as me, against a level one, like Jett, can block to a certain degree. Or at least, make it hard for them to exact their desired result without effort. But, I needed all the help I could get tonight and if the Master of the City was willing to heal me before I had a chance to feed, then so be it. That I could live with.

  His hand fell away from my arm and we both stood there, a little breathless. Using Sanguis Vitam in any form is an exertion, healing is relatively intimate too. I didn't say anything, just tried to hide my response to the, now more than ever, familiar sensation of his power. I should have thanked him, but I couldn't open my mouth without showing how affected I had been.

  He cleared his throat and said in a gruff voice, "Don't feed from the cop, if you can help it."

  And then he simply walked away.

  I stood still in a little shock for a few moments, puzzling through the range of emotions I was experiencing. I could only put my slightly flustered response down to the fact that being the subject of a vampire's magical influence is still such a new thing to me. Everything in this crazy-ass world was new to me. Being manipulated by Sanguis Vitam still makes me catch my breath, regardless of the vampire wielding the power.

  I focused on the task ahead instead, it seemed a safer bet. Although 'safer' was probably a misnomer. Trying to extract sensitive information regarding an ongoing case from a police detective I haven't been on talking terms with since high school, was not in fact safe. Stupid. Uncomfortable. Crazy even. But, not exactly safe.

  Jett had said that Mark had some sort of natural mental block to deep mind manipulation. I had seen Jett glaze him at the police station, so influence to some degree was possible, but Jett had obviously not been able to get any precise information regarding the case from his mind. I could only assume Mark had a high moral compass. Divulging information regarding an ongoing case went against his natural beliefs. If that was the case and my glazing abilities weren't as good as the Master of the City - which is to be expected - then how the hell was I going to get him to divulge anything freely?

  I forced myself to calm before I walked through the doors to the club. I had more immediate problems to battle than making an old friend talk against his better judgement. I was hungry and retracting my fangs took some effort and time. But, that was only the half of it. The minute I walked through that door I would be assailed with various scents. The most disturbing and dangerous right now being blood. I would immediately smell the blood in each human. Hear their heartbeats. Sense their life force. It would call to me in such a way that my eyes would bleed red, my fangs would flick back out and down, and I'd practically start to drool.

  I could pop some contacts in, hide the red, but then I couldn't glaze and I was betting glazing to some degree was going to be essential right now. I can't feed on the premises. That would result in punishments from both Doug and Jett which I could not avoid. So, what did that leave?

  Willpower. And a whole lot of attitude.

  Yeah, that would do it.


  Ah, fuck-a-duck. Why me?

  Chapter 9

  Regret

  The club was packed. It took a moment for me to stand against the onslaught of humanity that rocked into me as I walked through the door. I was purposely not breathing. A dangerous exercise, because if a Norm noticed, questions would undoubtedly be asked. But, despite my bold efforts to avoid scenting blood, I could feel it. My eyes darted from one pulsating carotid artery to another. In less than five seconds flat I had added up twenty possible victims.

  Most vamps call them donors, but is it really donating when you don't have any say?

  I shook my head and forced myself to scan the environment for the real reason I was here. I couldn't spot Mark, in amongst all those distracting humans. The part of me that is Nosferatin quickly assessed the number of vampires in the room. Their positions, their stances, their potential threat. I flicked a glance towards Doug behind the bar, a natural instinct as he is perhaps the greatest threat in the room when Jett is not present. Doug nodded in greeting, but didn't berate me for turning up late, instead he indicated a spot across the clubroom floor where Mark was waiting.

  I hadn't seen him on my first sweep of the bar, he was sitting in a corner bench seat, but his back was to me. All I could see was his broad shoulder sticking out the side of the cubicle and his short, spiky brown hair over the top of the seat. The type of hair cut you'd expect on military personnel. Brutal and honest. He was dressed in a slightly rumpled dark grey suit. Nothing compared to what Jett would wear, this one was definitely off the rack. I couldn't see his shirt colour or tie, but I was expecting something nondescript. A police detective wouldn't want to stand out in public. I wondered if his choice of clothing reflected his character at all. Mark had been popular in high school. Captain of the first fifteen, always with a cheerleader or two hanging off his arm. But also, always with a slightly bemused look on his face, as though he couldn't believe his luck and now that he was there, wasn't quite sure what to do with it.