Of Man and Monster

by Saje Williams

"Damn. I was just thinking that a church basement would be a really good place to hide out. Or maybe a crypt in a cemetery. Or is that too ‘Buffy, the Vampire Slayer"?” Bigby chuckled darkly and ran a plate-sized hand along the side of his jaw. “There's no rules to this, is there?"

  Gavin shook his head. “Sunlight, decapitation ... that's what we know will kill them. Sunlight's the slow way. That's the only thing that's cut and dried.” He paused, looked thoughtful. “A crypt isn't all that bad an idea. Not all graveyards are on hallowed ground."

  "Fine. I'll have a couple uniforms keep an eye on the local cemeteries."

  "Not sure that's a good idea. They'd be defenseless against her if she is there."

  Bigby's face reddened slightly. “What do you propose we do then?"

  Gavin thought about it, and then shrugged. “I don't know. I'll tell you this much; there's no way she won't know they're there. She'll sniff them out and drag them down. I assume I'm correct in thinking you don't want your cops turned into vampires, too."

  Bigby looked nonplussed. “Crap. You're not kidding about that. So how do you propose...?"

  Gavin smiled thinly. “Surveillance cameras. It's the twenty-first century, Bigby. We can lay out a wireless web and keep an eye on the cemeteries from as far away as a mile. Within the relative safety of their squad cars."

  "Which means we can determine where she's hiding out and just go there the next day to take her out, right?” Rachel couldn't hide the satisfaction that thought gave her. She didn't want to.

  "That's the best plan I've heard all night. We don't have the equipment to pull it off, though,” Bigby said.

  "I have it. Or, rather, I can get it. I just need to make a phone call."

  "To the agency?"

  Gavin nodded. “I can have another agent here in a matter of hours with everything we need. It shouldn't take more than an hour or so to set up the wireless cameras."

  "Good. No more screwing around. You do that. I'll brief my cops.” Bigby leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. “Now let's see if we can end this within the next twenty-four hours."

  * * * *

  Friday night.

  Maybe Ben's right. Maybe I am a monster. Cory stood in Gina's doorway, eyes glued to the still white figure laid across her bedspread. He had never meant to do this. He'd wanted to save her life, not take it.

  Fuck. What will Jason say? He nearly laughed. What can he say? He turned and walked into the sunken living room, eyes traveling the walls to take in the artwork he'd seen a hundred times before. Simple stuff, really. A few landscapes, but mostly art-deco crap he could barely stand looking at. Stylized women's faces done in black and white, a couple of cars done in the same style.

  His lips curled into a slight smile. Maybe vampirism is a little like being gay—taste comes with the territory.

  One can only hope.

  He snatched her car keys off the end table and headed out the garage door. Man, I hope she doesn't drive a stick.

  She did. An old green Dodge Neon. He started it, opened the garage door by remote, and shoved it into reverse with a minimal amount of grinding. He backed into the driveway and around the side of the house. Fumbling a moment, he finally got it into first. Jerkily, he coaxed the machine down the driveway.

  * * * *

  The lights and siren caught him by surprise. “Damn,” he murmured, glancing in his rear-view mirror. He'd caught on to the whole manual transmission thing pretty quickly, but ground the gears too often for comfort. He probably attracted the cop's attention at one of the intersections behind him while trying to get the damn thing from first into second gear.

  There was no way he was going to outrun him, even if he could figure out how to shift more naturally. There was no way this car could outrun any of the cop cars out there on its best day. What the hell am I going to do?

  He pulled over. Had he still been mortal his heart would've been in his throat.

  The cop took his sweet time getting out of the patrol cruiser and sidling up to the side of the car. He had his hat in his hand, hardly expecting any trouble. Cory rolled down the window and gave him a side-long look

  The cop, not all that much older than Cory by the look of him, blinked in surprise, then scowled, his pale eyes suddenly brimming with suspicion. “What are you doing in Gina's car?"

  Oh-oh. Even better. He knows her. “She's not feeling well,” Cory answered. “She sent me to the store to pick up some flu medicine for her and Jason."

  Some of the suspicion melted away, replaced by concern. “Well, hell. I'm sorry to hear that. Tell you what ... you just hand over your license so I can say I did my duty and we'll leave it at that."

  Now what, Einstein? He shrugged inwardly and turned his full gaze on the young officer. As their eyes met the cop blinked in puzzlement. “Hey, aren't you—"

  Cory pushed, concentrating on confusing the cop for a few moments, long enough to get away. But, as he brought that power to the fore, the Thirst rose up in him as it had with Gina herself. He flowed out of the car through the open window, catching the cop as his knees buckled. Before he could stop himself he'd grasped him in a tight embrace and sank his teeth into his throat.

  He pulled away, hearing the soft murmur of the cop's heart still beating and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  Applause jerked his head around suddenly.

  Across the road, bathed in pale moonlight, stood a young woman in a long pink dress, clapping her hands together mockingly “Well, if it isn't our Lord of the Dogs,” she said in a deceptively soft voice. “Congratulations,” she added. “I would never have guessed you to be strong enough to turn away before the last drop.” Then, in a blur of pink and white, she crossed the black asphalt and rushed at him.

  He jerked away, loosing his hold on the cop, only to find, scant instants later that it hadn't been him she'd been after. She snatched up the cop as he fell, whisking him away back across the road. Cory crouched, feeling the blood drying on his face, as she smiled over at him.

  "He is weak, but he probably would have survived. Too bad for you,” she giggled, before reaching up and casually snapping the man's neck. The “crack” of the spinal column breaking sounded like a gunshot.

  "I don't know where you came from, kid, but here's a word of advice for you. Stay out of my way. You may be Lord of the Dogs, but I'm Queen of the Night. If you mess with me I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

  She let the cop's body fall and vanished in a swirl of pink, her parting laugh echoing in his head long after she'd been gone.

  He stood there for a long moment, staring over at the silent mound of flesh that had once been a human being. Fucking bitch. She didn't need to kill him. He felt something wet running down his cheeks. He wiped the tears away with a sleeve and climbed back into the car.

  He slammed the car into gear and watched the cop and cruiser dwindle in the rear-view.

  Queen of the Night, are you? We'll see about that.

  * * * *

  Saturday morning.

  "Well, that was a big fucking waste of time,” Bigby growled disgustedly to open the tactical meeting. “I'm just glad we didn't have to pay for it ourselves."

  Gavin shrugged. “It was a shot in the dark,” he said. “Made as much sense as anything else at this point."

  "That's the problem,” the Chief snorted. “Nothing makes a whole lot of sense at this point.” He tossed a manila folder at Rachel, who managed to catch it just before the contents spilled out on the floor. “Care to tell me what the fuck this is?"

  Rachel opened the folder and felt the blood rush from her face. “Holy crap. It's Corwin."

  "Officer Tyler Ames was found lying on the side of the road by a passing motorist at about five this morning. His patrol car sat not thirty feet away, engine idling. Might as well have been on the moon for all the good it does us. Or him, for that matter.

  "Notice what killed him? Broken neck. Of course, it looks like that happened after someone sucked most
of the blood out of his body. It happened while we were staking out graveyards, for Christ's sake. Graveyards.

  "That asshole Pyle has been snooping around and this time I don't think we can keep a lid on it. A cop is dead, along with three innocent civilians who apparently got up and marched right out of the morgue.

  "This is turning into a clusterfuck. You—” he jabbed a thick finger at Gavin—"have been as much help as a broken condom on prom night. I've got half a mind to call your precious Paranormal Affairs Commission and let them know exactly what I think of you."

  Rachel winced inwardly. She'd never seen Bigby this pissed off, and that was saying something. He was generally pretty laid back, but when he got irritated he could give a raging forest fire a run for its money.

  Gavin turned a cold gaze on the Chief. “Do what you have to, Bigby. I don't answer to you."

  Whoa. Wrong answer.

  Bigby drew himself to his full height and took a step toward the agent, clenching fists the size of summer hams. “Who, exactly, do you answer to, Chase? I want names, and I want them now."

  "Go to hell, Bigby.” Gavin spun on a heel and stormed out.

  "That went well,” muttered Shine, shaking her head.

  "Shut up,” the Chief growled. “From now on we do it my way. We've lost any opportunity we had to keep this quiet. By noon the whole goddam state's going to know what's going on here and we'll probably be overrun with media types. If we're really unlucky, we'll end up attracting one of those goddam vigilante groups out of Washington or California.

  "So, if the case is going to be blown wide open, we might as well take advantage of it. Rachel—take that composite sketch of our suspect to Pyle. Push for him to include it in tomorrow morning's addition. When you're done with him, take it to Bend to the TV stations and make sure they show it off as prominently as possible.

  "We're not going to advertise that we think she's a real vampire—she's just some kind of nutball who thinks she's a vampire. We're not going to be able to get away with that for long, but it should give us a few days. That's been going around as a rumor for the last few days anyway. It's a wonder the media hasn't picked it up already."

  Rachel stared at her boss as a thought struck her. “You don't think that maybe there's an obvious reason for that, do you?"

  The question wiped the anger off his face. He looked slightly stunned. “What are you saying?"

  "Can a vampire influence someone's mind directly?"

  Everyone's jaw dropped at once. None of them had an answer. She glanced back at the door Gavin had walked out of a moment before. “Damn it all."

  "So how could she have gotten to all the media people?” Shine asked.

  "She wouldn't have had to get more than a few,” Rachel replied. “Anyone with the authority to shut down a particular avenue of investigation."

  "News editors,” Tooms supplied, unnecessarily.

  "Are we assuming she's this clever?” Bigby asked the room at large, but aiming his gaze at Rachel.

  "Sure. Why not? I guess the next question is why she'd want to stifle any chance of investigation, and then do something this overt."

  "To muddy the waters?” Shine murmured thoughtfully before shaking her head. “Uh-uh. That doesn't make much sense at this point, does it? Not unless we were getting close and I don't think that's the case at all."

  "You and me both,” Rachel muttered. A sick, squirmy sensation rose in the pit of her stomach. The thought that struck her at that moment was enough to make her want to puke. What if Gavin Chase had been leading her on, leading them all on? “Chief—call the Paranormal Affairs Commission, or whoever else you can contact to verify Chase's identity and mission, if you please. We need to know how much of what he told us is actually true."

  Bigby looked at her blankly for a moment, and then nodded. He damn near ran out of the room. “You two—I want you to check out the scene where Ames's body was found. Look for any clues at all.” It's too bad we could never get the budget approved to get cameras installed in our cruisers. “What do you want to bet he pulled someone over ... someone he knew ... or thought he knew?"

  "I'm not taking that bet,” Shine snorted, with a glance at Binks. He shook his head.

  Tooms just chuckled, rubbing his hands together. “Sounds like our Rachel is back on her game,” he said, his accent thicker than ever.

  Yeah ... maybe I am. But if Chase was playing us—where is Cory, and what the hell is really going on?

  * * * *

  "You can breathe a little easier,” Bigby told Rachel from his office door. “Chase wasn't bullshitting us about the vampire thing. It's for real. But he's not an agent anymore. He's gone renegade and they're not sure why ... or when."

  "Shit. Is he really a doctor?"

  "Yep,” Bigby grunted. “But he's a fucking psychiatrist."

  She shrugged. “So? Still legal to practice medicine. That's the difference between a psychologist and a psychiatrist."

  "You think he told the hospital that? He's been working in their Trauma Ward and ER."

  "Maybe we should find out, don't you think?"

  "I'm not sure it matters. Whatever reason he had for going renegade and coming here involves the vampires. He probably took the job in the hospital to watch for possible victims."

  Bigby thought about that a minute, then nodded. “Makes sense. It's good to have you back, Rachel. I know this was hard for you—with your son being ... missing ... and all, but, damn, we needed you at the top of your game and you haven't been there."

  "I know, Chief. But the good news is that I'm sure Cory's alive—or, at least—still around. I think he's a vampire too, but I have the funniest feeling he's not part of Veronica's game."

  "Which means another player,” Bigby said with a frown. “Another vampire? Okay—the people at the P.A.C. said that there were five vamps that they know about ... this Veronica chick and four others. Does that jibe with what he told you?"

  "Yeah, it does. His theory was that the second vampire—'Dave,’ I think he said his name was—might have snuck into town and turned Cory."

  "You're sure taking that well,” he observed, brow furrowing as he stared deep into her eyes.

  "Do I have a choice?” she retorted. “Like Chase pointed out—chances are I'll never have to go to his funeral."

  That prompted a snort from the big man. “He's got a twisted way of looking at things. So what do you think—should we put an APB out on him?"

  She considered it, and then nodded. “He's an unknown at this point. It's one thing if he was actually working under the P.A.C., it's quite another if he's here on his own. We don't know what his agenda really is."

  "My thoughts exactly. So what are you going to do now?"

  "Me? I'm going to talk to Cory's friend Ben, see if I can get anything new out of him."

  He smacked himself in the forehead. “Damn—that reminds me. I got a weird report from the hospital the other day and forgot to mention it. At the time it didn't seem too important, but now ... I'm not so sure."

  "About Ben?"

  "Yeah. Seems he was attacked by a dog a couple days ago. I guess he was torn up pretty good."

  "Really? Now that's interesting. I'll have to ask him about it."

  Six

  Saturday night.

  Cory stood silently by the side of the bed, watching Jason in the way only the undead could. Steady and unblinking—the cold empty stare of a corpse.

  Had he been able to see his own face he would have cringed from it. It was inhuman, but, then again, he was no longer human, so it wasn't quite a surprise he'd look like that.

  Jason sat up abruptly, eyes wild. “What the—"

  Cory leaned down, grasped his shoulder. “It's okay."

  "Fuck. I'm ... thirsty ... hungry ... whatever."

  "I know. I brought you something. It's in the garage."

  The house shook to a shuddering roar. Jason's head snapped around suddenly. “What the hell was that?"

  "Br
eakfast,” Cory answered with a spare smile. “Mind those claws,” he added, holding his arm up to show the jagged rents in his the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

  * * * *

  Twenty minutes later Jason came staggering out of the garage, his clothes in tatters, and long scratches leaking crimson over a good part of his torso and halfway down one arm and both legs. He aimed a scathing look at Cory as he stomped into the kitchen and slammed the door behind him.

  As Cory watched, amazed, the blood stopped flowing and the wounds seemed to knit themselves back together like an invisible tube of superglue was sealing the edges in front of his eyes. Jason's mouth dropped open as he stared down at himself. “Fuckin’ wicked!"

  "The cat dead?"

  Jason shrugged. “I don't know. Probably. Is it important? The blood tasted like shit, by the way. Is that what I have to look forward to from now on?"

  "If you can, you might want to. Come with me. I have something to show you."

  Frowning, Jason followed him down the hall. They stopped in front of his mother's door, which had been closed since the morning before. Walking by the room and seeing her lying on the bed like that made him feel sick to his stomach.

  He slowly reached out and turned the knob, pushing the door open. Jason shot him a puzzled look then turned his gaze into the room.

  "I didn't mean to do it,” Cory told him. “I ... she ... was going to swallow a handful of pills. She thought your father had snatched you. I was trying to console her ... but that goddam Thirst is so strong. It hit me before I knew it."

  Jason stared in at his mother's body for a long, silent moment and then, surprisingly, laughed out loud. “That's great!"

  "What?” Cory stared at him in shock. “I figured you'd be pissed."

  Jason shook his head, obviously confused. “Why the hell for? I love my mother—why would I want to watch her die?"

  "She's dead now,” Cory told him, aiming a pointed glance toward the bed.

  "Until when—tomorrow? I know how you felt about my mom, Cory. I'd have to be an idiot not to. But you have to understand, my mom's the best person I know. I don't have any problem spending eternity with her."