by John Conroe
“What?”
“Well, I won't know till I complete a DNA analysis and review the blood workups, but I don't believe these changes are temporary. I think that you've been changed as much by Tatiana as she has been by you. And by the way, I can't begin to tell you how thrilled I am with her reawakening.” He beamed at me, then patted my shoulder. “From what I understand, you've always been different from other humans, eh?”
“Well yeah, between my freaky violet eyes and screwy aura, but nothing like this. Is it fatal? Is it turning me into a vampire?” I asked, beginning to get really worried.
“Fatal? Oh no! In fact it will most likely extend your life indefinitely. And no, I don't believe it is Turning you. That process is much different. Plus, you show no signs of being drawn to blood or sensitive to the sun, right? There, you see? Nothing to worry about. However, there appears to be one other aspect we should discuss. Lydia mentioned that you were drawing an unusual amount of attention from vampires in the club last Friday.”
I just looked at him blankly and he laughed.
“You probably didn't notice it, but she did. Some humans are naturally more attractive to vampires than others. Your AB blood type is part of the reason. Very rare. Only four percent of the population is AB and many vampires love it. So you smell good. But there are other factors, like being exceptionally fit and maybe your unusual aura that can attract our attention. Whatever the case, that attractiveness has also been amplified by whatever changes you are going through. So you need to be aware and careful. I don't think most vampires would chance ..ah...sampling you and incurring Tatiana's wrath. Especially, now that she is aware and becoming more formidable by the day. But newer, less disciplined vampires might lose control. You will need to be on guard.”
“You’re saying I'm vampire bait.”
“Hmmm, I suppose that's as good a name for it as any.”
It was one thing to hang out with Tatiana and Lydia, who I trusted, although I had known them both less than a week. But to know that I was going to be attracting every fanged being in the Big Apple was downright scary.
There was a quick knock on the door and Tatiana entered with Lydia on her heels before the doctor could answer.
“Is everything all right. Chris, why are you upset?” Tatiana asked.
“Well, I was just telling him about his ...attractiveness to our kind. Tatiana, did you sense his discomfort from outside?” Dr. Singh asked.
“Yes. I can usually tell what Chris is feeling and where he is.”
“Yeah Doc, she can locate our boy here from several miles away,” Lydia supplied.
“Fascinating. There is usually some form of donor/donee bond but it takes time to form.” He looked thoughtful as he mulled this new piece of information.
“So, the Doc told you about being vamp candy huh?” Lydia asked.
Tatiana's expression was rather stark as I answered. “Yeah, it's a little ...unnerving.”
“Well, the first thing we're going to do is put an off limits sign on you to keep away the rifraff.” Lydia said.
“An off limits sign huh?”
“Yeah, we'll mark you with Tanya's sign and that should keep the smart ones away.”
“Sounds like a cattle brand to me,” I replied, still out of sorts with the situation. Tatiana froze in place at these words, but Lydia shrugged them right off. “Think of it as a stallion brand if it makes you feel better. It’s just a little tattoo, see?” She turned her head and pulled her shirt away from her neck, revealing a small tattoo of three letters ‘TAD’.
“What is that? Some sorta vampire word or something?” I asked.
The girls looked at each other, then back to me.
“No, it’s her initials T.A.D.” Lydia shrugged.
“What’s the ‘A’ stand for?” I asked.
Tatiana answered. “Antonovna.”
“So that would mean your father’s name is Anton?” I guessed.
“Very good, Chris.” Tatiana was impressed.
“Well, the Internet knows all, ya know.”
We thanked the doctor and climbed back into the BMW. Lydia changed topics as soon as the car was in motion. “So, Chris what was this about werewolves today?” she asked.
So I spent the rest of the car ride explaining the Special Situations Squad job interview, the attack in Central Park and the red head werewolf mother and son.
“And you didn’t tell them about the woman being a were or about us?” Tatiana asked.
“No way. I don’t know anything about this Special Situation group. I don’t know if they know about you guys or about weres, and I’m supposed to ‘serve and protect’, so that’s what I did.”
It seemed pretty clear cut to me. I didn’t struggle with the ethics of it for a moment. Spending your life fighting Hellbourne tends to simplify your moral code a bit.
“You know, Chris, you seem to draw monsters like flies to honey. Do you have any idea who she was?” Lydia asked.
“Er..no.” I answered.
“Her name is Afina. She’s the mate of the Alpha of the City. And you saved her.”
“I didn’t save her. She saved herself and her son. I just gave her some food, water and a cell phone. I guessed that she would have a Pack or something to help her.”
“Well I spoke to my contact in the Pack, and she and her mate, Brock, are grateful to you. Things have been a little strained between our Coven and the Pack, and today’s events could have been a disaster. She smelled the vampire scent on you and she witnessed your wrestling match with the addict in the park. You may have just patched up a pretty good rift between us.”
“Dumb luck, really,” I answered.
“You seem to have an inordinate amount of that then,” Lydia replied with a grin.
“Dumb or luck?” I questioned, not sure if I had just received a shot.
“Yes,” was her reply. Yup, definitely a shot.
Tatiana asked me a question before I could fire anything back at Lydia. “Christian, are you going to work for Inspector Roma in the Special Squad?”
“I don’t know if they even want me yet. I’m supposed to meet him tomorrow morning, so I suspect he may have made up his mind by then.”
“You know, he’s been trying to meet with Galina for years now, but she blows him off every time. I think he suspects what we are. You need to be ready if he asks you to introduce him.” Lydia said.
“Well, that’s an easy one. I just tell him the truth. Galina hates me. That should take care of it.”
“Mother does not hate you, Christian. And I have told her that you will be part of my life unless you choose not to be. I have warned her I will leave if she tries to scare you away.”
Lydia chuckled. “Yeah, and since Doctor Singh reports his medical findings about Tat directly to Elder Senka, I’m doubly sure that the Elders will want to meet you Wednesday night.”
“What’s Wednesday night?” I asked.
“Oh, we hadn’t gotten around to that yet. The Elders arrive to see Tanya tomorrow night. Wednesday is a formal reception party and you are a guest of honor.”
“Me? At a vampire party? Is that a good idea? Aren’t I sorta bait? Why do they want to see me?” This party sounded like a really bad idea. I liked hanging around with my two vampires, it just seemed natural, but a whole party of unknown and unfriendly vampires didn’t sound like my cup of tea.
“Well, they are insisting on meeting the human who saved our girl here, woke her up so to speak, and is the object of her affection. You really need to be there.”
“Well, what do I wear? I don’t have party clothes, just uniforms and casual clothes. I can’t go without a suit or something. There isn’t really time to get anything either.”
“Jeesh, Northern. Have some faith. We’re already on it. You’ll not only have the right clothes, but you’ll look gooood!”
Without any other excuses, I settled back to silence, thinking that this party would be a fiasco.
Chapter 12
Tuesday was the day that I died. Or maybe the day I should have died. Either way it felt like I died.
It started off normally enough. I got up and made myself a ten-egg omelet with cheese and ham. Okay so maybe that’s not so normal. That still left my egg supply almost untouched. When the girls took me home from the doctor's the previous night, Tatiana had apparently been placing some calls on the way. A pair of young vampires (I was beginning to get a feel for vampire age) met us at my apartment with a truckload of groceries. My fridge was now stocked with cases of eggs, cheeses, cold cuts, milk and veggies. My freezer was loaded with Stouffers frozen dinners and half gallons of Haagen-Das ice cream. Every flat surface in the galley kitchen held cases of protein bars, canisters of nuts and six packs of protein shakes. If that wasn't enough, the front of the fridge had gift cards to a half dozen take out restaurants held in place by magnets. I felt like I was being fattened for Christmas dinner, but realistically I would most likely burn through it in a couple of weeks.
So, I skipped my regular workout and spent the time eating and doing some Internet research on jewelry. The girls had informed me that my presence was also mandatory at the combined Plasma Halloween and Tatiana birthday party on Friday. I would not have to wear a costume, but a gift seemed in order. The last girl I had bought a gift for had been my grandmother, who had died eight years ago. I had never bought a gift for a girlfriend type person. Seeing how this might be my only chance to do so (who knew if I would make it through another year) and seeing how the income from my trust fund had bulked up my savings account, I decided jewelry was in order.
What do you get a vampire princess who would be called on by some of the oldest and richest beings on the planet over the next few days? The only thing I could think of was a comment that Lydia had made about Tatiana being hard on bracelets because of her sparring. Apparently, she used real blades in practice, and her bracelets were always getting chopped and slashed, because she didn't get them off in time. Blocking a blade with her arm was standard practice, as she healed almost instantly from anything but a cut made by silver. Healing gold or platinum wasn't so easy. I found a shop here in Brooklyn that produced the very specialized pieces that I wanted and drove over to finalize my order in person. I paid extra to ensure it would be ready by Friday and then headed home.
After dressing in one of my few clean uniforms, I went to meet Inspector Roma. That didn't go so well, or maybe it went fine depending on perspective. For our meeting, he had chosen a Brueggers bagel shop not far from the Sixty-Eighth Precinct house. He was already seated with a large frappuccino and a bagel sandwich, so after loading my own tray with stuff, I sat down across from him. He eyed my tray with a touch of amazement, but cut right to the chase after I started to dig in.
“Chris, I have to tell you that the entire team and I were very impressed yesterday with both your swift and timely actions and your insight into the crime scene. You have a lot of potential in police work. However, most of the team felt you were less than completely forthright with us. They all felt as if you were holding back. Chris, you have to understand that we have to be able to trust each other with our lives, which is why the whole team gets to have a say in potential team members. The group just didn't feel like that was there with you.” He finished, then waited expectantly for me to answer. I had been chewing a big bite of turkey with provolone on an Everything bagel and had to wipe the excess mayo off my face before I could answer.
“That's cool, Inspector. I understand completely,” I said. “I felt the same way about each of them, Sir. Nothing bad, just like everybody was holding back some important stuff. Frankly, I've always worked on my own, so it would be hard to trust them as well.”
“Well Chris, we couldn't bring you fully into the loop until we were more fully certain of you, now could we,” he responded, just a touch defensively.
“Absolutely, Sir. I couldn't agree more. But I have to wonder, Sir, just how you build that level of trust so quickly among such a diverse group. I mean, it must be really tough to find someone with such a rare gift or skill set AND have them be instantly trust worthy, so to speak.”
He frowned a little at my words.
I continued: “I'm not at all surprised at the outcome, Sir. People have always been a little leery of me. Might be my freaky eye color or just something about my talents that they sense on an unconscious level. I have to tell you, though, that I'm surprised Detective Velasquez even bothered to bring me to your attention in the first place. I don't think she has much use for me personally. Sir.”
“Well your people reading skills seem to be less acute than your other...skills...which you never really explained. But you should know that Detective Velasquez was your biggest advocate.”
He was annoyed by my answers. I was annoyed with his. I never asked to be in his little band of spook hunters anyway. I got the feeling that he had expected a different outcome to this meeting, but as annoyed as I was by yet another rejection by my own kind, it was best for me to stay off the team. I didn't think the vampires and weres of the City would be excited about my sharing their existence with the authorities.
Inspector Roma watched me with a level gaze, and my enhanced vision let me see the color that had flooded his olive toned face. I finally responded.
“Inspector Roma, thank you for the opportunity to meet your team and witness you all in action. I fully understand the Team's reluctance regarding myself.” No use making an enemy if I could avoid it. He gave me a curt nod, then felt obliged to threaten me.
“Officer Gordon, I trust you understand that any and all information that you have become privy to including the nature of my Squad is absolutely restricted. If I discover that you have divulged anything, you will wish you had never met me.”
Not much to say to that, so I simply shook his hand and he left. I stayed to finish my lunch. Job interviews make me hungry.
I checked in to the Sixty-Eighth's Muster room and Sarge assigned me to prisoner detail, which is mostly a pain in the ass. All shift I felt like people were watching me and, in fact, I did pick up on a bunch of glances in my direction, mostly from women, but some males as well. It left me edgy, as I am used to staying under the radar and not drawing much attention. Finally, the shift was over and I headed out into the cold October night. My Xterra was parked quite a ways away, as parking around the Precinct had been tight.
I was three blocks from the Sixty-eighth and a little less than one from my truck, when I heard the scream. I was just crossing the opening of an alley between a bookshop and an auto parts place, when it ripped through the night. Female, terrified and in pain. I grabbed my flashlight and raced into the alley, my right hand triggering the mike hooked to my left shirt pocket. The belt radio attached to it gave a blast of static and nothing more, just as a second scream sounded up ahead. Feet slapping on the pavement, I raced toward the sound.
A pale figure appeared in my light's beam, instantly recognizable as a woman, the left side of her face dripping blood. Tall, Olive Oyl thin with sharp pointed features and large black eyes, she was sobbing hysterically and pointing back the way she came. I put myself between her and the back of the ally, illuminating everything with my light, my right hand now on my Glock. I couldn't see anything, so I turned to ask the woman and a horse kicked me into the next county. I blacked out for a second, the impact hard enough to jar my brain where I stood. When my lights came back on, I found myself lying against the ally wall, daggers of pain lancing through my chest with every breath. The woman was squatting athletically in front of me, a feral gleam in her black eyes as she licked her lips. Her features seemed to flicker, like her face was struggling with something else's face, a furry one. Her voice was a hissing whisper when she spoke.
“So easy to fool. So easy to kill.”
She apparently wasn’t much for monologuing because she stood up and pulled a long slick blade from somewhere under her dress. Wicked fast, the silver edge slashed at my throat, but my left arm mag
ically put itself in the knife’s path. I felt a tug across my forearm, but nothing else. She stepped back, a look of disbelief flitting across her ferret features. Nodding to herself, she shot forward, feinting then slashing with the blade, but this time both arms jumped up and received the cuts aimed for my throat. My lungs were hissing and it occurred to me that her kick had done the job her knife wasn't able to. One of my ribs was broken, despite my vest, and the bone must have punctured a lung. Breathing was fire and life, but the fire was winning.
She paused again, then made a second blade appear in her left hand. Jabbing at me with the left, she pulled her right back for the kill stroke. My arms were having trouble staying upright and darkness was crowding the edges of my vision. I was certain I was dying, because I saw a vision of Tatiana's face appear over the weasel woman's right shoulder. The vision seemed odd, because Tatiana's eyes were jet black, which is not how I would want to remember her as I died. My vision continued to crumble, but it seemed like a big silver object was flashing toward the weasel's head and then I couldn't see anymore. A wicked growl filled my ears, followed by wet ripping noises and soft thuds, then nothing.
Death seemed to be warm and satiny. And dark. Very dark. Then I realized that I could open my eyes, or at least, try to open them. Emergency Services Jaws of Life would have been handy, but despite my lack of heavy duty, hydraulically powered rescue gear, I was finally able to get them partially open.
Death was apparently illuminated by a combination of candles and vintage lava lamps. The bed I found myself in was the better part of a half- acre in size, with white satin sheets and a purple satin comforter (purple?).
“Hey, monster bait, you awake?” came a soft greeting from the door of the bedroom.
Lydia moved into the room and Tatiana appeared immediately behind her. “How are you feeling?” Lydia asked.
“Hmm? Oh, I feel alright...I guess.” I answered my attention still on Tatiana. A much changed Tatiana. I had never seen her like this before. She was wearing a black, tightly fitted jumpsuit of some leather like material. Twin sword hilts poked up over her shoulders and a long bladed knife was strapped to the outside of each forearm. Her feet were encased in soft flexible boots that buckled up the front and rose to her calves. But the biggest change was her face. It was cold and remote, her blue eyes frosty.