At First Sight (Persephonii Waters Book 1)

by Melanie Brown

  “Her energy is strange as well. All the evidence points to her being Turned relatively recently, maybe within the last week or two.” Looking up from the body to meet Fox’s eyes, she didn't know what to make of that information. From his expression, he too understood the significance of a recent Turning.

  “But her energies are so cold, strangely frigid... so much so, that I would say she was turned a few years ago, if longer. You don’t see this kind of control in new Vampyres. The first few months after the Turning are a time of high instincts and over stimulation. Where the Maker and Chylde form bonds, teach the newer member the ins and outs of their new life.” Fox was nodding at her assessment, waiting for her to continue processing the scene.

  “No Maker would let their new Chylde go out to a party, full of humans no less, as if it were merely a continuation of their former life.” Shaking her head, “Has anyone come to claim her?”

  Vampyres tended to come out to claim their members even after such Rouge behavior. Fox shook his head in the negative. The Maker should have felt the Chylde’s death and come for them, at the very least sent another of the Kiss to retrieve the body, which would be burned at the morgue if left unclaimed. An unclaimed body was rare but it did occasionally happen.

  Sebastian was intrigued by this small consultant that seemed to have such intimate knowledge of the workings of Vampyre culture. Someone who could see auras was rare, someone who could interpret them even more so. He turned deciding to stay, enfolding Miklos in his shadows so the two of them could watch the Paranormal Consultant as she moved through the bloody environment, listening intently to her analysis of the events.

  “Even killing the victims showed more restraint than I would have guessed,” at this Fox appeared confused, either that or he seriously disagreed with her sentiment.

  “The Vampyres weapons are their speed, strength, claws and teeth...These bodies should have been mauled, claw marks, teeth marks. The Turning process is hard, mentally, physically, biologically. Something within the gallery space caused Ms. Kunhe to break.” Motioning toward the open doors and bloody scene beyond, “A gallery reception with close quarters, loud music, bodies too near to ignore, yes... but if this was a case of hunger, where are the teeth marks, the claw marks, the signs that show she ingested more than a pint in gallons of blood?” Persephonii relayed everything she saw, everything she understood about the energies inside the space, back to Fox.

  “No, this was a personal thing, whatever broke her control, broke her mental state as well. The trail of her energies denotes an older vampyre, cool, calm, with little fluctuation. Inside she's the artist... then poof...” it really was the only way to describe the sudden and unexplainable event that literally broke Ms Kunhe. 'Poof, bang, boom', whatever, from one moment to the next, the artist became a killer, and the bloody results were terrifyingly clear.

  Fox looked at her “Poof? Is that your professional opinion?” There was a hint of a smile around the corners of his eyes despite the seriousness of the situation.

  “Yes, poof! She wasn’t feeding, but looking for something, using her strength to tear apart those closest to her. Then using their blood as a new medium, she painted the white walls inside as if it were a canvas.” Looking into the gallery space from the patio, she moved closer to the double doors leading back inside. Stepping around bodies of those who had just made it past the door before succumbing to their wounds, and the P.C.S.I. unit that would be hours at their job.

  From the feel of the energies circling and vibrating inside the gallery she could tell the attacks had been fast, she could also tell from where they had started. Moving closer to the center of the back hall space, she stopped as a sudden calm came over her.

  “Here...here is where it started.” The closet P.C.S.I. moved with her pulling out a pad and a pen to write down Persephonii’s descriptions. Working so close to Lakewood, many of the P.C.S.I and detectives took her word as truth, it saved her a lot of explanations and others a good deal of time.

  Taking them through the killings, as Alicia Kunhe tore limbs and flung bodies, she made it to the far corner of the room, where a small section of pristine wall seemed to stare back at her. Both the energies and the blood used as paint coated the walls and floor, but at this spot, the chaos simply... paused, quiet.

  The P.C.S.I. and P.P.D. stood making guesses at what all the blood portrayed, from forms of teeth and claws to ghastly figures, all signs of a mind in distress. Persephonii however made no attempt to guess at the hand prints or sweeps of red, instead she looked at the negative space. The white walls reflected back at her something menacing, something that resembled a massive bird of prey, wings out stretched, claws at the ready. Whatever it was, Ms. Kunhe had regained some measure of control upon finishing her bloody work. It was in this spot she had regained something of herself and at this spot that she had been hit by the first ‘Sliver’, the inscribed silver bullets used by those specially armed P.P.D. officers.

  A few more feet, struggling to get out the door, slowed down due to the pain and effects of the silver, she made it out to the patio before another bullet, this time through the heart took her out for good. It was an excellent shot, one that few officers could have made, lucky even. The officers and others were mourning for those innocents who had gotten in her way. Persephonii was wondering what had happened? Who had Turned this woman, an average artist whose work had, after nearly a decade in obscurity, become ‘new,’ had finally entered the spotlight. Who would be Turning people against their will, against Law? Was that even possible? Alicia Kunhe had been trying to hold on to her old life and her rising success after years of hard work. Someone had taken that life from her, who, why... HOW?

  She wasn’t entirely sure on the specifics but this was far from a textbook Para-attack. Fox looked skeptical when she told him of her thoughts, over in the corner of the patio away from the hustle of the other teams logging and prepping the evidence for transport. He too had worked with her enough to know her hunches were nearly always right, though he couldn’t out step his bounds on this case, assigned to simply bag and tag, but he prompted her to finish this...before more lives were taken.

  Persephonii knew that she would need to get a hold of her vampyre contacts. If there was someone, something as unheard of as a Rogue Maker running around, hopefully one of her contacts would be able to give her some information. She sincerely hoped they could, if these attacks were connected, then Lakewood and the surrounding areas would be getting a lot more out of town visitors. Hunters were already in the area, the Human Anti-Para units would have a field day wreaking havoc through the usually peaceful communities. It was only a matter of time before the Vampyre Council and the Reevers arrived as well. The factions, through they basically did the same job for different reasons, tended to bring out the worst in each other when the groups were in close quarters. What a mess that would be, for everyone involved.

  Pulling out her phone she dialed, Lena, a recently Turned Librarian whose boyfriend, was a go-for, for the local Kiss. Hopefully she’d get to talk to the two and see if she could put some feelers out into the vamp community. Now it was time to look into Ms. Kunhe’s life as others looked into her death.

  Ms. Kunhe's Studio Apartment, Barden Way, Lakewood, W.A. 11:46pm PST.

  With Agent Fox's support, Persephonii quickly found herself pulling up to the curb outside the Loft, another port warehouse converted into studio apartments. From what they had gathered, Ms. Kunhe lived alone in one of the two basement units. Apparently the second unit was vacant and currently under construction. Talking with the superintendent, she assumed that Ms. Kunhe had signed a lease back when the area was still mostly warehouses, and old apartment buildings, before it had become the large artist community it was today.

  The large barred windows of what should have been a good sized bedroom, opened onto the street, easy access or regress for anyone with the strength to bend wrought iron. Instead, the room had been converted into her studio, the bed re
legated to the darker living room. Persephonii understood the need for good lighting and a separate space to work in. The window was now covered, light was more of a threat to younger Vampyres as the older they became the more sunlight they could stand. Despite the artistic paraphernalia scattered about, the living areas were eccentric, well used, but clean. In fact, there was little evidence that any thing had changed in the woman's life, everything was disturbingly normal.

  No signs of struggle, no random auras, or echoes of violence. In fact, she had felt more ripples from the hallway than she did in the apartment. Apparently the last tenant of the other unit had done a number on the apartment, after the owner refused to renew his lease, resulting in the need for construction and repair. With little to go on and the P.C.S.Is and detectives moving in, she moved out. Any signs of Ms. Kunhe's attacker, or her recent Turning didn't present themselves. While it was no surprise that information didn't jump out at her, Persephonii had excepted to see the chaos of a life changed by a Turning. Now she would have to talk with her sources, research recent Turnings in the area and more likely than not, contact Lykos, for contacts in the Vampyre Council. The local Vampyre community was run by the House of Thane, but Thane himself was out of town for a few more weeks, at least that was the last news she had heard. She was hoping more and more that Lena would get back to her, and soon.

  Chapter 8: Lore:

  The term used to refer to the body of information concerning the Para as a whole. Used mainly by those 'in the know.'

  The top floors of the Warehouse, Lakewood, W.A. 12:52pm PST.

  The night had passed with no word from Lena, or any of her other contacts. Arriving home before dawn, she had sent a few messages to the family, hoping to gain some additional insight into this new case; finally giving in she went to bed. It wasn't until around noon that Persephonii found herself with the, truthfully, slightly expected, but somewhat early arrival of trouble.

  Chase’s unexpected appearance to the top floors was not well timed, though she appreciated his kindness in dropping off the equipment and files she had requested. She had hoped to ease him into the idea of the small pack's presence in her home. He usually stayed in the office, the large area where they invited guests and clients and which was the physical address of the investigation firm. Arriving just after noon to drop off personal packages and the files on the more recent violent attacks in the area, Chase was met with North, whom he took one look at and yelled for Percy as he drew his gun.

  Now, she would not call it racial profiling, Chase was far from racist, but North was a large man. If she had to guess, African American and American Indian mixed in this background somewhere. Persephonii thought him very good looking. Chase apparently found him threatening, despite the fact he knew her wards wouldn’t let in anyone with the intent to harm.

  The resulting chaos that followed had growling from Harker and Maxwell, with Lindsey surprisingly, standing protectively in front of Autumn and Blake, shaking but in front of them. And North, eating his sandwich calmly as Chase kept them all in his sights, yelling loud enough for Persephonii to hear down the hall in her Study.

  Sliding the large, solid wood pocket doors open Persephonii ran into the hall, to see Chase, back to the elevator nearly gunning down her guests.

  “Chase? CHASE!” She walked forward, “What are you doing here?” He appeared both startled and relieved that she was fine. It took some time to calm him down and get him to holster his gun.

  While she made him a sandwich, she explained what had happened after he left the Mt. Baker crime scene. It was in the middle of trying to tell him why she had trusted them, when he fully registered who exactly she was harboring in her home, in the same building as their firm.

  The following ‘talking-to” started rather off topic, but she could tell by his tone that she was in for an earful. Currently, nearing a half an hour after his arrival, the discussion went something like this.

  “Are you lonely?” It was a strange questing, rather off topic, but she answered any way, unsure of where he was going with his line of questioning.

  “Not particularly.” It was a truthful answer, she was surrounded by people all the time, which staved off the majority of her loneliness.

  “Tired of being single?” He asked it like she was asking if she wanted 'fries with that'. The question ending on a high note.

  “Not especially.” Though she was beginning to see where he was going with his strange line of questioning, she was also somewhat amused at his process of getting there.

  “Wanting to be arrested for aiding and a bedding?” He flung out this question, clearly exasperated with her nonchalance

  “Well, it had crossed my mind...” if he was going to put it that way, she might as well answer in kind.

  “Sometimes Percy...Sometimes I wonder if you really are crazy, because this...this is crazy!” He wildly gestured to the living area, where the others had been setting before he had pulled his firearm.

  “You are playing B&B hostess to a bunch of wolves... A bunch of wolves suspected of who knows what.” Suddenly, his voice was so soft, barely audible from his corner of the island. She leaned in closer to figure out why he had abruptly switched from such a high volume.

  “Why are we whispering?” The concern was touching, it really was. But his mood swings were hard to follow, and now he was whispering as if it would do any good.

  “What?” The question seemed to take him by surprise.

  “Why. Are. We. Whispering?” She enunciated each word, trying to stress the importance of the question.

  “So they don’t hear us.” Chase’s voice was still strained even as quite as it was with the us, sounding as a growl worthy of the said wolves.

  “Then you should know by now that they can hear a pin drop in the next room and have been listening in on our conversation since you barged in here.” Persephonii spoke in a clear voice, nearly laughing at his antics. Even after so many years working with Paras, Chase had a give and take view on them.

  “How do you know that they haven’t done everything that this, Mason, has claimed? I mean... come on Percy, Donovan’s own family is throwing him under the bus.” The look he received about what she thought of Mason Donovan was clear. The man was loathsome and definitely shady, but that didn't mean Chase wouldn't try to punch holes in her logic, if he could call her thought process logical.

  "How do you know they aren't skipping out and playing killer, only to return and have you tuck them in at night?" He barely paused long enough for her to give him a look. "Wright has already called to say another body has been found."

  “It’s not them.” The three words were said simply, as if another body showing up was nothing. Persephonii had yet to hear about another victim, and hoped that this death didn't harm the already fragile group further.

  “How do you know it's not them?” Countering her statement, he really wanted to know, why she was trusting them. Why she was so SURE.

  “You get frustrated when I say 'because I see it'. So, how about the fact that every time they come and go I know it. And they haven’t left the warehouse all week. Its Thursday, the incidents happened Monday night, Tuesday morning. The group could be accused of having cabin fever and severe cases of boredom but not blood on their hands.”

  Chase sighed heavily, wondering why he even bothered to argue with her. She was, he hated to admit it, usually right, especially about people. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry about her. That didn’t mean he didn’t give her more of a talking to for good measure and left sandwich in hand, saying he wasn’t coming back up there until this was solved or they were gone. She agreed that the less he knew the better.

  With the discussion between the two over, she then turned her attention to her guests, which were giving her a rather droll stare. Harker started first.

  “You must not trust us as much as you claim if you are monitoring us." His tone was even as if to say it wasn't a big deal, but his dark green eyes said he had been h
urt by the revelation.

  “Oh, no.... The wards monitor everyone’s activity, even Chase’s.” She smiled at the group. “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

  She continued to make herself a sandwich, noticing that she had spent the morning in her Study, researching the latest findings in science about the Vampyre and Wyr viruses. The last hour or so had been devoted to searching through her list of contacts, both in Lore and Science. She remembered an article in one of the science magazines about a doctor that had been researching blood alternatives and the healing properties found in both viruses. She had only glanced at the article’s summary in passing, planning to read it later when she had the time. Now she was trying to track the magazine down.

  The search for the article had brought up some leads, but she had yet to receive a phone call from any of her inquires so she decided another look at Ms. Kunhe's apartment couldn't hurt. The first run through had been fast, the apartment too busy with officers to get a feel for the space and energies. According to Montgomery the scene had been clean and cleared, but they still had yet to locate the site where the artist was Turned and Persephonii felt the apartment was as good a place as any to start.

  Ms. Kunhe's Studio Apartment building; Barden Way, Lakewood, W.A. 3:56pm PST.

  Back in the apartment the air of controlled chaos was just as strong as when she had walked in the door. Apart from the creative and lively energies still lingering in the room, there were no signs of the kind of chaos and emotions Persephonii had expected. Not sure exactly what she was looking for, but not finding it in the apartment, she made her way around the building, stopping to peek into the apartment under construction. The door, really no more than a piece of plywood was loose. She easily pushed it aside stepping into the area past a sheet of heavy duty plastic, most likely put up to contain the dust. Despite the protests of the officer on duty, who had, dutifully followed her while in the area, she entered the apartment.