The Night Beat, From the Necropolis Enforcement Files

by Gini Koch

  And not hiding it well, if the Chief’s reaction was any indication. “Go home and get some sleep.”

  I considered our options. There were a lot of options, of course. But all the vamps were out now that the sun was up. The Black Angels were top-notch, so were Hansel and Gretel. Monty and Edgar, too. So if something were going down with them, I’d know soon enough. Ralph I wasn’t so sure about -- he had a tendency to make high-level decisions without asking first -- but he had Dirt Corps with him, and they knew better than to keep Monty in the dark about anything. So, all trails covered. But we had four cops and two hookers in the hospital and they needed to be sniffed, at least.

  I shook my head. “Can’t. Need to question the survivors and make sure they’re not carrying something…extra with them.”

  “Is there anyone else you can trust with it?” The Chief didn’t look like he was going to take no for an answer.

  I gave it a shot anyway. “No. How about this? Jack and I go take a look at City Hospital. If everything seems secure, we’re fine and heading home. If we’re not sure we have a possession, I’ll have Enforcement assign a tail. If things are bad, I have a feeling that’ll wake us both right up. Okay?”

  “No, but I’ll take it. I want you two extra-vigilant and I want you, Wolfe, to stop relaxing. You’re still undercover, and I expect you to stay that way. As for you,” he glared at Jack. “You watch yourself. You’ve already overstepped your assignment and put yourself and your partner in danger.”

  “I know the rules,” Jack said. He sounded tired, too. “There are always reasons to break them.”

  The Chief snorted. “Oh yes. Of course there are.”

  “We don’t have the ‘no partnering with your significant other’ rule in Necropolis Enforcement.” We didn’t. We also didn’t have the “no partnering with your sibling, parent, family member, ex, or wannabe lover” rule, either. Point of fact, we didn’t have the “no partnering with your unlifelong enemy” rule, either. In Necropolis Enforcement, the main rule was “whatever works”. In some cases that was great. I’d have done a lot to get a rule that allowed me to never work with Ralph, though. But no such luck. My wrist-com beeped, and sure enough, it was my least favorite werewolf on the line.

  “Vic, trail’s gone dead.” Ralph sounded tense and disappointed.

  “For real or because it was time to go dead?”

  “I think the latter. But we’ve got nothing.” There was something in Ralph’s tone that made the hair on the back of my neck rise.

  “Where, exactly, did the trail die?”

  “Right in the middle of the Prosaic City National Cemetery.”

  “Fabulous.” We were going from bad to worse. “Okay, stay there. Contact Monty. It’s not a cause for panic unless one of the other trails ends there, too.”

  “You got it. Uh…what’re your orders in case, ah, we run into difficulties?”

  “If the Prince manifests, Ralph, I want you and the others to run like hounds out of Hell, you got that? You do not engage the Prince!”

  “Okay.” He sounded relieved. Ralph was annoying and overly into the whole pack thing, but he wasn’t an utter moron. He had a tendency to grandstand, but only if I was there in the audience. And self-preservation was an animal instinct.

  “Let me know if anything happens, even if it’s a minor thing.”

  “Will do. Over and out.”

  My wrist-com went dead and I looked at Jack. “We need to get moving. No telling what’s going on.” We got up and I headed out the door.

  “Wagner,” the Chief called. “I want you, alone, for a minute.”

  Jack shrugged and I closed the door behind me. It took a lot of willpower, but I forced myself to move down the hall and hum, so I wouldn’t hear whatever it was the Chief wanted to say to Jack. Some of this self-control came from the fact that it always seemed wrong to me to eavesdrop on people I liked. More was because I didn’t want to hear the Chief warn Jack about the stupidity of this kind of inter-species dating.

  I leaned against the wall and hummed good old “Werewolves of London” again. There was a concert coming up soon. I hadn’t wanted to go without a date, and while Maurice and Ken had both offered to be my escort, and Ralph would have leaped at the chance, I wasn’t into pity dates on either side of the fence. But now…maybe. Then again, as I watched Jack slam out of the Chief’s office, maybe not.

  He strode over to me, looking angry. “What’s wrong?” I figured I knew, but why not pretend, right?

  “Just how damn many surrogate fathers, brothers, and uncles, not to mention far-too-interested ex-boyfriends do you have, exactly?”

  “Uh, no idea. Why?”

  Jack took my arm and started moving us along. “Oh, I just got the ‘you treat her right or I’ll make your life a living hell and I have friends who know how to ensure that’s meant literally’ lecture. I got similar from Ken. And the Count, via Ken’s wrist-com. I got it from Amanda, and Maurice. I got it from Monty and, from what I gathered, Rover. Lord, even the white worm’s giving me lectures.”

  This wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. I felt kind of warm and fuzzy that so many beings cared. “Sorry?”

  “Not your fault. You know, I’m not that much of a jerk, or that much of a womanizer. Am I?”

  “I don’t think so. Then again, you know us werewolves. We’re loyal to a fault.”

  He managed a snort of laughter. “Thank god. I’m okay to say that, right? No smiting, per the lectures?”

  “Right. Though a lot of them like to take the thanks. But, nothing to worry about.”

  “At least that’s one worry I can write off.” He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “I guess it’s flattering.”

  “How so?” I was going for cool. Cool isn’t a canine trait, however. I was pleased I wasn’t panting at him and my butt was only moving normally for walking.

  “That everyone thinks you’re so into me that I could break your heart without trying.”

  “Oh.” I wondered how to respond to this. “I so totally am” was the truth, but I’d always understood you weren’t supposed to say that before you’d even had a first date. “Oh, not at all” was both a lie and probably not destined to start any relationship well. “We’ll see” seemed bitchy. “I don’t know” was stupid, since I absolutely did. “Doesn’t matter” was a lie.

  Jack slid his arm around my waist. “I don’t plan to break your heart.”

  “No one ever plans that.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.

  He hugged me. “Yeah, I know. How about, I’ll do my best not to break your heart if you do your best not to break mine.”

  “That seems fair to me. Not that I don’t like it, but didn’t the Chief want us pretending for the rest of the squad?”

  Jack sighed. “Yeah.” He stopped, pulled us into a supply closet, and kissed me. “You know, I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you.”

  “Really?” My butt was doing its thing. Sometimes it was easier to be in wolf or werewolf form.

  “Yeah. Figured I didn’t have a chance, considering who you were dating at the time.” I’d been dating Ken, point of fact, and I could see how a human would look at him and figure any girl who was with a guy that suave, sophisticated, handsome and charming wouldn’t be looking to trade in any way. “Then I got you as my partner and knew I didn’t have any chance at all.”

  “Because you knew I was a werewolf?”

  “Because I knew you were a good cop and good cops don’t get romantically involved with their partners.”

  “I guess we’re both bad cops, now.” I tried to feel guilty about it and didn’t manage it. Probably because Jack was nuzzling my hair.

  “No. Per the Chief, these things happen.” He hugged me tightly. “It’s going to get ugly fast, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “I just want you to know that I can handle it. I’m sure there are going to be things I’ve never imagined coming at us, bu
t you’re still my partner, no matter what. And partners back each other up.”

  “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had, Jack. And I’ve had a lot. Our Enforcement team is great. We’ll all manage.” I hoped.

  Of course, I’d been wrong before. But even the Count said I needed to let that one go. I still hadn’t, but maybe someday.

  My wrist-com went live. “Vic, it’s Monty. Guess where I am?”

  “At the cemetery with Ralph?”

  “You’re so good with guessing games.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of my gifts. Jack and I are headed to City Hospital. Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.”

  Jack opened the closet door. “I know. Romantic moment over. Time to roll.”

  Chapter 16

  We drove to City Hospital like good human cops -- seatbelted and not snuggled. I reminded myself that Jack could be killed by a car crash and snuggling was best left for the privacy of one of our apartments.

  My virtue was flying high by the time we got into ICU. I wondered about Darlene’s concept of the term “pull through”, though, because none of our six injured looked good. I wasn’t a medical professional, but unless they converted to an undead way of life, they weren’t leaving the hospital any time soon.

  I dutifully sniffed each one of them. Well, I sniffed one of them, gagged and barfed into a nearby wastebasket, and then tried again. Supposedly they’d been cleaned off, but you couldn’t prove it by my nose. The cop we were with was covered with Slimy innard goo, blood -- his own and the others’ -- and something else.

  “Sulfur.” I sniffed again and managed to control the gag reflex. “Dung.”

  “Dung makes you barf?” Jack sounded worried.

  “This dung, yeah. It’s Depths of Hell Dung. Special designer scent.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “You can’t really smell it. Thank Yahweh, or whoever you’re into, for that one.”

  “From what you said, I’ve been with Yahweh, so I’ll give him the thanks, in a big way. You’re green.”

  “Bet I get greener.”

  We moved on, but it was the same in each room. By the time I got to the sixth one there was nothing in my stomach so my gagging under a semblance of control. I knew I’d be hungry, but not as long as I was near any of these people.

  Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “What does it mean?”

  “Well, I’m not sure yet.” I sighed. “We need an exorcist.”

  “They’re possessed?” Jack’s gun was out of his shoulder holster faster than I could blink. I controlled the impulse to crawl to him on my belly.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t think they are now. But I think they were.” There was nothing for it. When it came to this kind of stuff, you really did have to call in the best. I called the Count. “I need Martin.”

  “You’re sure? You know how he hates to be called out for nothing.”

  I snorted. “In my experience he likes to be called out for a routine blessing, let alone to verify demonic possession.”

  “I think he pretends.”

  “I think you’re stalling. Where is Martin that you don’t want to send him here?”

  “At the Prosaic City National Cemetery.”

  So not good. “So, who called you that didn’t call me?”

  “None of your team. Routine daytime patrols spotted some oddities. They investigated, called in, and Martin and H.P. agreed it should be investigated.”

  “Can he leave? I really think we need an expert here.” I gave the patient we were with another look. She didn’t look like an evil demon was about to burst forth from her being, but then again, I wasn’t an exorcist.

  “I’ll request it.” The Count hung up. I got the feeling he was tired of hearing from me. I was instantly sorry I’d thought the word “tired”, because I was already and getting more so every minute.

  “Do you need to stay here if you’re calling in someone else?” Jack asked.

  “No idea. Depends on whether or not Martin thinks they’re clean or not.”

  There was a chair in the room. Jack pulled it over, sat in it, and pulled me into his lap. He still had his gun out. I would have protested that this didn’t look professional, but I was too tired and snuggling was so much nicer than standing around waiting.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. He rocked gently. “How long do werewolves live?” he asked softly.

  “Until we’re dusted or destroyed. Just like any other undead.”

  “How long have you been alive?”

  I thought about it. It wasn’t something any but the newer undeads really worried about. “I’m too tired to do the math.”

  “What year were you born?”

  “As a human, seventeen-ninety-nine. As an undead, eighteen-nineteen.”

  “You were twenty when you were, what, bitten?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, you’ve been an undead for around two hundred years.”

  “Sounds right.”

  He kept on rocking. “You don’t look twenty. You don’t look two hundred, either.”

  “Yeah, I look late twenties or early thirties, I know. But we age, all undeads age. We just do it at such a slower rate than humans that we seem young forever. But we don’t actually stay that way over the long course of time. Monty’s been alive for over fifteen-hundred years. He’s an old lich. And he looks older than Edgar, for example, who’s a much younger lich.”

  “Is that why Monty’s arm fell off?”

  “Yeah. And he’s seen a lot of action, too.”

  Jack was quiet for a moment. “How can you age, even slowly, and yet still live forever?”

  “How do the Gods and Monsters do it? I’m not sure. Maybe we do die, but so far as I know, no undead has ever died from old age. Maybe one will someday, but seeing into the future isn’t a werewolf trait.”

  “Do undead ever get tired of living?”

  “We call it unliving, and I suppose some do. But in my experience, just like humans, most undeads would like to stay unalive forever. We just have a better shot at it than humans do.”

  “Why don’t you make all humans undeads?”

  I shrugged, which happily snuggled me closer. “Not everyone can handle it. Not everyone should. Some people would turn minion, and that’s the last thing we need.”

  “Minion?”

  “Willing servant of the Prince.”

  “Ah. Yeah, from what everyone’s said, we don’t want that.”

  “Ever.”

  “You know anyone who…what, turned?”

  I tried to figure out how to answer that without lying, telling the truth, or sounding like I didn’t want to tell him. Even though I didn’t. But I was saved by a group of beings walking in.

  Three were tall, black-skinned, and almost too beautiful to behold. Best wings in any plane of existence. Angels, you’d hate them if they weren’t so amazingly perfect. The three here were all male, which was nice for me. I dreaded Jack meeting a female angel. Angels gave vampires a run for the suave, sexy and devastatingly attractive money, and usually won.

  The fourth was also an angel, but he’d been angelicized once he’d died. He was shorter, fair-skinned, with piercing eyes. His wings were white, but that was because angels really didn’t go in for the two-toned look.

  Jack and I stood up hurriedly. I tried not to look guilty and failed. Martin excelled at reminding you of your sins, even when he wasn’t trying.

  But he gave me a warm smile and a hug. “I’m glad you insisted,” he said as he let me out of his embrace. “We could tell there was something wrong just walking into the building.”

  It was kind of a relief to be right. But, manners first. “Martin, this is my human police partner, Jack Wagner.”

  Martin put out his hand and shook Jack’s vigorously. “Martin Luther. Very pleased to meet you, young man.”

  Jack shot me a look. “The Martin Luther?”

  Martin twinkled. “If you mean the founder of the Refor
mation, yes.”

  Jack gaped. “You’re an undead?”

  “He’s an angel. Yes, they’re undeads, but as you know, they’re the ones everyone likes.” I shrugged. “What can I say? Yahweh really liked him.”

  Martin chuckled. “So I’m told.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we? We’ve got something nasty to banish.”

  Chapter 17

  “We think the Prince came through a portal,” I told Martin.

  He nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear it.”

  I gave Martin the high-level version of our night. He was a great listener, all angels were, really. Another reason everyone liked them. The three escort angels listened as attentively as Martin. It was flattering, unless you knew it was just how they were. And then it was still flattering because, well, they were angels.

  I finished up and Martin nodded. “What happened to the dead bodies?”

  Jack answered. “Ken had Dirt Corps deal with them. He’d checked them all, only two were able to become undeads.”

  “Freddy and Sexy Cindy, yeah.” I got a bad feeling. “I need to call Monty.” Did the wrist-com thing. “Where did Dirt Corps dispose of the dead bodies from the fracas?”

  “Fracas, nice word. Good to see you expanding your vocabulary.”

  “Monty, I’m here with Martin, about to help with an exorcism. A little less levity.”

  “You need to learn to relax.”

  “Right. Where?”

  “They were humans, so Prosaic City National Cemetery. And, to anticipate your next question, the trails led right to where we put them. Oh, the gang’s all here, by the way.”

  “All five trails led there?”

  “Yes. I checked on Black Angel One. They’re still trailing our drug dealer. He’s still not doing anything suspicious. I mean, for us. He’s out dealing drugs, of course, but that’s not suspicious, in that sense.”

  Martin leaned over. “Montague, please ensure no one remotely suspicious comes near the bodies, either over or underground. We’ll need to exhume the bodies when I get back to you, and also perform a cleansing ritual wherever they were. We have traces.”