Origins (A Demonkin Novel)

by Sean Hayden

  We hit the bank first and I deposited my fist full of paychecks and backpack full of cash. In a week or two I would get my check card, so I could stop carrying cash. I had no idea how much getting outfitted for work would cost me so I kept two grand in my pocket for tonight’s shopping expedition. Michael's knew of a few all night retailers who catered to the late night community, thank gods. I didn't want to have to order everything off the internet and have it delivered. I only had the one outfit appropriate for work and I didn't want to wear it out after the first week.

  Several hours later, I had skirts and jackets, and pants and jackets, and shoes, and shirts. Even I didn't feel like shopping anymore. "Where to next?"

  I told him to drop me off at a hotel by the office. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he told me his girlfriend had left him a month ago, and if I didn't mind the mess I, could stay with him. I thought about turning him down, but it would be convenient. He settled the decision for me by pulling into an apartment complex and parking the company vehicle. "I insist brat," he told me with a smile and left no room for argument.

  "Fine you oaf, I just hope you don't snore."

  "Just don't come in my room for a late night snack leech!" I wish he hadn't said it. He set my tummy rumbling. The look on his face when he heard it made it all worth it though. Now he probably would be up all night. Sometimes life's pretty funny.

  He unlocked the door to the tiny two bedroom apartment and a wave of different smells hit me like an invisible wall. Males of the human species when not under the care of a female tend to leave things out to molder and rot. Michaels wasn't an exception, I saw things which had passed into the realm of mummification and petrifaction. I hoped I would be safe in my room. He apologized for the mess and told me his cleaning lady had the day off. I retorted with a, "You mean year?"

  He showed me to my room and it only had one small window to the outside world. I asked him if he had a blanket I could hang over it, and he grabbed a thick quilt and staple gun, and held the comforter while I tacked it up. The room had a small television and a bed and dresser, and I thought it perfect. Maybe after he went to bed, I would clean it up a little. A layer of dust had settled over most of the items in the room, and I fought the urge to write "wash me" on the television screen with my finger. Thank the gods I didn't breathe.

  We had brought all the bags of clothing I had acquired up from the car with us, and we brought them into the room and I stuffed them in the empty dresser and hung the jackets up in the closet. Shoes went into the closet on the floor as well. When the last item made it from the shopping bags to their new home, I wanted to get clean. "Where's your shower?"

  "You walked past it on the way to your room!"

  "I know, oaf. I was asking if I could use it! You were supposed to say, in the hall, help yourself," I hollered back.

  "No you can't, I like stinky vampires," came his final retort.

  I walked to the bathroom, and stripped my clothes and slid in under the cold water. I soaped and washed my hair and turned the faucet off. "Oh shit," I thought, “I forgot a towel.” I stepped out of the porcelain tub and opened the door a crack. "Hey, oaf, could you toss me a towel?"

  "No."

  "Please?"

  "No, I'm in the kitchen and I'm getting my camera. Better run to your room fast!"

  "You suck!" I realized what I said. The whole pot calling the kettle phrase popped into my head.

  "Did you just tell me I suck? Isn’t that a little hypocritical?”

  I saw a pink fuzzy towel appear at the crack of the door and I opened it a little wider so I could grab it. "Thanks oaf," I said to him. I had never been this comfortable around anyone before, and it felt wonderful. I smiled inwardly to myself as I wrapped myself in the towel and stepped outside the bathroom. As soon as I stood in the hallway I saw the flash of a camera go off. "Son of a bitch," I thought and turned. He stood behind me in the hallway, but had the camera pointed at the ceiling. He started laughing and couldn't control it. He wanted to piss me off, but didn't want to cross any lines. I thought about beating him to death with the camera but settled for kicking him in the shin. I tried for lightly, but it vampires don't do lightly. He howled and jumped up and down on one foot while holding his shin in both hands.

  "Serves you right oaf," I laughed at him.

  "Jesus girl, take it easy on the poor human would ya?"

  "Good night," I called over my shoulder and made my way into my room. I locked the door for good measure and unwrapped the towel from around my midriff. I thought about just slipping naked under the covers, but settled on panties and a T-shirt. Knowing Michaels, he might set fire to his own apartment just to get me out of my room.

  I settled into the warm bed and pulled the comforter over me. I laid there for a while and replayed the events of the day in my head, the press conference being foremost in my thoughts. I didn't trust the Deputy Director as far as I could throw him. Wait a minute, I could probably throw him pretty far, but I still didn't trust him. I felt the sun come up over the horizon, and I closed my eyes.

  Chapter 15

  I woke just before sunset and rolled out of bed. I did my best to ignore the hunger growling in the pit of my stomach. I had no idea how to feed it either. I needed to talk to Reese. Maybe the FBI had an infirmary in the Chicago office. Hell, for all I knew the FBI could just commandeer blood from the local blood bank. Commandeering would be cool and solve a lot of problems. Well, for me anyway.

  I dressed in a new wool skirt and jacket and slipped on a matching pair of grey shoes. I had purchased a multitude of white dress shirts to wear underneath everything. I did forget about my damn gun though; I needed to get used to putting it on before the jacket. I took off my jacket, strapped on my holster, and threw the jacket back on over it. To me the whole rig seemed really noticeable. I didn't bother buttoning it up and just left it open before I headed to the bathroom to brush my fangs and hair.

  I didn't see Michaels, nor had he opened his bedroom door, but I did hear him stumbling around and I heard his shower start. I can tell you one thing from hearing him in the shower, he is a terrible singer. Maybe I should buy him a shower radio, nobody with a horrible voice should sing a cappella. I heard a rabbit scream once when an owl had swooped down and broken the poor beast's back in its talons, and it sounded better than Michaels. I don't think I could listen to Michaels' singing every night. The shower radio sounded better and better.

  The shower stopped and I sat at the kitchen counter waiting for him. It took him only ten minutes to get dressed and emerge from his bedroom I imagined looked like a cave. He smiled when he saw me ready, and I gagged at the excessive amounts of aftershave pouring from his body and making its way to my sensitive nose "Ready to go, bloodsucker?"

  "Whenever you are, carnivorous ape."

  "Ouch," he said as he walked by me and ruffled my hair. Damn it. I pulled the elastic holding it back in my ponytail, flipped my mass of hair forward and snapped it back. I gathered it and retied it. No fuss, no muss is my motto. I despised women with elaborate hairdos. Maybe I should cut mine short. Maybe it would make me look like a pixie with it short. "Or maybe like a boy," my subconscious told me. Maybe I'll leave it long.

  We drove to the office in silence, well between us anyway; the radio blared classic rock the whole way. At least Michaels didn't sing in the car. Yay, I thought about the big dork next to me and smiled. He stood around six foot two and weighed about two-twenty. Not a bad looking guy and his sense of humor made him even more attractive. I had no idea how old he might be, but he wasn't aging well. He didn't have any grey hair or bald spots, but he had sort of a chemically smell coming from his hair, so I knew he did have one problem or the other. He had to be knocking on the mid forty's door. Still, I did like him.

  "Michaels?"

  "Yeah?"

  "What's your first name?"

  "Agent," he said and smiled. "Kidding, it's Michael."

  "Are you fucking with me?"

 
; "Yes."

  "You suck."

  "So do you."

  He really wasn't going to tell me, the prick. I'd ask Reese. We pulled into the parking garage and rode the old elevator up to the office floor. Michaels went straight to his desk and checked his messages while I went to Reese's office to check in with him.

  I saw him sitting at his desk through the glass window so I knocked. He looked up at me and I saw the smile cross his face. "Don't just stand there, come on in," he said and stood crossing the room as I did. We met halfway and he shook my hand vigorously. It took five minutes for him to stop congratulating me. "Did Michaels get you settled in?”

  "Yes, sir. I'm actually staying at his place," I replied. I saw him look a little surprised at my announcement, but he didn't comment on it.

  "Well get used to him, he’s going to be your partner while we have you. I just wish I could get you assigned here permanently, but Washington wants you back."

  "I know. I had the pleasure of meeting the Deputy Director."

  "Yes, I saw your press conference on television last night. Good job by the way."

  I groaned inwardly. I liked Reese a lot, but he apparently had the same notion I should be presented to the world. At least I knew I could trust him to keep my secrets safe. He went on to tell me about the problems Cicero, the Master of the City, had been causing during my absence. There had been numerous attacks on uniformed police officers. Some had gone missing, and some had been found dead, and yes, their bodies had been found with numerous puncture wounds.

  Many vampires had been brought in for questioning, but none knew where Cicero had holed himself up. Surveillance had been set up at nearly every vampire owned business in the city and none had returned with any good news. The Chicago Police Department was on edge and demanding help from the FBI.

  "Where should I start?"

  "Find him. Maybe some of the vampires would talk to you. Michaels will be with you, but keep him away if you think it will help you get what you need to know. Finding Cicero is our number one priority. If you find him, call for backup, and I'll have FBI SWAT at your location in minutes. I would start with the club owners. See if they'll talk. I can't authorize excessive force in questioning techniques, but I'm telling you right now Ash, do what you have to. This vampire is insane, and now he's killing police."

  "I understand. I'll do what I can."

  "It's all I can ask."

  I went on to voice my concerns about my blood needs. I told him when I had last fed and asked if he had the power to get me bagged lycanthrope blood like they had at the academy. I had to come up with a solution and fast. He sat and digested my concerns. "I'll make some calls. Maybe we can work something out with Washington. If they're going to be sending you all over the country, you need to have a permanent solution. I'll ask around with the men too. Maybe one of them could donate for now. I'll let you know."

  "Thanks again, sir"

  "Ash?"

  "Yes, sir?"

  "Should you "accidentally" take a drink from anybody who might put up a struggle, I'm sure it wouldn't need to find its way into your report. It might even be an effective interrogation technique."

  As scary as his entire sentence sounded in my head, I couldn't disagree. "Yes, sir." I stood and offered my hand to him again, which he readily accepted.

  "Sir?"

  "Just call me Reese, Ash. What is it?"

  "What's Michaels' first name?" I tried for innocence in my question.

  "Don't tell him I told you, but it's Marion. Marion Peter Michaels. Apparently his father had been a huge John Wayne fan."

  I didn't see what John Wayne had to do with Marion, or why a parent would willingly name their son Marion, but I didn't care. I hit pay dirt. I gave Reese an evil little smile and headed back to my desk.

  Michaels had just finished going through his voicemail messages and had scribbled down some information on a Post-it note. I smiled at him and looked at his laptop longingly. He noticed and told me to be patient; Reese had one coming up from the IT department later today. Oh, goody! At least I didn't have to buy one right away. "Are you ready to go?"

  "Whenever you are, partner."

  "Pete, they've got another dead cop found on Lakeshore. I'll email you the address. Reese says to get over there ASAP," one of the Agents a few desks over hollered at Michaels.

  "Great, c'mon kid, let's go."

  "Okay, Pete" I laughed at him.

  "Yeah, yeah my first name's Pete. You got me, let's go," he replied defeated.

  "It's sooo funny. You don't strike me as a Pete," I told him. Nothing on this planet could have stopped me from adding, "If I had to guess, I would have guessed Marion."

  He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me. I could tell he got a little mad because his face got all puffy and red. I started laughing at him and he held up his middle finger at me. Yup, he flipped me off, and it just made me laugh harder.

  * * *

  We pulled up to Navy Pier twenty minutes later. I had never been there so the lights and the sheer amount of people walking around shocked me. It didn't even remotely look like a crime scene. It turned out it wasn't. The pier itself held restaurants and shops and entertainment which would have been a horrible place to hide a body. Lake Michigan on the other hand, wasn't a horrible place. By the time we pulled up, the body of one Officer Rodriguez had been fished out of Lake Michigan. His bloated graying corpse lay on the deck of a police boat. One of the officers radioed the vessel and let them know we were there. I saw a small inflatable boat with an outboard motor make its way to the pier. I guessed it was our ride.

  After we made it onboard I made my way to the corpse and looked at it over the shoulder of the crime scene investigator. She seemed very efficient, and looked a lot less green than everyone else around her. The cops and even Michaels all looked a little peaked from the bloated corpse. I looked at him and felt nothing other than a feeling of sadness for his family. I saw the puncture wounds on his neck. Whoever killed him had been either a common vampire, or a master vampire who had fed on him until he died. Our saliva, which contains a healing agent in it, closes the wounds almost magically. However, it doesn't work too well on corpses.

  Without hovering, I tried to get a little closer to the body to smell it. I could smell the water from the lake soaking his clothes, I could smell the aftershave still clinging to his face and neck, and I could smell something a lot less strong than the other smells wafting from the corpse. I could barely smell it, but I could identify it, lemons and cinnamon. Whoever had ended the young police officers life wasn't Cicero. I remembered his scent well.

  "It wasn't Cicero," I told Michaels.

  "How do you know?"

  "Because, I remember what Cicero smelled like and whoever killed this man wasn't him."

  I sniffed again and watched the police officers staring at me as they sidled back a step or two to back away from the strange FBI agent sniffing dead people. “Fuck 'em,” I thought. I had a killer to catch. I only smelled one vamp, so whoever killed him had been acting alone. I needed to see some of the other bodies. I just hoped they hadn't decomposed too much.

  "Michaels, how long ago was the last cop killed?"

  "Two days ago, found his body by the railroad tracks. She should still be at the morgue. I'm assuming you want to see it?"

  "Yes. First I want to take a look around the pier. Any vampire owned businesses, or places vampires like to congregate there?" I looked around at the officers who had stepped forward to listen to the conversation. Curiosity is probably the only human emotion stronger than fear.

  "There's a place called the Carnival, it's more of a touristy vampire bar though. People visiting Chicago get to visit with the undead, no offense, fangs," he told me. I liked the "fangs", but it must have clued in the police milling around the body because they just outright walked away after he said it. He noticed too, because he began chortling so only I could hear him.

  "Fangs, huh, I kind of like it. Thank
s, Marion."

  "Don't you start with me. We're friends, so I'll let you get away with Pete, but even my mother doesn't get to call me Marion."

  "Touchy aren't we. Alright Pete, let's go to a carnival."

  "Not carnival, "carneeevahl". Like the Brazilian festival and Mardi Gras. You are such a bumpkin."

  "Well excuse me for being locked away for the first ninety-five percent of my life. Everyone's a critic."

  We had the Police boat dock at Navy Pier and drop us off there. The coroner promised to call if she found anything unusual besides the massive amounts of blood loss we expected. We drew quite a few stares as we walked up the ramp from where the boat docked into the crowd. I will admit, all the restaurants smelled delicious, and it only compounded my hunger. I'd kill to be able to eat a burger and fries.

  We walked quite a ways before reaching our destination. Most of Navy Pier shone with bright colors, but the Carnival had embarked into the realm of garish. Purples, yellows, and oranges splashed the front not only in paint, but even sequins. Sequins the size of saucers, but still sequins, had been fastened to the front of the building. If you stood far enough away, you can tell the front entrance is shaped and designed like the mouth of a giant clown with fangs, but when you're standing right in front of it the effect is lost and you look like you're standing in front of a New Orleans' nightmare.

  Ever the gentleman, Michaels opened the door and let me enter. Horrible music sounding like a combination of accordion, a guitar, and somebody's foot stomping blared throughout the place. If the music wasn't nauseating enough, the heady smell of crawfish and other less than fresh seafood, permeated the air making my stomach twist in protest. We flashed our badges at the hostess as we walked in and asked to see the owner or manager. I gave her a quick unnoticeable sniff, but I knew in a moment she wasn't a vampire.