by Sean Hayden
I looked over at Reese and he sat there smiling with a contented look on his face. I stuck my tongue out at him and heard his bark of laughter as Thompson and I left the offices and made our way to the Suburban. I still had the keys in my pocket and I reached in and hit the button on the fob to unlock the vehicle. Two identical Suburbans flashed their yellow hazard lights and honked twice to signal their locations.
"Lock it, we'll take mine," he said from next to me.
"Great," I lied.
We entered the vehicle and neither he nor I buckled our seat belts, tsk, tsk. He backed out of the spot and put the SUV into drive. "Where did you last see your vampire," he asked before stepping on the accelerator. I thought about it for a moment. Surely Matt wouldn't be stupid enough to go back to work, right?
"The Carnival at Navy Pier," I told him.
"I know the place," he replied and stepped on the gas, pulling out of the parking garage and into the Chicago traffic.
"What happened tonight? I've never seen so many people working this late," I asked, remembering the multitude of agents back at the office at such a late hour.
"Somebody called the mayor's office and told them they had planted a bomb. Turned out to be nothing, but we leant a hand to the Chicago PD to sweep the building. Oh, and curiosity," he said and smiled.
"Curiosity?"
"Everyone wanted to meet the Verminator."
"Fucking reporters," I said and a deep rumble started in Thompson's chest as he laughed at my predicament. I didn't think it possible, but I liked him even less.
We made our way down the pier and made our way into the Carnival. A vampire stood behind the bar, but it wasn't Matt. Big shock, I won. We made our way past the hostess from last night and she didn't even bat an eyelash as we walked toward the bar. She must have remembered me.
"Is he your vampire?" Thompson had spoken out of the side of his mouth, but I managed to make out what he was saying.
"No, it isn't," I said struggled to leave off the "Duh!"
"Excuse me, sir," Thompson said to the vampire behind the bar. "We're looking for Matt the bartender, do you know where I might find him. I'd like to ask him a few questions."
"No, I don't. He didn't show up for work today. Piece of merde," the vampire replied in a French or Cajun accent so thick I could barely make out the words. Lou gave the impression of a fake accent, the vampire behind the bar left no such impression. I stared at the vampire while Thompson asked his name. Jean Phillipe Margeaux the owner of the Carnival, and apparently part time bartender stood before us. The features of his face made him handsome, I admitted begrudgingly. I say begrudgingly because he looked like a car salesman. I don't mean literally. He wasn't wearing a suit or trying to hand me a free balloon; I meant he looked greasy. He tied his long brown hair up in a pony tail, and his goatee looked like it hadn't been trimmed in a while, but the biggest reason he looked greasy lay behind his eyes. When you looked at his eyes you could see something unclean.
I tested the air and caught his scent. He must have spilled some bourbon on himself sometime this evening because he couldn't drink it, but I could smell it. I smelled deeper and found it underneath the bourbon. I closed my eyes and rolled the smell around on my tongue. I tried not to gag because I couldn't even stand the smell of anise, tasting it threatened to empty my stomach. There wasn't any lemon or vanilla so he wasn't a cop killer, but just because he didn't kill the cop in the river didn't make him a nice guy. For all I knew, he could have killed Matt. For all I knew he could have made Matt and then killed him.
I followed Thompsons lines of questioning through, "When did you last see Matt," to "Do you have any idea how we could get a hold of him," and I listened to Jean Phillipe's bullshit answers. He wasn't hiding anything; he just lied to our face. I wanted to pull him over the bar and slap the shit out of him. I think I even stepped forward when Thompson put out a hand to hold me back. The little maneuver wasn't wasted on the vampire behind the bar either. He actually sneered at me. I had heard the expression before and yet had to experience the pure stupidity of the gesture. I could see the contempt plain as night right there in his crooked little mouth and squinty eyes.
I wanted to kill him and drink his fricking blood, and I could see myself doing it. I did give him the finger and watch his face turn from contempt to amusement. He had gotten to me, and he knew it, and it made him happy.
"What is the matter, little Verminator, don't you believe me?"
"Just a little nauseous from the rat infestation this place suffers from, Mr. Margeaux. Please excuse my obvious distaste," I shot back. Wow, I didn't even know I could be so pleasant to such an asshole.
"Thank you for your time Mr. Margeaux" Thompson said and pushed me towards the door. Herding me didn't help my mood. I swallowed the urge to push him back and led the way myself. If things escalated between Thompson and me, I wanted to do it where I could land some serious punches.
As soon as we exited, I spun on Thompson. "That son of a mother fucking vampire is a lying piece of shit!"
“Tell me something I don't know, kid. C'mon, let's go find the missing vampire."
"Where are we going to look? This is a big city and we have no idea where to even begin looking."
"We'll start with the bars and clubs. Go grab a newspaper and meet me at the car" he ordered me. I don't like orders.
"What do we need a newspaper for? Are you going to brush up on your reading skills?" I obviously pissed him off because he stopped walking and spun around to face me.
"Listen you little shit with fangs. Obviously you don't like me, even though I have done nothing to piss you off. You have been rude and obnoxious and I'm getting a little sick of it. You're lucky I don't drive you back to the office and dump you on your ass in Reese's office. Think about why I would ask you to get a newspaper for a moment. What's on the front cover, hmm? The answer is a picture of the vampire we're looking for. So how are we going to play this? Are you going to start acting like an agent of the FBI, or are we going to go back to the office so you can pout until your partner is back to full health?"
I wanted to punch him square in his massive jaw, but I settled for listening to what he said. I felt a little contrite and I gave him a small, "Sorry.” I hated to admit it, but he wasn't wrong. If I had been expecting a smile from him, I was going to be sorely disappointed. He nodded at me and started back toward the car. I found some newspaper vending machines across the street from Navy Pier in the park and dropped in a couple of quarters. I opened the door and found my smiling face on the front page, pulled out the evening edition and made my way back to the parking garage where all my trouble started.
I found Thompson in the vehicle with the engine running and on the cell phone. It seemed kind of a one way conversation with a bunch of, "Yes, sirs," on Thompson's part. He must have been talking to Reese. He hung up and gave me a quick, "Let's go.”
"Where are we headed?"
"Local PD found your vampire."
"Where"?
"In a dumpster, most of him anyway," he said without batting an eyelash.
* * *
We waited for the crime scene investigator to come out of the dumpster before we could look at the body. The dumpster sat behind a takeout Chinese restaurant. Why do criminals always pick the dumpsters behind Chinese restaurants? They'll never find it if it's covered in Lo Mein! When I said body, I meant a body with no head. Whoever murdered Matt sent that in a box to the closest precinct. Nice way to deliver a message, yuck.
Finally the investigator gave the go ahead for two technicians to pull the body out. Even headless, Matt's body was still longer than average and I saw the technicians straining under the load. They laid the body out on the wet ground of the alley while they prepared to bag it to send to the city morgue. I hated to do it, but I had to smell the body. I stepped closer and took a good look. The skin of the neck wasn't cut by anything. If anything, it looked like it had been twisted and ripped. Somebody had literally ripped the poo
r bastard's head off. What a way to go. I quit stalling and knelt down by Matt.
The Chinese food overwhelmed any other scents at first. My aunt had ordered Chinese quite regularly and I had always found the smell quite enticing. I probably wouldn't ever think so again. Combine the smell of chicken parts, soy sauce, and dead vampire and you get something akin to "Ick". I closed my eyes and concentrated on the smells. One by one I eliminated them. Once I picked the sauces out the rest fell into place. I killed the sour smell of the raw chicken and then the rice and then could smell it, lemon and vanilla. Mr. Cop Killer.
"Thompson," I called over my shoulder.
"What?" He interrupted his conversation with the investigator.
"Come here please," I asked him nicely. I turned my head as he squatted down by the body and added his sage to the lemon and vanilla I tried to concentrate on. "Whoever killed Matt killed the cop they fished out of the lake a few nights ago."
"How the hell could you possibly know?"
"I can smell him."
I expected him to argue, but he disappointed me again and merely nodded. He stared thoughtfully at my face for a few moments and finally asked if I needed anything more here. I told him no and we headed to the SUV again. I had no idea where he planned on heading this time and to keep from starting yet another argument, I kept my mouth shut.
We didn't drive long, just headed back to the thick of the downtown area. We passed Navy Pier and made our way down Michigan Ave. Some of the greatest storefronts I had ever heard of or seen twinkled in the night, like little beacons of hope in an otherwise shitty economy. Few people in this world had the money to spare on movie paraphernalia or the latest and greatest sixty-something inch plasma televisions, yet here they sparkled for everyone to see.
We finally passed out of the shopping district and into the bar and club district, nowhere near Fangloria's. Fangloria's had been a slum compared to some of the places I saw here. Thompson pulled the Suburban into a high rise parking garage and pulled into the first available spot. He managed a little better than the eighth level like Michaels and I. The parking gods must have been with him.
We emerged from the garage and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Thompson seemed to know where he was going so I followed his massive bulk. I wondered if anyone walking toward him could even see me. I doubted it. They probably couldn't see buildings behind him. He didn't turn down any side streets, but we walked a good distance before I saw our destination. The outside of the bottom floor of the high rise had been completely covered with large golden hued glass panels unlike the blue of the remaining levels of the building. If you looked closely you could see the panels vibrating from the music being played inside.
A revolving brass door complete with matching golden-hued glass marked the entrance to the club. The line outside the door seemed even more ridiculous than the one I had seen at Fangloria's. The bouncer at the door surprised me. Every club I had been to so far had used hulking vampires to guard the entrance. Here stood a lithe figure in stretch black spandex. I needed to call the newspaper. Female bouncers only existed in fairy tales, right? Maybe not, the spandex she wore left little in the way of modesty or imagination. All I'm going to say is she obviously shaved. We walked up to the well endowed blond and Thompson flashed his badge. Skanky smiled and flashed a bit of fang.
"What can I do for you, officer?" She had what I assumed to be a Russian accent.
"Special Agent Thompson with the FBI, not "officer". This is Agent Ashlyn. We're here to ask a few people some questions."
"Good luck, Special Agent Thompson. Good luck," she said and turned her attention to me.
Things got ugly real quick. She must have recognized me from my picture in the paper. As I passed her, she let her human seeming go and bared fang as well as letting out a toe curling hiss. When the bouncer at Fangloria's hissed, my body knew instinctively he had been testing me. This wasn't a test. The lithe vampire in front of me wanted to tear me apart. I could smell her from where she stood and it wasn't a pleasant odor. I could smell the cloves and mint that she would normally smell of, but her fury changed her scent. I knew I could smell fear, and it smelled sweet and delectable, but I didn't know I could smell anger. It reeked of rotting meat and I don't think I have ever smelled anything more unpleasant. Not even headless corpses in Chinese dumpsters could compare.
I didn't hiss back at her. My body knew if I did it would be a challenge and she would attack. As far as I knew she hadn't done anything, so I let it go. I just smiled at her and ignored her challenge. I figured a fight would seriously piss of Thompson more than I already had. I looked at her eyes, and I felt something I hadn't ever felt before. No it wasn't compassion. I could see her power in her blue eyes and I could feel it. It gave me the impression of a calm pond not quite frozen on a winter's night. I looked inside myself and I felt mine. I gasped when I felt the tumultuous sea that was me. The whole experience felt mystical, but it would probably come in handy in judging an opponent. I'd have to practice when I had the chance.
"Can it, sister," I told her. "I'm not here to start trouble, especially with you." I let my power flow from inside me and let it wash over her.
I could see the surprise on her face. Master vampires and common vampires are undistinguishable except through DNA testing, or until a master vampire uses his mind to control your thoughts. Hell, they could pass for human until they showed their fangs or you felt their cold dead skin. The only vampires distinguishable on sight were the unfortunate revenants and Nosferatu. Everyone knows the bald head and sharp nails of a Nosferatu, and the drooling mindless hunger commonplace on a Revenant means run. It is why they're illegal. Nosferatu, if they can control themselves, are legal. It's not as easy as it sounds, and usually you can only find them in the employ of other vampires who can help them contain their hunger.
"Fuck you bitch! It's because of you, my Matt had to run," she said and fought not to close the distance between us and attack me. Interesting, she said he ran, so she doesn't know he's dead. At least I could spare her the suffering of not knowing, I thought with a smile. I opened my mouth to let her know just that when Thompson interrupted me.
"Let's go, Agent Ashlyn," he said authoritatively. This man sucked all the fun out of my life.
I sighed and followed Thompson. I half expected bouncer girl to take a swipe at me as I walked past, but she didn't. Damn it. He ushered me into the revolving door first (I guess he didn't trust me either) and I finally caught the name of the club on the door. The entire glass plane before me lay covered with golden window film, but the name of the club had been carefully cut out of it, "MegaBites". You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I left the revolving door and stepped out onto the floor of the gigantic club. The dance floor occupied the entire breadth and width of the room. As soon as I cleared the door my ears found themselves assaulted by the constant thrumming and pounding of techno or rave or trance (whatever they called it) music and I didn't like it. It almost hurt. I ignored the rattling in my teeth and glanced around. From the outside of the building the club looked like it occupied only the bottom floor of the building. Not so. The first floor held the dance floor, but stairs lined both sides of the room leading up to the second floor. I looked up and saw a railed balcony overlooking the festivities below. I felt impressed by the design, but I wished they would do something about the music.
Thompson came in behind me and tapped me on the shoulder to follow him. I thought maybe he wanted to dance or something, but he headed to the stairwell on our right. We emerged on the second floor and the music levels seemed much more tolerable. It could still be heard, but it wasn't at the bone jarring levels like downstairs. I looked around and gasped at the size of the bar nestled against the far wall. It had to be the longest bar in the state and the patrons waiting for drinks still stood three people deep. The rest of the floor area comprised of lounge chairs and couches nestled in groups or perched to overlook the multitud
es of people dancing below. I sniffed the air and immediately smelled sweaty humans, subtlety spiced lycanthropes, sweet smelling vampires, and a couple of other aromas I couldn't identify.
Great, where did we start? I knew Matt and the dead police officer had been killed by a vampire, so I decided to start there. I glanced over at Thompson and found him looking around as well, probably wondering the same thing. I looked over his bulk again and found myself wondering exactly what kind of lycanthropy he suffered from. He smelled a tad different from wolf and I didn't know what it could be. I would have to ask him. I just hoped it wasn't impolite to ask someone, "Excuse me, sir, what animal do you change into?" Yeah right, maybe I'd just let him bring it up.
I didn't know what he planned to accomplish here, but I know what I could do. I needed to mingle and try to catch a whiff of every vampire in the place if I had to. He headed to the bar and I saw him reach into his jacket pocket and pull out the front page of the newspaper. Thompson had neatly folded it so the picture of Matt the vampire and I were the only things visible except for a partial segment of the headline and newspaper name. He made his way to the bar, and like magic, the people parted a way for him to get to it. I watched as everybody who stood in his way, kind of just stepped over to the side and started rubbing any exposed flesh. I wondered what caused it. I didn't feel anything when I stood next to him. I moved closer and sure enough I could feel a tiny hum coming from him. I found it almost pleasant. I don't know why everyone else moved away from him, if I had a choice I would have moved closer.
Straight out of a scene from a television show, Thompson waved one of the vampire bartenders over and held out the front page. "Ever seen this man before?" The bartender started shaking his head negatively before Thompson even finished. The vamp looked over the picture briefly and then looked up at me. He didn't start hissing, but I saw his brows furrow in recognition and anger. I caught his eyes and felt mine capture his. He held another small pool of power not worth worrying over. I had an "oh, shit" moment though. As I gazed into his eyes, I fell into his little pool of power.