Hunter's Kiss

by Niall Teasdale

  Mike sagged slightly in his seat. Dione grinned and held an index finger to her lips before moving over to the cubicle where Leanne was twisting herself in knots trying to see herself in the mirror. She was wearing a push-up, half-cup bra and matching mauve thong with black lace and she did not see Dione as her head poked in around the curtain.

  ‘It fits perfectly,’ Dione said, ‘and I like the colour.’

  Leanne jumped and she started to cover her chest, and then she set her face and straightened her back. ‘Another woman’s opinion is probably better anyway,’ she said, though it was partially to convince herself. ‘What do you think?’

  Dione made a turning motion and Leanne revolved to give a rear view before turning back. ‘I think,’ Dione said, ‘that Mike is a lucky man. You look positively edible. Just try to give him a few hours’ sleep tonight. I know how you redheads can be.’

  ‘You do? I mean, how can we be?’

  Dione smiled. ‘I noticed some boy-shorts which matched that bra. You might like to try them. Thongs are always appreciated, but the shorties frame your behind so well.’

  ‘Uh, thanks. I’ll give them a try.’

  ‘Get both, mix it up a little. I’ll leave you to your shopping. I’m going to need Mike tomorrow night, but you’ve the weekend free. Enjoy it.’

  ‘We’ll try,’ Leanne said as Dione vanished.

  30th November.

  ‘The First World War resulted in a fair amount of disaffection in the soldiers who returned from it,’ Dione said. ‘In Germany in particular.’

  ‘Wasn’t Adolf Hitler in the German Army during World War One?’ Mike asked.

  ‘He was and that likely contributed to his politics. It wasn’t uncommon, but some people took it a little further than others. Hitler was one of those, and Andreas Veld was another. The difference is that Veld was turned into a transylvanian towards the end of the war. The Berlin Concilium was weak in the chaos after the armistice and Veld viewed them as an obstacle to making his lineage the rightful rulers of all vampires, and the world.’

  ‘Sounds like a whack job.’

  ‘Yes, but there have always been people who wanted an end to the council system and the rules it embodies. Veld found one such group, Societas Draconistarum. The original society was founded in fourteen oh eight, by the King of Hungary. It was a knightly order, like the Hospitallers or the Templars.’

  ‘Crusaders.’

  ‘Except they did not really crusade in the traditionally known sense. They were formed to keep the infidels out of Hungary. Vlad the second and third were both members. That’s why Vlad was known as Dracula. The new version was formed by vampires in seventeen ninety and they were more or less just an irritant until Veld came along in nineteen twenty-four and started pushing them in the direction he wanted. During the war, second one, Veld positioned Societas alongside, and inside, the Schutzstaffel. That’s the SS, in case you were wondering.’

  ‘My German isn’t that good. I’m a little better with Polish and Russian.’

  ‘Good to know. So, Societas is getting in bed with the SS and I was doing work for section six of the Directorate of Military Intelligence.’

  ‘Uh… MI6?’

  ‘They call themselves the Secret Intelligence Service these days. I got wind of Veld and his crew and I was ordered to go after them. I wiped out almost the entire leadership of the society. Veld escaped with his lieutenant, Elizabeth Brandt. Now she’s his lover, bodyguard, and enforcer. He sends her out when he wants someone punished, in a visible manner.’

  ‘But you wiped out the society’s leadership. If it was just him and all the others were wasted by a council agent…’

  ‘Ah, but then the Summus Concilium fucked up. September nineteen forty-five, they issued the Edict of Vlad which was basically a death sentence for every vampire belonging to the society and put more or less all the transylvanians under suspicion. I warned them it was a bad idea, but they went ahead anyway.’

  ‘And it forced the transylvanians into Societas?’

  ‘Well reasoned. Yes. They’ve never really grown into anything excessively dangerous, but they are worse than they ever were. More directed, more violent when they do act. They’re on the terrorism watch lists for just about every agency going, but most of those agencies think they’re just ordinary terrorists.’

  ‘Isn’t “ordinary terrorist” an oxymoron?’ Mike asked.

  ‘Isn’t “oxymoron” a long word for a New York cop?’

  ‘That’s mean. Who’s this guy we’re looking for?’

  ‘Marty. I’m sure he had a last name a few centuries ago, but everyone calls him Marty. He’s a corvus, which is important only in that it explains how he’s survived as long as he has.’

  Mike frowned. ‘Winthrop only mentioned the corvus once. What are they? Carpathian subspecies?’

  ‘No, they’re a bit like succubi. They’re a remnant of something older. They’re tough, regenerate faster than other vampires, even regrow lost fingers, ears, stuff like that. They aren’t quick, but they’re like bloody cockroaches.’

  ‘And other vampires don’t like them?’

  ‘What? Oh, no, there are too few corvus around for them to have much of a reputation either way. Most of the ones who do exist are pretty old and that usually gains respect among our kind. No, Marty’s a total sleaze. Finding someone who likes Marty is kind of tough. I got word that he’s sneaking around an old warehouse in College Point. We’ll go see if we can find him.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s going to be real fun.’

  ~~~

  There was a huge To Let sign outside the fence around the warehouse, and there were enough gaps in the chain-link that getting in was easy. The warehouse itself looked intact, no broken windows, yet, but it was in complete darkness. Dione took a slim flashlight from her pocket, but did not turn it on, instead sniffing at the air as though hunting for something.

  ‘This way,’ she said, heading for a small door in the side of the building. ‘He’s definitely been here recently.’ She tried the door and found it unlocked. ‘Okay, he’s not actually dangerous, but he’s annoying, scruffy, and he’ll probably run like the hounds of Hell are after him as soon as he catches my scent. If you can, aim for his limbs.’

  Mike slipped his pistol from its holster. ‘Okay, but I’m not sure I’m that good a shot.’

  ‘If you hit him in the guts, he’ll just heal, but he’ll be annoying for longer.’

  ‘You really don’t like this guy, do you?’

  ‘Just wait until you’ve met him.’ She pushed through and into the open lower floor, moving fast enough that Mike had trouble keeping up. There was an iron staircase leading up on one side of the room and she headed straight for it, apparently following her nose. The storage area was double-height, but there had to be a floor of offices or something above it.

  By the time Mike had got up to the top level, Dione was well ahead and casting around for a scent or sign of her quarry. Mike turned, scanning the beam of his own flashlight about, and caught sight of a pair of legs disappearing through a roof hatch. ‘There! He’s gone up.’

  Dione bolted in the direction of the light, sprinting down the corridor and then leaping up to land halfway up the ladder. Mike ran after her, but she was fast. By the time he made it through the roof hatch, he found what had to be Marty standing at the edge of the roof with Dione a few yards away, one hand on her cocked hip.

  ‘You stay back,’ Marty whined. ‘You stay back or I’ll jump. You know I will.’ Marty looked like a whiner. Short and thin, he nevertheless had a potbelly mounted over skinny legs. His arms appeared the same, poking out of a large, oiled-cotton coat which looked at least two sizes too big for him. His face was long and thin, with a beak-like nose, and he had black hair which, if Mike had to guess, had seen neither shampoo nor a comb in weeks. His eyes, almost black and beady, were too close together as well.

  ‘Go on then,’ Dione told him. ‘You jump, then I’ll shoot you, come down the fir
e escape there, and kick the snot out of you. And you know how much I hate touching you so you know I’ll take that annoyance out on your hide.’

  Mike walked up to stand beside Dione and figured he should play good cop. ‘We just want to talk, Marty. That’s all.’

  ‘Talk!’ Marty scoffed. ‘Talk! Her! Ha! She just wants to hurt me.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Dione agreed. ‘I really do just want to hurt him.’

  ‘See! See! You must be her new poodle. Has she got you doing tricks yet?’

  ‘Okay,’ Mike said, ‘he’s a charmer.’

  ‘Oh, Marty’s more than just charm. He’s a perverted, jumped-up, nasty piece of distended rectum.’

  ‘Why d’you have to be so mean to me, Dione?’ Marty whined. He was edging away from the precipice, his hands coming together to wring in front of his chest.

  ‘You know bloody well why!’ And she moved, taking off like a bolt from a crossbow towards the little man. His eyes widened and he started to turn, but she was on him before he got one foot in front of the other, grabbing the back of his coat and yanking backwards. His legs flailed in the air as he smacked down on his back and Dione grabbed an ankle.

  ‘Ah! What’re you doing?!’ Marty yelped out.

  Dione ignored him, dragging him the rest of the way to the roof’s edge and then swinging him out into empty space. ‘Now that I have your attention,’ she said, ‘what do you know about a Societas cell operating in New York?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  Mike walked over, pushing aside the fact that his partner was dangling a man over a three-storey drop by his ankle. Presumably Dione knew what she was doing. ‘You sure?’ he asked. ‘I don’t think she likes you, and landing on your head might not be good for you.’

  ‘And I may be a vampire, but you’ve put on some weight, Marty,’ Dione added. ‘Can’t keep this up for too long…’

  Marty let out a moan. ‘I heard they sent that enforcer of theirs, Elizabeth, over here. I heard she had some cleaning to do. Some problem with someone they had doing work for them.’

  ‘So you do know something. You lied to me. I should drop you just for that. Who were they having the problem with, Marty?’

  ‘Some accountant. And maybe some others…’

  ‘Be specific. I’m getting tired…’

  ‘Maybe he was paying off some local boys to keep quiet about him skimming some funds and Veld found out.’

  ‘Give me a name.’ She jerked his ankle down and then back up and he let out a shriek.

  ‘Swales! Tor Swales!’

  Dione let out a grunt of displeasure, stepped back, and dropped Marty on his face on the roof. She turned towards Mike, ignoring the whining vampire grovelling at her feet. ‘I know Swales. Carpathian. Had a couple of warnings, but no one’s ever pinned anything major on him.’

  ‘So, we look for Swales?’ Mike asked. He was watching Marty as the gruesome little man got to his feet and, against all instincts for self-preservation, started reaching for Dione’s chest.

  ‘Yes, we do,’ Dione replied, then she turned, slapped Marty’s arms aside, stepped in, and drove her knee into his groin. Marty made a sound which was difficult to describe: somewhere between a moan and a squeal. As he doubled over, Dione pushed him away from her and he fell, landed on his rump, rolled backwards, and vanished over the side of the building. There was an ugly-sounding thump from below.

  ‘Holy shit!’ Mike exclaimed, rushing to the edge.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about him,’ Dione said dismissively. Mike flashed his light around the ground below anyway and, to his amazement, saw Marty clambering to his feet. He was stumbling and did not exactly look well, but he was moving as fast as he could manage away from the building. ‘See? Just like a cockroach. In fifteen minutes, he’ll be back to his normal, disgusting self.’

  ‘Why on Earth did he try that?’

  ‘He’s a pervert! He’s a pervert with an excessive love of boobs and no self-control.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got a thing for breasts, but I’m not that stupid.’ Shaking his head, Mike turned and saw the slight grin on Dione’s lips. ‘What?’

  ‘You have a thing for breasts, do you?’

  ‘Uh… yeah. Mom says I get it from Dad.’

  Dione made a pleased sort of sound and turned smartly on her heel, heading for the roof hatch. ‘Good to know,’ she said.

  1st December.

  The APB went out for Theodore Swales on Sunday night, but by midday on Monday they knew there was no point in hunting for him. Dione and Mike stood in the doorway of a seedy little motel off the I-95 just south of New Rochelle, looking at what remained of the man they were looking for.

  He had been tied to a straight-backed chair with thin wire which had cut deeply into his wrists and ankles. There were cuts and burns over a large area of his skin, and it looked like Elizabeth had left the same motif carved into his chest. His head was sitting upright in the middle of the bed, staring at the door with his tongue lying beside it.

  The maid who had discovered the body was being treated for shock in a local hospital.

  ‘She doesn’t do things by halves, does she?’ Mike commented.

  ‘No,’ Dione agreed, ‘her speciality is violent statements. She leaves messages.’

  ‘And the message here is?’

  ‘Don’t betray Societas Draconistarum. It implies we still have a few of them in the region. I’ll need to brief the Concilium.’

  ‘Do you think she’s still in New York?’

  Dione frowned and turned to the ME examining the body. ‘Do we have a time of death?’

  ‘Between four and five this morning,’ the man replied. ‘There are some irregularities in the temperatures or I’d be more exact.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll need the body transferred to SCU for the autopsy.’

  The ME shrugged. ‘Fine by me.’

  Dione nodded and walked out of the room, Mike on her heels. ‘She’s still here. Not enough time before dawn to get out. To me, sunlight is tiring, but to a transylvanian, it’s deadly. They avoid it as much as possible.’

  ‘So we might still catch her?’

  ‘Miracles are not my strong suit, but yeah, it’s not actually impossible.’

  ~~~

  It was after nine in the evening when Mike’s phone rang. He frowned at it briefly: the number was blocked. He was still fairly sure who the caller would be and he doubted it was going to be good news. He flicked his thumb over the screen to answer.

  ‘Williams,’ he said into the microphone.

  ‘It’s me.’ Dione’s voice, of course. ‘Mary called. We’ve called off the APB on Elizabeth.’

  ‘She’s skipped town?’

  ‘Via a marina in Long Island. Assaulted a security guard and took off with someone’s yacht. It’s got plenty of range, so she could have gone anywhere.’

  ‘And the guard?’

  ‘She ran him through with a sabre. He was conscious when the medics got to him and he managed to give enough of a description that I’m sure it was Elizabeth. But they’re not hopeful.’

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘Couldn’t have put it better myself. There’s no point in us going down there; normal detectives can handle it. I have to go see the Concilium first thing so I’ll be in late. This isn’t, directly, NYPD business. Yet. There’s no need for you to put up with them.’

  ‘I take it they’re not all like Leo?’

  ‘Oh, I wish.’

  2nd December.

  ‘It seems likely that Swales was not the only Societas member in the area,’ Dione said. ‘Practically, I’ve always assumed there were a few around, but unless they do something to bring themselves to my attention, hunting them down is not any form of priority. The fact that they appear to be up to something makes it a higher priority, but they’re hidden and digging them out will take resources away from direct threats.’

  ‘There are direct threats to consider?’ The speaker was Paul Roget, lawyer and nit-picker, a thin-faced man
who always wore expensive, tailored suits with a carefully folded pocket handkerchief.

  The venue was the Concilium’s official meeting room, part of a small suite in an apartment block on Park Avenue. Dione had long thought the place needed an update, but no one was going to agree to any changes so she was stuck with the stuffy atmosphere of a late Victorian drawing room, without the charm. The dark red, flock wallpaper was occasionally obscured by paintings of past councillors, most of them looking sober and disapproving. There was a fireplace in one wall, with a fire burning in it even though those present would have been quite comfortable in cooler temperatures. The nine councillors sat in large, leather, wing-back chairs, facing the fire and the smaller chair which their current subject of interest sat in. The position was designed to be intimidating.

  ‘Not currently, and if you wish, I can task Mary with running full background checks on every vampire in the region, while she has the spare time.’ Dione turned her head to focus her bland expression on Roget. ‘That’s every vampire. No exceptions. It’ll be intrusive and take months, probably more than a year, with only one person doing the work, but we might find them. And when word gets out that we’re doing it, I’ll leave it up to the Concilium to field the shitstorm flying our way.’

  ‘It’s a pointless waste of resources,’ Leo, sitting in the middle of the nine, said, ‘and we all know it.’

  ‘The Edict of Vlad–’ Roget began.

  ‘Was a huge mistake and largely responsible for what power Veld has managed to amass since the war. It also requires us to end known Societas members, not to conduct witch hunts.’

  ‘Perhaps there’s an alternative solution,’ Randall Cartwright said, his tone conciliatory, but Dione knew he was about to get some form of dig in. ‘If the Hunter is unable to track these people down, perhaps a team of special agents should be formed to do so. People with suitable experience–’

  ‘And we’re back to witch hunting,’ Leo growled.

  ‘I think that’s an excellent idea,’ Dione said. Leo’s eyebrows went up and Cartwright frowned. The latter had not been expecting agreement from the Hunter. ‘Currently, Societas are doing nothing to bring themselves to the attention of the humans. Their only crime under vampire law is belonging to an illegal organisation. I cannot condone the use of SCU resources to find them, and I would find it difficult to allocate my own time to it. So a separate team, resourced independently, would seem an ideal solution until such time as the cell does something to warrant my attention. At that point, your team better not get in my way or I’ll consider them to be aiding and abetting enemies of vampire society, and I’ll end them.’