by C. J. Pinard
Sheila shook her head. “Nope, and I’ve been here since six.”
“That’s odd. He never calls in sick.”
Sheila waved her gold pen in the air. “Go by his place and check on him, then get back here. This assignment’s in Baton Rouge so it’s gonna be a long day.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Lauren got into the white government-issued sedan and drove to Tristan’s apartment on the outskirts of New Orleans. She had only been there twice before; the other night when she’d dropped him off, and once when she had to drop off his Bureau ID he’d left in her car one Friday.
The apartment complex was moderately new, plain, but well kept. The grounds were well manicured and it was quiet, especially for a Monday morning.
Lauren knocked on the door, but the force of her rapping caused the door to creak open slightly. Her stomach flipped over in her gut and she put her hand on her holstered gun, easing the door open slowly.
“Ellis! You in here?”
She noticed the apartment was in darkness. All the curtains were drawn and the TV was on, but muted.
She got no response so she went to the bedroom where she saw a thick Minnesota Vikings blanket draped over the only window. It was very dark, but she could see Agent Ellis lying in bed, his still form looking to be asleep.
She crept over to him and shook his bare shoulder slightly. “Tristan, you okay?” His skin was cold to the touch and she feared the worst.
Then she saw him move and breathed a sigh of relief and shook him again. “Ellis, get up. You hungover or what? The boss sent me –”
Tristan bolted upright and blinked a few times looking confused. Lauren stepped back, alarmed. “You okay?”
He focused in on her and inhaled deeply through his nose. Then he jumped out of bed and Lauren backed up out of the room and fumbled for her gun. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she got goose bumps everywhere. Something wasn’t right. Especially since Tristan was completely naked and didn’t seem to care.
“Tristan…” she said, walking backward into the living room.
He slowly stalked after her, and once she got into the living room where there was a bit more light, she could see the smile on his face. She could also see that his eyes had turned completely black with no pupils at all. Lauren pulled her gun up and began to walk backward toward the door.
That’s when he lunged.
Lauren screamed.
Two shots rang out, hitting Tristan in both the head and stomach. He went down with a thud and lay still on the carpet.
Lauren ran into the kitchen and grabbed the corded phone attached to the wall and could barely dial her boss’s number, her hands were shaking so badly. She kept the gun trained on Tristan’s still form. A blood pool began to form around his body, turning the light brown carpet black in the dim light.
“Oh, my God,” she sobbed, “Sheila send someone to Tristan’s place. He’s dead. I just shot him. Please help. Oh, God…”
“What! Why did you shoot him?”
“He… he… he’s a damn vampire, Sheila. Oh, God please, I need to leave in case he wakes up.”
“It’s okay, honey. I’m on my way and I’m bringing the cavalry. Hang up and get out of the apartment. Try to lock him in but stay near his door and shoot him again if he tries to leave.”
“Okay,” she choked.
She put the phone back on its cradle with a shaky hand and wiped at her tears with the back of the hand that was holding the gun. As she went to leave the apartment, she looked at the window and had an idea.
Keeping a wide berth around Tristan’s body, she went over to the window and pulled the curtains open, bathing the room in bright morning sunlight. None of it hit Tristan, but in about an hour, the sun would move and fry him.
If he was still… alive.
She wanted to go to him and see if he was still breathing. She knew feeling for a pulse wouldn’t do any good. She also thought about shooting him again in the head for good measure. After all, she had only told her boss she’d shot him; she didn’t say how many times. As she thought about it, she just didn’t have the heart to shoot him again. Her shoulders slumped and the tears began to fall again.
Then she heard police sirens.
Shit! Neighbors must have heard the shots!
She left the apartment quickly. Thankfully, Sheila and a crew of men in a van pulled up a few long minutes later, and Lauren told them which apartment it was. Then two men in a black Camaro pulled up.
“What apartment?” asked a tall blonde guy with a buzz cut. He shot Lauren a look, smiled at her, then looked back at Sheila. His partner stayed in the car. Lauren couldn’t see him very well.
“Apartment twelve,” Lauren responded.
He nodded and stalked off toward the stairs.
Just then NOPD pulled up, blazing lights and sirens, and two young uniformed officers got out of their car.
Sheila cut them off. “Special Agent in Charge Sheila Morris, FBI,” she said, flashing a badge. “You here about the gunshots?”
“Yes, ma’am, neighbors called it in.”
She nodded. “My agent here had an accidental discharge. We were here on a separate matter.” She handed the officers her business card. “Have your sergeant call me if he has any questions.”
The officers took her card, shrugged, and drove off.
“There’s a reason NOPD stands for, ‘Not our problem, dude’,” Sheila muttered, shaking her head.
Lauren was still shaking. “I can’t believe Tristan’s a vampire. What happened? Oh, God, Sheila, what happened?”
Sheila hugged Lauren. “It’ll be okay. We’ll take care of it.”
“What does that mean? Are you going to kill him?”
She said nothing, just continued hugging her on the sidewalk outside the apartment.
Two agents she recognized as colleagues came out wearing obviously fake paramedics uniforms. They were pushing a gurney with a body inside a black body bag past her and into their unmarked van. Lauren watched them load Tristan’s body inside and hoped her fellow agents had taken precautions.
“Who are the two guys in the Camaro?” she asked Sheila, wiping her eyes.
They were both still looking at the van. “Let’s just say they’re my clean-up crew.”
A week later, Lauren was sitting in her personally owned vehicle in the parking lot of Club Muse. It was a Friday night and she was debating on whether or not to go in. Her head was a foggy mess, her emotions numb. Tomorrow would be Tristan’s funeral and she felt he needed some vindication before she had to face his family. She was done crying, feeling like she failed Tristan, and now she was just… pissed off.
She hadn’t decided if she was going to kill the succubus or just scare her, although she didn’t think the bitch would scare very easily. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard and saw it was well after midnight. She knew the club closed at one a.m. and decided to just wait and see if she could catch her outside.
The thought that she might be committing suicide here tonight had crossed her mind. But again, her emotions were now numb, save for the buzz of angry adrenaline that coursed through her body and kept her awake at night, making her very difficult to get along with. Most of the agents in the office would smile sadly at her and offer her superficial condolences, but she also knew none of them had lost a partner, and couldn’t empathize. She hoped they never would have to.
She looked over at the submachine gun that was lying on the seat next to her. Knowing she had another round of shells in her right coat pocket, she wondered if it would be enough. She had taken a huge risk stealing it from the evidence locker in the basement of the FBI building, but she didn’t really consider it stealing. She’d return it when she was done. And if the bullets found at the scene tonight matched the ones from this gun, then so be it. Her prints won’t be on it when she’s done.
Lauren saw the back door of Club Muse open and was glad her instincts were right. That bitch was too good t
o exit out the front door like everyone else. And of course she had an entourage of bloodsuckers around her, which Lauren was also prepared for and smiled. There were no humans around. And if one of the four with her was a human, well, then she’d save them the slow death of being drained dry or being turned into one of them herself.
Oh, my God I have truly lost it! she thought.
She grabbed the machine gun and it felt heavy and clumsy in her hands. She said a silent prayer she wouldn’t shoot it off before she needed to. She hadn’t been trained on these types of weapons at the academy but felt confident enough she could hit all four of them quickly before she was attacked.
Lauren quietly closed the door, and as she begun to make her way across the parking lot, a hand grabbed her arm. She was jerked backward behind her car and large hands made her slide to a sit where the vampires couldn’t see her. There was a hand clamped over her mouth. She blinked with wide eyes up at Dr. Erick Collins.
“Don’t scream,” he said.
She nodded tear-filled eyes.
He removed his hand and she launched herself at him, hugging him around the neck. “Oh, my God, Erick, I thought I’d never see you again. What happened after the…” she was about to say ‘shapeshifter’ but thought better of it, “incident in the morgue?”
“Oh, the voodoo shifter lady? They made me quit the medical examiner job and I work for another, uh, agency now.”
“So you know?” she breathed.
He nodded. “Yes. I’m happy now, Lauren, no worries. Now, what in the hell do you think you’re doing taking on four vampires by yourself?”
She pulled the gun from her jacket and said sheepishly, “Uzi submachine gun.”
He snatched it from her hand and whispered, “Are you crazy?”
He peered over the car and saw Ace walking toward the group and could hear the conversation.
“Excuse me,” Ace said to the vampires, jerking a thumb behind him. “My car won’t start.”
“Get lost, Lurch,” the bald vampire said, spitting a stream of brown liquid on the ground. The group was heading toward a black Chevy van with flames painted on the side.
Erick rolled his eyes.
“What is he doing? Do you know him?” Lauren asked.
Erick nodded. “Yes, that’s my partner.”
“And you called me crazy?” Her eyes were wide again.
“Stay here,” he ordered.
She, of course, did the exact opposite of that, got up and followed him, snatching the gun from the ground where Erick had laid it.
Lauren and Erick watched as Ace pulled a lighter from his pocket and flicked it on. “Hey, assholes!” he said to the group of vampires, who were all seated in the van now. The big bald guy was driver’s seat, and was about to close the door.
“I told you to scram,” he said, getting out of the car. “But since you can’t listen…”
Ace waved his hand over the small flame of the lighter and right before everyone’s eyes, created a large ball of fire in his fist. He launched it right at the tough-looking vampire, who of course, let out a piercing screech as the flames hit him. He fell to the ground, his body quickly consumed by flames. The pile of ashes he left behind was an appropriate end to him.
Lauren couldn’t comprehend what Ace had just done, but decided she’d dissect it later. It was go time.
She ran toward the van, which was now engulfed in flames, and put the gun up. She saw one of the creatures exiting the van, half of her body on fire, and smiled.
Quinn.
She walked straight up to her and fired a burst of lightning-fast shots into her chest and head. Lauren watched in sick satisfaction as Quinn screamed and turned immediately to ash, leaving only a small white dress, which was being quickly consumed by the fire.
She felt Ace yank her backward and grab the gun from her. As she turned around, she saw him fire three shots into another vampire, who had escaped the van and was heading straight for them. He fell to the ground and Ace finished him off with two more shots to the heart. The vampire didn’t turn to ash, but quickly took on the appearance of a very dead, brown corpse covered in clothes.
She shuddered then looked over and saw Erick fighting with a vampire. This one was not on fire and they were throwing punches. The vampire was hissing fiercely as it tried to get its fangs into Erick. Lauren watched in horror as the vampire jumped onto Erick, and just as it was about to bite him, Erick grabbed its head and twisted. It slumped to the ground, lifeless, and Erick stood up, a murderous look on a face that Lauren had only ever seen shyness and friendliness. He bent down, twisting its head once again, but this time, separating it from the neck. Erick grinned evilly, and as he was about to toss it into the open door of the now fully-involved burning van, it turned to ash in a puff, leaving him holding nothing.
“Aww man, I wanted to throw it!” he said.
Ace laughed. Lauren just stood there dumbfounded.
The backdoor to the club opened and Ace grabbed Lauren and shoved her into the black Camaro. They quickly peeled off, leaving the burning van behind with no bodies inside.
“But my car’s there,” she said, panting and shaking.
“We’ll drive you back here tomorrow to get it,” Erick said.
She nodded and tried to take deep breaths. After a few minutes of silence, she said, “You two better start talking.”
Erick smiled. “We’re headed back to our place. We’ll explain everything.”
∞∞∞
Ace and Erick walked away from the gravesite of the same cemetery they had been staking out a couple of weeks prior.
“That was a nice service,” Ace said.
“Yes, it was. At least his family will have closure now,” Erick replied.
“It’s only right. The poor kid wouldn’t be a very dead vampire if it wasn’t for the BSI. The government owes it to his family.”
Erick nodded as they got into the Camaro and drove away from Special Agent Tristan Ellis’s funeral. Ace helped SAC Morris put together a report stating Tristan had walked in on a drug deal and had been shot. Normally vampires would turn to dust when meeting their final death, as their true age catches up to them, but because Tristan had been such a new vampire, he still had a body to bury.
“His partner’s kinda hot,” Ace said.
Erick looked at him. “Lauren’s too sweet for you. Don’t even think about it.”
Ace chuckled. “We’ll see.”
EPILOGUE
∞∞∞
Washington D.C. – 1947
Jim Blackwell was again at his desk in his large office in the FBI building. Two years had passed since he started up the BSI and his son’s undead murderer was still at large.
Jim had learned all he could about the Fae – the vampire and shapeshifters in D.C. – but had given up on finding Paul’s killer. That is, until he met Andrew Davies.
“Thank you, General Frost,” Andrew said, taking one of the plush chairs set in front of Director Blackwell’s desk.
The general removed his green cap and took the other seat.
As Jim studied Andrew, he thought the man looked pretty unremarkable. Average height, probably late twenties or early thirties, and moderate good looks, but there was something in his eyes that seemed very wise.
“So, Jim, as the director of the BSI, I think it’s time you know about the Immortals.”
Jim smiled. “I already know about them. Vampires and shapeshifters.”
Andrew looked to General Frost. “You want to explain?”
Alexander Frost shook his head. “Go ahead, Andrew.”
Andrew nodded and adjusted his black tie and smoothed down his brown suit pants. “Long before you started the BSI, there has been an organization of us who have been policing the Fae in the major cities of this country. Even in other countries for that matter.”
Jim nodded. “I see. And how do you do this? Do you have special weapons to kill them with?”
“Yes and no. I know this is go
ing to sound crazy, so just stay with me.”
Jim laughed. “Crazy I can handle. Go on.”
“We all have gifts. For instance, I’m sixty-five years old.”
Jim’s eyes got big and Andrew heard Jim think, Get this crazy piece of shit out of my office.
“You think I’m a crazy piece of shit, don’t you?” Andrew asked.
Jim gasped. “How did you…?”
Andrew tapped his temple. “Like I was saying, each Immortal is bestowed a gift. Mine is mind-reading. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but we don’t get to choose. It kind of chooses us.”
Jim sat back in his seat and stared at Andrew, willing himself not to think of anything specific.
“I have a friend, Jonathan, who has the gift of extreme strength. That would have been my personal choice but it wasn’t my lot in life. I had another colleague named William who had the gift of flashing. He can move so fast, you won’t even see him. There are others who can manipulate the elements.”
Jim turned his head. “Elements?”
“Yes, water, air, fire… sometimes even weather.”
“You’re shitting me.”
Andrew shook his head and laughed. “No, sir, I am not.”
“Are you all males?” Jim asked, sitting forward, becoming more intrigued.
“No. There are females among us. Not a lot, but there are,” Andrew replied.
Jim nodded. “Go on.”
“So the reason I’m here is to let you know if you ever need help, you can call on us. We prefer to blend in with the humans, so please keep it discreet. I have just moved here from the Los Angeles area, and am setting up a coven here. I’ll be in D.C. for a few years, then I’m going back to L.A. It’s too cold here.” He smiled.
“Wow, this is… overwhelming,” Jim said, sitting back. He looked at General Frost. “How long have you known?”
“Only a few months, sir.”
Jim nodded. “I see.”
“I’d like to help you find the vampire who killed your son,” Andrew said, fixing Jim with a serious stare.
“I’m listening.”
As Andrew laid out the details of his trap and ensnare plan, Jim listened intently, but he tried not to get his hopes up.