by Raven Hart
Before Werm could move, Connie snapped, “Don’t even think about moving that body. This is a crime scene.”
“Sullivan was the servant of a vampire, and his murder is vampire business. Let us take care of it,” I said.
“No way,” she said flatly.
“Are you prepared to tell your buds at the cop shop you witnessed a vampire tear Sullivan’s throat out?” I asked.
There was nothing she could say to that. She rubbed her temples, pointing the gun into the air, and squeezed her eyes shut. Connie was strong, but I was afraid she was reaching the limits of what she could take in one night. After all, a man she evidently cared about had just died a grisly death in her arms. And before his blood was dry on her hands she found out that one of her other love interests was a card-carrying member of the scare club for men—an evil dead community she never, in her wildest nightmares, knew existed. It was not a good night for her.
I nodded to Werm, who went to Sullivan’s body, picked it up carefully, then disappeared into the garage. Connie had opened her eyes by that time, but she didn’t try to stop him.
Connie tucked the gun into the back of her jeans. She looked down at her hands, covered with Sullivan’s blood, and that’s when the reality of the whole situation hit her.
“Don’t faint!” I said. I took two steps toward her so I could catch her if she started to crumple.
She glared at me. “I. Don’t. Faint.”
“Of course not. Sorry.” Man, this was awkward. Now that the cat was out of the bag, so to speak, there was so much I wanted to tell her. To make her understand. But where to start? First it might be good to get Sullivan’s blood off her hands. Licking seemed out of the question. I walked over to the shop sink and wet down a handful of paper towels.
She sat in silence as I awkwardly wiped at the blood. Finally she took the towels from me and finished the job herself.
“Do you want some coffee?” I asked.
“Coffee? You want to drink coffee at a time like this?” She was wild-eyed again, but her hands were steady. She threw the used wad of towels and hit the garbage can like Michael Jordan.
Sometimes I forget not everybody is a death-dealer like me. You do eventually get used to violence and gore. Connie was a police officer and she’d seen her share of ugliness and maybe even some genuine human evil. But there was no way she could be prepared for what I had to tell her now.
“Decaf?”
Connie sat at the old Formica table in the kitchen area and watched my every move while I made the coffee. I could tell that she was forming questions in her mind, and some answers of her own, along the lines of a vampire, now that explains a lot.
When I’d gotten the brew started, I sat down opposite her. “You must have a lot of questions.”
“You could say that.”
“Fire away. Not literally, though,” I added, remembering the gun.
“You say you’re a vampire,” she said simply.
“Yes.” So far, so good.
“And William and that weird little guy who appeared out of thin air right in front of me, and the monster who killed Sullivan, they’re vampires, too.”
“Right.”
She nodded slowly. “I’ll ask you again. How many of you are there?”
“Too many for you to arrest.”
“Answer the question.”
I sighed. “In this country? In the world? I honestly don’t know the answer to that.”
“Let’s start with Savannah.”
“Normally, it’s just me and William and Werm unless we have a guest or a transient passing through town.” I left Eleanor out of the mix: no use completely wrecking her already shaky reputation. And if I kept naming names it would look like we were making vampires right and left.
“Normally?”
“We have…visitors.”
“Like the one who killed Sullivan.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I mean, most of them are okay. But there’s this other group that we never heard of before who kind of dropped in. We don’t know much about them. Will’s one of those.”
She paused, thinking of more questions, I guess, or maybe letting it all sink in.
“You said Sullivan’s murder is vampire business and that you’d take care of it.” She flattened her palms on the Formica tabletop. “What are you going to do?”
I hadn’t really decided. But now that she asked, I realized I knew what I had to do.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Could I really kill him or was I just blowing smoke up Connie’s skirt? If nothing else, it would be a better experiment than the fight had been in determining whether the voodoo blood was stronger than five hundred or so years of drinking human juice. Gerard would be proud. I might as well play the guinea pig.
“You’re going to kill him,” Connie repeated. “Do you kill a lot of people?”
“Not a lot. Humans almost never, unless there are some special circumstances.”
“And what would constitute special circumstances?”
I was glad her hands were still on the table. I had a feeling she really wanted to go for the gun, and even though getting shot wouldn’t kill me, I also knew that Will had been putting on a show earlier. Getting shot in the chest hurt like hell, five hundred years of vamping around notwithstanding. Don’t ask me how I know.
“Remember the serial rapist we had last year?”
Connie widened her eyes. “That never made the papers. How did you know about it?”
“We—William and me—we make it our business to know what’s going on in this town. We have our ways. Anyway, I guess you remember how he just disappeared one day.”
“Yeah. I remember. I helped with the investigation.” Connie’s eyes brightened. “What happened to him?”
“Let’s just say he tasted a lot like chicken.”
“How do you know you got the right guy?”
“Again, we have our ways. It’s a mind thing. It’s very hard for a human to lie to a vampire.” Of course vampires ourselves are excellent liars. It comes with the territory.
“So you really killed that scumbag?”
“I really did.”
Then Connie did a remarkable thing. For the first time that night, she smiled.
I was a little surprised to see Connie approve of our vigilante justice. Make that a lot surprised. She’d always seemed to me like a just-the-facts-ma’am, by-the-book cop. That contradiction, or maybe misjudgment of her on my part, made me want to ask her a few questions about her philosophy of crime fighting, but now was not the time.
“Okay, then.” Connie nodded slowly. “I’ll take your word you’ll deal with Sullivan’s killer.”
The automatic drip coffeemaker beeped, signaling the brew was done. I got up to pour us each a cup, feeling like I could relax a little. Connie had stopped looking like she wanted to arrest me—or worse. Now she just looked curious. Plus she’d said she would take my word, which meant she still trusted me, to some degree at least, and that alone made me happy.
“So, this vampire thing,” she began. “That’s what you were talking about when you said you were into something that wouldn’t sit well with me? Something you couldn’t just give up?”
This vampire thing. I almost laughed. She made it sound like a hobby. I took down two ceramic mugs from the cabinet overhead. “Yeah. I can’t exactly give up being what I am. If I could go back to being human again, I would, believe me. But it’s not an option.”
“I guess it would explain why I’ve never seen you out in the daytime,” she said. “That is, if that’s even true about vampires.”
“Yeah, it’s true.” I poured the coffee and gave her a cup. “A lot of the stuff you’ve seen in books and movies about vampires—the mirror thing, the having-to-be-invited-in thing—is true. I mean, there’s a reason those things keep showing up in vampire stories: because most of them—not all, mind you—but most of them have at least a grain of truth. Sometimes more than a grain.
”
“So, you can drink coffee.” Connie cradled the cup to warm her hands, then took a sip. “Do you drink blood, too?”
“Yeah. That’s one of those grain-of-truth things.” Boulder of truth, more like. Of all the fun facts about vampires, it was the blood drinking that really set us apart, even more than our general undeadness and superpowers. “I can drink things other than blood. Coffee, liquor, beer—by the grace of God—but all I can eat is…” I trailed off. Confiding in Connie was liberating, but I didn’t want to take things too far.
“What?” she asked.
“Raw meat.” I looked down at the table, not able to meet her eyes.
Sometimes I watch DVDs with Renee when it’s not a school night. She has several different versions of Beauty and the Beast—her favorite fairy tale—that she loves to watch over and over. You know kids. Anyway, in one of them, Beauty breaks the rules and comes out at night, when the beast is getting busy eating a deer—raw. Seeing him chin-deep in the animal’s innards disgusts her so much she runs back into the castle as hard as she can go. I knew, without looking up, that was how Connie was looking at me now.
“Anyway, I almost never drink unwilling human blood,” I said hastily. It was true. After all, the Wal-Mart incident wasn’t my idea. I decided not to mention the supply of donated blood we got from the blood bank. “We can live on animal blood and for the most part we do. We don’t kill innocent human beings. Honest. At least the good vamps don’t. I don’t. But there are these other guys…” I was running off at the mouth now. Not a good thing. I dared to glance back up at Connie. She was still with me, hanging on my every word.
“You mean like the creepy uncle of yours who came around back in the fall? What was his name?”
“Reedrek, only he wasn’t my uncle. He’s kind of like my grandfather but not my real one, not my human one, I mean. He was up to no good. In fact, he killed a couple of mortals while he was here and tortured William. So me and William took care of him.”
“You killed him?”
“No, but we kind of locked him up. Someplace where he can’t do anybody any harm again.”
“So, you’re saying there are good vampires and bad vampires,” Connie postulated. “Just like people?”
“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.”
“And you and William and this Werm are the good guys?”
“Of course,” I said, more than a little put out, to tell you the truth. “How could you even ask that?”
“Sorry. I’m having a hard time digesting all this, Jack. I mean, I just saw you go all Dracula on that Will guy. You’ve got to give me some time to let everything sink in.”
“I know. I guess I’m a little touchy. I never asked to be turned into a monster, but I accepted William’s offer. If I’d known what I’d become, I would rather have died. But it’s a hundred and fifty years too late to second-guess myself now. If I’m still not used to being a vampire, I can’t expect you to get used to the idea of me being one in just a few minutes.” I reached over and covered her hand with mine.
Connie stiffened and looked at my hand on top of hers. “I always wondered,” she choked out, “why your skin was so cool. I guess now I know.”
I took my hand away and tried not to feel hurt. She was right: She needed time to deal. And if, after she had time to get used to the idea of what I was, she never wanted anything more to do with me, there’d be plenty of time for me to learn to deal. The rest of my undead life. I made up my mind I wasn’t going to think about that now.
Connie rubbed her arms like she was feeling chilled all over. “Why did he—the other vampire—kill Sullivan?”
“I don’t know for sure but I aim to find out. It was senseless. There was no reason for Will to kill Sullivan that I can see. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“You had your back to them when Will first came along, but I was facing them. Right before he got attacked, I saw Sullivan talking to Will outside. Sullivan looked all casual at first, and then his expression changed, like he’d just remembered who he was talking to.”
“Maybe he knew him from somewhere before tonight and only just then realized it.”
“Yeah. But where?”
“You said Sullivan was a vampire’s servant. You mean Iban’s?” she asked, putting two and two together. That’s my girl.
“Yeah. Do you have an idea?”
“Maybe. Did Iban ever meet Will?”
“No. Not that I know of. What are you thinking?”
“Maybe they’d met somewhere before and Will had done something he knew the other vampires—the good vampires—wouldn’t approve of, like killing innocent humans. Iban is one of the good guys, right?”
“Definitely. The best I know.” I would have said that about William a few days ago. I was still reeling from learning he’d killed innocent homeless people in the tunnels. “You might be on to something. I should go and ask Iban about it. Before it’s too late.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Is something wrong with Iban? Is that what the big emergency was that caused Sullivan to go running out of my apartment the other night?”
Crap. I’d said too much. Again. “Yeah,” I admitted. “Yeah. Iban’s got some kind of vampire plague. It’s bad. Really bad.”
“Are the rest of you exposed?” Connie looked alarmed. “Jack—are you in danger?”
I nodded. “Connie, there’s no easy way to tell you this, and you have to promise not to tell anybody else so as not to cause a panic. Not only are the rest of us vampires at risk, but you may be, too.”
Connie’s eyes grew wide again. “Oh, my God,” she gasped.
Yep, you could say this was not a good night for her.
William
I opened my eyes. The heavy weight of my—of Diana’s ring seemed to burn the flesh of my finger. I pulled it off.
Jack, I called without rising from the floor of my office. I had to know what had happened, what Will had done. If he’d killed Jack I should know, feel diminished. But after the emotional avalanche of discovering Diana’s existence and her potent connection to her lord, Hugo, I felt numb to all but despair. Could things possibly be as bad as they looked?
Jack.
What? came his surprised and decidedly irritated response. Obviously he was alive and well, but not altogether happy. Welcome to my world. May as well join the hell-bound procession.
What has Will done? Whose blood is on his hands?
Jack didn’t answer right away. I probed harder but he was blocking me. I pushed up to a sitting position and focused my anger in his direction.
It was Sullivan, Jack shot back.
I told you to keep an eye on Will. How could you let this happen?
Hey, he’s your—He stopped. I could feel him drawing in a breath. I did the best I could. Connie shot him in the chest, but it was too late.
Connie? What the hell are you doing getting her involved in our business?
It’s not like I had a choice. You know what, the next time you need a babysitter, why don’t you—
Stop! If you feel no loyalty to me then recognize that you are still sworn to me for another forty years. You will do as I say until I’m finished with you.
It looked as though Jack and I were to remain adversaries after all. I felt besieged. There had been too much wanting and needing and not enough doing. It was two hours until dawn. Time to retrieve Iban from Tilly’s and to take him to Isle of Hope. Time to make a plan on how to organize this sudden chaos, how to tell Iban that his companion was dead, killed by the son of my body. I opened the door on my way out and found Eleanor in the hallway.
She drew herself up straighter to face me. “We need to talk.”
The last thing I wanted to do…but necessary. No sense keeping Eleanor on edge about our precarious position. The strong wind blowing over our house of cards would collapse us all soon enough. We would, every one of us, be required to put up a fight. I nodded. She turned and walked away, expectin
g me to follow. “Tell me,” she said, looking fearful and suddenly very humanlike. We’d reached what until a few days ago had been our master suite. To me, as a being who’d lived for hundreds of years, our honeymoon had passed more briefly than a breath. It was unfortunate that Eleanor had chosen to become a blood drinker only to be faced immediately by this terrible uncertainty: the good chance her newly forged immortality would be revoked and she would die along with her blood ties to me.
It was like honeymooning on the Titanic.
I crossed the room and poured us both a glass of donated blood. When I held the glass out to her she shook her head. I insisted. “Gerard says we all must feed to keep up our strength. He’s found a cure for the sickness plaguing Iban but there’s no prevention yet.” I didn’t tell her we should be feeding on humans. Selfishly I didn’t want her out on the streets alone. I could only hope that by keeping her here, I’d keep her safe. She spent a long time looking into my eyes before accepting the glass.
“I wasn’t sure you cared what happened to me anymore.”
Ah, females and their intuition. She’d felt my physical and mental withdrawal. I searched for the feelings I’d shared so openly with her, but seeing Diana had turned them to stone as completely as I’d cursed my wicked sire, Reedrek. How does one break stone? Possibly only with a hammer and a chisel.
Or the heat of the sun.
“Who is she?”
“My…wife.”
“You told me your wife was dead—killed hundreds of years ago.”
“Yes, and until last night I believed that to be true.”
“She’s here, in Savannah?” She put down the half-empty glass and sank onto the leather ottoman. With stricken eyes she stared up at me. “Alive, a blood drinker, and here?”
Eleanor needed my touch, my reassurance, but I had none to offer. I stood frozen in place. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Our gazes remained locked for a long time. Then a log on the fire in the hearth popped and settled with a thud, goading me into motion. I set my glass down next to hers, bent, and raised her hand to my lips. “As your sire—” I kissed her wrist. “—I’ll do my utmost to protect you. Stay here where you’ll be safe.”