Last Rites (Paranormal Detectives Book 5)

by Lily Luchesi

  “You deserved to know. This is no place for a mortal with human morals. She is not the same as the vamplet you fell for,” Augustus said. “If you want out, best to leave now and not come back, because I do not think you or any mortal would want a part of her new life. She might think she can still follow her own laws, but this murder was just the first. It is inevitable.”

  Danny left without a word spoken, feeling like he was not really there, but floating somewhere about ten feet above his body. He didn’t know what was going on anymore, his rage and sadness merging with the love he could not let go for Angelica making him feel dizzy.

  Outside the manor, Angelica had left the large doors open in her haste to get away. He needed to find her, needed to hear what happened in her own words. He needed…he didn’t know what he needed. He could only hope that her version of the story would clear his mind enough to take whatever the next necessary steps were. He didn’t want to think about what those steps might be.

  ***

  Angelica had been about to lie, go over that table and try her best to kill Augustus when Danny had touched her and seen everything she had tried so hard to hide from him. He wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. He should not have gotten a single blip of a vision from her if she did not allow it. Had her guard been down so much? Impossible. Had their connection somehow been that strong? It was unlikely, even with the Claiming and mortal marriage rituals. So how did he do it?

  The moment she realized what was happening, that he was seeing her memory, she could not think of a thing to say. There was no way to put this right, to make it better. The only thing left was to explain in plain, truthful English why she’d done it and why she had lied. No excuses, just honesty. She doubted it would be enough to save the love she had worked so hard to maintain, but it was her only option.

  Right then, she needed to get her mind a little bit clearer. When she was in the same room as Augustus, her brain seemed to be on a slow melt, and she hated that.

  Angelica ran, moving all about the city and some of the suburbs, trying to clear her mind while also attempting to run away from that little voice in her mind that repeatedly whispered to her, It’s no less than you deserve.

  She eventually stopped at the cemetery where Bart, Brighton, and Mark were buried, along with a memorial for Helena, and the grave of Danny’s old PID partner, whom Vincent had killed in 2014. Locks didn’t matter to a vamp who could easily leap over the top of the wrought iron gate, and she soon found herself strolling amongst the graves.

  She stood before the double grave of Brighton and Mark, who had died separately for the good fight, who had both died like heroes. Brighton in London, facing a centuries-old vampire, and Mark in a sacrifice so that she could save the entire PID from a demonic invasion.

  They deserve to be here, not you, that little voice in her head said. It was starting to sound less like her and more like the witch Fiona Guilfoyle, who had tried and nearly succeeded in killing Angelica a couple of years back. They had everything to live for. What do you have to look forward to? A life of pain and death, living with the knowledge that you’re just as bad as the vamps you have executed.

  She stood before the graves, holding back her tears. That voice could have been her own, Fiona’s, or Satan’s, the fact remained that it was right. She was a false hero, she was just as bad as any perp whose throat she had slit.

  You sent a remnant after Danny, and you know there are only two ways for it to end, the voice said, almost gleefully. Yep, it definitely sounded like Fiona.

  That was true, too. Either Danny would be driven to insanity and kill himself, or he’d kill her. Otherwise the remnant would never be at rest. She had sent Danny on a path to either death or murder. At least with murder, it would be justified. But despite her self-hatred and shame, she could not bring her mind to accept the fact that she deserved death. She’d had over two centuries of lawful living, created something as beneficial as the PID, and saved countless lives all over the world. Was her one sin so terrible to have caused her life to be turned upside-down?

  She heard the gate move in the distance, and her preternatural hearing picked up on leather loafers on wet grass. The night was still and damp, and the squelching was nearly deafening for her.

  “How did you find me here?” she asked.

  “It was here or my house, and I doubted you’d go there,” Danny replied, his voice cold and flat. “There’s nowhere as private as a place of the dead.”

  Silence, for a moment. It was so heavy Angelica felt like she was choking on it. “Will you give me a chance to explain?”

  “Why else would I be here?” Danny asked.

  Angelica took a breath. “When you found Leander’s residue in my car, he had come to me to warn me that I was dying. Vamplets are so rare, the lore on them really is nearly nonexistent, but what there is Leander had collected in that library in England. He studied them like he was going for his LSATs or something like that, only the vampire equivalent. Since that time, George and Mahon sent those books to me at the PID, to add to our library. After asking Sean to translate some of them for me, I read up on everything, the near exact science and physiological changes that caused what happened to happen.

  “When a vamplet turns, the vampire blood eats away at the human blood, leaving a new vampire weak. Usually, they wouldn’t notice: their usual blood dosages would gradually replenish the diminishing blood in their systems over time, but between my battle with Fiona, what I went through when I was trapped in Hell, and the fact that I am the Empress, my blood became thinner much quicker. In order to complete a vamplet-to-vampire transformation, I needed to take a life. If I didn’t, I’d have been dead since last month. You saw how weak I was. My own blood was killing me, and I had no choice.

  “I regret it. I will always regret it. Whether it had been Helena or someone else, I’d feel bad about what I did. I dedicated my life to protecting humans, and I never wanted to kill one if I could help it.”

  Danny let out a bark of laughter imbued with contempt. “What was that you said about humans tonight? That we were like cattle and chickens to you?”

  Angelica whirled around, facing him this time. “You think I meant that? It was to get Augustus to understand that humans were not to be killed. I had to use an analogy that was on his level of thinking. If I thought that way, I could have done a lot to treat humans like animals, believe me.”

  “Why Helena? Is that why you asked her to go with you that night?” Danny asked, changing back to the subject at hand.

  Angelica sighed. That was going to be a difficult question to answer. “I don’t know. I think, at first, I did. Or I would have used her as a cover, someone to witness what was happening to me. All I know is that I changed my mind on both when she went in as bait. She was so…trusting. It was endearing.

  “I went in, got the vamp off of her, and killed it. Then I went to pick Helena up and heal her. She’d been bitten, but she also had a concussion. I got a wave of weakness so terrible that I nearly dropped her and had to hold onto the wall for support. It was an act of desperation, something that even now makes me feel sick to recall.

  “I know you’re mad that I lied, but I panicked—”

  Danny held his hand up, his eyes red-rimmed and dark with anger. “No. Fuck no, don’t lie to me again. You didn’t panic, Angelica. You twisted her head so anyone looking would think the killer was left-handed. You knew exactly what you were doing!”

  That made her pause. She’d been in the middle of the worst bloodlust she’d ever felt. It was entirely possible that she had done that, but now it was hazy, like it happened in a dream. If she’d done it, it had been automatic, like body-memory. Every good detective has the potential to become an even better criminal, because they know all the tricks. This was proof of that fact.

  “I don’t have any excuse, Danny. I did what I did and I’m not proud of that fact, or that I lied to you. I just…I didn’t want you to ever look at me like you are right now.�
�� She hated herself for how her voice sounded. She hated that she cared what someone else thought of her.

  “You warned me, didn’t you? Multiple times, and I never listened.” She had never seen such a hard look on Danny’s face except for when he told his old partner he’d avenge her. “I should have taken my own advice when I found out you weren’t human back in twenty-fourteen. I should have stayed the Hell away from you, because you, Leander, Fiona, and Helena were all right: you’re a monster.”

  Angelica forced herself to keep her emotions in check. Never did she think he’d call her that. She’d call herself that, sure, but he had always been her champion, the one to convince her that she was good. He’d never called her a monster—at least, not to her face—and she found that his saying those words was a metaphorical stake to the heart.

  He backed up a couple of steps. “Helena asked me to get revenge for her, and now I know she deserves it.”

  Angelica couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re going to kill me?” Wasn’t it just a few hours ago he’d been in love with her? However, she was at least a little amused that Danny thought he could actually kill her.

  “Not now. I’d be an idiot to try. But one day I will, and I’ll put Helena to rest.”

  Angelica stepped forward. “So that’s it? One small infraction and we’re over? After a century, your two lifetimes…you’re just going to give up on me? On us?”

  “It wasn’t a minor infraction, Angelica: it was murder! There’s a big difference. You’re a paranormal detective: I was a real one, and right now what you did is no better than a human I’d recommend lethal injection to.” He backed up a few more steps back and then stopped.

  “Have more to say?” Angelica asked, and now her barely withheld tears were not that of sadness or depression but anger and frustration.

  “Just wondering why you’re not attacking me,” he replied. “Because I’m not joking. Either get rid of me now, or you will regret it later on.”

  She scoffed. “I wouldn’t want to waste my time. By all means, return when you think you’re capable of killing me. At least then it would be a fairer fight than me taking three steps forward and tearing your guts out with my bare hands right now. Though I admire your bravery in so openly approaching what I can assure you would be a long and painful demise.”

  There. That look of shock on Danny’s face was pleasing enough, much better than that holier-than-thou arrogance he had been portraying. Had he expected her to beg him for another chance, for forgiveness? If he had, then he didn’t know her very well. She might be hurt, she might be broken-hearted, but she would never resort to pleas. He wanted a fight? He’d get one. He wanted her out of his life? She’d never ask to be let back in.

  Love makes you weak, and at this moment weak was the last thing she needed to be.

  He just stared, and the glee she had at his fear and shock was wearing off.

  “Go. Unless you make an offensive move toward me, I won’t hurt you. Despite what you think, I am not Hannibal fucking Lecter.” He still did not move, and she was a little afraid of her own rage at him, at his hate, his xenophobia, and the fact that she still loved him despite what he’d said. “I said leave. Now. Or you’ll see what a monster I really can be.”

  He left then, not turning his back to her until he was too far away to be seen. That was the worst thing, in her opinion: that he thought she’d stoop so low as to attack him from behind. Once she heard him in the distance, going over the gate, her legs gave out from under her and she fell onto the Sands/Evans gravestone. Holding onto the cool marble for support, she cried more than she ever had in her life, mourning. Yes, she was mourning: the death of her marriage, the death of Danny’s love, and the end of her life as she knew it.

  Once again, the hunter was the hunted, and this was one battle she dreaded to win. If it came down to her or Danny, she didn’t think she’d ever be capable of harming him.

  ***

  Danny did not let his fear show until he was safely back in his car. That was when his body began to tremble, beginning with his hands and seeming like it would never end. And it was more than fear. Yes, he had just confronted and threatened the vampire Empress, but he had also just told his wife he was going to kill her.

  He talked a big game, and he would go through with it. He had to. Not only was Helena’s remnant going to drive him mad if he didn’t, but Angelica had broken the law. She’d killed for power, not even for food. Committed the only act that could ever make Danny think she was evil.

  I called her a monster. That one thought broke him. After years of trying to convince her that she was not a killer like her father, he had said that. It would have been better if he’d told her to go fuck herself. It would not have hurt either of them that much. She might think she’d hidden her expression, but he had seen, in a split second, the raw hurt in her eyes when he’d said those irrevocable words.

  It was not as if it was untrue. She’d slaughtered his friend, a colleague, and an innocent human being. That classified anyone as a monster, regardless of species.

  When he had been ignorant, when he had thought that all vamps were evil, he had thought of her as a monster. He had thought that all vampires were evil murderers back then, and she had changed his mind. She had successfully pulled the wool over his eyes.

  You should have trusted your first instinct. When he’d found out Angelica was a vamplet, he had been frightened and disgusted at that fact, thinking her a murderer, just as bad as the others he’d faced. He had also been even angrier that she had lied to him about her species. How had he been naive enough to think that she’d not lie again if necessary?

  “I was a fool to trust her,” he muttered to himself. And an even bigger fool to still love her. Had she ever really loved him as well, or was any goodness inside of her gone the moment she had begun to lie to him, three years ago? Had he been so blinded by love that he had not seen the growing darkness within?

  He drove home, not bothering to take Angelica’s CD from his player. For once, the loud, angry music was welcomed, as it drowned out his thoughts. It wasn’t until he looked up at the house, which was once again going to be empty and hollow, that he saw a curtain ruffle in Angelica’s room.

  She could have gotten there before him, but that made no sense. She wouldn’t need anything there, except maybe her coffin, and it’s not like she couldn’t just go buy one of those. So who the Hell was in his house?

  Checking his gun, he saw it was loaded with silver bullets, and he got out of the car, walking up to his front door. As soon as he was inside he sensed multiple presences: four, to be exact. He closed his eyes, concentrating. One was in the living room, a female. Three males were upstairs.

  Since there was nothing incriminating in the living room, he decided the girl could stay for a moment. He and Angelica kept extra weaponry upstairs, as well as some spell books and Angelica’s coffin.

  He was silent and quick on his feet, sensing more of their thoughts as he got closer to them. Two of them were searching his room, but it was the one presence in her room that concerned Danny. Anything that could get him put in prison or an asylum was in there.

  Judging by the auras and thoughts he was getting, everyone in the house was a human. He rounded the corner to face her doorway, which she always left locked. It was standing ajar, the lock picked. He could see the scratches on the knob from the tools used.

  Digging through the large wardrobe at one end of the room was a man with greying dark brown hair that hung to his shoulders in ringlets.

  Does he think her underwear is going to reveal some secrets or treasure? Danny wondered, feeling miffed at the invasion of privacy. He had obviously already seen the coffin, but thanks to the spells on it, only Angelica or Danny could open it up.

  Making sure the safety was off, he pointed his gun at the back of the man’s head and said, “Hands up, turn around, and if you reach for a weapon know it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  The man put his han
ds in the air and slowly began to turn around. Danny could feel amusement, but got no thoughts from him without prying. He had cloaked his mind expertly, but his defenses would be child’s play for Danny if he decided to push even a little.

  When he was fully facing Danny, the detective saw that he was smirking.

  “Something funny about being caught breaking and entering in a former detective’s house?” Danny asked. He could hear loud thoughts from the other two who were upstairs, closing in on him from behind. They thought that he was unaware of their presence and he had to work hard to hide a smile. Oh, how wrong they were.

  “No,” the man said, with a British clip. “Nothing funny at all.”

  It was at that moment that Danny saw, in his mind’s eye, one of the guys raise a knife and go to bring it down on his scapula. Before that could happen, Danny turned just halfway and with one hand grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, turning him to the wall. He yelled out, and it was then that Danny realized this was no man, this was a teenage boy! Not that they couldn’t be dangerous, he was just surprised.

  There was another boy behind him, staring slack jawed at what was happening. He was also young, maybe younger than the other boy.

  “All right, drop the weapons, both of you,” Danny said, though his gun was still trained on the man in the room.

  “How did y’know we were behind you?” the boy he hadn’t manhandled asked, his voice trembling. His accent was very heavy.

  “Same way I know there’s a girl in my living room and that you all were here in the first place,” Danny said. “Both of you, in there, where I can see the three of you.”

  Both boys stood on either side of the man. They were on the skinny side, which was why Danny had thought they were so young. Their faces showed hardship, hurt, and what was probably misplaced anger. They were maybe seventeen at the most, eighteen at a stretch. The man was probably about thirty-five, but prematurely greying.

  “Someone wanna call the girl downstairs? And don’t try to pull any tricks: I’ll know if you do.” Danny let his mind push at the two boys and one of them took out a battered old Nokia phone, the plastic kind that seem to be as tough as battle tanks.