by M. D. Massey
“You have that on video? How? I have it under good authority that the vamps had taken precautions against that sort of thing.”
McCracken cleared his throat again, a nervous tick that was obviously his tell. “Well, yes—magically-enhanced satellite photography trumps most magical counter-surveillance measures. But we only have one copy of the event—on our secure servers at headquarters, of course. The firewalls are top of the line, so there’s no need to be worried about the footage getting into the hands of, say, the CIA’s Cerberus Project—or those nasty ‘military science’ people, heaven forbid.”
“Uh-huh. So, what you’re saying is, you clowns consider me to be a high-level threat, and you’ve been surveilling me for some time now because of it.”
McCracken nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I think that covers it.”
“Which means you also likely have a plan for taking me out—a sort of doomsday scenario, in case my Hyde-side jumps the prison-yard fence.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, exactly—”
I didn’t bother letting him finish that thought, instead rolling right over him as I continued. “And the fact that you even have that plan pretty much empowers any Cold Iron Circle operative or team leader with a hard-on for killing supernaturals to take a crack at me—which is exactly what Keane’s team did.”
McCracken’s eyes blinked rapidly, and he cleared his throat every few seconds as he spoke. “Well, uh—cough—I mean, that is to say—cough—rather, it’s not how it looks—”
“Pathetic. You pricks can’t even fess up when you’re caught dead to rights. And you want me to cooperate with you? No, I don’t think so.” I stood, pulling my Craneskin Bag’s strap over my head and holstering my pistol. The duct tape was on the desk nearby, so I snagged it and tore off a long strip. “I’m sure someone will be along to check on you jokers”—I checked my imaginary watch—“oh, in a day or two.”
“Wait, Mr. McCool, I can help you mmrrff—”
Taping McCracken’s mouth shut and leaving him there with his team was the most satisfying thing I’d done all day. He didn’t seem like a bad guy, but a boy scout like that working for the Circle couldn’t be trusted—not after everything that had happened. And at the moment, there just wasn’t any upside to giving him a chance to prove himself.
Come to think of it, if Bells hadn’t been so damned cute and charming, I’d probably have never given her a chance, either.
I turned the lights off as I left the room and shut the door behind me. The Circle operatives responded with a chorus of muffled protests, which I casually ignored.
Bells. Damn it. I needed to find her and make things right, and figure out what I was going to do with Jesse—or whatever she’d become.
But my first priority was finding Derp. And for that task, I needed better intel.
Eight
I’d tangled with giant spiders before, but they weren’t intelligent enough to hunt without leaving a trace. For that reason, I doubted a giant spider had taken Derp. In fact, it was quite possible that what the cat thought she saw and what had really been there were two entirely different things.
I hadn’t accumulated much experience with reading animal memories, because it was a relatively new skill for me. But from what I’d gathered thus far, they often remembered things much differently than how they occurred. Animals were champs at conflating threats, a side effect of tens of thousands of years of evolutionary survival. That meant the thing that took Derp could’ve been a human casting odd shadows on the wall, or some other multi-limbed supernatural creature, or two humanoids standing close together—there were any number of possibilities.
I was merely speculating, but when it came to the supernatural I’d found it paid to keep an open mind while gathering as much information as possible. What I needed was someone who had more experience with creatures that hunted in darkness, someone who had been around long enough to encounter a wide variety of night-stalking monsters. Someone who was, in fact, a night-stalking monster himself.
In short, I needed to speak with Luther. If anyone would have insights regarding what the cat had seen, it’d be him. Not only could he pull a mean cappuccino, but he was also the oldest vampire in the central Texas region. With the day I was having, I’d gladly take my intel with a side of caffeine and sugar, thank you very much. After cleaning up in a convenience store restroom—blood tended to freak mundane citizens out, after all—I took a rideshare to Luther’s cafe.
Out of all the supernaturals in town and of all the major players, Luther was the one I trusted most. He’d never led me wrong, and when I needed help he was always there for me. But Luther wasn’t against trading a favor for a favor, either, and that meant I was likely to get tasked with some errand in exchange for whatever help he might provide.
Still, I didn’t mind. For one, Luther had always paid me for my time, unlike Maeve. It probably rankled her that she’d have to pay me a stipend now, as the fae hated giving up anything to mortals in any bargain—especially money. But Luther was like most older vamps in that money wasn’t a big deal to him. Besides that, I got free coffee whenever he was working the counter.
It was late in the afternoon by the time I finished dealing with McCracken and Keane, and already getting dark when I walked into Luther’s coffee shop. At this time of day, the place was empty. It was too late in the day for humans and too early for vamps and other supernaturals. Luther was standing at the end of the counter, holding hands and close-talking with Mateo, another older vamp I’d recently met. It appeared to be a private moment, so I stood by until they were done.
Mateo released Luther’s hands, then gave me a sideways glance. As usual, he was impeccably dressed in a double-breasted wool blazer over a cable-knit cashmere sweater and white button-down shirt. Despite the time of year, he wore light-tan slacks pegged over deck shoes with no socks. It was a look few people could pull off who weren’t on a modeling agency’s roster, but Mateo wore it with style.
Luther, on the other hand, had stuck with his usual dark silk shirt and simple, if expensive, jeans and sneakers. He was trying a little too hard to be understated, if you asked me.
“Well hello, druid,” Mateo trilled. “Slain any gods lately?”
“Hey, Mateo, Luther.” I nodded to each of them in turn. “Naw, I’ve been trying to avoid altercations with higher-order beings lately. They tend to hold a grudge.”
Luther looked me up and down as he headed for the espresso machine. “And how’s that working out for you, hmm?”
“Oh, you noticed the bruises? I promise you, these are all human-made.” I watched him pull and mix a double-shot mocha in a to-go cup, savoring the pungent, familiar smell of pressure-brewed coffee, steamed milk, and chocolate. “So, I’d say it’s working out fine… more or less.”
Luther passed me the mocha, smiling knowingly as he crossed his arms and flipped a dish rag over his shoulder. “Uh-huh. I keep telling you, the more enemies you make, the less peace and quiet you’ll get. You’re going to have to start using some diplomacy, Colin, if you ever want to have a moment’s rest.”
“Yeah? Well, it’s not like I could rest, even if I wanted to. Ever since I got this stinking justiciar gig, it’s been nothing but long nights and longer days.” I tipped my cup to him. “Thanks for that.”
Mateo cleared his throat from the end of the coffee bar. “I sense a lot of boring business talk coming. Not that I’m not fascinated by”—he twirled his index finger in lazy circles at me—“whatever it is you druids do. But I have an appointment with my tailor at eight, and my aesthetician is arriving at nine, so I’ll leave you boys to your fun.” He gave Luther a wicked smile. “I’ll be free after midnight, of course.”
Luther avoided my eyes as Mateo left, instead busying himself with cleaning the espresso machine and wiping down the dark and worn wooden counter. I waited for him to speak, but that was a losing battle—he was semi-immortal, after all. He could wait a decade if he wanted and not bat an
eye.
“So… you and Mateo? What happened to his boyfriend, the landscaper?”
Luther continued to avoid eye contact, obviously uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “We’re trying something new. In the past, each of us have preferred to date humans, with disastrous results. So, we decided to see if dating our own kind might work out better.”
I nodded. “Well, I’m happy for you. I hope it works out, Luther.”
He finally looked at me, narrowing his eyes. “Really? Not a single smart-assed remark?”
“Nope, none. I’m not even going to comment on the fact that you are suspiciously chipper today,” I replied, pursing my lips to avoid cracking a smile.
“I knew you couldn’t resist being a smart ass,” he said. “You’d better tell me what brought you here this evening before I lose my patience and kick you out.”
“Kick me out?” I laid a hand on my chest, doing my best pearl-clutching maiden impression. “I’m hurt, Luther. Really, I am.”
“As it so happens, I do have a job for you, so kicking you out isn’t an option at the moment. But keep it up and I’ll start making you pay for your coffee.”
“As druid justiciar, I live to serve,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Anyway, here’s the situation…”
By the time I’d nearly finished my story, Luther was eyeing me with keen interest. When the old vamp stared, it was more than a bit unnerving, because he tended to forget his human mannerisms when lost in his thoughts. Having someone look at you without blinking, breathing, or twitching for several minutes was freaky as all hell, but I’d gotten used to it.
Eventually, I wrapped up my account of what had happened with Derp, Kenny, and the alley cat. Luther kept up his wax figure bit going for a few more seconds, then took a sudden, sharp breath. I was expecting it, but still nearly pissed my pants.
“Tell me again about what the cat saw?” he asked. I described the vision once more, and this time around he had the good grace to nod along as I spoke. “I see. Incidentally, that’s one hell of a talent to have, tactically speaking. Can all druids do that—read the minds of animals, I mean—or just you?”
“I dunno, to be honest. I assumed all druids could do it, but since it’s just me and Finnegas, I have no idea.”
Luther crossed his arms and tapped a finger on his lips. “I’d find out, just for curiosity’s sake. As for this mystery creature, there are a few possibilities regarding what it might be.”
“Hit me—I’m all ears.”
Luther informally leaned an elbow on the bar, but his tone of voice was anything but casual. “First, you should know that for the last several weeks, my people have been finding male human bodies that have been drained of blood. These corpses have been carelessly left in the open for anyone to find. Thankfully, the smell of human blood has alerted my coven members to the presence of each body thus far, and we’ve avoided an incident. However, it’s only a matter of time before the authorities find a body before we do.”
“I’m going to take a wild stab and say that the identities of these corpses were those of the missing men—am I right?”
“You’re correct. It would seem that your young friend ran afoul of whatever has been killing male humans in my territory. Whether the culprit is intentionally trying to cause trouble for the Coven, or if it’s just sloppy work, who can say? But I do need this problem taken care of immediately. And since I believe it to be a fae creature and not one of my kind, well—this job would seem to fall within the purview of our new justiciar, yes?”
I scrubbed my face with my hands, wincing when I rubbed my jawline. “Oh, joy. What makes you say it’s not a vamp?”
Luther’s nose twitched slightly, an uncharacteristic gesture for him. He was miffed about the interloper, but trying not to show it. “I didn’t say that it wasn’t a vamp—I merely said it wasn’t one of my kind. Meaning, not a conventional vampire, but instead of a different species entirely.”
“What, a nosferatu, like that old one we tangled with a while back?”
“Actually, no. Nosferatu are distant cousins—albeit an older, less-evolved branch of the family. This creature, on the other hand, is entirely unrelated to my kind. It doesn’t hunt the same, and it certainly doesn’t kill the same. The kills have been way too clean, indicating that the bodies were wiped of evidence somehow, perhaps by magical means.”
“Interesting that you mention that,” I remarked. “The crime scene I saw showed no signs of struggle. I was thinking that the killer uses hypnosis on its victims, or maybe some sort of paralyzing agent.”
“I couldn’t say, as we’ve only seen corpses. However, I do know this thing kills for the joy of it, apparently driven by some dark compulsion. My kind could be called evil by most measures of morality, and rightly so, but even nosferatu only hunt when they need to feed. Killing more often goes against our survival instincts, because it invites way too much attention from humankind.”
I nodded. “Hunters do tend to notice such things.”
“Indeed, you do. Thus, we’ve learned to feed out of necessity first and pleasure second. This is the vampire way. Those who don’t follow such conventions are hunted down by my kind because they threaten our way of life.”
“Okay, so it’s not your standard, garden-variety vamp. Then what is it?”
Luther blinked, just once. Creepy. “I have a few theories. As I said, I believe it could be a fae creature, perhaps baobhan sith, empousai, or even a mandurugo—the baobhan sith being the most likely scenario. That would certainly explain the lack of evidence on the corpses.”
“I suppose that’s possible. Been a long time since I ran into one, though. Sabine once told me that Maeve doesn’t care for them, so she chases baobhan sith out of her demesne whenever they try to settle here. Empousai like to devour the entire bodies of their victims, and that tends to leave a mess, which rules them out. Aswangs and manananggal prefer to prey on pregnant women, which likewise eliminates their kind from our list of suspects. But a mandurugo might fit the bill. Did anyone happen to look inside the victims’ mouths for wounds?”
“I did, in fact,” a seductive female voice replied from behind me.
I only barely resisted giving in to my startle reflex, and forced myself to glance over my shoulder with as much nonchalance as I could muster. Chances were good this was one of Luther’s coven members, and showing fear to a vampire was like limping away from a lion. Not that I was afraid—far from it. I mostly just didn’t want to let on that I’d allowed something to sneak up on me. I had a reputation to uphold, after all.
Standing behind me was the blonde who’d accompanied Luther to the Conclave a few weeks earlier. She was tall, maybe six feet, and built like a long jumper—with shoulders that bordered on manly, a slim waist, and narrow, boyish hips. Now that I got a good look at her, I noticed that her eyes were heterochromatic—one was blue, the other, hazel. That was a common trait among European royals, a result of marriages between close relatives.
She was pretty, but something about her rubbed me the wrong way, something in her carriage. Arrogance, that’s what it was. The female vamp looked me up and down as she wrinkled her nose in distaste.
Yep, I’m sure of it. I hate her.
I turned to address Luther. “Your new guard dog?”
Luther winced slightly at my remark. “Trouble-shooter, actually, on loan from another coven.” He leaned over to look past my shoulder. “Sophia, thank you for coming. Now that you’ve practically given poor Colin here a heart attack, why don’t you introduce yourself like a civilized vampire so we can continue our discussion?”
The female vamp stepped up to the bar, wedging herself into my personal space. “Sophia Doroshenko,” she said with her arms crossed over her flat, athletic chest. “And you are the famed druid apprentice and ‘god-killer.’ You do not look so impressive to me.” She pronounced every “s” with a “z” sound, and her “l’s” were formed in the back of her mouth.
&nbs
p; Slavic, definitely. How cliché.
I gave her a look that was halfway between a frown and a smirk. “Meh, people say a lot of things—doesn’t mean they’re all true. Still, looks can be deceiving. For example, I’d never have thought someone as big as you could move so silently.”
The pretty blonde vampire leaned in, glaring and clenching her jaw as she spoke. “What do you mean, ‘big’?”
“Manners, Sophia,” Luther chided. “Colin has proven himself to be quite capable many times over, and he’s a valued ally of this coven. If possible, I’d prefer that you two get along.”
“Pompous American oaf,” Sophia Doroshenko muttered under her breath, knowing full-well that Luther and I both heard. She sneered at me, then tossed her hair as she took a seat at the bar with vampire-level alacrity. I noted that she made nary a sound, despite the speed at which she sat down.
“The silent movement thing… your talent, I presume?” I asked.
“Indeed,” she said. “I’ve always been able to move quietly, since I was turned.”
“Good talent to have when you’re trying to avoid a fight,” I remarked.
Sophia began to stand again, her eyes ablaze. “Are you insinuating that I am a coward, druid?”
Luther slapped his hand on the counter, hard enough for the sound to reverberate through the room. “Children, please! We have business to discuss, and I’d like to get done before the evening crowd arrives. If you could find it within yourselves to stop quibbling, perhaps we might conclude this discussion and surmise a plan of action?”