The Prescient: A Science Fiction Vampire Detective Novel (Vampire Detective Midnight Book 3)

by JC Andrijeski

  “Yes… you are!”

  He frowned, but didn’t speak. He didn’t have a good argument really, as to why she was wrong. He was quite sure she was wrong, though.

  Given everything, he thought he was being totally rational.

  Gripping the glass shower door, he edged forward, doing it gingerly that time, afraid he might break the glass too, and then he’d have a real fucking mess on his hands. He stepped carefully into the shower, then under the water. It wasn’t really as hot as he wanted it to be, but he decided he didn’t care.

  He spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to remember what was in each of the bottles on the shelves inside the shower cubicle. He ended up using some out of each one, rubbing them carefully on his body after smelling them on his hands and fingers.

  He figured it couldn’t hurt.

  His headset started buzzing again.

  Nick scowled.

  He was tempted to pick up, to yell at whoever was on the other end.

  He didn’t, though.

  He stepped out of the shower instead, ignoring the buzzing as he picked his way gingerly across the carpet. He forgot to dry himself, but didn’t realize it until he stood in front of his closet. He could feel Wynter watching him again, could practically see her grinning at him in his mind, completely entertained by what he was doing for some reason.

  Come back to bed, she coaxed. I’ll dry you off, Nick.

  He broke out in a half-laugh, but didn’t let himself turn, didn’t let himself look at her.

  He knew if he did, he’d be back in that bed.

  He knew if he did, he’d never get out the door.

  And she needed to eat.

  She really needed to eat… and sleep. Without him.

  “No,” he said, after a too-long pause. “Stay there.”

  He stared at his clothes for way too long, unable to comprehend the rows of shirts on hangers, the multiple drawers, the pants folded versus those hanging on other, different hangers. Why did he fold some pants and hang others? Was there a color code?

  He couldn’t fathom the logic behind any of it now.

  Behind him, Wynter burst out in another laugh.

  Want some help? she offered.

  “No!” he said, loud, still not looking at her. He pointed at her without turning his head. “Stay where you are! I mean it!”

  She laughed, but he felt her agree.

  Giving up on trying to discern any logic to anything he saw in the complicated storage space in front of him, Nick grabbed a shirt at random… then a pair of pants. He grabbed shoes off the rack below the shirt, and contemplated a row of ties. Deciding that was way too complicated, he shut the closet with a snap, jumping a little when the light clicked off.

  He was still damp, but he decided he didn’t care.

  He put on the pants, picking at them when they stuck to his wet skin. He threw the shirt on over that, and shoved his feet into the shoes.

  Only then did he turn, facing Wynter.

  “Is this okay?” he said, gruff.

  He held out his arms, turning for her inspection.

  She sat up on the bed, balancing on her knees and clutching one of his pillows to her chest. He saw a grin on her face still as she gazed at him through the dark, but her eyes held an open scrutiny as she looked him over.

  “I think so,” she said, her voice doubtful.

  “You think so?” He lowered his arms, frowning. “That can’t be good.”

  “It’s dark, Nick. I think you’re okay. Do you have socks?”

  “No.”

  “Underwear?”

  He frowned, thinking.

  “No,” he admitted after a pause, angry at himself for forgetting. “Fuck.”

  She laughed, clutching the pillow tighter. “It’s probably okay.”

  He frowned, trying to decide as he looked back at the closet.

  Then he nodded. “Yeah. I’m going.”

  “Don’t I get a kiss first?”

  He shook his head, adamant. “No. What do you want to eat?”

  She made a pouting face at his answer, then thought about his question.

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  He could feel her thinking, so he waited.

  “Bread,” she said, a few seconds later. “Should I eat bread? Ooh!” Her eyes widened as something occurred to her. “Waffles! I want waffles!”

  He exhaled in frustration. “No. No fucking waffles, Wynter. You need protein. Iron.”

  “Cookie dough?”

  “No!” he snapped. “Gaos. You sound like Tai!”

  She laughed, flopping back on the bed, and pulling on him in a way that made his jaw clench, his eyes close as he backed towards the door to the bedroom.

  “Why’d you even ask me?” she said. “Just order for me… control freak.”

  “I am not a control freak!”

  She threw her head back in a real laugh at that. “You are the epitome of a control freak, Naoko. In the dictionary, there should be a picture of your face next to the words ‘control freak’… and a whole entry about waffles. And cookie dough. And bizarre sex fetishes…”

  Pain rose back in his chest as he felt her react to her own words.

  Closing his eyes, he shook his head.

  He wanted to argue with her.

  He wanted to do more than argue.

  Gritting his teeth, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

  Only when the door was closed did he feel his muscles start to unclench.

  The light rose in his living room, and he stared around, trying to decide what he needed. He’d have to drive. Where the fuck was he going?

  Straven’s house.

  He was going to Straven’s house.

  Only then did he decide to bite the bullet and check his messages.

  He started with the ones that were text-only.

  Nick. Where the hell are you? Am I in the wrong place? You said the surfing place in Midtown, right? I assume you meant Splashdown…?

  Nick felt a pain bloom in his chest.

  Kit.

  God. He was a fucking asshole.

  He checked the time in his headset. It was six o’clock. He’d told her four.

  He definitely told her four o’clock. He’d said he would take her surfing at four o’clock. He distinctly remembered saying four.

  That had been for today, right?

  He clenched his jaw, rubbing his forehead.

  God. He was a fucking asshole.

  He thought about typing her a message right then, offering her more surfing lessons, a steak dinner, a fucking pony… then decided he could do it on the way to wherever he was going. He checked the next text message. It was Jordan.

  Straven got back to Morley. We’re on for today. Four thirty, his place…

  There it was. The address.

  Someplace in Brooklyn. Fuck.

  He was still staring at the address, realizing it meant either driving himself or a train over to the other segment of the dome, when his headset buzzed again.

  He picked up that time, speaking out loud without thought.

  “What?” he snapped. “Who is this?”

  There was a silence.

  Then laughter rose melodiously from the other end of the line.

  It wasn’t Jordan. It wasn’t Kit, either.

  “Straven,” Nick said, his voice hard.

  “Darling, darling Naoko,” Straven said, still laughing. “Whatever am I going to do with you? What naughtiness are you up to, I wonder, that you’d make your owners so cranky with you?”

  Nick frowned. Staring into the virtual space, gazing at the face and enhancement-tinted eyes of the androgynous vampire, he fought with how to answer that.

  “No matter,” the other vampire said cheerfully. “I’ve sent a limo for you, lover. It seemed that you coming to my house was simply posing an unbearable burden for you, so I decided to expedite the process. For you and your lovely friend, who is of course invited, too—�
�

  “No,” Nick growled. “No. Absolutely not. Just me. Me only, Straven—”

  The vampire with the shocking white hair held up their hands.

  Still chuckling, they made a soothing calming sound. “Okay. All right. Calm yourself, my dear, if very naughty friend… I will accept your terms. For now.”

  Hearing the faint emphasis on the last two words, Nick scowled, about to speak again, but Straven spoke up before he could.

  “It is downstairs, love,” Straven said coyly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Nick frowned.

  Then, realizing this made things easier, he exhaled.

  He really probably shouldn’t drive right now.

  He wasn’t too sure about a robo-taxi, either.

  “Okay,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m going down now.”

  “Take your time, precious,” the vampire soothed.

  Nick didn’t bother to answer.

  He just hung up.

  Chapter 11

  The Other Half

  Nick approached the limousine warily, glancing around what he could see of the garage as he walked, his fangs partly extended.

  They’d pulled right up to the glass lobby entrance of his building, on the top floor of the parking structure, which also lived inside a cement roof and walls. Nick knew they’d designed it that way on purpose, given that most of the building’s residents were vampires.

  He’d already gotten into it with the security guard, who kept staring at Nick like he thought he was acting insane.

  Nick definitely wasn’t acting insane.

  He even tried to tone it down some—his voice, his words.

  Clearly, though, he was weirding people out.

  “She’s not coming down here,” Nick growled at him, hissing as he showed him his fangs. “I’m ordering food, and you’re bringing that food to my fucking door… understand?”

  “I c-can’t do that—” the middle aged Middle Eastern man said.

  “The fuck you can’t! You do it, or have someone else do it… someone human… or I’ll fucking bite you. Understand? I’ll bite you—”

  “Sir. Calm down. Please, sir—”

  “I’ll know if you don’t bring it to her! I’ll check!”

  “Okay, sir… okay… if you’d just sign this form, telling me who it is I should let up there, which company…”

  Nick stared at the electronic form showing in the window of the security booth.

  He fought to remember the name of a food delivery company that would deliver to this neighborhood. A lot of the human companies wouldn’t.

  He came up blank.

  “Where do you get your food?” Nick growled, looking back at the human. “You get food delivered here, right? Sometimes. Right? You must. You’ve worked here since I got here.”

  “F-F-Food for Humans,” the man stammered. “It’s called, ‘F-Food for Humans.’”

  “That one,” Nick growled, tapping a finger sharply on the electronic document. “Write that down.”

  “I can’t, sir,” the man protested, holding up his hands. “It’s illegal for me to do it. It’s for your protection… for your privacy, sir, as an I.S.F. employee…”

  “I.S.F. property, you mean,” Nick growled.

  Still, he felt bad, looking at the pale human on the other side of the glass.

  He’s managed to scare the piss out of the poor bastard.

  “Food for Humans?” he said after a pause.

  The human nodded, still holding up his hands, almost like from an old cop movie, the way humans did it when the police yelled at them back in the old days.

  Exhaling, human-fashion, Nick walked back from the door, clicking over to his headset and filling in the electronic form when it came up on his virtual screen. He signed the bottom, also using a pre-created signature and his DNA, pressing his thumb against the lit spot on the glass wall. The form flashed green, and when Nick looked up the guard looked almost comically relieved.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said, exhaling. “Thank you. I’ll grant access to the delivery person they send. Your… uh… friend… won’t have to leave your apartment. She won’t have to do anything.”

  Staring at him for a beat too long as he thought through the man’s words, Nick nodded, grunting.

  “Good,” he said. “Keep an eye on her hallway. I already have a few words for security. Yesterday someone let in an unauthorized I.S.F. feed and she fucking attacked my girlfriend. She threw a bottle at her…” He motioned with his hands. “A big bottle.”

  The man paled all over again. “What?”

  Nick motioned towards the glass wall. “I don’t have time to get into it now. Review the footage, if you don’t believe me. She wasn’t hurt, but she could’ve been.”

  “I’ll report this right away, sir. I’m so sorry…” the male human gushed.

  Nick scowled, but again felt guilty at the fear in the man’s voice.

  “Whatever. We can talk about that later. Just let the guy in to feed her, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I’ll take him up personally…”

  Nick was already turning away, pushing through the glass doors and into the garage by then, only to find the limousine standing right there, engine idling.

  Now he was walking towards the female vampire standing there, watching her grin at him, obviously as amused by his appearance as the security guard had been disturbed by it.

  “What?” Nick growled. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  She stifled her smile, but not very well.

  “Nothing at all, sir. I’m very glad to see you. My employer is very much looking forward to your meeting today—”

  But Nick didn’t have the patience to wade through Straven’s or his employees’ b.s.

  “Fine, whatever,” he said, cutting her off.

  He dove into the back of the limousine, not looking up while she shut the door.

  He was already scrolling through the directory in his headset, looking for the entry for “Food for Humans” in his area.

  He found it after a few seconds, and requested a connection.

  He didn’t bother with a greeting with them, either.

  “Yeah. I need steak. Hamburgers. Steak… maybe some salmon.”

  There was a silence.

  “Sir?” a voice queried. “Can I get your address?”

  Nick paused, frowning.

  Then, staring into the virtual space, he realized he didn’t know.

  Clicking out enough to look at the driver in the rearview mirror, he barked. “My address. What is it?”

  The driver blinked. Her crystal-colored eyes wore a faint spot of crimson. Nick watched it grow, unsure what caused the change, and caring a hell of a lot less.

  “Address!” He clicked his fingers at her. “Now! I need it!”

  After another bare pause, she rattled it off to him.

  Nick clicked back to the open line, and repeated it to the female human on the other end.

  “Do you have steak?” he snapped. “What about iron supplements?”

  “Of course, sir. It’s artificial, as you know—”

  “It has iron, right?” he said. “She needs iron. A lot of it.”

  “Of course, sir. We can have them include extra supplements in the meal, along with a shake, if you’d like—”

  “Yes,” he said. “A shake. Wait. Two shakes. A steak. A hamburger.” He scowled, staring at the back of the driver’s head, conscious suddenly that he was speaking outloud. “…and waffles,” he growled. “A big order of waffles. Syrup. Butter. The works. Maybe some blueberries, too. Do you have those?”

  “Artificial. But yes, of course, sir—”

  “What kind of cookies do you have?”

  The driver burst out in a laugh.

  Nick ignored her.

  In the end, he had no idea what he ordered.

  He gave them his payment code in the virtual space, told them to only send human delivery drivers, and told th
em he’d authorized door-to-door delivery, and he damned well expected them to use it.

  He might have threatened to bite them.

  He couldn’t really remember now, but he suspected he might have.

  Yeah. He did.

  He did threaten them.

  Frowning faintly, he stared out the sun-protected windows of the limousine after he terminated the connection, realizing they were about to enter the tunnel between Manhattan and Brooklyn. He had no idea how he’d spent that long talking to the Food for Humans people, but he hoped like hell something would get to Wynter, hopefully within the next hour.

  Thinking about that, he hit in Wynter’s code next.

  It rang for a while.

  It rang for a long time.

  He clicked off all requests to leave a message though, letting it ring.

  Then her mind rose in his.

  What, Nick? she sent, sounding sleepy, vaguely annoyed. Is that you? With that buzzing? Why? Why are you buzzing? You left. You left me here. That means you don’t get to just buzz at me whenever you want, expecting me to come running—

  Yes! he sent, exasperated. Yes, I do! I would come, if you were calling me. I would answer, goddamn it. I only left because I had to. Why aren’t you picking up? What’s wrong?

  She sighed.

  Even so, he got the feeling she was satisfied with his answer.

  I’m in the bathtub, she informed him. I’m taking a bath.

  Well, get out, he sent back. I’ve got food coming. They’re coming to the door, Wynter. To the front door. My front door. You have to answer that door. That means clothes… you need clothes. Okay? You need to answer the door and get the food and eat it…

  I’m not that hungry— she began.

  Yes. You are.

  She laughed.

  He could both feel it and hear it—audibly, tangibly around him.

  The intensity of the connection between them had him hard, to the point where he realized he really should have done something about the underwear situation. Staring down at his pants, he realized for the first time they were green.

  How had he even found these pants?

  They were dress pants.

  He’d worn them to some kind of party… years ago. Some theme party in Los Angeles. St. Patrick’s Day? Halloween? He couldn’t remember. He tugged on his shirt, and realized it was white and black, with enormous flowers on it.