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

by JC Andrijeski

  “Morley wants you to go,” Damon said, using sub-vocals. “He says you should do what you can to find out more about that vampire tech Case told you about… and whether or not Straven has it in his possession. See if Straven will talk to you without either of us there. Morley thinks you should let him bring Ms. James along, too, since he clearly wants her there. Providing Ms. James doesn’t mind playing along.”

  Pausing, Jordan added,

  “…Morley said we could even file her as a CI, if she wants. We’d pay her.”

  Nick gave him an openly incredulous look.

  Jordan only shrugged, unapologetic.

  “Straven obviously wants something from you,” Jordan said. “And from her. See if you can find out what it is. Right now, we got a lot of nothing, Midnight.”

  Nick thought about that, even as the sound grew deafening from the rotors powering up over his head. He winced a little when the two EMTs collapsed the wheels of the gurney, lifting him up and rolling him smoothly into the back of the helicopter.

  He glanced at Straven, then at Jordan.

  “Okay,” he said, speaking loud, over the helicopter blades.

  He didn’t bother to clarify to either of them which of them he was talking to.

  It hit him though, even as the EMTs closed the helicopter doors behind him, that he really needed to make a stop first, before he humored either Straven or the NYPD by loaning himself and his girlfriend out for the night.

  Remembering Straven saying their people were already at his building, waiting for Wynter to shower and change into new clothes and come downstairs, Nick frowned.

  He’d have to make that stop damned quick.

  Chapter 16

  Favors

  Nick badgered them into working fast at the hospital.

  He let them do one X-ray.

  He let them put a flexible, semi-organic cast on his thigh, after using sealant on the wound itself, a kind of foamy-sticky-gluey substance that came out of a dark green, semi-organic tool that reminded him of a hot glue gun.

  He waved them through all of the endless cautions, bathing protocols, things he shouldn’t do with his leg until it was fully healed crap.

  When he got back from the first set of X-rays, he found clothes waiting for him in the hospital room. They were his clothes.

  Staring at them, Nick wasn’t sure if he wanted to know who really picked them out for him—whether it was Wynter, or someone else.

  Shoving away the mental image of Wynter surrounded by Straven’s people, especially right now, given the state both of them were in, he yanked down what remained of the lime-green pants, leaving the tattered fabric on the floor. Without waiting, he tugged the dirty, blood-splattered Hawaiian-style shirt over his head.

  Once completely naked, he spent a few minutes in the small bathroom with the shower hose, washing the sweat and blood off the parts of his skin that didn’t get clean when they applied the semi-organic bandage to his thigh.

  Then he donned underwear, and eased the dark, combat-style pants over the cast on his leg, looping his belt through and hooking it in front before he yanked the clean shirt over his head. The pants might be work pants, but the shirt was fancier than what he usually wore—which he supposed was appropriate, given where Straven would likely drag them to dinner.

  A dark-green, tailored thing he remembered buying in Los Angeles, it fit him tighter than he remembered, probably from the weight in muscle he’d gained as a professional fighter, especially in the shoulders and chest.

  It was weird to think about where he’d last worn it in Los Angeles. where he would occasionally go out to night clubs, if only to pick up live feeds.

  Thinking about that now, he felt oddly guilty.

  Seconds later, he pushed it from his mind, feeling the clock ticking over his head.

  He left the room, walked straight to the registration desk and informed them he was checking out. He vurt-signed all the forms they put in front of him and walked out within minutes, only limping a little from the cast and the wound, and slightly off-balance from the handful of pain meds he swallowed dry as soon as the techs left him alone.

  He’d burn off the drugs soon enough.

  In the meantime, he didn’t exactly want to advertise he was wounded.

  Not where he was going.

  He hailed a robo-taxi from the circular driveway at the hospital. When one stopped, he climbed in, swiped his barcode and punched in an address from memory, even as he pinged out a different, virtual address on his headset.

  She picked up at once.

  “Where are you?” she said.

  Nick noted the sub-vocal light in the corner, and grunted.

  “I was about to ask you the same,” he said back. “I take it from your stealth mode, you’re with Straven?”

  “Not yet. I just got in the car. Are you finished at the hospital?”

  “Yes. Don’t tell Straven’s people that, though.” Nick hesitated, reluctant, knowing she wouldn’t like this. “…I need to run an errand first, honey. It’s related to this. Can you stall him? Be charming but not too charming until I get there? I won’t be long—”

  “Where, Nick?” Her voice was already wary. “Where are you going?”

  Nick sighed.

  He fumbled with what to tell her exactly, but needn’t have bothered.

  “No,” she said, her voice hard as ice, even via sub-vocals. “Absolutely not, Nick. No. Are you insane? You just got shot—”

  “It’s better if I do it now,” Nick said, cutting her off before she could build up steam. “It’s better if we deal with this now, Wynter. Before I talk to Straven. Otherwise, we could spend the whole night asking the wrong questions. It’s better just to go to the source. I’ll know what not to look for, at least. Assuming I’m able to get any real information at all—”

  “What makes you think they’d tell you anything, Nick? Much less anything you can trust? I can’t read them through you—”

  “I know that.”

  “So what is the point? Why even ask the question, if you have no idea if what they tell you is true?”

  Nick thought about that.

  Still thinking, he grunted.

  “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think he really might tell me the truth. Well…” he amended. “To put it more clearly, let’s say I think I’ll know whether I can definitely eliminate him, or definitely not eliminate him. It’s a sire-offspring thing—”

  “Nick… no.”

  He saw her shaking her head behind his eyes.

  “You said you were done with them,” she said. “You said that part of your life was done, Nick. You said it was over—”

  “I am done with them. It is over—”

  “They’re not going to think that, if you start showing up at their door.”

  Again, he saw her frowning behind his eyes.

  “He’d love any excuse to get back in your life, Nick,” she added, softer. “You told me that yourself. You told me that last night, in fact. You told me it still worried you… that you sometimes felt eyes on you, and you wondered if it was him.”

  “Wynter, don’t throw that in my face—”

  “I’m not throwing anything in your face,” she cut in, her voice worried. “I’m reminding you what you yourself told me. What you already know to be true about this… person.”

  Nick sighed.

  He understood what she was saying.

  He knew she was one hundred percent right to say it.

  He also knew she was jealous.

  More than any of that, though, he knew he was right.

  This was a stop that had to be made.

  He had to at least try.

  “I’m a detective,” he said after a pause. “It’s my job to chase down leads, Wynter.” At her silence, he added, “Look. This may be the good news. If it turns out they are connected to all of this, Morley and the NYPD may have to take me off the case. Given my past ties to the group, it would complicat
e the investigation too much, to have me involved. It might get me off the hook, Wynter. You know… just from the optics, if nothing else.”

  She snorted derisively.

  “God. You really think I’m dumb, don’t you?” she said, impatient. “Nick, Morley would be salivating if he knew he could use you to infiltrate the White Death. You know it. I know it. About the only thing keeping me from cursing you out right now is the fact that you opted not to tell Morley you were planning to do this. Or, I’m assuming you didn’t—”

  “I didn’t,” Nick said quickly.

  “See?” she said, her voice a touch harder. “You know damned well the very last thing Morley would say is ‘conflict of interest.’ He’d be lining you up to infiltrate and question them every chance he got, at the mere suggestion you could walk through those doors still. Moreover, you know it’s true, or you wouldn’t be going behind their back—”

  “Okay,” Nick muttered. “Point taken.”

  “But you’re still going to do this crazy thing?”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  She exhaled in frustration… or anger… or both.

  “Okay,” she said, after another beat. “Fine. I’ll distract Straven—”

  Nick started to exhale in relief, but she cut him off.

  “—Fair warning though, Naoko. You take longer than an hour, and I’m coming after you.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “…You know damned well I can find you. You know damned well I will find you, if you aren’t back when I say. One hour, Nick. Non-negotiable.”

  Nick felt the blood drain from his face.

  He imagined Wynter in there, surrounded by the people he planned to go see.

  His chest tightened as though fingers were crushing his vampire heart.

  “No,” he growled. “You damned well won’t. Goddamn it, Wynter, if you even think about—”

  But she’d already hung up.

  He considered calling her back.

  Deciding he was better off letting her cool off, he called Kit instead, willing the robo-taxi to move faster through the traffic, even as he obsessively checked the timepiece in his headset.

  Kit didn’t answer the first few pings.

  He switched to an emergency frequency… and jacked up the volume.

  “WHAT?” she snapped, picking up the line, her face sliding into his view as she turned on the visuals. She glowered at him in fury. “What do you want, Nick? What?”

  He frowned, watching her warily. “I take it you’re still pissed.”

  There was a silence.

  Then she shook her head, folding her tattooed arms as she stared at him incredulously.

  “You know how long I waited at that fucking place? Do you?”

  “No,” he said, his voice meeker.

  “Do you want to know?”

  “Not really.” Nick winced at her colder stare, his guilt returning in a hard rush. “Do you want to hear what happened? Or not?”

  “Not really,” she said, her jaw jutting forward.

  She refolded her arms.

  For a few beats more, she just glared at him.

  He hesitated, then showed her an image of his leg in the cast.

  “I got shot,” he offered. “Does that help?”

  “Before? Or after you blew me off?”

  He thought about that.

  “After,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “Then no, Nick,” she growled. “It doesn’t help.”

  Looking at her young-looking, heart-shaped face, he sighed in defeat.

  “I’m really sorry—” he began.

  “Where were you?” she snapped, before he could go on and despite what she’d said. “Where the hell were you, Nick?”

  He hesitated again, then shrugged, telling her the truth.

  “Would you believe me if I told you I overslept?” he said.

  “What?” She blinked, staring at him, confused. “No, I wouldn’t believe you. Vampires don’t sleep—”

  “Except you already know that isn’t true,” he said, sighing. “I know it sounds nuts, and I can’t fully explain it… but I really did oversleep, Kit.”

  Hesitating, he felt his embarrassment worsen. He also felt pretty strongly he wouldn’t get away with a bullshit story on this one.

  “I was with Wynter,” he admitted. “That’s why I wanted privacy last night. That’s why I called you at three in the morning. Because I was with her.”

  “So… what? Wynter puts you to sleep?”

  Nick winced, his jaw tightening.

  “I don’t know,” he said, clearing his throat as he gestured vaguely. “She fell asleep. For whatever reason, I followed her. Apparently, I react to her… differently.”

  There was another silence.

  When Nick studied the young human’s face, she was looking at him, her mouth pursed in a puzzled frown.

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Nick.”

  “I didn’t say it did make sense.” Exhaling, he made another vague gesture. “Honestly, I would have set an alarm. But like you said… vampires don’t sleep. I didn’t think it would be an issue. I figured I’d be working by four, to be honest.”

  “When did you wake up?”

  “About an hour and a half after we were supposed to meet.”

  “Why didn’t you call me then?”

  “That’s a little complicated, too.”

  He hesitated, not wanting to add that he woke up acting drunk, paranoid, ridiculously horny, and a little like a lunatic.

  “…Jordan woke me,” he said after a pause. “He hit me with an NYPD emergency signal around five or six o’clock. I’d already missed multiple messages from him and Morley by then. I was also late for a meeting they wanted me to attend. An interview. Case-related, so pretty urgent. Related to that Sphinx thing.”

  “How did you get shot?”

  Curiosity tinged her voice that time.

  Strangely, her softening towards him only made him feel more guilty, not less.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Look. Kit. I’m really sorry. And I’ll do whatever I can to make it up to you. When I offered it last night, I had every intention of taking you surfing today. I one hundred percent planned to be there. Hell… I was looking forward to it.”

  There was another silence.

  Then he felt her grudgingly start to forgive him.

  “Well, you owe me at least two lessons now, big guy—”

  “Five,” he cut in. “At least. Maybe ten.”

  Silence fell between the two of them again.

  “But…” she said, letting her voice trail.

  “But?” He frowned, genuinely thrown. “But what?”

  “But… that’s not the only reason you called,” she said, combing her fingers through her spiked hair. “You need something. Right? Probably something around this case you’re on. Otherwise you would’ve just called me in the morning.”

  Nick thought about that.

  Then, cursing under his breath, he realized she was right.

  “Yeah,” he said grudgingly. “I guess I could use your help.”

  She burst out in a laugh.

  “You are so fucking predictable, Nick. You know that?”

  “Sorry. It’s not my main reason for calling—”

  “Sure it’s not.” She sounded amused though, not angry. “What is it? What do you need? And why not just go through the NYPD’s A.I. for a change? Instead of treating me like your personal hacker slave?”

  Nick let out a sigh, again copying the human mannerism.

  “Two things,” he said. “And to answer your question about Gertrude, Morley and/or Jordan might be on this with the NYPD A.I. already. I just happen to know you’ve got better reach with the I.S.F. servers, not to mention Archangel. Not to mention you’re a hacker badass genius, and Gertrude’s just a lame machine—”

  “Yeah. Okay. Got it.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “No need to gross me out with your insincere, manipulative flattery, Ni
ck. You’ll just embarrass yourself… even if every word you’re saying is true.” She sighed, hands on her hips. “So what is it? What’s the favor?”

  Taking another breath he didn’t need, he told her everything.

  He started with the Sphinx hit.

  Then he explained everything he’d learned about the so-called “tech” while he was climbing that elevator cable. He told her it had something to do with vampire venom. He did his best to recall every detail, every nuance of what he felt and saw in Case’s mind, along with the small amount they’d learned in the original Sphinx bombing.

  When he finished, he could feel her thinking.

  “Soooo…” she said, tapping her lip with one finger and drawing out the word. “I’m thinking black market channels. Start with the vamp ones, and human terrorism. Expand to government fronts. See if there’s anything being auctioned that might meet your specs. Is that where you’re going with this?”

  She looked up, frowning, her enhanced eyes reflecting light.

  “That’s what you need, right?” she said. “You’re looking for possible buyers? Possible sellers? Maybe for someone who might be trying to scare off other potentials?”

  Nick nodded, relieved.

  He never had to explain much to the kid.

  Probably because she was about ten times smarter than he was.

  “Exactly that,” he said, letting his relief be audible in his voice. “If you can tie it to Straven, all the better. But the real priority is to hunt down, and hopefully get a real-world ID, for whoever’s looking to buy. Of course, any information at all around possible tech fitting those specs would be extremely helpful. Who wants it. What it does. What it’s called. How long it’s been on the market. If more than one buyer is being considered. Really, anything you can tell me. Including where it is now… meaning, who might have access to a prototype or specs. We have no idea if the current versions have all been destroyed. Or if any might have been stolen.”

  “But you’re thinking Straven probably has copies still?”

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “I am thinking that. Mostly because of the bombing today, and Straven’s reaction. I think whoever wants this tech… or, conversely, whoever doesn’t want Straven to have it… or who doesn’t want Straven to sell it… or some combination of those things… is using the attacks to send a message.”