Darkling

Page 2

"What went down?" Whatever it was must have been bad. Chase knew better than to come around my bar all bloodied up. With Earthside Supes and denizens of Faerie hanging out here, it was an unwritten rule: If you were sporting a nasty laceration or a woman in the middle of a heavy menstrual flow, stay away from the Wayfarer. Blood scent risked setting somebody off because blood was an aphrodisiac to a number of Supes.
Yeah, something had happened to make Chase break with convention.
"Vampires," he said. "The victims were drained of blood but no obvious cuts or wounds. Sharah examined their necks and sure enough—twin punctures on every one of them. They were up in the balcony, near the back, where nobody else was sitting. So nobody saw what happened."
Vampires? Of course there were vamps in Seattle, but ones who would resort to attacking humans in a theater? That didn't track right. Vampires Anonymous (V.A.) had been working hard to combat feeding on the innocent.
I shook my head. "Did you catch them?"
Chase frowned. "We couldn't find any sign of them. We thought you might be able to help. The wounds are fresh; the vamps are probably close by. If anybody can find them, you can."
I groaned. "You want me to play Buffy? Give me one good reason why I should go staking my own kind."
Chase gave a rough laugh. "Because you're part of the OIA. Because you're on the right side. Because you know what they did was wrong. Hell, you can dress up in drag and call yourself Angel, for all I care. Just help us."
Great, just great. This was the price I paid for being nice to my sister's boyfriend. But as he stared at me, pleading for my help, how could I say no? I untied my apron and tossed it on the counter.
"Chrysandra, I'll be back in awhile. Watch the bar for me." I hurried to follow Chase out the door, into the dark January night.
My name is Menolly D'Artigo and I used to be an acrobat. In other words, I was damned good at getting into places and spying on people. Or rather, most of the time I was damned good. I happen to be half-human on my mother's side, half-Fae on my father's. The genetic mix leads to trouble, and whatever powers a half-Fae, half-human child is born with tend to get swallowed up in a mix of uncertainty. My sisters—Camille, a witch, and Delilah, a werecat—learned that lesson only too well.
During a routine spying mission, thanks to faulty wiring and a random roll of the dice, I slipped up. It was the last mistake I ever made. The Elwing Blood Clan took me down, and they play to win. The torture seemed to last for an eternity, and now—so will I. After Dredge killed me, he raised me into the world of the undead, turning me into a vamp just like him. But I refused to let the bastard win. Nobody ever gets the last word with me, especially a sadist like Dredge.
My sisters and I work for the Otherworld Intelligence Agency, which went bust a couple months ago. Civil war broke out back in Y'Elestrial, our home city-state in Otherworld. Queen Lethesanar recalled all operatives and filtered them into the military. We opted to stay Earthside, especially since she'd stamped a death threat on our heads at home.
Now we're in a race against time against a powerful demon lord named Shadow Wing. He's big and he's bad, and he's currently ruling over the Subterranean Realms. Together with his hordes of Demonkin, Shadow Wing intends to raze both Earth and Otherworld to the ground and take over. We do have a few allies back home in Otherworld. The Elfin Queen, Asteria, is giving us all the help she can, but it isn't much. Together my sisters and our ragtag group of friends are the only ones standing in Shadow Wing's way. And that's a scary proposition, at best.
The Delmonico Cinema Complex is the oldest theater in the Belles-Faire district of town, where the Wayfarer is located. Still outfitted with the original decor complete with squeaky chairs and a balcony right out of the fifties where lovers used to grope and fondle their way to celluloid ecstasy, the Delmonico had seen better days. But it still held nostalgic charm for the Seattle suburb, and hearkened back to a time of ushers who actually did their jobs and real butter on popcorn and monster movies on Saturday afternoons.
The theater was empty. The moviegoers hadn't even been aware of what happened. I doubted there had been many patrons to begin with. There wasn't much call during the week for late shows unless it was a cult classic, like The Rocky Horror Picture Show or Plan 9 from Outer Space. A young woman, the ticket taker by the looks of her uniform, and two food-stand attendants were sitting on a bench waiting for Chase's team to give them the go-ahead to leave.
"They don't know why we're here, so don't say a word in front of them," Chase said to me in low tones. "Depending on what happens, we'll tell them that a fight broke out and somebody ended up with a nasty broken nose."
He led the way up the threadbare carpet-covered stairs and I followed. Luckily I had enough control to keep my instincts reined in. I shook the smell of fresh blood out of my thoughts and focused on what he was saying.
"We received an anonymous tip about an hour ago. The call came directly to me, so somebody knew this was a case for the FH-CSI," he said.
The Faerie-Human Crime Scene Investigations unit was Chase's baby. He'd created it when he was first accepted into service by the Otherworld Intelligence Agency, Earthside Division, and it became the standard for all nationwide divisions that followed in its wake. The team responded to all law enforcement matters dealing with the Fae or Earthside Supes.
"Direct to your office, you mean? Your number isn't public, is it?" For some reason, the situation seemed odd to me.
Chase shook his head. "No, but it wouldn't be hard to trace if somebody really wanted to know. Thing is, caller ID was blocked and whoever was on the line sounded pretty damned sure that the FH-CSI was necessary. But when we got here it took a little while to ascertain that the victims had been attacked by vampires. A cursory glance wouldn't have shown anything out of the ordinary. If you can call any murder ordinary. So whoever called me had to know they were killed by somebody other than an FBH."
It was odd to hear the term FBH come from Chase's lips, especially since he was one, but it made sense. The acronym was easier than constantly saying "full-blooded human, Earthside born."
"Were the bodies moved? Could someone have checked to see if they were alive and, in doing so, noticed the punctures?" I stared at the victims. The OIA medical team was still looking them over. Well, they'd been an official OIA medical team until a few months ago—now the Otherworld Intelligence Agency was our baby and we were calling the shots.
"Nope. Don't think so. Sharah said that while there's a lot of blood, the patterns indicate they're right where they were when they died."
"Speaking of blood," I said slowly, gazing at the four bodies that, until earlier this evening, had been alive and—probably—happy people. I was no angel, that was for certain, but I chose my victims from the lowest of the low, which kept me in the clear as far as my own conscience was concerned.
"Yes?" Chase tapped me on the shoulder. He looked a little worried. "Menolly, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I said, shaking off my thoughts. "I'm fine. I was just going to say that there's something else odd about this massacre. There shouldn't be this much blood. There shouldn't be much blood at all unless we're dealing with one incredibly sloppy vamp, and even the grimiest bloodsuckers I know are usually fairly neat and tidy. That's why vamp attacks have generally gone unnoticed over the years. Unless…"
A thought ran through my head but I didn't want to entertain it. There had been a lot of blood when I was turned, and I had the scars to prove it.
"Unless what?" Chase sounded impatient and I didn't blame him. He still had to think of something to tell their next of kin. We weren't passing on information about the demons, nor were we in the habit of telling people that their loved ones had been killed by vampires and Earthside Supernaturals. There were enough locos in the world who would gladly go hunting anybody or anything who even remotely resembled a Supe if they got word that one of us had been responsible for somebody's death.
"Unless they either wanted to hurt these people, or leave a calling card. Are there any scars? Any signs of torture…" As I glanced up, Chase returned my look and I tore my gaze away when I saw the pity in his eyes. I quickly turned and strode over to the bodies, searching their expressions for some sign of pain, of anger.
Sharah was finishing up her notes. She and her assistant, an elf who barely looked old enough to shave, were getting ready to bag the bodies and take them back to the morgue for closer examination. Sharah's gaze flickered up to catch mine, and she softly nodded.
"I don't know yet," Chase said. "There doesn't appear to be extensive damage but we'll know more when we autopsy them."
I examined their faces, but couldn't tell whether they'd been in pain at the end. Mainly they looked surprised, as if they'd been simultaneously attacked. One last surprise for the night. For life.
With a sigh, I stepped out of the way and let the medics get on with their work. Over the past few months, I'd worked closely with Wade Stevens, the brains behind Vampires Anonymous, and we'd managed to enlist promises from at least fifteen vamps who lived in the city to avoid taking blood from the innocent. Or, at least, they took an oath to avoid killing anybody during the process, or leaving them damaged.
We'd developed quite a following, and we were contemplating our next goal, which would be to take control of vampire activity in Seattle and run it like an underground police force. Those who didn't cooperate would be asked to leave or face being staked. Essentially we were aiming to become the Mafia of the undead set. We hoped to inspire other groups in other cities, until vampires could walk among the living without fear of being skewered.
"Wade needs to know about this," I said. "I'll contact him and we'll see if we can find out anything on our end."
Chase nodded. "I appreciate it, Menolly. I really don't know how to go after vampires, except with a butt-load of garlic and a wooden stake. You said crosses don't work…"
"No, they don't. Neither do pentacles, ankhs, or any other religious symbol. All claptrap contrived to give hope to the country dwellers who lived in fear of vampire activity. Of course, sunlight's a sure cure. Fire's pretty freaky, too, but not nearly so dangerous. There are a few spells to ward off vampires. Camille knows a couple, but no way in hell will I let her practice on me, so only the gods know if she can work them right."
He snorted. "It's a crapshoot every time she gets it into her head to cast a spell."
I couldn't help but grin along with him. "Not necessarily. She's getting better at offensive magic, though her defensive and household magical skills leave a lot to be desired. Don't write her off, Chase. She can do a lot of damage if she wants."
Chase relaxed then, and gave me a full blown smile. "Yeah, I know. And so can Delilah. And I already know what you could do to me. But I trust you girls. All of you," he added.
Recognizing the significance of what he said, I accepted the compliment graciously. A month or so ago Chase still jumped whenever I entered the room, and I used his fear to play him to the hilt. We still weren't fond of each other. Much. But I'd developed a sense of respect for the tall, handsome detective who had wooed Delilah's heart. She may not know it, and I was pretty sure Chase was blind as a bat, but the two of them were falling in love. I wasn't about to be the one to tell them. They'd figure it out soon enough on their own.
I silently made my way to the steps leading down to the main entrance of the Delmonico. "I'll get back to you when I've talked to Wade. Meanwhile I suggest you think up a good excuse for why these four died. We can't possibly let out the truth. Too much chance for mayhem. Call me when you know more."
"Right," he said, sighing and turning back to the crime scene. "As if we don't already have enough to deal with."
Silently agreeing, I left the theater and returned to my bar. The night was a frozen wonderland, but all I could smell was blood.
CHAPTER 2
Back at the bar I was in for another surprise, this one welcome. Iris was sitting at the counter, nursing a glass of Granover wine from the vast swath of vineyards that skirted Y'Elestrial, back in Otherworld. Her face lit up when I came through the door and she waved.
"I wondered where you'd gotten to," she said, polishing off the wine and holding out her glass. "Another, please. It's my night off and I don't feel like sitting at home."
Iris was a Talon-haltija, a Finnish house sprite who lived with my sisters and me. She helped by taking care of the house, watching out for Maggie—our little calico gargoyle—and by occasionally whopping a bad guy on the head with her five-pound stainless steel skillet. As pretty as a Norwegian maiden, she was older than all of us, and easily as dangerous. She was also one of my best friends.
"I'm glad you're here," I said, refilling her glass. "We may have a problem."
Her expression soured. "Oh great. What's going on now? Another Degath Squad in town? A skinwalker come to avenge his brother? Drunken trolls making an appearance?"
I shook my head and leaned on the bar so nobody else could hear what I had to say. "None of the above. I think we have rogue vampires on the loose—possibly new to the life and unaware of the V.A.'s attempts to corral bad behavior."
She blinked and took a sip, her eyes sparkling like a dazzling spring morning. I had blue eyes, too, but they were almost frosty gray by now, growing more so with each year I'd been a vampire. That is, when they weren't glowing red, which usually happened when I was hungry, hunting, or in a bad mood.