Authors: Helen Harper
‘I came here on a motorbike,’ I say finally. ‘I can’t take Kimchi now. I’ll have to send someone round later.’
He shakes his head. ‘You’ve come round to solve my vampire problem.’ His eyes harden. ‘Solve it.’
I look at Kimchi. His tail thumps on the rug as he registers my attention. Red irises aside, his large eyes are soulful and expressive. I can’t stop myself from smiling at him. I guess I can put his owner’s mind at rest. ‘Fine,’ I sigh, unable quite to believe I’m doing this. ‘But if there’s an accident…’
‘He’s a vampire dog. If there’s an accident, he’ll heal.’
Kimchi drops my poor boot. I can see the saliva on the ripped lining. The sooner I can get an official piece of paper to appease Mr Brinkish, the better.
*
Our return journey is frankly ridiculous. Kimchi is entirely unafraid of the motorbike but Matt and I are forced to wedge him between us to keep him stable. That means that I have to endure repeated wet slobbers on the back of my neck. I’ve always scorned side-cars in the past but I’m starting to see their appeal. When we pull up at a set of traffic lights, the family in the car opposite us are horrified. The only good thing is that – with our helmets on – they can’t tell that we’re vampires. I dread to think what the animal rights’ lobbyists would say. In truth, they’d be right.
It takes every ounce of concentration I have to avoid the dips and minor potholes in the road to make Kimchi’s journey as unstressful as possible. When we pull up outside the New Order offices, he jumps off and barks once. I swear he’s grinning in delight. He gives the motorbike one long sniff, then sits back as if giving it the doggy stamp of approval.
It’s later now so the majority of the protestors have vanished, off to the safety of their own homes. There are still a few stragglers, however. When one spots us, he moves in our direction, pockmarked face twisting. I hear a low rumble and realise that it’s Kimchi growling. I lunge for his collar, just managing to grab it before he leaps towards the protestor and into what would be disastrous action.
‘Night beast!’ the protestor yells.
‘No, it’s just a dog.’
Kimchi’s growl intensifies.
‘Since when do vampires have familiars?’
‘It’s not a familiar.’ I speak evenly but I’m starting to get pissed off. ‘It’s a dog.’
‘Bo,’ Matt says nervously, ‘maybe we should just go inside.’
I’m tempted to loosen my hold on Kimchi’s collar just to see what happens. It’s a pointless desire, though. The protestors hold all the cards: we can’t intimidate them or threaten them or even politely ask them to leave. Our remit is to encourage free speech and open dialogue, even if that means letting these idiots make our lives as difficult as possible. I take Matt’s advice and gently pull Kimchi round. Then we go through the main door.
There’s still a light on in Pearls of Wisdom on the ground floor. I ignore it and start climbing the stairs but, before I get too far, the door opens and Dr Drechlin’s voice rings out behind me. ‘No animals allowed.’
‘Matt, take Kimchi upstairs.’ He nods his head vigorously and does as he’s told. I turn round and face the good dentist. ‘It’s only temporary,’ I tell him. Thank goodness he’s not spotted the cat yet.
‘First a cat, now a dog.’ Damn. ‘It’s against the lease regulations.’
I move down so I’m level with him. Well, I say level: my feet are next to his but I’m a good foot shorter. I admit it’s a ploy I’ve used before. Men – especially human men – are comforted when they feel physically superior, even if it is all an illusion.
‘They won’t get in your way,’ I soothe.
‘All you bloodguzzlers have done since you moved in is get in my fucking way.’
I open my mouth to placate him when there’s the sudden sound of a scuffle from upstairs and an agonised yell from Matt, followed by a thunderous roar of paws rushing back down the stairs. Kimchi appears, ignoring me in favour of flinging himself at Drechlin. The dentist is knocked backwards against the wall. The dog bounces up, his paws scrabbling at Drechlin’s shirt.
Drechlin is flustered. He pats Kimchi’s head but glares at me. ‘You shouldn’t keep dogs if you can’t train them properly.’
‘He’s not my dog,’ I begin, before faltering. Somehow I don’t think explaining that I’m investigating the possibility that the animal slobbering over him might be vampiric would endear either of us to the dentist.
There’s a faint whine. Drechlin glowers and reaches inside the pocket of his white coat. To my surprise he pulls out a biscuit and gives it to Kimchi, who delicately snaps it from his fingers. Then the dentist whirls round and re-enters his office, slamming the door.
I raise my eyebrows at Kimchi, who is licking off the last few remaining crumbs. ‘You’re smarter than you look.’ He wags his tail.
Matt’s pale face peers round from the top of the stairs. ‘Sorry, Bo.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I call up. ‘I think Kimchi might get on better with our neighbours than we do.’
‘That’s good,’ Matt responds, ‘because I don’t think your grandfather’s cat is very impressed.’
I roll my eyes. Of course not.
*
When I finally drag Kimchi back upstairs, he eyes my grandfather’s closed door with trepidation then shuffles over to the furthest corner away from it and curls up. My grandfather, unfortunately, is on the wrong side of the door.
‘You were supposed to reassure the client that his canine was not a vampire, not bring it home with you. What kind of dog is that anyway?’
I eye Kimchi. ‘Pure mutt, I think.’
‘It’s obese.’
I feel insulted on the dog’s behalf. Goodness knows why. ‘It’s big boned.’ My grandfather raises his eyebrows. ‘I need to get a blood test done so Mr Brinkman has an official document to prove his dog is vampire-free. He isn’t going to accept anything else.’
‘Bo, you shouldn’t let people walk all over you. It’s demeaning and quite unbecoming for a Blackman.’
I put my hands on my hips. ‘You mean walking all over me like you’re trying to do right now?’
‘I am your employer.’
I bite back my reply. It wouldn’t do any good, even if calling himself my ‘employer’ is taking it a bit too far. Connor and Matt’s heads are both down, as if they don’t know where to look. Even Kimchi is avoiding eye contact. The last thing any of us need at this juncture is to have everyone in the office tiptoe around because of a frosty atmosphere caused by poor family relations. I like to think my silence makes me the better person; it’s got nothing to do with the fact that any argument with my grandfather always finishes with him running circles around me. Fortunately, the phone rings so it looks less like I’m capitulating and more like I’m merely busy.
‘New Order, Bo Blackman speaking. How may I help you?’
‘Hello.’ Michael’s voice is soft. In my imagination, however, it’s still laced with danger.
I start. Damn it. I wanted to be more prepared before I spoke to him. ‘Uh, hi.’
‘You were supposed to call me.’
‘I only just got back,’ I say, wishing I didn’t have a sudden flurry of butterflies squirming around my stomach.
My grandfather checks his fob watch. It’s almost 11pm and time for him to leave. Thank goodness. He throws Kimchi a dirty look then carefully opens the office door. There’s a single plaintive meow before he closes it behind him.
‘Back from where?’ Michael asks, oblivious to the tension on this side of the line. ‘It wasn’t anything dangerous, was it?’
I ignore the flip-flop in my heart at his apparent concern. To stay grounded, I remind myself of all my unanswered questions about his murky past. ‘No. I was just seeing a man about a dog.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
I frown. It would be easiest to follow Brinkish’s suggestion and use the Montserrat labs to test Kimchi’s blood but an outside agency would remove any taint of bias. I’ll get Connor to take him to a vet tomorrow before his shift starts. ‘No,’ I answer finally, ‘everything’s good.’
‘Excellent,’ he purrs. ‘In that case, would you like to meet me for breakfast once you’re done for the night?’
I hesitate. The last time we met for a meal it didn’t go very well. ‘Uh…’
‘It doesn’t have to be a vampette establishment, Bo. Not if you’ve already drunk today.’
Thankfully Connor provided that service before I left for therapy. ‘I have. How about a drink? Alcoholic, I mean,’ I quickly add, ‘not blood.’ Facing him with some Dutch courage to help me along seems like a good idea.
He’s silent for a moment before answering. ‘Okay.’
‘Have you heard anything from Medici?’
‘No,’ he says grimly. ‘Have you?’
‘Nada. He’s going to bring Dahlia out of the woodwork sooner or later,’ I say, referring to Arzo’s ex-fiancée, whom Lord Medici illegally turned.
‘I’m tempted to force the issue.’
‘I don’t think…’ I trail off as I register Connor’s face paling dramatically as he stares at his computer screen. Matt leans over, his eyes widening in dismay.
‘What is it?’
‘Hold on,’ I mutter, going over to see what the problem is.
My grandfather’s door opens and he strides out as if he’s sensed that there is a problem. He joins our little cluster. A reporter’s mouth moves silently from a live news feed. The scrolling words on the bottom of the screen read: ‘Unprovoked vampire attack.’
‘Turn up the sound.’
Connor does as he’s told. The office fills with the reporter’s flat, received pronunciation. ‘…The woman in question called an ambulance early this evening. Police are already on the scene and making a formal request for witnesses. The victim’s name is currently being withheld but we understand she has been viciously beaten as well as raped. Sources say that she has identified her attacker as a vampire.’
I close my eyes. Bugger it all to hell. That’s the last thing we need.
‘Bo?’ Michael’s voice floats in from the receiver.
I hold it back up to my ear. ‘We’ve got a serious problem.’
Chapter Three: Evidence
I hover around the London General Hospital entrance, keeping far enough away to ensure the gaggle of journalists at the front don’t spot me. It’s imperative that I talk to the woman but I can’t risk being identified. All it will take is one blurry photo and the tabloids will scream intimidation.
I chew my lip. There has to be a way to manage this. I could skirt round the back and look for a side entrance – or even clamber up to the roof to see whether I can gain access that way – but it doesn’t take a genius to realise that the entire building will be on high alert for bloodguzzlers. The chance of me slipping in unnoticed is miniscule. And much as I need to talk to the victim, if I barge into her room and demand answers while she lies prone and hurting in a hospital bed, it
is
intimidation regardless of how pure my motives are.
I wonder how many Family members were rapists before they were recruited. Michael told me that new vampire recruits have their slates wiped clean; the few who don’t take to the rehabilitation becoming a bloodguzzler affords are executed immediately if they step out of line. He views recruiting criminals as giving them a second chance; it’s a way to make society better for everyone. I can’t help thinking that once a rapist, always a rapist.
I check my watch. It’s already well after midnight so, tempting as it is to contact Rogu3 and see whether he can infiltrate each Family’s network and pull the files on any supposed ex-shitheads who would try this sort of thing, it wouldn’t be fair. He’s just a kid, after all. Besides, Medici aside, the Families pledged to cooperate with any investigations we started. Now is as good a time as any to test that promise.
I pull out my phone and dial. As I expect, Matt answers. I tell him what I need, adding that he’s not to take no for an answer. He’ll doggedly do everything necessary to get the information I need. I’m just hanging up when I spot a familiar figure striding out of the hospital’s main entrance to address the press. My eyes narrow while the journalists rush forward. Perhaps they’re not just called ‘the press’ because of their old printing equipment.
‘At nine twenty-five this evening, police were called to a location on the South Bank. They were responding to an alleged sexual attack. On arrival, they discovered a woman aged thirty-five who had been badly beaten. There were also visible signs of sexual assault. To date, no suspects have been identified but door-to-door enquiries are taking place.’
‘Was it a bloodguzzler?’
‘No suspects have yet been identified,’ Inspector Foxworthy repeats.
‘The vampires are above human law. If her attacker turns out to be one, what action will the police take?’
Even from this distance, I see the inspector’s eyes harden. ‘This was a brutal and sustained attack. The victim is lucky to have escaped with her life. Regardless of who the perpetrator is, when they are caught justice will be served.’
Several cameras flash, illuminating his grim face. I mull over his choice of words. Justice can mean many things to many people. For humans, it only involves life imprisonment. For a fleeting moment, I hope it
is
a bloodguzzler who’s done this. I quash down the thought as quickly as it arrives. Prior to my own turning, I’d believed that capital punishment was both futile and wrong. It’s more than just my lifespan that’s altered in recent months. I shiver and tell myself my opinions haven’t changed, and that I’m just reacting to the brutality of the crime.
‘He drove a stake through her palms to pin her to the ground,’ a soft voice says behind me.
I jump half a foot in the air. So much for enhanced senses. I twist round, recognising Foxworthy’s sidekick. Oh joy. She moves a step closer.
‘Her mouth was stuffed full of dirt so she couldn’t scream but she still bit off part of her tongue. Both her legs are broken.’ Sergeant Nicholls raises her eyebrows. ‘Have you ever seen someone who’s been beaten so badly that their body is not only purple with bruises but swollen to almost twice its normal size?’
I stare at her.
‘He was going to kill her,’ she continues. ‘It’s only because she ripped free from the stakes that she managed to get away. You should see her hands, Ms Blackman. I wonder whether even a bloodguzzler like you would have the strength to tear your own flesh like that.’