Unseen (The Heights, Vol. 1) (2 page)

Whichever of his clients had gotten him out
of the box did him a favor. One ‘regular’ was better than multiple,
wasn’t it?

“I’m going to take off.” He flicked his head.
“Gotta be at the box in a few.”

She nodded, imagining having to work all
night at disposal and then all day as a toy. “Just a week though,
right?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.

After they said goodbye, she watched him
until he turned the corner before heading in the opposite
direction.

“Got any change?” a voice asked from the
darkness.

Before he even finished the sentence, she’d
thrown out her hand holding her ID. At night, it never left her
grip. A second after, she grabbed the small can of pepper spray off
her belt and held that out, too. The spray was for any humans who
bothered her, but she’d never had to use it. Probably because,
somewhere deep inside, they sensed she was different and left her
alone because of it. But it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

A homeless man leaned forward from his spot
on the sidewalk. “Any change?” he repeated.

“Sorry.” She shook her head, trying to loosen
her paranoia a bit. “Nope, no change.” Coinage or otherwise. She
reached into her bag, pulled out the rest of her lunch, and gave it
to the man. He grabbed it greedily without as much as a ‘thank
you.’ She didn’t blame him—life on the streets was tough and there
wasn’t much to be thankful for, so people got out of the habit.

“Stay safe,” she muttered, partly to him and
partly to herself, and resumed her walk home.

Seers were necessary in the Heights. Until
the wars within each race ended, at least. As if that was ever
going to happen. So, job security wasn’t something she was all that
concerned with. Death, however? Yeah, death was a major
concern.

The only way to get by was to keep a low
profile, do your job, and always—yes,
always
—avoid any super
who was still moving. A lesson
not
learned by seers who went
all vigilante and decided it was their destiny to rid the world of
vamps, weres, fae, and the occasional demon. Something Addison
figured out early was that
those
seers die—usually soon and
definitely
painfully.

Because how many pairs of leather pants you
have matters almost as much as how cute you are or how fast you
think of a snappy comeback.

And one thing those girls never seemed to
learn was that fangs trump leather any day of the week.

Her ID made a ticking sound as it bounced
between bricks on the building’s facade. It wasn’t smart to
surprise anyone out here. So, she kept her head down and her eyes
open, always expecting trouble. Knowing that around every corner
she—

“Oh, shit.”

Legs stuck out from between the black
garbage bags in front of Addison’s building. Legs that might or
might not be attached to a body. Could’ve been another homeless
person, but not many of the homeless wore Italian shoes and black
slacks with creases still ironed into them. Hopefully, it was just
a victim of a drive-by. Not that she liked to see a human killed,
but a super this close to her apartment? That wasn’t happy-making.
That was paranoia-making. She lived on this end of town for a
reason—it was a dump. And supers didn’t hang out in dumps.

She checked her phone to see if she’d missed
anything—like a call from HQ letting her know about a body in her
area. Nothing—no missed calls or texts. Damn it. That meant Legs
was an unofficial kill, and
that
meant trouble. For her.

Her steps were light and careful as she
approached. Keeping her badge out, she turned in slow circles,
looking for signs of a setup or someone else waiting to attack from
another angle.

“Disposal technician,” she called out to the
darkness. “I’m a disposal technician.”

When the legs twitched, she jumped and ran up
the steps, knowing the concrete railing would keep a super occupied
for about half a second. Damn it. She should call the office and
subtly ask if anything had been called in for this
neighborhood.

The creature attached to the legs moaned, a
deep, growling, mean-sounding moan.
Crap
. She peered over
the rail, down to a—

“Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit.”

It was a vamp. Flawless face, slicked-back
hair, expensive suit—the complete stereotype. And he was dying,
probably because of the wooden stake sticking out of his chest.
Whoever shoved it in needed to work on their aim. It must’ve missed
his heart by a fraction or the vamp would already be dust.

“Okay,” she whispered. “What now?” She ran
her hands over her face and took a deep breath. If she called the
office, there was a definite possibility they would blame her. No
official fight meant they would blame whoever was closest. Or
lowest. Her other option was to put another stake in the vamp’s
chest and sweep him away.

Shit
! She shook off the idea, as if
just
thinking
about it would set off telepathic alarms
somewhere.

Each step down felt a little closer to a fate
she did her absolute best to avoid. She hated every part of this
life. Brought into it by accident, just like all the other humans
who could
see
.

She nudged the vamp with her foot, clenching
her ID in an outstretched hand. As much as she wanted to, she
couldn’t just leave him on the sidewalk. His glamour was gone, so
some poor kid would probably find him and spend the rest of his
life in an insane asylum. Not to mention all the cops, paramedics,
and gossip rags that would be brought into it.

She called her friend Dawn’s cell number, not
the official call-in line.

“Hey, I can’t talk,” Dawn whispered. “My boss
is on the prowl.”

“I’ll be quick. You need to call the tech who
cleans up around my place and tell them they missed a spot.”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s been logged in
for that area.”

“Can you check again?” Because if it hadn’t
been logged, things were as bad as Addison thought they were. She
waited, her eyes never straying from the vamp.

“I’m back,” Dawn said. “No fights logged in
around there.”

“I don’t care if no fights were logged in,
and I’m guessing the guy lying and dying in front of me doesn’t
care, either.”

“You know we can’t do anything unless someone
logs it in. Shit, he’s coming. Gotta go. Talk later?”

“Sure, later.” If there was one.

Normally, supers were so careful. Addison had
never even
heard
of someone having to do a pickup on an
unofficial site. It just didn’t happen. Not since the races
gathered up all the seers and threatened them with what would
happen if they didn’t do what they were told. But that had been
eons ago, part of the system built after the Treaty of All Races
was signed and everyone pretended to get along.

The sun was just peeking over her building,
shooting a ray of light onto the building across the street. Good
and not good. Sure, the vamp would turn to dust in the sunlight,
but the process was slow and the neighborhood was about to come
alive with humans who would see it happen.

Grimacing and nauseous, she considered
sprinkling some dusting powder on him. She didn’t know if it would
work on a still-viable vampire, though, and if he woke up and
started screaming as it burned him alive-ish, it would only make
things way, way,
way
worse.

She leaned down and grabbed the stake to see
if she could wiggle it a little. If it
accidentally
punctured his heart, it wouldn’t count as a kill.

“What are you doing, Addison?” Mike, her
one-hundred-percent-human neighbor asked, peering over the
railing.

“Nothing.” As she straightened, the chunk of
wood came with her.

“Is he okay?”

As long as the vamp’s mouth stayed shut, he
would just look like some other guy. Well, an incredibly attractive
and pale other guy who had a gaping hole in his chest no human
could survive.

“He’s…fine.” She tossed the stake into the
pile behind her.

“Then why’s he lying in the garbage?”

She pretended to lose her balance. “We had a
bit too much to drink.”

Mike came down the steps. “Do you need help
bringing him inside?”

“Inside?”
Crap
. “No, that’s okay. I
can do it.”

“Yeah, right. How drunk are you?” As Mike
came closer, Addison pulled the lapel of the vamp’s suit over the
hole in his chest.

“It’s okay, really,” she said, adding a
little slur for dramatic effect. “A friend is coming to help.”

Mike shook his head as he bent down. “Is
that—?”

“Wine. Yep, almost a full bottle. It’s a very
expensive way to dye a shirt red—I wouldn’t recommend it.” She had
about another minute before there was enough daylight for Mike to
see clearly. If the vamp dusted right in front of him, he’d have to
get his memory wiped, something Addison couldn’t allow to
happen.

“Don’t you have to leave for work or
something?” She tried pushing him away before it was too late, but
he didn’t budge.

“Man, I’m coming with you guys next time you
go out.” He laughed as he stepped around her. He pulled the vamp up
by both arms to a sitting position, and then quickly bent to hook
his arm around him.

“Let me help!” She went to the vamp’s other
side and they hauled him off the ground. The jerk groaned as they
lifted him, and she adjusted his jacket again.

“If he pukes on me, I’m gonna kill him.”

“It won’t happen.” How was Mike going to kill
something that didn’t eat and seemed exceptionally hard to kill,
even for a vamp?

Each stair was painful. Between the weight of
the vamp, Mike’s blabbering, and the idea that she was bringing an
almost-but-not-quite dusted super into her apartment building was
excruciating. And nauseating. The closer they got, the more she
regretted promising Mike he wouldn’t get puked on.

She fumbled for her keys and unlocked her
door with the vamp’s arm still around her shoulders. Disgusting.
Truly, truly disgusting. After she opened the door, they tried to
bring him in. ‘Tried,’ because the doorway had just become an
invisible and unbreakable force field.

“Come on in, gentlemen,” she said, horrified
she’d just invited a vamp into her home. As soon as the words left
her mouth, they could all go inside.

Great. Welcome home.

“Where do you want him?” Mike asked as she
handed over her half of the dead weight so she could close the
door.

If he was on the couch, he’d dust when the
light came through her bay window. Then maybe with a thorough
vacuuming, she could pretend nothing had ever happened. “The
couch—”
Shit!
Mike was already dragging the carcass into her
bedroom! “Wait!”

Too late. He’d just dumped him on her bed. On
her beautiful duvet that she now had to replace because no manner
of cleaning could wipe that image away.

“Dude’s heavy. And big.” Mike smiled, wiping
his hands on his pants. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well…it’s pretty new. And I don’t
think it’s going to last much longer.” Hopefully. She smiled,
trying to herd Mike towards the door before he figured out that
nothing she was saying made sense.

“Make sure he drinks lots of water or he’s
gonna be feeling like death when he wakes up.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You should sit down,” he said. “You look
like you’re gonna faint.”

“Just tired.” She slapped her cheeks lightly.
Maybe he was mistaking her horrified expression for something else.
“It was a long night.” She thanked him repeatedly and shooed him
out the door.

The only thing worse than having an
almost-dusted vamp in her place was locking herself
inside
her place with one. Hopefully it would all be over soon, and not in
a her-death sort of way.

Okay. Reassess.
She needed to get the
vamp off the street. Now he was off the street. So, all she had to
do was sit here and wait for him to die.
Crap
. He was going
to dust in her apartment. In her bed. She leaned against the
doorframe and stared at him, the reality of what she’d just brought
into her life settling in.

A mage could track him down.
But who’d
deal with a crazy being with a magically fried brain just to find a
random vamp? And from what little she’d heard, hiring a demon
wasn’t cheap. It would be a nonissue soon anyway—no amount of magic
could track down a pile of dust. Of course, if he didn’t dust
soon…or at all…

“What then, Add?” Well, if he didn’t die, all
she’d have to decide was how
she
wanted to.

If anyone found out, she was dead. If he got
free before she could talk him out of killing her, she was dead.
The biggest damage was already done and acting rashly or out of
fear might screw things up more…or faster.

What she needed was a chance to think, make a
plan, weigh options and all that crap. Therefore, the first order
of business was making sure that if he woke up, he couldn’t
get
up.

Silver. She needed silver. And lots of it.
The only thing worse than having a vampire in her bed was having
said
vampire get out of
said
bed and attack her. Once
he was chained, she’d be safe and able to think rationally.
Probably.

She eased her jewelry box out of the top
drawer of her dresser. She wasn’t a jewelry-wearing kind of girl,
and most of the pieces she owned were gold, not silver. If she
clasped everything she had together, the length would probably
work, but their gauges might not.

She tiptoed closer to the vamp and wrapped
the chain around his wrist. Tiny threads of smoke lifted off his
skin where the silver touched, but he didn’t react with anything
more than a slight finger twitch. After gently lifting his arm
above his head, she used the inadequate chains to hook his wrist to
the iron headboard and then moved on to his other wrist and both
ankles. A limp and lifeless body wasn’t all that surprising
considering he was a vamp, but she’d never seen one asleep or been
this close to one who wasn’t dust.