Bloodlines (The Guardian of Empire City Book 1)

by Peter Hartog

  I gave him one of my patented reassuring smiles, the kind I reserved for little kids, potted plants, and drunks.

  “Yeah, okay.” Tony rubbed his forehead a few times. “It was dark, y’know? And me and Julie were, y’know, having a little fun in the alleyway.”

  Deacon took a position between the kitchen and the bedroom door, studying our witness with fixed intensity. Tony ran a hand through his hair a few times and licked his lips again. I smelled wine on his breath.

  “It was around ten o’clock. Then we heard this scream, and then it got cut off with, like, a gurgle. It sounded fucking awful. Like all scared and shit. So me and Julie, we ran down the alleyway to check it out, you know, in case somebody needed help.”

  I nodded my thanks as Julie came around and handed out steaming mugs. Once finished, she sat beside Tony and linked her arm protectively in his. She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “I pulled out my phone so we could see,” Tony continued, drawing strength from his contact with Julie. His words spilled out faster. “I mean, it was raining and really dark, y’know? So, like a minute or two later, we come across this guy kneeling next to this body, this girl, lying on the ground. I thought maybe she’d fallen or slipped or something. But, like, she wasn’t moving, and I heard this slurping sound, like when you’re drinking from a can. It was fucked up, man. Really fucked up.”

  Tony’s voice trailed off. He started sobbing.

  “It’ll be okay, baby,” Julie soothed, hugging him close. “Just tell them what you saw.”

  “I can’t,” he blubbered.

  Julie made comforting sounds as Tony’s shoulders shook.

  I didn’t push. You couldn’t in stressful situations like these. In my experience, let the witnesses tell their story in their own time.

  Unless you’re Deacon.

  “Get it together, boy!” Deacon snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. “Quit acting like a fucking crybaby! Tell us what happened.”

  Tony looked at Deacon as if he’d been slapped.

  “We ain’t got time for your shit,” Deacon glared. “And I don’t give two fucks that you’re scared. Tell us everything you saw so we can catch the bastard who murdered that girl.”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay.” He nodded rapidly several times, then took a shaky breath. “My phone’s light didn’t show much. Curly hair, maybe, with pointed ears, and dead eyes. Like, there was no life in them or anything. And two fangs stuck out of his mouth, like a fucking vampire! His mouth and chin were covered in blood. But then it all dissolved into his fucking skin! I’m telling you man, it was fucked up!”

  “What was he wearing?” I probed, ignoring his reaction. “Did you notice any tattoos, or jewelry? Any other distinguishing features? Was he tall or short? Skin color?”

  “Um, he was my height, and skinny,” Tony replied, rubbing at his temples. “White guy, I think. I didn’t see any tats or jewelry. Wore a long coat.” He looked up, realizing something. “And a cape. Vampires wear capes, right?”

  “Anything else?” I pressed, trying hard not to roll my eyes.

  “Look man, I already told the other cops everything I just told you.” Tony’s hands trembled, but he managed to keep it together. He rubbed his runny nose with a shirt sleeve. “That’s all I can remember.”

  “What about the girl?” Deacon said. “Anything about her?”

  Tony shook his head.

  “I think her hair was red. And her throat had been…had been…” He made a gagging noise, then bolted from the couch and into the bathroom.

  The sound of his retching soured the hot coffee in my stomach. I put the mug down. Deacon scowled, shaking his head in disgust.

  “I’m sorry,” Julie apologized, her own eyes moist. “This has been so hard for both of us. And Tony hasn’t slept. He can’t get last night out of his head.”

  “I understand, Miss DeGrassi.” I forced a smile. “Can you tell us what you saw?”

  She stood, picked up my mug, and moved to the kitchen.

  “It was like being in a nightmare with that thing, those awful, dead eyes and its fangs,” she said, the horror clear in her voice. “And the blood covering its mouth and chin! Tony grabbed my hand, and we ran. Then we heard police sirens and shouting. I guess I was in shock, because I really don’t remember much after that other than being taken to the hospital.”

  Tony began coughing from the bathroom, and Julie excused herself to check on him. I exchanged a quick glance with Deacon.

  “Fucking addicts,” Deacon hissed in disgust. I narrowed my eyes at him. That comment hit too close to home. “What’d you expect?”

  “Yeah, well she seems to be handling it better than Tony,” I observed, stowing what I wanted to say to Deacon about addicts. Now wasn’t the time to pick a fight.

  “Indeed, their recollection of the incident last night must be called into question,” Besim stated in a flat tone. “And I do not believe Miss DeGrassi is an addict. Her companion, on the other hand, is most assuredly so.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You could smell it on him, but not her.”

  Besim’s lips curled imperceptibly. “Not quite.”

  I waited for her to elaborate, but just then, Julie led a pale Tony to the bedroom. He slurred an apology, gave Julie an awkward hug, and stumbled inside. Julie pressed her head against the doorframe.

  “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I don’t think Tony can handle any more right now. He really needs to rest. Could you come back tomorrow? Please?”

  Besim and I both stood.

  “Of course.” I handed Julie one of my holo-cards. “I’ll be in touch. Please don’t hesitate to call me in the meantime.”

  “Thank you,” Julie replied, looking tired and frail. She showed us to the door.

  “Thanks for the coffee,” I said as the three of us left the apartment.

  We returned to the pod.

  Murder investigations lead to a lot of dead ends. It’s just a factor of the business. If the puzzles were easy, and sometimes they were, we’d catch more bad guys. But most of the time, the pieces were vague shapes, full of shadows and half-truths. Relying on this eyewitness testimony, especially if they had been zoned on ’joy, made the process that much tougher.

  “What a fucking waste of fucking time,” Deacon growled as he lit a cigarette.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I replied. “The coffee wasn’t half-bad.”

  “We learned jack shit back there, Holliday,” he said, jabbing the fingers holding his cigarette in the direction of Julie’s place.

  “Maybe,” I conceded, failing to hide my own frustration. “They were both lit last night, but they still saw something. I reviewed the facial composite from the sketch artist. No hits in the EC Inter-Enclave ID or the International Facial Holo-Recognition systems.”

  I flopped into a passenger chair and swiveled from side to side hoping the motion might help me think.

  Besim settled herself into a seat, offering me an expectant look.

  “You have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” I asked.

  “Perhaps,” Besim began. “However, I am still considering the variables.”

  “Okay, then what do you have so far?” I planted my feet to halt the chair’s movement and gave her my full attention.

  “Tony Marrazzo displayed the classic signs of addiction, something I do not need to explain to either of you,” Besim stated, looking from Deacon back to me.

  “Gee Doctor, thanks, I think,” I said, although I wondered why she had included Deacon. “How nice of William to share everything about me with you. When will you return the favor?”

  “Julie DeGrassi, on the other hand, appears merely distraught,” Besim continued, ignoring the question. “I would posit Julie does not partake of recreational narcotics nearly as often as Tony. As was previously established, the crime scene is, how do you humans phrase it, ‘in his backyard’? Thus, Tony’s preference to convalesce at her a
partment, maintaining a healthy distance from the source of his trauma. But I do not believe that to be the only reason. In fact, his reliance on Julie is greater than he knows.”

  “And you figured this out, how?” I asked.

  “I listen, but I also observe,” Besim explained. “His voice and speech patterns were interrupted by his anxiety, his need for a ‘fix,’ and obvious sleep deprivation. Julie, on the other hand, was in command of her faculties the entire time. She acted the proper hostess, as if nothing were amiss. Perhaps it is her method of coping. However, I think Julie was more in control of her circumstances. I must give it more thought before concluding anything further.”

  I was about to ask another question when the audio center of my brain exploded with screeching feedback. Crying out, I covered my ears with both hands. At the same time, Besim doubled over in pain, also gripping her head. Deacon rushed to her side.

  As soon as the noise began it vanished, leaving behind a deafening echo. I blinked several times and stretched my jaw. After a few moments, the echo faded.

  “EVI,” I rasped, wincing at the sound. “What the hell was that?”

  “A power surge at Headquarters occurred as the result of an explosion to several Nexus generators at the adjacent power company,” she said between bursts of static.

  Images appeared on the windshield display. Thick black smoke and flashes of a raging fire engulfed part of a broad four-story building.

  “All implanted personnel were physically affected. The cause of the explosion is unknown. Emergency services have been deployed to assess the damage, including potential casualties. The enclave utility employs four hundred and—"

  “I get the picture,” I interrupted, flinching a little whenever I moved my head. “What’s your status?”

  “Disaster recovery systems have also failed,” EVI replied. “I will be engaged in an emergency diagnostic with our technicians and will be unavailable for finely-tuned data functions such as data collection and assessment until it is completed. Base functionality, including enclave-wide internal and external communications, and logistical deployment and control of transportation, will remain operable during this time. Detective Holliday, I apologize for any inconvenience.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie.” I patted the dashboard. “You hang in there.”

  “Thank you,” EVI replied, ending the communication.

  “Well, isn’t that just a nice kick in the nuts,” I grumbled. “Looks like we’re on our own, folks. EVI will be down for a while.”

  Besim, now recovered, thanked Deacon with a slight pat on his arm. He returned to his seat but shot her a concerned a look.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  Besim gave me a wan smile. “I will recover, Detective.”

  “I guess having super hearing powers isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, eh?” I smiled back.

  She laughed, a genuine sound filled with soothing music that made the pain in my ears fade and my smile grow. The laughter transformed her face as it had back at the bank. Her eyes lit up with warmth and color. I caught myself staring, blushed, and looked away.

  What the fuck was that about?

  “What now?” Deacon interrupted, a new cigarette between his fingers.

  I cleared my throat, slightly nonplussed, and turned toward the front of the pod. Noting the time displayed in silvered digitized numerals on the display, I realized I was famished. Skipping lunch and living on coffee had its drawbacks. And I’d had enough of my new so-called partners.

  “Well, it’s been an eventful day.” I clapped my hands together, then grimaced. Stupid ears. “And I’m sure you’re all just as tired as I am. With that in mind, we’ll reconvene at 0700. Meet me at Mortie’s Kosher Deli over on East 28th. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  “Whatever, Holliday.” Deacon took a long drag from his smoke. Both he and Besim stood up and moved to the hatchway.

  “You’re getting out here?” I asked curiously, activating the door. Wet air blasted into the pod interior.

  “Don’t want you losing beauty sleep carting us around in your fancy pod, Holliday,” he replied with a sarcastic smile. “We’ll be fine. See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 9

  EVI dropped me off at the Metro station two blocks from my place. I left her with instructions to be there at six. With the hatchway closed, the pod set in motion and flowed effortlessly along its ‘way before merging with a separate public transportation track. Both paths were part of a latticework of heavy girders and infrastructure rising above the ground, a separate highway with its own traffic rules. Moments later, the ECPD pod connected electromagnetically to the rear of a slower and much longer Metro pod before being swallowed by the rain and fog.

  I trudged along the cracked and rubbish-strewn sidewalk, misty rain enveloping me in wet armor. I lived in the “nicer” section of Dyker Heights, once an old, affluent neighborhood, now a festering armpit of drugs, gangs, and lost people. The stately bungalows and ornate homes that had once decorated these streets had all been torn down decades ago. They’d been replaced with shitty, multi-family tenements owned and operated by a conglomeration of real estate moguls who didn’t give a rat’s ass about the people living in them. As you’d expect, crime ran rampant here, but the rent was dirt cheap, and it was all I could afford. The last report I’d read put Dyker Heights tied for third-worst neighborhood in which to raise a family behind parts of East Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant. I couldn’t remember who we were tied with, but at least we were in the top three in something.

  Dorothy had been right. There really was no place like home.

  As I made my way into the hollowed-out lobby of the Renaissance Apartments, I ignored two teenage punks lounging on one of the cushion-less couches. They took turns taking hits from the same goldjoy pipe. Their eyes glittered with gold, lost amid fantasies only they could imagine.

  “The stars are so beautiful tonight,” one cried, his outstretched hands grasping at phantoms. “Can you see them? Can you see them, Bobby? Fly me to the moon. To the moon, and the stars and into the fucking sun!”

  “This ‘joy is the shit!” Bobby laughed. “Quit hogging the pipe, Mal! I need me some more of that shit!”

  Mal tried to stand before collapsing onto the couch. Bobby leered at me, then rifled through his wasted buddy’s clothes, yanking out his enclave ID and waving it around as if he’d won the goddamn lottery. I moved past them without a word.

  The elevator was out again, so I took the stairs. Pushing past the door, I was assaulted by the sick smell of piss and other unidentifiable things. Another half-naked junkie lay prone on the stairs. I didn’t bother checking for a pulse. Instead, I held my breath, skirted the body and proceeded up three flights of stairs to my floor. A quick walk down an empty hallway brought me to my apartment. Once inside, I secured the triple locks and exhaled sharply. I leaned my head against the inside of the door. Fresh air circulated thanks to the portable air purifier sitting on the floor several paces inside my apartment. I breathed in the air greedily. It was one of only a handful of luxuries I allowed myself, thanks to Abner’s constant nagging. I waved a hand over the sensor attached to the wall, activating the reading lamp sitting on a nightstand by my bed.

  I kept my place neat and tidy. Everything had an order to it, and I preferred to keep things simple, given how disorderly my life had become over the years. Mine was a one-bedroom efficiency with a tiny kitchenette, a smaller bathroom with standup shower, a broom closet, a fold-out cot, two plastic lawn chairs, and an end table with a portable and very outdated holo-rig currently in rest mode. My wrinkled clothes hung in a neat row along a plastic clothesline I’d installed that stretched between the bathroom door and the window. I doffed my blazer and hooked it to the line with some pins, then unwound my shoulder rig and placed the SMART gun carefully on the end table. Next to it was a broken holo-frame displaying the image of a pretty brunette wearing a pink dress standing next to an old man in a suit. A young, curly-haired b
oy with big blue eyes sat on a stool between them. Marching into the kitchenette, I activated the coffee maker and retrieved a fresh mug from the single cabinet above the sink, setting it on the counter.

  Back at the living area, I waved my hand over the holo-rig. The voice-activation feature had busted years ago, and I hadn’t bothered asking Leyla to fix it. Two holo-windows materialized above the device containing unread voice messages, and a shadowy third that held one saved message. I flicked my fingers over the first of two, deactivating the visuals. Tinny audio played quietly from the rig’s speakers.

  “Tom, it’s Abner. I hope the day finds you well! Listen, Tom, I’m worried about Leyla. She’s been out every night. And before you say anything, I understand this is what young people are prone to doing but…would you please speak with her? She looks up to you, although I haven’t the foggiest as to why. That was a joke, Tom. Anyway, I hope you haven’t forgotten about the Steinbeck reading this Saturday morning at the library. Nine o’clock, and don’t be late! Take care, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

  A wry smile crinkled my lips. I’d swing by the bookstore Saturday and have a sit-down with Leyla before the reading. It wouldn’t help, as the willful girl did what she wanted, but it would mollify Abner. I deleted the message.

  “Detective Holliday, this is Rena MacIntosh with the Daily Dose. My sources tell me you’re involved with the so-called downtown vampire slaying. I’d like to get your take on it. Call me at—”

  I cut the message off and deleted it, shaking my head. How Rena had gotten a hold of my number was anyone’s guess. I’d never spoken with her or the Dose before on any of my previous cases and had no interest in starting now. The media had their uses, but our relationship was like divorced parents with shared custody of the kids and lots of acrimony.

  The third remained. I stared at its darkened holo-window. A faint wetness painted the corners of my eyes. My shoulders slumped. The message was indelibly printed in my memory.

  “Hey baby, it’s me. I really need to talk to you. There’s something you need to know. About me. About us. Something…well, anyway, just come by my room when you’re done with counseling, okay? I love you, Tom. No matter what happens, I will always love you.”