by Gina LaManna
“As I said, there’s no spell or hex to imitate this sort of magic unless it’s new on the market. I sincerely doubt that, however. And what would be the point? Why frame a vampire?”
“To get Matthew in trouble.”
“Maybe,” Sienna said. “But it’s a stretch. Although, there are two quite curious things.”
Willa began to open her mouth, but I elbowed her before she could speak. She swallowed her questions quickly at Sienna’s darting look toward the door.
“Detective, is there pain during a feeding?” Sienna turned her attention toward me. Her face was a blank mask of professionalism, but curiosity gleamed in her eye. “When a vampire bites, how badly does it hurt?”
I felt my fingers lock into fists. “Why do you care?”
“I’ll be asking the questions,” Sienna said coolly. “I don’t care about your personal life, but I am trying to figure out how our vic, Allie Sparks, ended up dead. You are the only witch I know in Wicked who has been bitten by a vamp—and lived.”
“I’m not answering.”
Willa rested a hand on my arm. “It’s for Matthew, sweetie. We don’t mean to pry. I promise you. But you don’t have to hide from us.”
I shrugged my arm from Willa’s grasp. “I’m not hiding. It’s just—it’s private. And it only happened once, years ago.”
“I’m sure you haven’t forgotten,” Sienna said dryly. “I would appreciate an answer.”
“I’d appreciate a reason why.”
Sienna must have decided my request was a worthwhile one because she turned back to Allie and gestured to the young woman’s face. She was pretty, brown-haired and slender, her formerly olive-colored skin now a pale, purple-ish shade.
“If you look at her face,” Sienna said. “There’s a distinct element of fear and pain. An anguish, if you will. Even more so before I closed her eyes.”
“She’s dead,” I said. “Murdered. I imagine her last moments weren’t exactly peaceful.”
“No, but one can tell a lot from the look in a victim’s eyes,” Sienna said. “Often there’s surprise, or a hint of fear. But this was... another thing entirely.”
I swallowed. “A vampire bit her. She’s a werewolf—a mortal enemy. She knew what was happening.”
“Yes, but there’s a certain lore,” Sienna ventured, “certain folk tales that are passed down among supernaturals. And one of them lends itself to a curiosity in this case.”
“Lore,” I huffed. “Right.”
“The saying is that the bite of a vampire, while at first surprising and unpleasant, turns quickly into something quite pleasurable.” Sienna said all of this with an even expression, her voice clipped and professional. “So, I thought back to school. And every textbook case of a death-by-vampire incorporated that into the victim’s expression. Some of them looked surprised, dismayed even, but not anguished. No true fear or pain. It’s odd.”
“She wasn’t a normal human or even a witch,” I said dully. “She was a werewolf. Maybe they react differently.”
“I suspect that’s not true, but if you don’t feel like answering my question, I have nothing to compare it with.”
I felt both women’s eyes on me, felt the pressure of speaking or letting them down. Then I thought about Matthew lying unconscious in the hospital bed, his skin alight with flames from the Mixologist’s potions.
“There’s no pain,” I said eventually. “I mean, the first prick, sure. It’s excruciating. But the second...” I hesitated, adjusted my voice and recalibrated to make sure I was speaking in monotone. To make sure the others couldn’t hear the hitch in my voice as I remembered. “When blood starts to leave your body, there’s no more pain.”
“Ah,” Sienna said.
“Matthew explained it to me at the time, that it’s some sort of magic vampires have,” I said. “Like their persuasive abilities. Vampires have evolved with the primary goal of being able to lure victims to them with a false sense of safety. As Matthew told me, death by vampire bite is not actually an unpleasant thing.”
Willa’s eyes bugged out. “Except, you know, the fact that they’re dead.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But the experience itself is actually quite... peaceful. There’s the gentle magic to their words while they persuade you that what’s about to happen is a joyous thing. That each victim is uniquely special. That the vampire truly cares about you.”
I let myself be carried away, almost in a trance. The morgue faded away, and the pressure of Willa and Sienna’s gazes vanished into the background.
“Then, once their intended target is well and truly settled, comfortable with the vampire’s presence—under a spell, if you will—the bite happens.” I cleared my throat, rubbed my clammy hands together. “The first moment is excruciating, like I said. It’s that first bite, the first incision, where the pain is almost unbearable. There’s a flash of clarity through your mind where you realize this is it—this is the end—and you know, without a doubt, that death has come knocking.”
I barely noticed Willa shuddering.
“It’s just a flash, but it’s there,” I continued. “However, at the first...withdrawal, if you will, it all goes away. The moment blood leaves your body, the pain is gone. There’s another layer of magic, more persuasion, more glamour, and the victim is lulled into a sense of bliss.” My face colored. “Bliss... it’s more than relaxation. It sort of fills you with this power, this adrenaline. It’s addictive, the rush.”
“Except most people don’t live through it,” Sienna said softly. “Hence the reason they die with this look of power, or bliss, or even curiosity on their faces. But not pain.”
I shook myself from the reverie, almost frightened by how real the memory had become. I’d felt Matthew’s hands on me, felt his lips against my neck, felt the erogenous pull of him against me as we tangled and danced on the verge of death and love. A shiver slithered down my spine. I both hated that it had happened and wanted more.
“What does that mean for our vic?” I asked Sienna in a gruff voice. “Do you think that means this bite didn’t come from a real vamp?”
“I can’t be sure, but I’m most certainly looking for a way to clear Matthew before his attackers come back,” Sienna said, sounding almost kind which, in and of itself, was quite bizarre. “There’s one more thing that’s suspect.”
“Oh?”
“I need to ask you another question,” Sienna said. “A personal one.”
“Goody.”
“How difficult is it for a vamp to stop?” Sienna asked. “Once he or she has latched, I mean. And the withdrawal has started.”
My mouth went dry. It felt like I’d choked down an unripe persimmon, and I struggled to breathe. “Why?”
“Is that why the two of you separated?” Sienna asked, curious. “Because Matthew was frightened? Come on, Detective. This is important.”
“Yes,” I said finally, my chest constricting. “He found it damn near impossible to stop. That’s why he broke things off.”
Sienna nodded, though the look on her face didn’t change. “The second peculiar thing about this murder is that there’s another cause of death right behind the first.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I thought Sparks was killed through exsanguination?”
“Not quite,” Sienna admitted. “Though there was absolutely a withdrawal made. She’s lost significant blood, but I’m struggling to be able to tell which killed her first—the strangulation or the bite.”
“Strangulation?”
Sienna reached forward and tugged the white sheet down the body, exposing the skin to the collarbone. “See here?”
I leaned forward, examined the purplish bruises that looked like fingerprints around her neck. “He strangled her while he was feeding from her neck?”
“Looks like it,” Sienna said. “And while I don’t beg to understand why murderers do their thing—that’s your department, Detective—I do need to understand the how. And why they chose
to do the how.”
“You’re losing me.”
“Let’s take our culprit,” Sienna says. “And play through a few scenarios. Give me something.”
“Oh,” Willa said, raising a finger. “Can I play? What if the vampire wandered accidentally into the borough and got hungry. He took the first creature he could find for dinner.”
“The first weak creature,” I corrected. “She’d just transformed and was bound to be unable to fight back.”
“Very good,” Sienna said. “Then my question to you: Why the strangulation? Why not suck her dry?”
“Ew,” Willa said. “That’s really gross.”
“It’s a good question,” I murmured. “Scenario Two: A vampire wanted to murder Allie Sparks for one reason or another. Why bite and then strangle her if he just wanted her dead? Why not go with just the strangulation?”
“Exactly,” Sienna said. “And, once he’d bitten her and made the first withdrawal, why not finish the job? I don’t understand. She would have been dead within minutes anyway, and he would have been fed. Obviously he didn’t have a problem taking blood from a living vic, or he wouldn’t have bitten her first.”
“Scenario Three,” I said. “Someone is trying to frame Matthew.”
“Bingo,” Sienna said. “The vampire bites the girl—it’s the only way to cast definitive blame on Matthew. He’s the only one of his kind here—or so we think.”
“But why the strangulation?” I asked. “Why not just finish her off with the exsanguination—make it look like Matthew lost control of his instincts?”
“Instead of combining strangulation with blood loss.” Sienna gave a nod of approval, though confusion glimmered in her eyes. “Figure that out, Detective, and I guarantee you’ll have your killer.”
Chapter 16
“That was intense back there, huh?” Willa asked as we rode the metro through downtown New York. “I mean, Sienna—yowza. She’s one intimidating woman.”
“I’m more concerned about the here and now,” I said, gripping the rail for balance. Willa’s claims that she understood how to use the metro were shaky at best. “How do we get out of this tin can?”
By the time we finally reached the stately building that served as base to the official NYPD, Willa and I had earned ourselves more than our fair share of dirty looks. We’d darted through New York’s underground system trying our best to look ‘normal’ and ‘human’. Fortunately, we weren’t the only strange-looking folks in New York. As it was, we barely turned heads despite Willa’s subtle use of spells that routed us toward headquarters.
“Little do they know, huh?” Willa giggled as we scurried up the front steps. “I sort of wish we just flew here on broomsticks. I’d bet we’d make the papers.”
“Front page,” I said. “And that’s not a good thing.”
“Oh, come on. I’m just joking.”
“Yeah?” I murmured. “Like when you used that Tripper in the alley?”
Willa rolled her eyes. “You know me. My spells never actually work. Also, that man was mugging the woman. I couldn’t just stand around and watch as he took her purse.”
“But someone might have seen you. Magic in the real world is not allowed.”
“Like our world isn’t real.” Willa blew a lock of hair away from her head and gave me a sympathetic smile. “You’re hilarious, Detective.”
We moseyed up to the front desk. I’d let Willa dress me down in a lighter cardigan over my tank top and a pair of jeans that were a smidge too tight. Must lay off the mozzarella, I thought as I rang the bell for the front desk attendant. At least she’d let me wear my more functional combat boots.
“Who are you visiting?” A very human employee sat at the front desk. She had mocha colored skin and pretty pink nails. Her smile spread wider, falser, as she waited for a response. “Can I get a name for your badge?”
“Er, right,” I said. “We’re here visiting Arthur Lemont. We’re, ah, old friends.”
“So, this isn’t a business call?” The woman nudged her glasses higher.
“No, it’s not,” I said. “And he doesn’t know we’re coming.”
“We thought we’d surprise him,” Willa said in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s not much of a surprise if we called in advance.”
“Surprise for what?” she asked demurely, her nails clicking on the keyboard. “His birthday was last week.”
“Right,” Willa said. “Duh. It’s his, um, anniversary.”
The receptionist squinted. “He’s been divorced a decade.”
“Yeah, his anniversary of, uh, being sober,” Willa said. “Look, could we just get our badges?”
“The chief had an issue with alcoholism?” The receptionist gave us a sidelong glance as she leaned closer, her nose to the gossip grindstone. “Really. You know, I always thought I could tell the signs. I’m not at all surprised.”
“No, not alcohol,” I said. “It’s just... something private. Maybe we could see him?”
“He’s busy, but I’ll page you on up to his assistant,” the receptionist said. “Good luck.”
Willa and I made our way upstairs and waited what felt like an ungodly amount of time for the chief’s assistant to call our names. It was probably no more than forty minutes, but I felt like the world had done an entire spin around its axis by the time I stood and stretched my creaking muscles. I also re-buttoned my pants, which had come undone after Willa shared her snack from the vending machine. Life was hard sometimes.
“He’ll see you now,” Lemont’s assistant said in a sharp, no-nonsense tone. “He has ten minutes before his next appointment. Whatever you need, make it quick.”
“I see someone’s undies are in a twist,” Willa whispered to me as we walked through the door and into Lemont’s office. “Sheesh. For all they know, we’re here to surprise Lemont.”
“Yeah, for his fake sobriety,” I muttered. “Let me do the talking, okay?”
Willa gave a firm nod and pasted a broad smile on her face that was just the tiniest bit creepy.
“Chief Lemont,” I said, extending a hand. “I’m sure you don’t know who I am, but—”
“The one and only Detective DeMarco.” Arthur Lemont stood up from behind a massive mahogany desk and gave a warm smile. “The famed Reserve.”
“And this is—” I pointed toward Willa.
“Willa Bloomer, the pleasure is all mine,” the chief said, extending his hand to greet Willa first, and then me. “What brings you all the way from Wicked?”
“So, you know about magic?” Willa asked, forgetting all about her supposed silence. “But I thought—isn’t this the human NYPD?”
“The Sixth Precinct is a branch of the larger organization,” I said out of the side of my mouth. “Chief Newton reports to Chief Lemont.”
“Ah, gotcha,” Willa said, her cheeks blooming pink. “Well, carry on, then.”
“I assume you know why I’m here.” Despite Lemont’s warm welcome, I reminded myself that I was here to ream him out. Or ask for help. I wasn’t sure which and planned to make the decision on the spot. “Seeing as you’ve already sent orders down to the borough.”
“Please, sit,” he said. “Coffee?”
I shook my head no and squeezed Willa’s hand before she could put in a fancy Starbucks order.
“Let’s not mince words,” the chief said. “You’re here because you have a problem with my orders.”
“I do,” I said, watching his face carefully. The chief was composed, stoic, and it took everything in me to say what I’d come to say. “Your orders just about killed Captain King. He’s in the hospital, suffering from a near fatal werewolf attack.”
Lemont’s eyes widening slightly was the only sign of his surprise. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sorry?” I gaped at him. “You put a target on Matthew’s forehead.”
“Detective DeMarco, I understand you’re a valuable member of the Sixth Precinct. But you are speaking to the chief of the NYPD
. I don’t appreciate your accusations. You’ll speak to me with respect.”
Willa squirmed next to me. I bowed my head and shifted my weight from one foot to the next.
“I understand you’re concerned about your...” Lemont trailed off, watching me carefully. “Colleague. Regardless, I did what I had to do. It’s simple math, Detective. There is one vampire in the borough. One man who can kill by vampire bite. When there’s a murder and that vampire has no alibi...” Lemont spread his hands wide. “You see why my hands are tied.”
I stood. “I knew I shouldn’t have come here. Let’s go, Willa.”
“Detective, wait,” Lemont said. “Before you go, there’s one more thing.”
I spun on a heel from where I’d stood in an attempt to leave the office. “Sir?”
“I’m sending Lieutenant Sherry Watters back with you,” Lemont said. “She’s our best in homicide.”
“Is she human?” Willa asked.
“She’s a strong conjurer,” Lemont said. “A very capable employee. She won’t disappoint you.”
“I don’t believe we need help, sir.”
“With Matthew out of commission and you off the case, the department will need all the help it can get.”
“Why am I still off the case?” I exclaimed. “Obviously I didn’t do anything! Matthew is practically dead. You can’t pull me now.”
“There’s still the matter of the unexplained vampire attack against the wolf.”
“I’ll figure it out if you let me,” I said. “You have to know I had nothing to do with it. And if you don’t, you should. I have an alibi.”
“It’s not a matter of my beliefs or your alibi,” Lemont said. “It’s the small matter of conflict of interest. You are, dare I say it, madly in love with the prime suspect?”
“Oh,” Willa said, raising a finger. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
I whirled around to face the door. There was absolutely no way I’d get off easy if I opted to burn off my frustration by hurling an illegal fireball at the chief of police. In a supposedly non-magical world.
I took one step closer to the door and stopped. I blinked, confused by the wall of bricks standing in my path. One second ago there had been open space—a door. Now, there was nothing but a solid red brick wall surrounded by the faintest glitter of Residuals.
