Born Suspect

by brett hicks

  The greying man frowned, snapping out of the effects of my magic. He looked disgusted.

  “Given some time, I can get her to confess.”

  “Given some time, we will have a full-scale revolt on our hands! She is bond to the second most powerful vampire on this continent! Her last name might as well be Jameson! You must allow me to do my job!”

  A key clanked to the table, it looked like a handcuff key. The younger agent pressed a button on a remote, and the collar slipped down, falling to the floor. Clarke walked over and uncuffed me.

  I walked out, I passed the infirmary on my way to be discharged. I caught sight of Debra laying on a cot. My heart hurt for her. She was still stuck here. I looked to Clarke, “give me one minute.”

  I strode over, and Debra studied me approaching. She cringed at the sight of my neck.

  “Wow, the suits did a number on you!”

  “Huh? You mean they just do this crap to everyone?”

  She nodded in confirmation.

  “Sure, anytime they think they can shake a piece of information loose from us, they hook us up to that collar and shock the bejeezus out of us. I get shocked a lot, because I am a sassy little bitch, well pussy in my case.”

  I snorted in amusement at her grim humor.

  “I’m leaving. Been cleared of all charges.”

  Debra nodded, I could see the longing in her eyes.

  “Good, don’t come back. This place is hell.”

  “Debra, I need to know, why are you here?”

  She looked at me in silent observation.

  “Why? You think because you are going free, you can help the rest of us downtrodden sups?’

  I shrugged.

  “What if I could help you? I need to know what I am helping.”

  I gave her an urging look. Debra seemed to mull it over.

  “I saved my sister from a few guys robbing our house. I lost control and shifted. It was my second time ever changing. I didn’t know what I was doing, and they were in my den. Karen was legit date-raped by a human who roofied her so bad, it knocked her out. She came to and defended herself groggily. The human died. Chloe is in here because she was seen fleeing the scene of a crime. She was fleeing, because she’s a shifter and cops were coming, not because she did anything wrong! You’ll hear a hundred more stories like ours, no one ever bothers to ask, not even our own sects.”

  I nodded, taking in her story, and the stories of the other two women that I had met today.

  “I swear, I am not like everyone else. I will remember you once I am out of here. I have friends, and so does my bond-mate. I swear to investigate your cases. I happen to have the best bloodsucking lawyer on the planet.”

  Debra snorted, and she waved me off.

  “Yeah, well have fun, and good luck with all that! Be sure to have a few beers for me, ok? Maybe a few dozen shots of whiskey too.”

  Clarke motioned for me to come. I reluctantly left Debra laying on the infirmary cot. My mind was turbulent and stormy. I had felt so fearful of being a Born, or other Born. Now, all I could feel was a sense of disgust with myself for sleep-walking through twenty-five-years of life, while other girls were thrown in a hell hole like this, when a human would have been commended on protecting themselves! The double standards were sickening, and no one, sup, or human, was doing a damn thing about them!

  Ten:

  Clarke eyed me, and my red colored neck. He seemed to leak regret, and his feelings spun in a conflicted pattern in my gut. I could feel his remorse, like he had been the one to strap me to the collar device. Still, there was a darkness that brewed inside him, a tempest of rage. His eyes stayed trained on the road mostly. We were headed back into the city from Goochland, the next county over from Richmond. To say I was relieved to be headed away from that prison, would be understating my feelings on the matter! Still the other girls, the shifters in the cages, these burned in my gut.

  Still, I wanted to kick the detective in the balls for this situation! My eyes studied him like a circus animal on display for me. I tried to focus on his thoughts, like Rachelle would, but all I could hear was a buzzing static sound. So far, my telepathy only seemed to work with those I had forged bonds with, or with my mysteriously absentee mother.

  We didn’t speak for forty-minutes of our trek. My nerves were brewing, and my righteous fury was boiling over. He seemed to sense my mood, that, or I was glaring at him again. Detective Clarke huffed in a gruff manner.

  “I’m taking you somewhere before we go to your home. I need you to see what I am dealing with, why I believed it necessary to shake any information I could loose from the Jamesons.”

  My green eyes watched him studiously. He seemed reluctant to divulge any information, but he was bending his own principles now, why?

  “Is this your way of justifying false-imprisonment, and unlawful arrest?”

  My tone held a lot more bite to it now. The me of two months ago would have never spoken up like this. Not to anyone, not to a strong man above all! Clarke sighed again, as if he wanted to deny the charges I leveled against him. I noted that he was honest enough not to verbalize a defense for himself now.

  “I’m taking you to a crime scene. This happened last night, while they were processing you into the prison. I believe you should know just what your species is capable of.”

  His voice was hard as granite, but there was something else beneath it. The subtext, something personal to him. I nodded, and I said, “I know very well, what vampires can do. I have been a victim of attack myself. Not all of them are on board with the Jameson Clan, and the others promoting coexistence. That alone does not make them like me. Just because we both have fangs, and we both need blood to live. That would be like lumping a detective in with every terrorist who ever walked the earth. Not to mention, all the human serial killers.”

  He reluctantly bobbed his head and his hardened eyes softened a shade.

  “Point made, however, you must never forget how dangerous your kind can be. How dangerous you could become. You could live so long that you become capricious to human existence. Us mortals do not share this ability. A harmless vampire could turn to become ruthless in a generation, or two.”

  There was a rumbling growl of annoyance in my throat, something primal. (I was surprised, I didn’t know my species could respond in such a way!) Clarke looked at me with caution.

  “Just because it can happen, doesn’t justify what I saw in that prison. You do realize that I could have you very dead for this Detective. One word of what I endured, even for a moment, due to you, and Rachelle would string you up in the center of Richmond. My love is a civilized vampire; however, she doesn’t play nicely with those who harm her beloved, or her family.”

  He turned and looked into my green eyes. His own seemed to be searching.

  “So, is that the fate I am driving us to?”

  I tilted my chin up a bit and I spoke honestly.

  “I’m not sure yet. I am pissed, but I am conflicted with causing you the kind of harm you would visit upon me without mercy. What does that say about us Detective?”

  The car came to a stop and he looked back to the road as we parked.

  “That you are still very human. That you still possess the best traits, traits even humans can lose along the way.”

  He was speaking from experience, about himself. It was the most candid thing he had ever said to me. It made me look at him a second time, yet again, I felt a roiling tsunami inside his chest. He was unsure of himself, of who he was. He was angry, vengeful, and yet he still wanted to be on the side of justice. The bitterness I sensed in him seemed to consume his heart, but it had not wholly devoured it.

  “We are the sum-total of our choices, and our life experiences. I have been abused, have seen power misused, and I have suffered at the hands of others. I refuse to stand in their shoes, or to deal out the same kind of agony in kind. It’s a choice I make every time I wake up, Detective. We all choose, and those who cross that line should
be held accountable for their sins. Right, or wrong, moral, or immoral, we must choose and live with ourselves for the decisions we have made. That is how I plan to wake up every morning, even a thousand years from now. I believe in people, that we can change. We are all Born Detective, you me, and every other person in this world. My kind was born from the same origin point as yours was. We have co-existed for over six-thousand-years. Tell me, does that sound like something possible, if we were all as evil as you have believed us to be? Our numbers are legion, and our influence is vast. Surely, we could have subjugated your species by now, if that was our goal.”

  I huffed, never have I given a speech, well outside of a classroom. Sure, I might be a bit naïve, and I might try to see the good, but I believed what I said! I knew it was possible to live six-thousand-years and not be a monster. My existence proved it! Kimiko proved it!

  Clarke nodded his head, but he said nothing in rebuttal. His eyes seemed to be squinted more now. He seemed to be chewing on my speech. He seemed to only be more conflicted, like he was waking up for the first time. There was still the ever-present anger and hatred inside him. His emotions tasted vile to me, like spoiled milk.

  “We’re here, just don’t tell any of the stationed cops you’re not one of us. I’m not supposed to show you this, or any of your kind. However, something tells me that I need to try something different.”

  I swallowed, nodding in comprehension. That was the good cop in him showing through the anger. The gruff, but decent human I knew was inside of him.

  “Understood, I will keep my mouth shut as best I can.”

  he grunted again, his male noise of understanding.

  Why exactly do men grunt so much?! Ok, totally not that time for this Mel!

  (I’m weird, don’t judge me!)

  ***

  The house was a red brick building a single story, and it looked to be about three bedrooms. It was in a centralized portion of the city, near Broad Street, only a few miles east of my old campus at VCU.

  The bushes were withered and dying. The leaves had all turned brown and crumpled around the bushes. All that remained was dead wood. It was strange to say the least. It was September, not late enough in the season to see plants wither, this seemed unnatural. I was pulled from my strange reveries, as Clarke lead me by the arm into the house.

  The rankness of fresh death slammed into me like a sledgehammer. I gagged audibly at the scent. Bile, dried blood, and human rot filled my nose. I was both Succubus, and Vampire, so my senses were unparalleled, or so Rachelle told me. I had the added benefit, or displeasure in this case, of being coached by shifters. So, I didn’t miss a single waft of the unpleasant odor. It was still strong enough for the humans taking photos, and dusting for prints, to be wearing masks.

  “What did this?”

  I asked no one in particular. He led me into the next room through the hall the front door opened into. We passed a kitchen, and we entered a den, with a family of three seated, necks torn out, and blood caking every surface imaginable.

  This was not vampire, not in any way that I knew it. This revolted the vampiress inside me. It was wholly unnecessary, evil, and sadistic for the sake of being sadistic.

  “This is not something a vampire would ever do. This is like a visceral staging.”

  My mind spoke the words from some hidden information I couldn’t explain, maybe it was some instinct I was born with? I couldn’t tell, only that I spoke the words aloud for Clarke’s benefit. He looked at me and he furrowed his brow.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He sounded angry, frustrated. I shook my head.

  “I’m not exactly sure, but I just know this. This was not done by any vampire, not even a crazy one. This is too obvious, too loud. This is like a set, like a construction of death and carnage. Look at them, they are all positioned back, seated just so. The killer was both animatic and calculated. That rules out a craven, or wildly blood-thirsty vampire. Also, look at how they are shredded up. This was not done for sustenance either. This was done for attention, for some reason. It is a message, or it is a warning.”

  Clarke carefully paced over to the closest body, a teenage girl. She was light-brown haired, and she looked to be about fifteen, or sixteen. My heart hurt for her, for her interrupted life.

  Clarke pointed at her neck wounds. I could already see his indication.

  Fang marks! There was a vampire here, but what vampire would do this?!

  I furrowed my brows and I nodded. He seemed to look like he had just won a prize. Like he had proved me wrong.

  “Clarke, it’s not that simple. There might have been a vampire here, or something with vampire-like fangs, but this is not a vampire kill site. This is something that even the most ruthless would consider gaudy. I have seen how the ruthless sect operates, they do not waste blood like this. They might be on board for torture, suffering, and death, but this is not their work either. I would know, I have been their prisoner before. I know how ruthless they are, but I also have peered inside their minds. They want power, control, and they want to rule. Not to kill humans in a way that will only rile humans against us.”

  I stopped in my tracks and looked at him. My eyes were wide.

  Could it really be that glaringly obvious?! Occam’s Razor?

  “What, what did you find?”

  His eyes told it all, he really wanted to close this case! This is what would make an honest detective mistreat an innocent twenty-five-year-old girl, vampire or not. This case, and others like it. He had mentioned a rash of murders. If this could make human authorities become more brutal to the vampire sect, then it could stand to reason that it was done just for that purpose!

  “Occam’s Razor detective. This is so obvious, you are overlooking it. This scene is staged to anger humans against my kind. This is not vampire in making, this is a production of fiction with your kind as the intended audience. You out number us, but you have grudgingly accepted us among you. This grizzly dinner theatre is set to make you hate us, to make you float your own rules. Like, unlawfully incarcerating the mate of Rachelle Jameson. Clarke, this is not the act of a craven, or sadistic vampire. This is the product of someone who wants us all dead or gone.”

  Clarke’s eyes widened, as if he was seeing the obvious for the first time. He said nothing, but he nodded, and he looked around. The other humans were muttering to each other. I could make out the words. I had just outed myself as a vampire. The natives were getting restless.

  “We had better get you back to Rachelle now.”

  For the first time since I met him, I wholly agree with Detective Clarke. He spirited me out the back door, back through the yard, to the car, before anyone could go Maverick on my ass. Clarke could be a very decent protector, when he set his mind to it.

  Eleven:

  Clarke stewed on what I told him. His eyes and his emotions seemed to be churning with darkness. His heart was on a knife’s edge of some kind. This was hardly surprising, considering I just unloaded a mini-gun into his vampire case. However, there was something more personal to him about this case. I couldn’t say for sure, but I knew a lot about personal trauma. This was somehow connected to Clarke’s own personal demons. In this case seemed to lie the answers to why such a good protector could be so dark at times.

  More troubling to me, was how I knew what I had. How I had blurted answers, and solved parts of a murder case that I had never seen before. Hell, I had never been on a murder investigation in my life! I had seen death in my short life, but never outside of combat. I had even killed before, but I had never witnessed a massacre. How then, did I know so much about a staged massacre?

  It made me wonder what darkness hid inside me, why would I know such things?! My emotional storm cloud was as turbulent as Clarke’s.

  “I will keep your secret, about my personal discomfort, however, I will need something from you in return. Call it a penance of sorts.”

  I eyed him, he had stopped for gas a fe
w blocks from the crime scene. Clarke eyed me wearily, like I was about to demand his first born on a silver platter. I pointed to his right wrist.

  “I need blood, or I will have obvious signs of trauma from my fist fight, and the burns around my neck and back. I heal fast, but not instantly Clarke. Blood from a fresh source will expedite the process and keep your ass out of a sling with the Jameson’s, and Lyra. Trust me when I say this, Lyra might be the one you need fear the most. Apex shifters are not forgiving!”

  Clarke huffed out a breath and he looked weary and agitated. He clearly didn’t want fangs anywhere near his veins, smart man!

  “How do I know you will stop yourself?”

  His voice was gruff, full of distrust. I rolled my eyes and huffed in annoyance.

  “Because, I am what Rachelle calls, “A light eater.” You can rest assured that this will only be about as uncomfortable as a shot, or a blood donation, I guess blood donation is exactly what it is after all.”

  I rambled, I was nervous. I had never bitten anyone, besides Rachelle, and Ellison the night I was attacked, but I’m not going to think about that right now!

  “Fine, let’s get this over with, but don’t you ever mention this to anyone, or ask me this again.”

  His eyes were steel, I could see he wanted to draw his gun, not give up his blood. I met his eyes with steel of my own, remembering my night, and morning of hell.

  “Penance sucks remember that Detective.”

  I took his wrist and I leaned forward, I felt my fangs grow to full-length. My hunger was churning, I hadn’t fed since yesterday, and I had been lightly injured. Without the physical trauma, I would have been fine for a few days. Any healing, or strenuous physical activity speeds the vampiric need to feed, just as humans get hungry and thirsty after exerting themselves.

  I leaned in, I traced my tongue along his vein, finding the right spot to enter his flesh, and cause as insignificant damage as possible. Rachelle had taught me this, but it was my first time putting it to practice. I was a blood-bag kind of girl. I slowly let my razor-sharp fangs pierce his skin, I felt the venom rush into his body. He sucked in a ragged breath, and he slumped back in his seat.