A Drop of Red

by Chris Marie Green

  Okay, time to get down to it. “Natalia, when you called, you mentioned vampire victims?”

  She nodded. “I—”

  “A moment, please,” Costin interrupted again. “I’m sorry, Ms. Petri, but would you like any refreshments? Tea perhaps?”

  Hey, Dawn thought. When she’d first come to Limpet and Associates, there’d been no tea at all. Just an attitudinal Kiko and a good mind-diddling from Costin’s hypnotic sway; it’d been his way of feeling her out to see if he could trust her.

  “No, I’m fine, Mr. Limpet,” Natalia said. “But I appreciate your offer.”

  Frank led her to a chair, and she doffed her coat to reveal a not-so-fashionable tweed dress worn over thick tights and practical shoes. She looked like what most people in L.A. would call a “healthy girl,” but that didn’t mean she was overweight. Hollywood was just too full of women who ate a leaf of lettuce and called it a feast.

  As Frank took position by the fireplace, arms crossed over his massive chest, Natalia sat, folding her coat on her lap, even after Frank offered to hang it up for her.

  “As I was asking,” Dawn said, hoping Costin wouldn’t cut in again to offer anything like scones and clotted cream, “you had information about some bodies?”

  “An unmarked place of the dead,” Natalia said, refreshingly forthcoming. Or maybe as forthcoming as a spy? “On Billiter Street, in the Square Mile. I was walking past what’s said to be an abandoned construction site on my way to a job interview this morning, and I heard them.”

  They’re loud here.

  “Do you hear dead people?” Dawn asked.

  Natalia seemed relieved at the question. “Yes. It’s almost as if I can read their vocal imprints, which means it’s more like I’m overhearing whatever they care to say. However, I can’t have conversations with them.”

  “And what did they say to you this morning?”

  “Precious little. A female voice cried out, asking for help, as if she was summoning anyone who might hear her. ‘Here,’ she kept saying. ‘Over here.’ Then a male . . . He repeated the word ‘vampires’ over and over again. Other voices mingled, too, unclear, jumbled. But I did understand that the creatures who put the dead there had discarded them after feedings.”

  Interesting story. But it didn’t mean Dawn accepted that Natalia was telling the truth, even if Costin already felt secure in their guest. Dawn wondered if Frank was even thinking of tapping into the girl’s mind to measure her up.

  “Did the victims also tell you to contact us?” Dawn asked.

  “No. The name ‘Jonah Limpet’ . . .” Natalia smiled like she was conjuring some kind of warm memory. “I saw the name in my mind—a detective, I thought—shortly after I left the site, and I knew I should contact him.”

  Costin’s voice filtered through the air. “Natalia has precognitive talents, as well.”

  Had his background check yielded that? Or had it come up during their nice little chat on the phone?

  Dawn didn’t access his mind to seek an answer; they respected each other’s thoughts and didn’t abuse the privilege of entering. Besides, now wasn’t the time for personal issues.

  Natalia was focusing on the angel speaker near the ceiling. “Why do I keep feeling . . . something . . . at the edges of my mind?”

  “It is only me,” Costin said.

  Dawn stiffened, because he was mentally gauging Natalia. With her permission, he would use his powers to go deeper into her—the most personal of all interviews.

  He’d done the same exact thing with Dawn when she’d first come on board. . . .

  She pushed back any jealousy. Natalia wasn’t the new Dawn.

  “Forgive my curiosity, Ms. Petri,” Costin said, “but in our business, we wish to know up front if our contacts are valid. From the first, I did not sense anything deceptive about you, but this is only a superficial conclusion.”

  “I have nothing to hide,” Natalia said. “My visions have never led me wrong before. I trust them more than anything.”

  There were shadows in her gaze, and Dawn recognized them. Didn’t this girl trust anything else? Why?

  “Then,” Costin said, “would you mind if I . . . ?”

  “I do not mind.”

  But as the psychic closed her eyes, Dawn found that she minded.

  Natalia’s not the new Dawn, she kept telling herself. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

  It didn’t take but a few minutes for the girl to open her eyes, no doubt because her permission had made the testing easy for Costin.

  Grrrr.

  Yet at least it didn’t seem like Natalia had enjoyed a Costin moment as much as Dawn had always . . . well, enjoyed them.

  “And?” Dawn asked, trying not to sound peeved.

  But Costin seemed to know that she wasn’t happy anyway. She could sense it—an apology via their Awareness.

  “We need Ms. Petri,” he said. “And I would appreciate your discussing our situation with her before we visit Billiter Street tonight. Perhaps we might obtain readings from the graves or find a fortunate telltale clue.”

  “Wait.” Dawn faced the angel’s head, her hands on her hips. The carving had chubby cheeks and a blank, innocent look about it. Faker. “You want us to tell her everything? I mean, I know you’ve been in her head, and all, but . . . seriously?”

  You’re going to trust her when it took you forever and a day to trust me? she finally thought to him.

  She tried to use their Awareness to understand what he was thinking, but he had blocked her out.

  Her. His creator. His supposed intimate . . .

  His tone was remorseful as he spoke. “Please give Ms. Petri every last detail. I am certain she will understand all of it. She comes to us with a great deal of paranormal experience.”

  Then the intercom clicked off, leaving Dawn reeling with the return of The Voice—the stranger who had already begun the ritual of fully sequestering himself for the endgame of this particular hunt.

  Even from her.

  Not for long though—not if she had anything to say about it. After they took care of business tonight, she would talk to him, see if she was wrong, because things had changed between them since L.A., right?

  Right?

  In her seat, cuddly as could be with her coat in her lap, Natalia smiled again. “A job. I knew I would find one today, even if it wasn’t at my interview this morning.”

  The abrupt, metallic sound of keys clanging to the wood floor made them all look toward the darkened hallway, where Kiko stood in his little leather jacket, cargo pants, and oversized boots, his eyes wide and reddened from his meds.

  “Don’t mind me asking,” he said, “but who’s this quack, and why do we need her around when we’ve already got a psychic?”

  FOUR

  THE UNWELCOME

  FRANK was smart, because he excused himself right away and went to prepare coffee or tea or anything. Thankfully, he also asked Natalia to join him.

  Which, proving to be a smart girl herself, Natalia did.

  But Dawn? She had the pleasure of staying behind to calm Kiko down and fill him in on current events.

  Simmering, he took it all in while perched in a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace from Natalia’s empty seat, his short legs hanging off the edge as he gripped the armrests. His cheeks were nipped by the weather, but he sure wasn’t as pink and jolly as his complexion hinted.

  And why not, if he was being replaced with a shinier version who might’ve gotten a reading on the new Underground?

  Dawn sat on the floor near his chair, knowing she’d have to handle this diplomatically—diplomacy being a quality she didn’t really have in spades. Kiko’s pride and ego revolved around his psychometric, telepathic, and precognitive talents, and Costin was even training him in hypnosis, but the pills weren’t helping with any of it. Not lately, since Kiko’s back had been acting up.

  A back that had been broken by a vampire.

  In frustration, he ruffled his blond h
air. He’d shaved off the soul patch beneath his lower lip, and the lack of facial derring-do lent him a lost boyishness.

  “Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” he said. “But the boss has used new teams for every hunt all these hundreds of years, so how can I even think of job security?”

  “Not a bad point.”

  At her bluntness, Kiko shifted in his chair. “You think this is his first step in weeding me out?”

  “I don’t know. Costin always liked to work with new hunters because he feared too much knowledge would corrupt the team’s willingness to obey directives.”

  “That is, if any team members were left standing at the end of the battle.”

  “But, last time, we were left standing, and in way different circumstances than ever before. Costin’s a vampire now. He’s been trying to work around that, but I’m thinking it’s worth the risk to have a trusted crew around to help while he gets used to it.”

  Even though Costin could still hypnotize, he didn’t seem to be able to use the extent of his master-slaying powers—something he used to access full force by going out of body during a final attack. Nowadays, ever since having been locked into his vampire body, he couldn’t even get outside, and there were times when Dawn wondered just how the hell he was going to destroy another master.

  “So I shouldn’t worry about my job.” Kiko grinned.

  Dawn resisted the guy’s charm, bracing herself to say what needed to be said.

  “Did you maybe stop to think that Costin’s not getting rid of all of us?”

  Kiko’s grin died. After a few seconds, somewhere in the room, the heating kicked on, a low hush expanding the tension.

  But he didn’t argue. His own doctor back in the States had told him to get out of his med habit, and Dawn had gone the extra mile to help him this past year while on the road: intervention, visits to more doctors and therapists. Kiko had worked to get clean, but he was too hooked.

  She locked gazes with him, damned if she’d be the first to glance away.

  “I hate to see you like this,” she said, “but if getting knocked off the team is what’s going to put you in gear, Kik, then I’m not going to go against Costin if he’s brought in someone to take your place. I’m tired of trying everything I can think of.”

  Kiko shrugged, but it didn’t fool Dawn. Back in L.A., he’d been a “little person” thespian, and even though he could act! like hell, his career had failed along with his back.

  “It’s easy for you to be okay with that job security, ain’t it?” He redirected his glare to the deadened, charred fireplace. “You’re so key that the boss is never going to let you go.”

  She didn’t answer, because Frank was walking back into the room bearing a tray of beverages. Natalia trailed him.

  As Psychic Number Two sat in her chair, sans coat this time, Frank poured her a cup of coffee. The aroma of roasted nuts should’ve smelled comforting. Should’ve.

  Frank gave Kiko a steaming cup, too, which Kik didn’t drink.

  Her dad didn’t remark on that, merely handing Dawn a glass of supplement juice and winking at her. He’d no doubt caught her entire conversation with Kiko from the kitchen with his vamp hearing, muffled or not.

  Man, it was hard to live with these guys.

  “You two were talking about the whole ‘key’ thing?” Frank asked, refraining from a drink of his own as he confirmed Dawn’s suspicions about overhearing. “Is that where we want to start with Natalia?”

  “I’m not sure where to start,” Dawn said.

  Kiko fixed his gaze on the new girl across the way. “I was just saying to Dawn that none of us can be too cozy when the boss hires us. Not unless you’re key.”

  Backup Psychic sipped from her delicate cup, listening intently, withstanding Kiko’s stare like a pro.

  Impressed, Dawn gave her a few brownie points. But just a few. Costin might’ve looked into the girl’s head, yet what if she was better than any other type of vamp at shielding? What if this new Underground didn’t give off any preter vibes at all?

  “What Kiko means,” Frank said, assuming his place by the fireplace mantel, “is that Dawn is key to the team. Once upon a time, he had a vision about how important she’d be to bringing down this whole bad-vamp house of fangs.”

  Kiko added, “And that vision came true. Or, at least, it’s on its way to being fulfilled.”

  Frank gave the floor to Confident Kiko. “Then maybe you should explain and we’ll take it from there.”

  “Eh, I’m not so on board with dumping all my intel on some poppy-wearing gift who walks in off the street. Or maybe Ms. Putri has already sensed what she needs to know by now?”

  Dawn cringed at Kiko’s implied challenge as Natalia gently laid down her cup on a saucer, then transferred the set to a nearby end table.

  “I think both you and I know that we don’t divine anything and everything, Koo-Koo.” The new girl put on a sweet smile. “It comes when it wishes—we cannot turn it on and off. So unless you’ve already sensed everything about me, I would be more than happy to make you comfortable with my background.”

  Latching on to the girl’s obvious eagerness to land this job, Dawn settled in for a good listen. It was weird that Natalia was so desperate, even if she had said she trusted her visions more than anything else.

  Then again, maybe that made total sense in their world.

  At any rate, “Koo-Koo” seemed focused on the fact that Natalia wasn’t telling him to go to hell yet.

  “What Kik is saying,” Dawn offered, “is that your hiring is pretty sudden. We’re used to depending on each other and not really anyone else.”

  “I understand,” Natalia said.

  When she saw how the group was waiting for her to start the background talk, she added, “So I should perhaps tell you about myself first?”

  “Enlighten away,” Kiko said, spreading out an arm, just like he was the prince of sarcasm lounging on a throne.

  Natalia didn’t react. “Then I’ll begin by saying that I arrived in London from Bucharest two months ago.”

  The accent. Dawn’s untrained ear had been right about vaguely linking it with Costin’s; he hailed from the Wallachian region.

  “Romania joined the European Union recently,” Natalia continued, “and we can freely come to places such as England now. So I did. I’m a legal immigrant, with university education in business. But I’m not Roma.”

  Her smile grew strained, as if she were ready for a barrage of insults.

  “Roma?” Frank asked. “You mean ‘gypsies’?”

  “‘Roma’ is probably more politically correct,” Dawn said, hardly believing she was up on what was “in” and “out” in polite society.

  Natalia’s smile remained in place. “No matter what name is used, popular opinion holds that crime rates have been on the rise in this area since more Roma immigrated here.”

  “I guess,” Dawn said, “‘Roma’ equals trouble to a lot of people, and that’s why you’re telling us outright that you’re not one of them?”

  “Yes.” Natalia absently toyed with a plastic button on her dress. It looked loose. “Many of them have taken to begging, trading on the street, doing odd jobs. Some resort to petty crime like picking pockets, and a great deal of the public thinks that any Romanian is Romani.”

  Kiko had inched back in his chair. He knew when to play “bad cop” and when to cool it. But he still looked like he was biding his time.

  Frank asked, “What brought you over here?”

  Her shoulders lost some of their defensive stiffness. “I have distant family in Slough. Besides, the London I read about in books always appealed to me: the museums, the history, the opportunity. I felt the same lure for America, and I once spent a time in New York, caring for an old aunt. But she passed on, and there’s no one there for me now.”

  “That’s why you know English real good,” Frank added.

  Natalia smiled at his affable tone, probably knowing he was trying hard
to balance out Kiko’s vinegar.

  “Yes, thank you, Mr. Frank.”

  “Just Frank.” He motioned toward the team. “Same with all of us—first names only. Right, Kiko?”

  “Oh, she already has a pet name for me, Frank. Or didn’t you notice?”

  Ignoring him, Natalia’s body language seemed more fluid and relaxed now.

  That is, until Kiko asked, “So did you suddenly become psychic one day or what?”

  “No.” She fiddled with her dress button again. “As long as I can recall, I’ve heard the dead. But I learned to filter the input. The same applies to my precognitive visions.”

  “You’ve always had those, too?” Dawn asked.

  “Actually, the visions first came when I was an adolescent. But my parents told me never to speak of my gifts. They didn’t want me to be ‘different.’ They thought my talents were ‘Romani,’ and they didn’t want me to be looked upon or treated in the same way the group is treated in Romania . . . or anywhere else, really.” Natalia frowned. “In private, I still listened to the whispers and watched the visions. The first time I heard one of them, it was from behind a door in my apartment building. A neighbor had died, and she told me her husband . . .”

  Natalia looked around at the team, then laughed when she no doubt realized she couldn’t shock them with this story. Hell, they had a boss who spoke from a carved angel’s mouth.

  She continued. “My neighbor told me that her recently departed husband had come back as a revenant. Evidently, he blamed her for his heart attack. She never said why.”

  “Revenants,” Kiko muttered. “Is that what you call a vampire?”

  “From what my neighbor said,” Natalia answered, “he was more a zombie.”

  “Got it,” Frank said.

  “Of course,” Natalia added, “I reported her passing to the authorities. I told them my family had a copy of her apartment key and she was sick, so I was bringing soup when I discovered her body. The authorities never suspected what truly happened. Her husband was never seen in the area, and my parents told me to leave it at that. I was young, so I did. And once she was properly buried, her voice disappeared from my hearing.”