by Ranae Glass
Phoebe froze mid-step. “Possessed?”
Heather handed her a paper towel. “Yes. Isabel’s possessed.”
Phoebe stared at her, and then looked over to me. She didn’t have to say anything. The wordswhat the hell were all over her face.
“Long story short, Nana Elsie is a necromancer. She talks to dead people.” Heather popped a bite of tofu and veggie salad in her mouth. “She took Isabel to a séance because a spirit told her she witnessed a murder. Then the spirit possessed Isabel. Oh, and she had sex with Shane.”
“The spirit?” Phoebe asked, looking a little green around the gills at the thought.
“No, silly. Isabel.”
“Oh,” Phoebe said, still looking confused. Then she made a big O with her mouth. “Oh!”
She took a step forward, wrapping her Amazon-woman arms around me and squeezing tight. “I’m so happy for you!” She stepped back. “Except for the possession thing. That sucks. Are you okay? Is there anything we can do?”
I had already polished off one whole slice when Heather handed me a paper towel, so I grabbed another slice and sat cross-legged on the floor. “Don’t sound so worried. I’m okay, really. I mean, it doesn’t hurt or anything. But it is weird. I talk to myself a lot and honestly, I sort of feel…compressed inside. It’s like that ache you get right before a full-on headache comes, but it never gets to that point. I feel like I need to stretch a lot, but it never helps or makes the feeling go away.” I glanced up, saw that I had the rapt attention of both my younger sisters, and sighed. “Really. It doesn’t even break the top-ten list of weird stuff that’s happened to me. But I will say, Shane seems to like it,” I muttered, taking another bite.
“He likes that you’re possessed?” Phoebe asked, sitting beside me.
“No. Well, yes. He doesn’t know I’m possessed. I’m not really supposed to mention Nana Elsie being a necromancer to him. Apparently, it would be bad if the Conclave found out about her, and I don’t want him to have to lie to them. But Sue took over my body yesterday, and they hung out all day. He just sort of… connected with her. Me. Us. It’s…”
“Confusing?” Phoebe offered.
I was thinking of a harsher word but settled for, “Annoying.”
“Wait, what do you mean, she took over your body?” Phoebe backtracked, poking me with her spork. “Where did you go while she was having a play date with Shane?”
For the second time that day, I spilled all the gory details to a slack-jawed sister.
“Wow,” she said when I finished. “That was very… kind of you.”
She’s right. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. It was so wonderful to feel the wind on my face, just one more time.
What could I say that wouldn’t make me sound all mushy? “She deserved it,” I said with a shrug.
“But this is good, right? Because she brought you and Shane back together.”
I groaned. “I still haven’t decided what I’m going to do about that.”
You aren’t going to push him away now, are you? Not when you’ve finally let your guard down.
I wasn’t sure what to say to Sue or anyone else about it, so I stuffed a big bite of pizza in my mouth.
Phoebe moaned and chucked her crumpled-up paper towel at my face. Heather just snorted.
“You need therapy,” Phoebe said seriously.
“Tell me about it,” Heather agreed, extending her arm. Dangling from her hand was a smooth, pink stone on a long cord. “Here, take this. It’s rose quartz. It’ll help you get in tune with your emotional needs.”
I took it and slipped it over my head. It was pretty, even if I didn’t believe it had any magical powers.
It has only the power you give it, Sue whispered.But if you let yourself believe, if you have just a teaspoon of faith…
“Oh, it’s going to take more than a teaspoon. More like a cement truck,” I said out loud.
“I’m sorry, what?” Heather asked.
“Oh, no. Not you. I was talking to my little hitchhiker. Sorry. It’s great, thanks.”
“You’re talking to the spirit right now?” Phoebe asked, looking at me like a crazy person.
I puckered my lips. “Yeah. She’s rattling around in there, being my own personal, screwed-up cheerleader. Speaking of which, I really need to get going. I’ve got a body to find.” I stood up, tossing my trash in the can by the register.
Phoebe stood too, hugging me again, this time joined by Heather.
“This is all too weird,” Phoebe muttered as Heather opened the door for me.
“Says the woman with a werewolf for a boyfriend,” Heather retorted.
Behind me, I heard Phoebe respond, “Touché.”
i
The general crazy weirdness of my life aside, I had to get down to business. I drove straight to the police station, hoping to find Reggie. Every time I walked through the doors into the station, I was instantly seven years old again, delivering a basket of supper from the bakery to my dad while he worked late into the night. I couldn’t help but glance over at where his small, oak desk used to sit. Now it was a neat row of off-white printers, copiers, and fax machines but, if I closed my eyes, I could still smell the teak oil and stale coffee, and I could still visualize the ink smudged in the corner of his mouth from where he used to chew on the end of his pens. If anyone noticed my moment of nostalgia, no one said anything. I did get a few waves and grins as I made my way to the back of the room. Most of these guys and gals had known me through my father, a few more recently knew me as that crazy, pain-in-the-ass PI who lived with the vampire. So they tended to either treat me like I was still that little girl, or they bristled with irritation every time they saw my face.
Reputations could be such a bitch.
Officer Reggie Lukas was one of the few who treated me as an equal. Once upon a time, my father had been his mentor in the Charleston Police Department, long before Dad retired to take over the PI business from his father, my grandpa. Reggie was a big teddy bear of a man with a thick southern accent and an equally thick demeanor. His face was always shadowed with dark stubble, his eyes always circled with black/blue patches. He smoked like a chimney yet somehow managed to smell like Old Spice and fried chicken. He was also one of the most honest, kind men I’d ever known. When Dad couldn’t make it to my school play because he was busy busting crack dealers uptown, Reggie was there. After Dad passed and Mom needed to replace the aging furnace in the basement, Reggie was there. When my wedding day fell apart, Reggie was out looking for Shane to beat the shit out of him.
He was family.
Today, he sat behind his old, metal desk, hiding behind a massive pile of paperwork.
“Get back to work!” I demanded in my best deep, gruff voice.
It must have been weak because his head snapped up with a full, cheesy grin. “Sup’ baby girl?” he said, standing to wrap me in a big hug.
“Hey Reggie,” I said, returning the embrace.
“What brings ya down to this neck o’ the woods?”
I leaned against the corner of his desk. “I’m looking for a missing person. I was hoping you might be willing to take a look at the database for me.”
“Sure.” He sat back town in his creaky chair. Reaching up, he flipped his computer screen on and closed down the window he was working on. He logged in and pulled up the missing person’s database. “Name?”
I wound behind him, looking over his shoulder. “I don’t have one. Just a description.”
He paused, but he didn’t comment. “Okay then, shoot.”
I described the young woman Sue had seen as she whispered the details into my mind. “Late teens to early twenties, female, short, maybe five foot six, blonde hair. About seven months pregnant.”
He slowly filled in the blanks on the search form. Suddenly, a list of names and photos appeared. He scrolled down one page. I looked closely at each face until I saw the one I was looking for. “There. Stop.”
Reggie cli
cked on the picture and brought up the full report. “Looks like she’s only been missing a few days. I take it the family didn’t bring you in on this one?”
“A concerned citizen saw something suspicious.”
“And they came to you instead of calling the cops?” Reggie asked as I pulled a notepad and pen out of my purse.
“She’s a friend of mine. And she wasn’t sure exactly what she saw.”
“But you’re sure it’s this girl?”
I stared at the photo. There was no doubt it was the same woman. She was a little younger in the photo, maybe twenty, and a few pounds lighter, but it was unmistakably her. Reggie stood up, and I slipped into his chair.
Katy Fonte was a political science major at Charleston University. Her roommate, Joanne Collins, reported her missing when she didn’t show up at a rally they’d planned to attend together. I jotted down all her information. Her parents were divorced. Her father lived out of state but her mother was a local, so I took her name and address down too.
Reggie returned to his desk and handed me a copy of the official report. I tucked it into my notebook and stuffed it back into my bag.
“You realize there was nothing in the report about Katy being pregnant,” he pointed out, taking a sip of sweet tea from a glass on his desk as I scooted out of his chair.
“I did notice that.”
“Your witness sure about that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. She said it was pretty obvious. Maybe the roommate didn’t know, but I doubt it. More likely she left that bit out for a reason.”
He grunted. “This have anything to do with those vamps you’re mixed up with?”
His tone was disapproving. I knew he wasn’t talking about Shane either. Reggie was one of Shane’s only human friends. No, it was Xavier Ambrose that Reggie didn’t trust. And with good reason. Reggie suspected Xavier had a part in the minor disaster that had almost killed both Shane and I. Truth was, none of it was Xavier’s fault, but he was there and I’d lied to Reggie and the police about that. But it was for a good reason. That didn’t make it easy to do, and it sure as hell didn’t make me feel better about it.
“Nope,” I said, smiling up at him, glad to be telling the truth.
If Reggie were a superhero, he would have been Wonder Woman, minus the star-spangled spanky-pants. He had a glare ten times as effective as any lasso of truth.
“Alright then. Well, try to get your friend to come in and make a statement, will ya?”
“I promise, next time I see her in the flesh, I’ll bring her in.” I crossed my heart. He raised an eyebrow, probably suspicious of my wording, but he didn’t call me on it. “Thanks, Reggie.”
“Sure, sweetheart. But, I mean it, if you come across anything on this one, let us know, will ya?”
“Of course.” I took my information and the stabbing guilt in my heart and headed straight for Katy’s apartment.
SHANE
It would have taken a human about two hours to get from Charleston to Savannah, but Shane clocked it in less than one. Lead foot plus vampire reflexes made for a very quick trip, and he couldn’t help feeling exhilarated. It was more like flying than driving, and his sharp senses made every breath feel like pure bliss. When Shane pulled up to the massive, wrought iron fence that surrounded the San Lucas estate, it was barely noon, despite the time it took him to actually locate the old, remote address. The adrenaline was fading fast and the sunlight was beginning to take its toll on him, wearing thin his energy even from behind the dark visor of his motorcycle helmet. His eyes ached and his muscles were tense. Hunger gnawed at him like a million biting insects in his stomach.
He carefully hid his bike behind a patch of dense brush and grabbed the top of the rusted iron gate surrounding the property He couldn’t see any ruins of a house yet, but the foliage was dense and overgrown. The moss and ivy had already curled itself into the gate with such skill he doubted it would ever be opened again. With a simple flick of his wrist, he launched himself over, landing as gracefully as a jungle cat on the other side. There was the remnant of a cobblestone driveway cutting through the flourishing landscape. Still, he could see where there had once been a deliberate path of rose bushes and magnolias. Deciding to stay off the main path, he stuck to the outskirts just in case anyone—or anything—was wandering around in the jungle. Moving through the woods was effortless. He’d never been particularly athletic, but his vampire skills gave him the agility to move in complete silence, not a single crunch of fallen leaves betraying him. He moved like water flowing over stones as he hiked toward a large clearing.
Suddenly, a massive house rose out of the dying forest like a ghost. It was old, pre-Civil War at least. Huge columns and old brick betrayed its age, as did the heavy vines of ivy and tall oak trees whose branches hung haphazardly against the roof. Most of the windows were still intact, but the glass was so old it was warped and bubbled. Shane moved close and listened, waiting to hear the telltale heartbeat of another person in the area, but there was only silence.
“So much for the house being burnt down,” he muttered to himself as he walked across the long porch to the front door.
The paint was grey and peeling with age, the knob small, brass, and green with patina. He turned it, but it held fast. With a gentle push on the wood, the old door splintered and fell from the hinges, landing on the floor with a heavy thump and a puff of dust. Shane stepped into the foyer. The ceilings were high, and a grand staircase split the room in two. The rooms on the main floor were long abandoned. Antique furniture covered with dusty, white sheets and portraits removed from the walls and wrapped in old, brown paper. As Shane crossed to the kitchen in the back of the house, a long, black rat scurried across his foot, making him jump.
Some big, bad vampire he was.
There was more of the same in the kitchen. Cabinets open and bare, except for large cobwebs and about a solid inch of dust on every surface. He pulled open a tall pantry. Old cans and glass jars dotted the otherwise empty shelves. Shane was about to turn to leave when a sliver of light caught his eye. It was coming from beneath one of the shelves.
“What do we have here?” He leaned down, examining the bottom shelf.
There was definitely something behind the wood. He tapped on the backing, and it sounded hollow. As he gave it a shove, the whole wall of shelves rolled backward on wheels, creating an artificial hallway. He slipped in, closing the shelf behind him. The light was bright, but flickering. He paused, listening again. There was a small hum, nearly too faint for even his hearing to detect. He followed the glow until the hallway opened up into a massive room. For a moment, he was sure he was seeing things. Then, the reality hit him. He sagged against the wall, fighting back a powerful wave of nausea like he hadn’t felt since he was a human.
“Oh, Ambrose. What did youdo?”
SHANE
The hum was a large generator, fairly modern, that ran from a cable that dropped from a hole drilled in the exterior wall and probably led to a solar cell if he had to hazard a guess. Steel chains hung from bolts in the ceiling and an empty cage sat in the corner, only bones and scraps of fur still trapped inside. There were piles of bone and ash all over the floor. Shane took a step forward, kicking one of the skulls with the tip of his foot. The jaw fell open, revealing a pair of brown-white fangs. On the far wall was a gurney next to a silver instrument tray covered in old, blood-soaked gauze that had been nibbled on by rats, judging by the looks of the tatters and tiny, black pellets. There was also a table with scattered notebooks, beakers, large glass jars full of thick pink and brown slime, and a microscope.
Walking over to the table, he blew off a thin layer of dust and picked up a glass slide. The dust here wasn’t nearly as bad as the rest of the house. That and the more modern fixtures in this area meant this place was used recently, perhaps in the last few years. Shane put the slide on the microscope and looked into the eyepiece. He’d had to take biology labs in college so he knew enough to recognize that the sample
was a piece of tissue, but it was old, dead, and corroded by time. Standing up, he moved to the journals. He picked up the top book. It contained notes on chemicals and records of tissue deterioration timetables. He flipped back to the first page.
Subject 7- Canis Lupus
Age- undetermined.
Subject Seven is the third Canis Lupus tested, the first compatible donor for subject three. I have isolated the chemical combination that will prevent transformation, but subject is still reluctant to communicate beyond fevered expletives and threats. I have infected subject seven with the V1 virus and I am monitoring for results.
It went on to describe the horrible reaction the subject had. Eventually, the person writing forced a transformation to try to heal the subject, but it failed, and he was ‘forced to administer a lethal dose’ of something he didn’t identify. Shane closed the journal, picking up the next one. In black marker on the cover,Subject Six was scrawled.
This was it, Xavier’s dirty little secret. Shane looked up, noticing claw marks on the walls and dark spots on the stone floor. But why leave all this here? Why not just destroy it?
Unless he was planning to need it again.
Xavier Ambrose was experimenting on werewolves, and vampires too by the looks of it. He was the Conclave’s own doctor Mengele. Shane scooped up two of the journals and headed back through the house. He was almost back to the front door when he realized he still hadn’t made it upstairs.
He stopped, debating the wide, elaborate staircase. There could be more, he reasoned. With one long, unsure glance at the door, he headed for the stairs. In a blur of speed, he was on the second floor. There were three bedrooms. The first was empty except for an old wardrobe and a steamer trunk of musty, moth-eaten clothes. The next room held an oversize, ornate bed with four posts that nearly touched the ceiling. The mattress was shredded, the bits of cotton and fluff here and there, the sheets strewn carelessly on the wood floor. There was a fireplace with a line of framed black-and-white photos. Shane carefully picked up the first. It was a picture of Xavier as a young man, surrounded by other, younger children all bearing a vague resemblance. A combination of sharp, French facial features and darker Hispanic hair and eyes. There were a few more pictures of the children as they grew through the years, the last one a photo of modern vampire Xavier cradling a small infant in his arms. Shane turned to leave. A small squeak drew his attention to the bed. He paused, listening to the room, before grabbing the tattered blanket off the bed and tossing it back. A small mouse scampered across the floor, and a fine layer of dust rose into the air. When it settled, Shane saw a pile of bones, yellowed with time and splintered from being chewed on by rodents, nestled into a dip in the old mattress. He took a deep breath. The skull was intact. Gently, he rolled it to the side, looking for the telltale sign of fangs. There were none. He couldn’t make out anything else about the remains. Might have beenwere, maybe human. He let the skull lull back into place and re-covered it.
