Blood Vice

by Angela Roquet

  “What. The. Hell?” I glared accusingly at Mandy.

  “I tried to tell you.” She sighed and rested her chin in the palm of one hand. “You’re dead, Miss Detective Lady. But don’t take my word for it. Have you checked your pulse yet?”

  “What?” I shouted at her. I wanted to roll my eyes, but my fingers were already pressed to the side of my neck, searching. It felt like a million years, but I did finally feel a gentle pulse against my fingertips. “Ha! I have a heartbeat. What now, crazy pants?”

  She snorted and rapped her knuckles along the counter’s edge. “How many beats would you say per minute?”

  My fingers went back to my neck, and after a few seconds of waiting, my patience evaporated. “I’m not a damn doctor. I’ll schedule a physical tomorrow, and everything will be fine.”

  “If you do that, House Lilith will sic their agents on you,” Mandy said, a serious note creeping into her voice. “I won’t help you if they get involved. They kill mutts like me for sport.”

  “Nothing you say makes any sense!” I screamed at her. I was starting to lose my cool. Not being able to keep anything down and choking up blood probably hadn’t helped. I seized the dishtowel hanging off the oven door and wiped my hands and face off while I waited for my temper to dissipate. “You probably have some contagious disease that you’ve passed on to me—”

  “I’m healthy as a horse.” Mandy gave me a smug grin. “My digestive tract and heart work fine, but then again, I’m not the walking, talking, bitching undead.”

  “I’ve had about enough of this. I’m calling the police.” I snatched the phone off the wall cradle beside Mandy, but before I could punch in any numbers, she ripped the entire base free with one hand, leaving a gaping hole in the drywall. The plastic cracked and groaned in her grasp, and the inner workings wheezed out a dying ring.

  “You want my help finding those girls, and I want yours,” she hissed. “So quit being stupid and get your shit together. We have work to do, and I don’t have time to coddle a baby bloodsucker through the change.”

  I ground my teeth and stared at her until my vision turned red again. My hand went to the .380 in my waistband, but I didn’t get a chance to draw it. The doorbell made us both jump, and the heavy pounding that followed sent my lagging heart into overdrive.

  “Skye, open this damn door before I kick it in,” Captain Mathis shouted from my front porch.

  I was going to strangle Vin.

  Chapter Four

  Mandy’s eyes looked like they might fall out of her head. They sparkled, taking on a yellow hue that I quickly convinced myself was a reflection of the overhead light. Mathis continued to beat on the front door, and I had a moment of panic, thinking that he might actually follow through on his threat to kick it in.

  I nodded my head toward the hall. “Go hide in my room,” I whispered. When Mandy looked like she might refuse, I added, “Unless you’d like to give your statement to the captain?”

  She sneered and slid soundlessly off the barstool before making a beeline for my bedroom. I waited for the door to close behind her, then I cut across the living room and flipped the deadbolt on the front door.

  “Hold on,” I shouted over Mathis’s pounding.

  Tom Mathis was a beast. He looked like Tom Selleck—if Tom Selleck had been the Hulk and frozen halfway through his transformation. He filled my doorway and almost had to duck as he forced his way inside without an invitation.

  “Jesus, Skye. You look like shit,” he said by way of greeting, taking in the borrowed sweats dotted with blood and traces of Mandy’s stolen dinner. From the way his nose curled up over his thick mustache, I was sure he could smell the vomit and sweat, too. I fingered my hair with one hand, praying I wouldn’t find a rogue potato chip, and closed the door behind Mathis.

  “Yeah, the morgue might be cheaper, but it’s definitely not as effective as a day at the spa.” I folded my arms as I turned to face him.

  “You should be in the hospital getting checked out,” he said, giving me another once-over. “I stood over your body this morning. You weren’t breathing. You were pale as a sheet. What the hell were you thinking having Dr. Hart drive you home?”

  I sighed and cocked one shoulder. “I’ll call my doc in the morning. I was planning to call you in the morning, too.”

  “Oh, really?” he asked. “Thanks. What’s a few extra hours of dwelling over getting my newest detective killed, right? And never mind your partner’s death. You’re the only known witness to his murder, but maybe you don’t think his family deserves justice, is that it?”

  “Of course, they do.” I gasped and felt my fingers dig into my arms. “But I don’t remember anything—not anything useful anyway. I was hoping I would by morning.” My face was on fire, and I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with him. I sniffled and blinked away a tear before crossing the room and collapsing into a recliner. My head throbbed, and my eyes burned.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” Mathis said, his gruff voice only slightly softer. He was pissed, and he had every right to be. “Having you back is better than Christmas. I still can’t believe my eyes. But you know how this works. You’ll have to give a proper statement.”

  “I will,” I said, nodding slowly. “Who’s heading up the investigation? Collins?”

  “No.” Mathis groaned and took a seat on the end of my sofa. “The FBI sent in one of their vultures. We’ve been completely taken off the case, effective immediately.”

  “What? On what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that they tracked the crime ring here from Denver.” Mathis rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together. “They’re bad news. Much worse than we originally thought. I should have never put you and Banks on that case, not for your first week with vice.”

  “You didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault.” I pulled my knees up beside me and massaged my forehead with my fingertips.

  Mathis looked at me a long moment. I’d witnessed how effective his scrutinizing stare could be on suspects, but I never imagined I’d find myself on the receiving end of it.

  “If you’re going to ask me something, just ask,” I said.

  “Did you get a good look at the bastard who killed Banks?”

  “It was dark.” I shook my head, and my eyes unfocused as my gaze fell to the floor. “I wanna say he was a big guy, but he was so fast, it’s hard to know for sure. He might have been on drugs, he…” My hand went to my throat. I had a vivid memory of the pain I’d felt as the man gnawed through flesh and tendons. The slurping, purring noises he’d made in my ear. The rush of hot blood spreading down my neck and soaking the front of my shirt.

  “He what?” Mathis prompted me. But I couldn’t go on, not without raising a thousand other questions that I didn’t know how to answer.

  “He was erratic and foaming at the mouth,” I said, rubbing my collarbone.

  “What else can you remember about him?” Mathis’s eyes took me in with skeptical reserve. “Skin color? Hair color?”

  “Again, it was dark.” I tilted my head to one side and tried to think. “He could have been blond or maybe even a redhead. In the moonlight, his skin looked fairly pale. Definitely Caucasian.”

  Mathis nodded and smoothed one side of his graying mustache with a thumb. “Your ma used to bring your school drawings in and pin them up in her office. They were pretty good. You still do much of that?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “But I know what you’re thinking. I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Just do your best. If the bastard is still around these parts, we’ll find him.”

  “What about the FBI?”

  Mathis shrugged. “All we have to say to the public is that this guy is wanted for questioning in an ongoing case.”

  “But it’s not our case.” I lifted an eyebrow.

  “Never said it was.” Mathis stood up from the sofa. “But who would argue that it’s not ongoing?”

  Ho
peful vengeance blossomed in the pit of my stomach. “We’re going to get justice for Banks one way or another.”

  “I’m going to get justice for Banks,” Mathis said. A stern line cut across his brow as he looked down at me. “You’re going to take a month off and have a few long chats with Dr. Townsend.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my head against the back of the recliner. “Ugh.”

  “You know the drill, Skye. I can’t let you come back until you’re cleared by the department shrink.” His eyebrows drew together as he stole a quick glance around the living room. “Looks like you might have more to talk about than Banks.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Mathis fingered the blue curtains over the front window and then touched a framed picture on the wall, one of my mother and Maggie. “This room hasn’t changed a lick in ten years, Skye.”

  “And? So? I’m a cop, not an interior decorator.”

  “Then hire one.” He gave me a pitying smile, and it took all my willpower not to snarl at him.

  I was not some broken thing that needed fixing. I’d lost my mother. Most people did, eventually, in life. It wasn’t some rare or chronic illness that I suffered from. The fact that I hadn’t changed much about my childhood home was not proof that I was off my rocker. I didn’t know what everyone expected from me. Was I supposed to gut the place and buy all new fixtures and knickknacks so they were more comfortable on the rare occasions that they visited? Was my mother’s memory really so painful that they wanted to erase it entirely? And they thought I was the one with issues. Yeah, right.

  I stood and walked Mathis to the front door, ready to be alone with my thoughts. Then I remembered the lanky girl hiding out in my bedroom in my mother’s bathrobe. Shit.

  “Keep me updated on how your doctor’s appointment goes,” Mathis said as he stepped out onto my porch and turned around to face me.

  “Will do.”

  “You really should have gone to the emergency room,” he added, giving me another appraising glare. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you there now?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine. Really. I’d rather wait and see my own doctor than be poked and prodded by a handful of exhausted strangers anyway.”

  Mathis made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, but he nodded. “I’ll wait until morning to notify the FBI agent heading up the case, and I’ll touch base with Dr. Townsend too, let her know you’ll be making your first appointment soon.” He gave me a sharp look but followed it up by squeezing my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay, kid.”

  “Thanks.” I gave him a tight smile. I didn’t care for patronizing pet names, but considering he’d spent the day assuming I was dead and feeling responsible, I let it slide.

  I watched Mathis cut across my lawn and climb into his pickup truck before I shut the front door and flipped the deadbolt back in place. The truck roared to life a moment later, and then the sound of the engine faded into the distance.

  I sighed and pressed my back against the wall, wondering how long Mandy would wait in my bedroom if I didn’t call her out. I just wanted a few minutes to myself. That was all. But rising from the dead seemed to have used up all my luck for the foreseeable future.

  The bedroom door creaked open, and Mandy’s voice echoed down the hall. “Coast clear?”

  “If I say no, are you going to come out anyway?”

  She huffed and slinked around the corner wearing one of my band tee shirts and a pair of yoga pants. “The FBI getting involved is going to complicate things,” she said, propping a bony hip against the wall beside me.

  “Ya think?”

  “And Raphael had brown hair, not blond or red.”

  “You heard all that?” I frowned at her. “Does this Raphael have a last name? And what do you mean by he had brown hair?”

  Mandy snorted out a short laugh. “I told you I tried to help, remember? I might have been too late to save your ass, but I definitely took care of his.”

  I didn’t think it was possible, but my throat felt even drier. I tried to swallow and moved my tongue around inside my mouth, hoping to inspire some saliva. “By took care of, you mean…”

  Mandy’s lips pursed, and she folded her arms. “Well, I didn’t jerk him off. What do you think I mean?”

  “Vin didn’t mention a third body,” I said, pressing my palms to my temples where a headache was slowly building. This was getting out of hand. I had to keep reminding myself that she was a basket case whose eyewitness account couldn’t be trusted. Next, she’d be telling me I’d been probed by aliens.

  “There wasn’t a third body,” Mandy said, obnoxious pride lighting her eyes. “Because I ate it.”

  I crinkled my nose and leaned away from her. “You’ve got some serious issues, girl. I don’t know if I’m comfortable letting you stay in my home with screws that loose.”

  “Says the bloodsucker who refuses to feed.” She rolled her eyes. “If anyone’s a hazard in this house, it’s you.”

  “Again, with the bloodsucker nonsense?” I pushed away from the wall and headed back toward the kitchen.

  Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but I was going to give this beverage dilemma one more go. My thirst was a constant itch in the back of my throat that felt like it was progressively working its way down to my gut, spreading parched desert in its wake. If I didn’t solve this problem soon, I was sure I’d crumble into a pile of dust.

  “Skye? Is that your name?” Mandy asked, following me around the corner. “I didn’t catch it when I checked your license for an address.”

  “So that’s how you found your way here.” I harrumphed. “A real pro at this squatting business, aren’t you?”

  Mandy didn’t look ashamed in the least by my accusation. “I do what I have to.” She paused at the kitchen table, her hand hovering over the chair covered in my orangey vomit, before thinking better of it and grasping the back of the next chair over.

  “My name’s Jenna,” I said, rinsing my glass at the sink.

  “Should I call you Jen?”

  I mimicked the look she’d given me for calling her Amanda. “You can call me Detective Skye.”

  Mandy snorted. “And you can call me the Queen of England.” She made a crude gesture with her hand at her crotch. “Look, I’m not here to cramp your style. I just want to find my friends and set them free, okay? I already took care of your bad guy, so help me take care of mine.”

  “My bad guy? Raphael the brunette?” I made a face at her as I filled my glass at the sink. Her brows drew together as she watched me.

  “You’re not a very quick learner, are you?”

  “Cheers.” I lifted the glass at her before bringing it to my lips. I was more careful this time, taking the tiniest drink possible. I let the small bit of water slosh around my mouth, enjoying the feel of it against my dry tongue and cheeks. Then I swallowed, paying close attention to my body’s reaction.

  A split second later, I was gasping and heaving over the sink. Blood splattered the stainless steel basin as I hiccupped out a sob. “This isn’t fair.”

  Mandy sighed—a long, grueling breath that suggested she wasn’t thrilled about having to witness this any more than I was thrilled about having to experience it. “Do any of your neighbors have a pet cat they let roam the streets at night?” she asked in a flat voice.

  “Excuse me?” I gave her an incredulous look.

  “It’s not caviar, but it will do in a pinch…and I can hunt it down for you.” She blushed and cleared her throat as if she’d offered me a favor that was beneath her.

  “You’re certifiable. You know that?” I wiped my face with the bloody dishtowel and took a deep breath, trying to decide if I could wait until morning or if I should head to the ER now. Maybe they could hook me up to an IV before I keeled over from dehydration.

  Mandy tilted her head to one side, and her ear twitched. “Well, aren’t you Miss Popular.”

  Keys jingled at the front
door, and a panic sharper than the captain’s visit had conjured ripped through my chest.

  “Get in the pantry,” I hissed, snatching Mandy by the arm and yanking her across the kitchen.

  “Wha—” she protested, swatting at my hand.

  “Shhhh!” I placed a finger over my mouth and then closed the door softly so as not to make any noise.

  The front door opened and closed, and then the sound of bags dropping to the floor and a heavy sob shuddered through the house. I swallowed and stepped into the living room.

  “What are you doing here, Laura?” I asked, folding my arms under my breasts.

  My twin sister gasped as she spun around to face me, almost falling out of her stilettos. Her red hair lay in a sleek wave over one shoulder, but her makeup streaked down her face, greasy slug trails brought on by a downpour of tears.

  “Is this some kind of sick joke?” she said, her voice trembling with more emotion than I’d ever heard her put forth on the soap opera she starred in.

  “The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated,” I said, quoting our favorite author—at least, Mark Twain had been our favorite author when we were kids. I couldn’t imagine Laura reading anything other than tabloids these days. “How’s Hollywood?”

  “He’s fine,” Laura snapped. “We’re fine.” She sniffled and pulled herself up straighter with a deep breath. “Why did Tom Mathis call and tell me you were dead?”

  “They thought I was,” I said, cringing. “I spent the day in a locker at the morgue.”

  Laura gasped. “Oh my God.” Her hand flew to her chest, and her glossy, blue eyes swelled with fresh tears.

  I turned away from her and glanced across the room at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was nearing midnight. “I’ve only been awake for a few hours.”

  “What in the world made them think you were dead?”