by D. R. Perry
But Frankie steps in again. He’s picked the phone up, put it on the charger, tapped the button to answer the call, and put it on speaker. The kid’s a freaking hero. What’s up with these younger adults and their awesomeness? Well, they’ll save the world someday, I bet.
“It’s Maury,” Frankie whispers.
“Heya, Maur.” I grin and keep my eyes on the slow moving bumper in front of me. Not to keep up but so I don’t step on the brake too late and hit it.
“Tino, I don’t feel so good.” He stifles a small burp. “More than usual, I mean.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” And I am. The last thing I want is to make my oldest and best friend feel worse.
“Look, I was gonna tell you to stop following me but now I think I’ll let you.” He snorts. “Got a hunch I should.”
“Where are you headed?” I’m hoping maybe he’s been to wherever this potion leads before and knows the answer to this question.
“I dunno what to tell you, man. Just I’ve got to be there. It’s the weirdest freaking thing.”
“I hear you.”
“And I have this enormous headache coming on.” Yeah, that’s one of Esther’s listed possible side-effects.
“Oh man, Maury.”
He’s been driving down Park Avenue, heading east toward the coast. We pass Roger Williams Park where he slows down and I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn’t actually stop there. I bet who or whatever we’re tracking has been in the park recently, though. It’s just a hop, skip and a jump from my office. But I know next to nothing about the Kupalas or Baba Yaga. For all I know, the legendary old hag hangs around in parks.
And this is where I kick myself because finally I ask myself the question you must have had on your mind for half this story. Why didn’t I look Baba Yaga up online when an article about here was right there on Sasquatch’s cryptid site? Because I’m a scatterbrain who forgets almost everything I don’t write a to-do list for, that’s why. And I read about the stupid Russian house-elves instead. Nobody’s perfect, okay?
We get to the end of Park Avenue and bang a right on Broad Street, heading south down the coast. There’s no view because buildings block it but we pass Rhodes on the Pawtuxet and then all the awesome restaurants I can’t eat at anymore. Go have a crepe at Schastea in my honor or something if you’re ever in that neighborhood.
And there we are, crossing the border with Warwick. Maury pulls into the parking lot at Pawtuxet Park, spitting distance from Cranston. He gets out, leaving all his evidence in the car. And the door open.
As he walks toward the water, I pull on my gloves and grab the bag with the blood in it. I can’t just take the vial I'm holding so I open it instead. Now is a bad time to have a gulp, puke to the point of starvation, and trance out into one of my vision things. I look around in Maury’s messy car for another option.
There’s a Dunks iced coffee, cold cup nestled inside a hot cup. I separate them and put the cold cup back in the holder, then tip the blood sample sideways over the empty styrofoam container. About a third goes in and that’s plenty. I cap the vial, put it away and head back to my car with the ill-gotten evidence.
Frankie’s already headed out to follow Maury so that’s where I go next. We find him standing at a wall that holds the water back at high tide, right at the border between the two towns. But the tide’s out now. Maury turns and walks along that barrier toward a tree. Under it is a bill, smeared with red. He reaches down and grabs it, peering intently.
“Is this blood?”
“Raspberry jam.”
“What?” Maury blinks then levels his gaze at me. “If I didn’t have the biggest headache in the history of cranial pain, I’d be on your case forever asking how the hell you know.”
He peers at the serial number and I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. Unlike me, Maury’s got a brilliant memory. And I know exactly what he’s doing. Checking that number against the ones I gave him over the phone from the cash Leora paid me.
“It’s sequential, Tino,” he says, finally. “The kid’s either complicit or whoever gave her the cash for your fee is. I’m not sure which.” Maury closes his eyes and rubs his temple. “Don’t know how CSI missed it. Probably because Raph wasn’t on shift last night.”
The tide’s in but around five in the morning it wasn’t. I realize I can’t get at the actual crime scene now because it’s under water.
“Wait, is that the crime scene?” I point down at where the sea covers the edge of the Cranston side.
“Yeah, Tino. This is where we found the kid’s mom. Down there.” He jerks his chin at the water. “Barely inside our jurisdiction in front of a Cranston Water overflow pipe.” That rings a bell but not loudly enough.
“Hey guys,” Frankie’s standing completely still, pointing one finger at the grass by the corner of the barrier. It’s on a little hill, beside a spot where the park planners left space for people to be at the edge of the water, chosen because the tide won’t flood it out except during a hurricane.
I power-walk over there. Even as a human I was faster than Maury and I blow him out of the water now, of course. It always amazes me, how complimentary our skills still are even now. It’s what made us good partners as beat cops. And we were supposed to continue that as detectives, too, until the supernatural world sank its fangs into me and divided us.
But the item Frankie’s pointing at banishes all that wistful nostalgia from my mind. The thing he’s found strikes me to my knees in fear. Because there’s no way he should have been able to see it. And it shouldn’t be sitting by the water, discarded in the first place.
I’m talking about the amulet all vampires ever tested and recognized by a Vampire King wear every night of their unlives. This is a Lazkahar, the red vampire jewel, and it’s set in a familiar Greek Key embossed frame. This amulet should be around my sire Stephanie McQueen’s undead little neck.
Unless it’s been severed from her body, that is.
No. I fucking refuse to stop hoping because I’m a Rhode Islander. We might be misfits but we never give up. There’s one more reason Steph’s Lazkahar would be here. She left it on purpose, so any vampire who sees it would know she’s gone missing and where it happened. My gut tells me I’m on the right mental track. Something’s familiar about this place, too but I’m not sure why just yet. I have faith it’ll come to me.
I scoop the amulet up in my hand, then stow it in the front pocket of my jeans. I’m going to the Blood Moot later, so I can bring this directly to King DeCampo. But there’s still one piece of information I don’t know what to do with.
“Frankie, how did you find this?”
“Uh, I saw it?”
“Hmm.” I glance at Maury because I can’t talk openly about this in front of him. What I see makes me dash to his side.
Maury’s knees are buckling and he’s holding his head with both hands. His face is pale as a sheet, too. I catch him as he topples over and find that his center of gravity is all messed up. Like Frankie’s was last night only to a lesser degree. There's something slimy on his shoe.
“Maur, you okay?”
“Gotta sleep it off.” The end of the last word resolves itself into a snore. I try not to end up on the ground while reaching for Esther’s can of levitating powder. Frankie snags it from my pocket and sprinkles some on Maury’s head.
As we get the sleeping detective to my car and into the back seat (seatbelts are awesome for anchoring levitating people in case you didn’t know), I can finally talk to Frankie, well, frankly. I close the car’s door just in case Maury is only out of it instead of truly asleep.
“Humans can’t see vamp amulets unless we’re turning them. And you pointed it out to me. So what gives?”
He follows me over to the detective’s car where I lock it up. Once we’re somewhere safe, I’ll use Maury’s phone to text the PD and have it towed back to the station. I know enough to say that he ended up needing to investigate on foot and doesn’t want t
o leave the car where it is.
“I don’t know. I didn’t expect to see anything. But I had a nightmare about this park and when I went to the spot that seemed most familiar, I saw something shiny.”
“Are you psychic?” Some humans have sixth senses and they vary widely in strength and type. Kayleigh’s dad can sense supernaturals, for example. Maybe Frankie has prophetic dreams.
Or maybe he tapped into mine somehow. And yeah, that hill is familiar, could have been the one near the drainpipe in my dream. There was something else here, too. A building. And it’s gone which should be impossible. It’s coming back to me now, how some creature snatched what felt like a shapeshifter. But if this is Stephanie’s amulet, then that means she’s—
The alarm on my phone goes off. You know, the one I set so I won’t be late to the Blood Moot. Again. I don’t have time for this. That’s a recurring theme I’m not fond of. It’s like I’ve pissed off a Time Lord or something.
“Never mind. We’ve got to get you and Maury someplace safe. I’ve got to go out and you guys can’t come along.” I open the driver’s side door on my car.
“Why?”
“It’s vampires only. Don’t worry, I’ll bring you and Maury someplace safe.”
“Oh, okay.” He shrugs and gets in the passenger side.
I take them to the studio. One reason for that is, it’s close. The other reason is, Esther’s there. She made it clear she’d prefer not to have Frankie around but if it’s for Maury maybe, she’ll tolerate his presence.
Wait. Esther doesn’t even know Maury.
Well it’s too late to worry about that. I’m in the parking lot. I look up at the windows and see that the lights are out at the weirdo factory on the second floor but they’re on in my office directly above. We head in and up to the third floor. I bring the cup containing the Kupala blood with me.
When I open the door at Sentry Vanguard Sleuthing, Esther jumps up from the futon we’ve got in there next to the Shoji screen she sold me last month. Which has reverted to its original shabby appearance. One glance around the room tells me everything else looks like the office’s original College-Hill dumpster-dive decor again. The alchemy that made it all swanky was only temporary. Bummer.
Esther’s black hair is mussed on one side and she wipes away a trail of what looks like drool from the bottom of one angular cheek. I’m not sure why the alchemist is sleeping here instead of in her lab. But she’s not at her apartment because of the slow renovations. Don’t look at me, she destroyed her own place. Anyway, that’s a story for another time.
“What’s with the fucking cop?” Esther looks from me to Maury, eyes skipping over Frankie entirely.
“He needs a safe place to sleep off your tracking potion.” I walk over to my desk and get out one of the vials and corks I keep in it for blood samples. The stuff I nicked from Maury’s evidence goes in there. Once it’s sealed, I put it in my jacket.
She saunters over to Maury. I can’t decide if she’s checking him out or using some kind of magic to see if he’s okay. Esther reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out his wallet and opens it. Her left eyebrow raises.
“Weintraub? This is your fucking PD contact you expect me to babysit?”
“And Frankie’s got to stay here, too.”
“This is absolute fucking horseshit, Tino.”
“I know but it’s not my horseshit. There’s vampire business in my immediate future and I can’t bring them.”
“A girl can’t get her goddamned beauty rest in this crappy fucking place.”
“I mean, you could. If you set up your wards like in your lab. Maury’s going to be out for a while and Frankie’s tired.” I turn to have a look at what he’s doing and see he’s raided the mini-fridge. Which is fine. Bismarcks are amazing but not exactly filling.
“Why can’t you leave them at your place, then?”
“Because Frankie’s been attacked and Maury’s been investigating the thing that did it. Or did you forget how fucked your uncle was last night?” I can’t help it. I’m angry with her. Traditions or no, she should care about a kid who did nothing but look up to her when his parents treated him like shit.
“You know jack and shit about what happened to my uncle, asshole.”
“Look, I found out he’s from a Theophile family and he’s part of their pact making. It’s pretty easy to understand, really. They get their powers from their Faustian deal, his sacrifice, and your silence. So yes, I know maybe some shit even if it’s not of the jacked variety.”
Frankie drops the bottle of Gatorade he’s holding and freezes. Thank God they come in plastic bottles now. Only his eyes move. He blinks, gaze moving from me to Esther and then back again. He looks like someone who’s been caught out. And that’s true in a way because I got details about the heart of his damage behind his back.
“Sorry, Frankie. But I had to do some digging so I could help you.”
Frankie’s silent. But not Esther. She drops Maury’s wallet, grabs me by the jacket, and shakes.
“What in the ever living fuck do you think you’re doing, you shit-brained undead moron?”
“I—I—Investigating!” I try to pull away, unhinge her hands from my shirt. But only one of them feels warm and supple enough to pry off. The other one’s like a vise of the metallic variety. “Sexual assault is a crime, no matter how high and mighty the perp is in the supernatural department, Esther.”
“Rape.” Frankie’s by my side, the unstoppable shaker of levitating powder open and hovering over the immovable object of Esther’s hand. “At least give me that much. It was rape and Mother and Father agreed to let them do it the minute they learned I was mundane.”
I look him in the eyes. They’re dry but rimmed with red. The gleam of baleful fire in them is evidence he’s moved out of despair and into the anger part of grieving.
“There’s nothing I can fucking do about it, Frankie. No matter how much I want to. I can't make any difference.”
“That’s wrong and you know it. You’re the only relative who ever showed me kindness back then, Esther. Tino’s the only person now who’s willing to help me. Don’t fight. What is it you used to say, back when you holed up at my parent’s house and got this?” He jerks his chin at her arm.
“You’ve got to fight someone back for everything they take in this shitty life but you only ever start one with a real fucking enemy.”
“Tino’s not your enemy. Neither am I. I’m just fighting back, like you taught me.”
“Never fucking taught you a goddamned thing, kid.” Esther’s voice drops a notch in pitch. She lets go of my jacket. “Not on the record, anyway.”
My alarm beeps again, signaling my ten minute warning for the start of the Blood Moot. “Are you two going to get along while I'm out?”
They both nod and Frankie closes the levitation powder and puts it in his pocket. They might not be best chums, but seem copacetic enough for now. I smooth my shirt and head out the door.
I’ve got a date at the vampire club.
The place where they hold the Blood Moots and conduct all vampire business in Rhode Island doesn’t have a name that I know of. But that’s probably for the best since it’s easier to keep a secret club from getting outed if it doesn’t have a title to blab on accident. Or under coercion because that’s also in the realm of more unfortunate possibility.
I walk up to the door and do the secret knock. It opens and I’m surprised to see Maya; her face flat and unsmiling. I blink because there’s definitely something wrong if neither of the King’s Enforcers are in charge of vetting the secret knocks.
Maya steps aside and lets me by, then shuts and locks the door behind me. I lean against the wall instead of heading down the hall to the room where all the politicking happens. Because right now, I don’t care about that. Maya has taken priority over everything else for the time being. Her eyebrows dip down, face a dusky mask of troubled thoughts.
“What’s wrong?”
“
Everything.” She sighs, her frown deepening. “And nothing I can put my finger on, either.”
“How can I help?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s like that movie Invasion of the Body Snatchers in there. Nobody’s acting completely normal. And I can’t tell who’s really off the wall and which ones are only nervous about the others.”
“I think you’re on to something, Maya.” I lean closer, trying not to stare at her lips because the last thing she needs is for me to randomly plant one on her for the first time when she’s upset. “Something’s fishy in the state of Rhode Island.”
But I need to get as close as I can because if even half the old and powerful vamps in the building are off their rockers, I don’t want them seeing this. Letting my jacket hang open, I flip up the flap on one of the interior pockets. Stephanie’s Lazakhar catches the overhead light. Maya’s eyes widen, then flicker up and to her right for the barest of seconds.
“Oh God, Tino.” She grabs my jacket by the lapels and turns my world upside-down.
That’s right. Maya kisses me and yes it is that mind-blowing, thank you very much.
How exactly is one kiss so amazing and powerful? Well, it’s all got to do with some of the special abilities vampires have. They vary on an individual basis but it’s clear what Maya’s is. She must be an empath, able to share thoughts and feelings with someone through intimate contact. How do I know this? She’s telling me right here and now and confirming that the little crush I’ve got on her is mutual.
Some of my thoughts and feelings leak past that barrier, too. We mingle in the most literal sense of the word, but only just barely. Not like a bottle of vinaigrette where the oil and the balsamic split into tiny bits that combine to make a delicious whole. More like when butter goes on hot toast and it’s only just started to soften. Even with the cuisine analogies my brain conjures, I don’t even care that I can’t eat food anymore.
It’s like Maya stopped the world, and I melted with her. I try sending that corny sentiment her way deliberately. It must work because in my mind’s eye I see her head shaking, tightly coiled curls a fascination of bouncing. I get the idea she needs me to focus on the important message here, one crucially dire piece of information. And just about the only thing in the universe that would make me willingly let our lips part at that moment.
