Alan took the number and slipped it into his uniform pocket. He clasped Chaz’s hand for a long time, making Chaz’s skin flush. He was so, so close to asking Alan what kind of monster he was when he heard a familiar cry that could only be from Jinny. He dropped Alan’s hand like a deadweight and jogged back to the shore.
Jinny held a hand over her face, covering her eyes from the sight of the body. Water seemed to rush from the victim’s skin like a sponge being wrung out. His skin was now gray and became blacker. When Melinda pulled his T-shirt away from his face, both of his eyes were gone. Nothing but purple sockets remained.
“Oh no, no, no.” Jinny continued to cry as she placed her other hand over her mouth, about to lose it. Chaz grabbed her arm, and with his free hand, desperately went in search of the last pack of gum Katja had given him. Once he found it, he handed it over. Jinny took it with a grateful expression.
“May I leave?” she asked, voice wavering. Chaz nodded once before she darted away. Melinda and Declan were both stoic; Melinda took several photos for examination later.
“I doubt this is the cause of death,” Melinda said, referring to the lack of eyes. “But it’s going to give us a hell of a time for getting an ID. No eyes plus bloat? Good luck. There’s a reason people say eyes are the keys to the soul—or in our case, a name. Alas. There’s no wallet or anything else on him. We’ll probably have to rely on dental records or fingerprints.”
“But the eyes? Why are they… gone?”
“I’d say it was fish who did this. You see these little bite marks around the socket? Tiny fish teeth. I’ve seen it before in other victims.”
“So for once, this isn’t a supernatural death?” Chaz asked, stifling his laughter. “No monsters in the water and no monsters eating it after the fact? I’m in shock.”
“Now, now,” she said, holding up a hand. “I didn’t say no monsters entirely. I just said the eyes weren’t taken by a monster. Someone still killed this man. You see the black around his chest and neck? That’s a bruise, not a reaction from the water. Maybe strangulation, but I’m not too sure.”
“Why did it change color like that?” Declan asked. “The bruise goes beyond his neck.”
“Is he human?” Chaz asked.
“I’m not sure. On both counts.” Melinda gathered her camera, took more photos of the body, bruise, and the victim’s hands and legs. The marks up and down his legs were now gone, meaning it must have been algae. Melinda prodded around the victim’s neck with her latexed fingers. The moment she turned his head to the right, Chaz’s stomach sank. Bite marks. Directly over the jugular vein in the neck, almost hidden by the bruise. The way his body had taken in water as if it were blood made sense now.
No, no, no, Chaz begged. Not—
“There’s your likely cause of death,” Melinda said. “This man was killed by a vampire. Completely exsanguinated and the bruise means he was alive for most of it.”
“So he wasn’t turned?” Declan asked, his brows furrowed. “Don’t most vampires turn their victims? Makes more sense to enlist rather than kill, right?”
“They try to convert, true,” Melinda said. “Maybe this was an accident. I’ll know more when I perform the autopsy.”
“Still murder, either way,” Declan said, nodding. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“Not at all. If you want to be around for the autopsy, come by tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do some more tests by then too. For now, though, my verdict is that you’re looking for a vamp.”
The EMT workers followed Melinda with the stretcher and the body. As their vehicles drove away, Chaz became aware of the fact that he was sinking into the sand around him, his shoes wet from all the trudging around. Declan was close to him, but since he’d worn those rain boots, he wasn’t soaked to the bone. Chaz shuddered.
“Your first vamp?” Declan asked. “They’re always tough. There were a lot of murders by vamps in my old precinct. Hard to catch, but I learned a thing or two.”
“It’s not my first vamp,” Chaz said. “But that’s part of the problem.”
“Are they an issue here?”
“Toronto is the issue. City of Monsters in full swing. The week before, it was a werewolf issue. The month before that, a couple alchemists making enchanted weapons, then wizards in gangs, making fake cash. Troll fights, witch hexes, djinn family feuds. It’s always something. I dread the fanfare around this death, especially since that kid couldn’t be that old to begin with. Innocence lost.” Chaz swallowed hard, the bitter taste in his mouth again. Each time he blinked, he saw empty eye sockets. He needed to think of something else fast. “Hey, Declan? Where did you say you transferred from?”
“Nunavut.”
“Really?” Chaz was surprised a small-town detective from Nunavut, one of the Northern territories, would even want to apply to Toronto—let alone make it. There had to have been cops from other places in Canada who would have been better fits. It was hard to believe someone as clean-cut as Declan with his rain boots and his precise enunciation could have beaten any of the cops who’d handled the Ghoul of Main Street or any number of other underground kingpins. “They have a lot of vamps in Nunavut?”
“At my first job in Halifax, actually. I move around a lot.”
“And are you regretting your transfer to the big city?”
“Not at all. There was a lot of creepy activity in Nunavut. I’m glad I’m no longer around.”
“Really? Is the abominable yeti a true story?”
“Never ran into the yeti, but the snow provides a lot of cover for ice dragons making meth. That’s all I will say for now, pending trial. You understand.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Chaz laughed, but it felt wrong. They were still in ankle-deep sand and rising water on the shore where a man had died. Murdered by a vamp. Chaz’s blood went cold again.
“I’m not one for drug cases,” Declan added when the silence between them became too much. “Nor am I for parties, really. As much as this death is unfortunate, I’m very glad to be back at work.”
“Yeah, same here. Did you get to try some of that coconut cake before leaving, at least?”
Declan made a face. “No, no. That’s the worst flavor. Clearly it should have been chocolate.”
Chaz chuckled. So this guy wasn’t perfect, but he was good enough to hate parties and not be into the drug scene. “I think Jack did a good job selecting you.”
“Hey now. It’s only the first night and we’ve already had an officer get too close to a crime scene and almost botch the whole thing for us. But thank you. I appreciate the thought. Shall we?”
When Declan gestured to the docks, Chaz followed him. They wouldn’t have any results on the body until the afternoon, but it was already heading to two in the morning and they still needed to question the witnesses and officers lingering at the scene.
The man who first discovered the body, Calvin James, was a burly fisherman with a dark beard and curly black hair. He’d hooked part of the boy’s clothing and, thinking it was a marlin, reeled it up but was greeted with a hand.
“Spooked myself something fierce,” he said. “Steered my vessel to the docks and hoped the body would follow to the shore. Then I called you guys right away. I swear I took nothin’.”
Chaz narrowed his eyes. When witnesses claimed they didn’t do something, chances were they had. Declan seemed to have the same idea. He glanced up over his pen and paper. “You sure about that?”
“No, no. Respect the dead.” The man swallowed and his eyes darted toward his tackle box. Chaz walked over right away and clasped the lock on the box. “Is there a key?”
“No. I took nothing, and—”
“Give him the key,” Declan said, “or we will arrest you for stolen property. Then we’ll have to get a search warrant for the rest of your boat and maybe tax records too. Take you off the water for two, three days. Most likely get an audit crew down here.”
With a huff, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out the ke
y. Chaz slid the lock aside and opened the tackle box. A million lures and hooks stared up at him. He was about to give up when Declan came over, holding a handkerchief to not leave prints, and picked up something shimmering in gold.
“Ah, what is this? A necklace for your lost love?” Declan held up the chain, which had a medallion with a painted face in the center, surrounded by hearts. “I would have thought there’d be a siren in the middle of this, but hey, I guess people like all kinds. So tell me, who is this?”
“I have no idea. It’s not mine,” Calvin said. “I took one thing. One. It came up first, then I found the hand. But that’s it. I had no idea it belonged to the boy.”
“We’re taking it now. It’s evidence.” Declan produced a bag from his front pocket and slid the chain inside.
Questioning Calvin afterward became difficult, since he seemed to deliberately give confusing or vague answers. They closed the interview after verifying a few details about his route schedule, and because the sun was almost up, chalked up his lack of cooperation to the fact that they’d stolen his best catch of the day.
“Should we keep working?” Declan scrolled through his small notepad filled with minute details from the fisherman and the other officers on the scene, plus a couple other captains who had pulled in. Most of the other law enforcement were gone and back on patrol. Other than the sun providing them with more light to possibly find clues that the first techs hadn’t, there wasn’t much point in staying.
“No, it’s okay,” Chaz said. “I think we should go home and get some sleep. We’ll get more information later on.”
“Thank you. I’m not that tired, but maybe I’ll get a cup of coffee. You know a good place?”
“I’m not one for sleeping either. There’s a nice diner on Queen Street called Adelaide’s, with a neon blue sign.”
“Huh. I think I passed by that in my apartment hunt. Didn’t think to go in.”
“Yeah? It does look a little shady. You won’t find many diners around here that aren’t at least a little copacetic to the monster crowd. In a city so large, you have to allow them in for business. The manager is good, though, and likes cops as much as she likes monsters. We’ll fit right in.”
Declan made a face but seemed to hold back any of the rants Chaz was used to hearing. Yet another plus about this guy.
“Thank you. I’ll adjust to Toronto again soon enough, I suppose.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Yeah. Long, long time ago. I think….” Declan glanced around and finding no one, not even the bums who collected cans on the shore, turned back to Chaz. “I think that’s why you look familiar to me. We’ve met before, I believe.”
Chaz swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed. “I’ve been a cop here a while.”
“I don’t think we met as officers.” Declan’s voice was thick with meaning. When he gestured between their bodies, Chaz’s memory cascaded into clarity. He remembered Declan now. Oh no. How could he not? Give Declan lush, curly hair to his ears, along with some uniform blues, and he became a completely new person, one Chaz knew all too well.
When Chaz’s papers had been stamped from Divine Interventions and the deal had been done with Atticus, Chaz was still too in shock to do much beyond wandering around Toronto from the safe-house diners with coded blue signs to the next closest blue diner, sleazy motel to sleazy motel, trying to find his next blood bag, drink, or fuck. A week before he entered the police force, he’d met a cop at a bar, only to fuck him in an alleyway minutes later. Declan’s pale skin was so familiar now. So familiar it made Chaz’s blood hot with desire as he remembered that blue uniform below him, sucking Chaz off until Declan spread his legs and fucked him hard against a wall. They hadn’t even exchanged names; they didn’t need to for the ten minutes they spent together, panting and moaning.
“Oh. Shit.”
“It’s okay,” Declan said quickly. “It was a long, long time ago. We’re completely different people. I think I left Toronto the next week for a new assignment and you, well, you clearly moved on too. We can forget about the past, right?”
“Yeah. Probably better if we forget it.”
“Good. Well. What a night this has been.” Declan surveyed the beach and the rolling waves. “A vamp killing and an old flame. Really glad I didn’t go to that party now.”
Chaz’s tongue was still made clumsy by the memory. Part of him was waiting to hear Declan wasn’t actually Declan but another doppelganger like Sully. The longer Declan stood next to him, the more his body started to seem familiar. If not for the taste of the lake in the air, Chaz swore he could feel Declan’s tongue next to his own.
“Kind of makes you want to go to church, huh?”
“What? Oh.” Church Street was the gay district in Toronto. Though many fairies and werewolves had taken over the street now, it still had a thriving human gay scene. “Charlie’s Bar is still open, if that’s what you’re looking for. They cater to the all-nighter crowd.”
“Oh no. I meant on a night like this, after seeing what we have, I think I may see if I can get coffee at the station and then go to Mayfair United.”
Chaz chuckled, though he was sure Declan’s statement wasn’t a joke. Mayfair United was a popular church on Mission Street, close to the police headquarters on College Street. It was a common stopover for runaways and addicts seeking refuge, along with the normal day-to-day worshippers. Mayfair and other churches like it were some of the few places of separation between the monster and human world. At least they liked to pretend there was a divide. Chaz knew all too well that even if the congregation all claimed to be human, it didn’t mean people in hiding couldn’t get inside.
Snippets of the conversation Declan and Chaz had in the bar before fucking came back in bits and pieces. If God is dead, like Nietzsche says, then we really are staring into the Abyss. But I don’t think we need to be afraid. If the monsters stare back at us, it means there’s no guilt in pleasure. In five years, Declan had gone from quoting German philosophers as a pickup line to needing the walls of a church to soothe his soul. He certainly had changed. But knowing that his partner was a recent acolyte and would not be trying to repeat their date in an alleyway only gave Chaz a tiny bit of reassurance. It mostly made him feel queasy.
“Well, I hear good things about Mayfair. Enjoy your day.”
“You too, Chip. I’ll see you around.”
“Yes, see you.” Chaz waved as Declan walked to his car and drove off. In his own car, he touched his neck, chest, and thighs and waited until his heart rate calmed. After a moment of deliberation, he turned his car onto the highway and headed directly toward Artie’s.
Chapter 3
ARTIE’S WAS an expansive Victorian house at the end of Shank Street, near the clothing district of downtown Toronto.
When Chaz had sprawled into a drugstore, hot and feverish with sun-sickness, early on in his freedom from Divine Interventions, a woman named Fatima in a red hijab had directed him toward the iron pills that would even out the effects of being in the sun too long. She also slipped him Artie’s address with a quick handshake.
“All your needs will be met there.”
“Is this a den? I can’t go there. I won’t.”
“Not a den. A house. Your needs will be met there. You can’t last forever by yourself. We always need other people.”
After he swallowed his weight in iron pills, Fatima was gone. He tried to forget her, still believing the address was for a vampire den full of corruption, but he kept the card in his pockets, like a charm. When he’d been a beat cop on foot patrol, he’d wandered down Shank Street and found seven fairies, dressed in all blue, hanging out around the front door, with bright pink popsicles in their hands. The house looked depraved from the outside, but when he waltzed through the front door with his badge, he was shocked by the elegant decor and the polite service of Artie, the woman at the front desk. She’d taken his badge for the duration of his stay in exchange for all the bags of blood
he’d need, along with women and men to keep him company.
Since that day, the house was all he needed to survive.
As the sun rose over downtown Toronto, Chaz parked his car around the block from Adelaide’s diner, discarding his coat in the backseat and walking the couple blocks to Artie’s on foot. The August morning was chilly but would turn stifling by the time the sun reached its apex. Chaz hoped he’d be in his apartment by then, so he could sleep off some of this fatigue before Jack called him in for another night shift. Chaz technically had the next two days off, but since a body had been found and he was assigned to the case, he was headed back to work soon. He would have to readjust his schedule back to nights and probably work through the mornings until it was done. Chaz didn’t physically need sleep, like he didn’t physically need food, but the fun of eating always trumped actual hunger and the ability to black out for a few hours and not think about anything—like a murderous vamp on the loose or his new partner being an old fuck—outweighed any lack of biological impulse.
Chaz knocked twice before the visor in the door opened and green eyes stared out at him. “Yes?”
Chaz held up his badge and waited for the prompt.
“What color do genies turn?” asked the woman on the other side.
“Red.” Chaz paused before adding, “Blue and yellow too. But you’re always looking for the answer red.”
“Good answer.” The door open and he recognized Rebecca on the other side. She smiled and took his hands. “It’s been a while, sweetheart.”
“I was here on Tuesday.”
“And it’s Saturday. So that’s too long.”
Rebecca led him to the front counter where Artie stood behind a computer. Artie’s curly brown hair framed her face and bunched around her shoulders. She was at least six feet five inches tall but usually more like six eleven depending on the heels she wore. She was the official madam, but that term—like brothel or whorehouse—felt wrong when Chaz stood in the presence of someone so beautiful and intimidating, and in a foyer that looked as if it belonged to a museum. Over his years as a cop, Chaz had busted a lot of houses where men and women, both human and supernaturals, worked. They never held a candle to Artie’s house, where workers and boss seemed to be on equal terms.
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