Resurrection (Immortal Soulless Book 1)

by Tanith Frost

  Daniel takes off the flat cap he’s got pulled low over his eyes to protect himself from the sun that’s just risen behind heavy clouds, then heads to the kitchen to splash cold water on his face and ears. He’s not looking burned, but he can’t be comfortable right now. I give him a minute to dry off and relax in the curtained darkness of the house before I speak.

  “I want to go to the scene. If you want me to avoid Katya, that’s fine, though I think it will be okay.”

  He turns to me, but doesn’t say anything.

  “See, I really think I can help,” I continue. “And I don’t know whether I can do that if I let go of who I am, or my connections to the living… I don’t even know whether those are separate things. Maybe I’m just broken or wrong, and maybe I shouldn’t have been made at all, but I’m here. And I feel like I can help. And I’m sorry for whatever I said that pissed you off.”

  He crosses the kitchen in three long strides and pulls me close, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deeply as his arms tighten around me.

  “I hated myself for leaving like that,” he says quietly. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

  That’s it. No explanation of what he meant or why whatever memory I sparked hurt him. I’d be upset by that if I didn’t think that what he’s offering me now is more than he can afford if he wants to maintain the proper distance between us.

  This isn’t a television show. Neither of us can offer impassioned pleas for forgiveness or promises to do better. We’re not those creatures, and there’s no point in wanting what I can’t have.

  This, though, I can enjoy. His arms around me. Feeling like we’re maybe getting back toward being on the same team. Forgiveness, which I suspect is not high on the list of vampire virtues.

  I turn my face toward him, brushing my lips across his brow. Not a kiss. Not when sex shouldn’t be on the menu. But I can’t help craving the feel of his skin on mine. On a whim, I reach deep into the void within me and try to feel him. I consider him as a man, as a vampire, rather than as my trainer and elder. Someone whose emotions might run as deep and true as mine, but who’s too damn good at hiding them.

  It’s faint, but I catch something. Relief. Comfort filling him now that he’s home with me and away from the light and the violence outside our door. Something in my chest slips a notch, and I feel myself expanding. Understanding. Caring more than I should.

  He releases me, and I reluctantly let my arms fall to my sides.

  “I’ll take you back tonight,” he says. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought, and I’d like to see what you make of things. The bodies are gone now, but it would be interesting to see what you can do with the empty house before humans come poking around. Any insights would be helpful at this point, and if you feel up for it…” He shrugs. “I don’t want to stop you, Aviva. If this is your gift, and if it’s as powerful as I’ve always suspected you might be, I want to see you master it. But I don’t want it to cost you more than it’s worth. I may have done a poor job of making that clear earlier.”

  I smile. “There’s a good chance I just didn’t want to hear it.”

  He’s willing to help me. That’s more than I have any right to expect, given what I’m dealing with right now and the danger I’m becoming to myself.

  I don’t know how far I can trust him to follow me, but this is a start.

  14

  We spend the day in our own beds and hit the road first thing, driving through the thin post-sunset light toward Mount Pearl. The smaller town blends in with St. John’s. I wouldn’t know where one ended and the other began if not for the tourist-friendly sign thanking me for visiting the city I now call home. Daniel fills me in as he drives.

  “We’re going to have trouble keeping this one quiet,” he says. His voice is even, but too tight for me to think he’s really as calm as he’s pretending to be. “They’re not just getting bolder with their timing and leaving the murders staged for us to find. They’re choosing victims who will be missed now, and quickly.”

  I rest my head against the window beside me. “Who was it?”

  He doesn’t answer, but to be fair, he’s in the middle of navigating heavy traffic and washed-out lane markings. I let the question drop. I’ll find out soon enough.

  It doesn’t make sense. Rogues are supposed to be vampires on the run. If it were me on the loose, desperate for a meal, I’d be taking victims quietly, trying not to bring the hunters down on me. Of course, in my case, I’d rather die than kill. But if I had to do it, I certainly wouldn’t be leaving my messes for others to clean up.

  “Was there any evidence this time?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing useful. What we thought was vampire blood turned out to be watered-down human.”

  “So they’re just fucking with us now.”

  His lips tighten. “Basically.”

  “This goes beyond hunger or exotic tastes, doesn’t it?”

  “We think so.”

  He’s not offering me much. He seems dull, like he needs to feed, and I don’t feel much better. That’s the plan as soon as we’re done here—head to the club, replenish, regroup. I wish we’d gone there first, but Daniel wanted to get me out here before the living descend on the scene. It’s too early to find good stock at the club, anyway.

  I almost wish Daniel had come to bed with me today. As it turns out, the pleasure of his touch makes me feel almost as alive as feeding does. I couldn’t give up blood in favour of fucking, but it would be fun to try.

  I glance down at his hand gripping the gear shift, the exposed forearm where his shirt sleeve is rolled up, smooth muscle under pale skin.

  Like I needed another addiction. I look away.

  The house is a nice two-storey with a wide driveway, white siding, and a huge front window looking out onto a yard with high hedges that shield the house from the street. Daniel pulls past a junky-looking green Jetta and parks around back, where we’re invisible to anyone not on the property.

  Daniel opens the back door and sticks his head into the house, listening for a moment before he stands aside and lets me lead the way in. “I don’t know whether them taking the bodies away will affect you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  The door opens into a tiny laundry room strewn with expensive, beat-up sneakers and a mess of coats tossed on top of the front-loading washer. I pick my way through the minefield and into the kitchen. I’d peg the house at around thirty years old, but the kitchen is much newer, renovated in that fake-shabby country style with distressed white cabinets and a tall copper faucet over a farmhouse-style sink. It costs a lot to look this pleasantly run-down, but whoever was here last didn’t show a lot of respect for that obvious fact. The dark wood countertops are covered in uncapped soda bottles and an array of cheap booze, and a torn-open bag of ice has melted onto the floor. Bowls of party mix and chips sit half-empty on the big wooden table in the dining room that’s visible through an open glass door.

  I open the brushed steel fridge. Glass containers labelled with contents and cooking instructions look to hold about a week’s worth of prepared meals.

  “Someone’s parents went away?” Not that I need to ask.

  “Looks that way.”

  As soon as I step into the hallway that leads toward the front door, I catch the faint smell of blood. The sharp stink of the alcohol in the kitchen and cleaning products wafting up from the basement would be enough to mask it if we were limited to living senses, but we’re not that lucky. Daniel and I are monsters. Even spoiled, dead blood calls to us.

  I move toward the basement door without hesitation or direction from Daniel, and he follows a few steps behind. I suddenly realize that this is why he didn’t give me details earlier. He wants me to take the lead and show him what I can do. It’s a test as much as an opportunity.

  I’m not sure whether I should be pissed about that. Maybe later. For now, I have a job to do.

  A carpeted stairway leads to a finished basement. Death choke
s the air down here, like its heaviness dragged it all underground. The space is divided into a large rec room and a few smaller rooms off a short hallway. Probably a furnace room, maybe a bathroom. It all has the newish air of the kitchen. The paint is fresh, but the dark brown carpet looks cheaper than anything they used to finish the kitchen. This was family space, not for company. Maybe not for parents.

  Couches upholstered in worn brown leather face a big TV in the corner, and the coffee table that’s been pushed to one side is covered in paper plates and pizza.

  So much for those healthy, home-cooked meals in the fridge.

  There’s a diluted bloodstain surrounding a wooden chair in the corner, but I’m not going to start there. It can wait until I get a sense of things. I’m probably lucky our clean-up crew didn’t tear up the carpet entirely. I don’t imagine we leave much for the living to go on if it gets to the point of an investigation, though I notice they left any mess not directly related to the murder untouched. It’s like the bodies were just plucked out of whatever life was happening before the rogues showed up.

  In the open space in the centre of the room lies an empty wine bottle. Our investigation should be over, but I accept the gloves Daniel offers and slip them on before I pick it up. No point sending the police on a snipe hunt when they come and check for prints.

  “Spin the bottle?”

  Daniel shrugs. “We thought so. I didn’t know kids did that anymore.”

  “I didn’t, either. You’d think there would be an app or something.” High-schoolers, then. Old enough that someone’s parents left them and they decided to have a few friends over. Or they could have been college kids being goofy, but I’d like to think that anyone who can legally drink would have better taste than what’s indicated by the open bar in the kitchen.

  I close my eyes and try to focus. There’s not a lot to go on here. I feel like I have an idea of who was here, but it doesn’t go deeper than a logical analysis of the situation. I reach for the source of my power. The darkness fills me, soothing and beautiful as the night that’s descending somewhere outside of this windowless basement, but it’s not doing anything to help me.

  No shadows. No emotion.

  I open my eyes again. “How many bodies?”

  “Eight.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. It makes no sense. “The rogues just fed. There’s no way they needed to hunt again. Do you think there are more of them than you suspected, or is this a statement?”

  Daniel sinks onto one of the couches. “Both, maybe. This isn’t the first time that we’ve seen something like this.”

  “Is that what Wallace mentioned back in Kilbride?” I didn’t think much of it at the time. Just one more detail.

  Daniel leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, letting his hands dangle. “They dealt with something like this out in BC back in the autumn. Not nearly as visible, not apparently baiting us, but the same modus operandi. Torture. Multiple victims.”

  “And the rogues weren’t caught?”

  “No. They disappeared.”

  My shoulders tense. “Is that what we’re supposed to hope for here?”

  “If we don’t catch them, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

  I release the breath I didn’t mean to draw. Of course that’s what we want. Who cares if more people will die, as long as they do it somewhere else?

  I can’t let that happen. Not if it’s in my power to stop it.

  I’m about to return to my attempt to sense something when I pause and turn back to Daniel. “Was Katya there in BC? Just curious.”

  “She was called out to investigate, just as she was in this case.”

  Right. She was in London when all of this started here. I need to let go of that and focus on what I can get from this house. Maybe Daniel withholding information is actually a good thing. I’ll get to see how much of what I get, if anything, is real.

  Okay, eight kids. Small party, drinking a little, maybe a lot. Playing party games that seem innocent but could have ended in the kind of trouble that gets good girls kicked out of their social circles while their boyfriends seek forgiveness and—

  No. This isn’t about me. Focus.

  But that little remembrance of a life I’m supposed to have left behind cracks something, and my gift awakens. I can imagine them now, and even if I’m probably projecting, I’ll go with it. See if I can open this window a little more.

  I’d guess, based on my own experiences, that they were watching something on that TV at some point. Something funny, I think.

  Five girls. Three guys. I don’t know where that comes from, but I grab onto it. This isn’t like the shadows or the screaming emotion I got with bodies present, but it’s something.

  I move closer to the TV. A copy of Monty Python’s Life of Brian rests on top of the DVD player. These kids were into some retro shit, not unlike my own friends once were.

  If I’m right about the movie, I’m right about the other stuff.

  I move toward the chair in the corner. What a fucking mess this must have been before we tidied up. The dark carpet is stained rust in a blob that extends out from the chair’s wiped-down legs. I squint a little, and it disappears. Human eyes wouldn’t even notice. Traces of blood don’t call to them, after all. The paint on the wall is shiny in patches. There was blood there, too, I have no doubt.

  “Think this was an accident?” I ask.

  “Maybe. Seems wasteful, but as you pointed out, they probably didn’t really need to feed.”

  Blood is life. Someone’s life spilled all over this floor, and for what? I can’t wrap my mind around wanting to hurt someone like that. Since the suicide, I’ve felt more guilt over what we do at the club than I ever have before, but there’s still a world of difference between that and this. What would compel a vampire to do this, to watch these kids long enough to know that no parent was coming home, planning the attack for a time when they were all in the basement and unable to escape their torture?

  “I’m not getting anything.” It’s still all mental for me. I have that sense of who might have been here, but I almost don’t want to ask in case I’m wrong.

  Daniel stands and moves closer to me. “What were you doing at the last place when you saw what you did? When you had your suspicions, when you said you felt the fear and the pain?”

  I wonder whether he has any idea how grateful I am that he thinks I’m not crazy.

  “I was thinking about the people. Who they were when they were alive.”

  Daniel leans one shoulder against the wall and crosses his arms, inviting me to ignore him and get on with it. He must be even hungrier than I am, but for all he’s rushing me he could have all the time in the world to wait.

  I need to try something new. I’ve never touched the bodies or their belongings save for the first time, when I laid out freshly laundered blankets. Never tried to put myself where they were.

  I don’t want to, but I strip the gloves from my hands and step toward the chair, crouch, and rest one hand on the bloodstain.

  The wave of terror and agony that hits me almost knocks me back on my ass. I grip the edge of the chair hard to keep my balance and ignore the tears that stream down my cheeks. There. The shadows. Faint, like the memory is paler without the body here, but the blood remembers. Dark shapes. Five of them. Laughter fills my ears, deep voices and higher ones, underscored by muffled female screams and shouting from down the hall. I squeeze my closed eyes tighter, and the shadows come into focus. No colour, but I catch a vague hint of bright eyes peering out of ski masks. That’s all washed away by indistinct pain that fades as I grow cold.

  I rise and walk to a more comfortable chair by the TV. No pain here, but the fear chokes me. It feels like there’s something wrapped tight around my ribs, squeezing. I open my eyes and it disappears, along with the overwhelming emotions.

  “They made one of them sit here while they did something to her friend over there.” I gesture back to the other chair. �
�I don’t know what.” There are no visuals here, where there’s no blood. Just emotion. Fear that screams like insanity. Disgust. Horror. But I don’t know why she felt that way.

  “The party was mostly girls, right?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Her friend died first. Then her. And…” I close my eyes again and let my other senses guide me down the hallway to a closed door. When I open it, panic washes over me. “And they brought the others out and fed on them when they were mad with fear. They’d left them trapped in here, listening to the screams in the other room. Like animals in a slaughterhouse.”

  I don’t know how I know, but there’s truth in my words. Everything I’m getting now is emotion.

  “Three guys,” I say aloud, certain now. “Five girls. Teenagers.”

  “Correct.” Daniel has followed me, creeping like a cat, power and presence masked so he doesn’t distract me. “And based on what we saw of the bodies, I’d say you’re right in your assessment. See anything else?”

  “The rogues wore masks.”

  “Interesting.”

  I look around the room. It’s nearly empty, save for the hot water heater in the corner. No blood in here.

  I should be pleased with getting so much. There’s a lot I’m not seeing, but I feel more open than I did before. I know now that physical connection opens me, as does letting myself think of the victims as people instead of bodies. But there’s so much more, and I wish I’d come to see the bodies here, even if it meant facing Katya. What I’m getting now is nothing compared to what I felt last time, when I was absolutely certain of what I saw and felt.

  When I was wrong.

  My chest tightens again. How can I trust this gift when it steers me wrong? Maybe I wasn’t open enough then. Or was freaked out by the bodies and misinterpreting cues. I’ll do better now. Every crime scene I visit helps me learn control. But I think I’ve learned all I can here.

  I lean into Daniel, and he rests his arms around me. Not restricting me, but supporting as I regroup. I’m suddenly exhausted, and I appreciate his presence. The intense focus I’ve been feeling is fading, along with the emotions. I’m weak, and hungry enough now that I feel woozy. My dark power quiets.