Fire Born (City of Dragons Book 5)

by Val St. Crowe

  I hugged her again. “You stay here as long as you need. Okay?”

  She smiled at me, her lower lip trembling.

  * * *

  Vivica looked around the suite on the first floor of my hotel. “This is amazing, but don’t you need to keep this open for guests?”

  “I actually never quite knew what to do with this suite,” I said. “The kitchenette is ridiculously small.” I pointed to the corner of one room. “And it’s not oceanfront, because it opens up onto the pool.” I crossed the room and pulled the curtain aside, so that she could see that the sliding doors looked out on the empty pool, drained for the winter. “I used to have a guy who worked here and he lived here in this suite, but he ended up finding another place.”

  Connor. My best friend. He was a gargoyle, and I hadn’t been there for him a few months back. It had been because of the blood bond, but I still had hurt him. Things were still not completely okay between us.

  “Oh,” she said. “Are you sure it’s all right for me to stay here?”

  “It’s absolutely all right,” I said. “Anyway, I haven’t had a reservation in the last two weeks, so don’t worry. Even if I was renting this suite out, there wouldn’t be any problem with your being in it.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “So,” I said, gesturing to her belly. “How far along?”

  “Um, twenty-two weeks,” she said. “You?”

  “Thirty-seven,” I said.

  “Whoa,” she said. “You’re almost there.”

  “That I am,” I said.

  “And, um, what’s up with that, anyway?” She raised her eyebrows. “I mean, I heard that Alastair died…?”

  “The baby’s Lachlan’s,” I said.

  “But he’s a vampire. Everyone in the entire family is up in arms about how you’re shacking up with a vampire.”

  “How does the entire family know this?” I said.

  She shrugged. “Maybe from Elizabeth Cooper.”

  “Alastair’s sister?” I said. “That bitch never could keep her mouth shut.”

  “She thinks you’re pregnant with her nephew, and she tells everyone who’ll listen how horrible it is that you’re keeping the baby from her family.”

  My jaw dropped open. “After everything that Alastair put me through, she couldn’t possibly expect me to play nice with her and her parents?”

  Vivica shrugged. “No one listens to her. You shouldn’t either.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “Anyway, how is it that you’re having a baby with a vampire?”

  “Well, we don’t know,” I said. “But he’s a special baby. And we’re sure that he’s Lachlan’s.”

  She grinned at me. “Look at us, both carrying mutts.”

  “Hey.” I wrinkled my forehead. “Don’t call my son that. By the way, do you know the gender yet?”

  “No.” She sighed. “Dan and I were supposed to go for the ultrasound together, and then when the appointment day came, I couldn’t go alone. Besides, I’ve been crashing on couches and trying to get myself together. I stayed with my mom for a week, but then Gran found out and came over and yelled at Mom, and Mom caved, the way she always does. She was all crying and everything, but she was like, ‘You have to go, sweetie.’” Vivica rolled her eyes. “My mom’s a weakling.”

  “Gran’s a lot to take,” I said. “Do you remember that time, when we were teenagers, and we took the car out for a drive?”

  Recognition lit up Vivica’s eyes. “Man, I thought she was going to kill us.”

  “You and me both,” I said. “And it wasn’t as if I didn’t have my license or something, right?”

  “She was literally blowing smoke out her ears.”

  I started to giggle.

  Vivica laughed too.

  “Damn,” I said. “It’s really good to see you. I’m so glad you came.”

  “Thanks for helping me out,” she said.

  “Of course,” I said. “Of course.”

  * * *

  “I thought you were staying home to look after your cousin,” said Lachlan. He was sitting at his desk in the police department, a big, open room lined with other desks and cubicles. Lachlan’s was completely empty except for his computer. He wasn’t one for clutter.

  “She’s apparently been up half the night,” I said. “I got her settled, and then she passed out, and then I started Googling stuff about her boyfriend’s suicide and I started thinking that maybe there’s something weird going on.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said. “Why’s the suicide weird? Oh, by the way, Dirk says that she’s sorry that she missed the baby shower, and she wants me to stop by her desk later to get our present.”

  “She didn’t have to get us a present,” I said. “I mean, we only invited her to be polite.” I squinted over at Dirk’s desk, which was empty. It was covered in pictures of her dogs, which were her babies, apparently. “She doesn’t even like us.” Christiane Dirk had originally been hired to run the magical creatures department when Lachlan and I had been under investigation for killing Alastair. After we were proved innocent, they kept her on because they decided that there was more magical work in Sea City than one cop could possibly handle.

  It was nice to have the help, but there was a chilliness between Dirk and Lachlan that had never melted.

  I couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed with her too. It was hard to forgive someone for suspecting you of murder and getting you locked up in Roxbone prison, where the foundations leached magic out of your bones.

  “She likes us,” said Lachlan. He glanced over at the pictures of the dogs. “Sort of.”

  “Anyway, about the suicide,” I said.

  “What about it?” he said. “It’s awful that her boyfriend killed himself, by the way.”

  “I don’t know if he did,” I said. “See, she said that he was found in a hotel room, naked, surrounded by gay porn. And that he hung himself. But Vivica says that there’s no way he was attracted to men.”

  Lachlan raised his eyebrows. “You know, maybe he was old school and ashamed about it. Back in the day, lots of gay men pretended to be straight. They had kids, they got married, the whole nine. It still happens, sadly.”

  “Well, that’s kind of what I thought too,” I said. “Until I realized that there have been four other gay suicides in the past year, all in the same area of the city.”

  Lachlan cocked his head to one side. “That is a little peculiar.”

  “And in all of the cases, it seems like the guy wasn’t really gay.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “I mean, I’m working on a theory that these are murders,” I said.

  Lachlan sat back in his chair. “Penny, the other day, you were going on about how much you wished there was a murder to solve.”

  “Well, I know that, but I’m not fishing here,” I said. “Besides, these aren’t involving magical creatures. Vivica’s boyfriend was human. So, even if they are murders, we won’t get to solve them. I thought, maybe we could look into some of the case files. We can access stuff, right?” I pointed at his computer.

  “I guess we could,” he said. “But—”

  “But nothing. You’re better at this kind of thing than me,” I said. “You go through and look at the cases, and then if you think they’re suicides, I’ll drop it. But if you see something, then we can kick it over to the right department.”

  Lachlan laughed. “Oh, they’ll love that. Homicide will adore being given more work.”

  I glared at him. “What are you doing right now, anyway?”

  “I’ll have you know that I am waiting patiently for a DNA search to complete to see if it’s a match with a case in New Jersey. And if it is, then our perp might be guilty of stealing there too.”

  “Okay, well, then, you’re doing nothing.”

  “I’m not doing nothing—”

  “Look into these cases, please,” I said. “I wrote down the names.” I pulled out a folded up
piece of paper and shoved it at him.

  He unfolded the paper. “I’ll look up one.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lachlan’s desk was now covered in printouts. He tapped one of them. “See, this? The one where the guy was found in the bathtub, bled out?”

  “Where he cut his femoral artery?” I said. “Might have been trying to cut his penis off?”

  “Yeah, that one,” said Lachlan. “Although I think it’s all intentional. I think the femoral artery was the idea. I’ve seen that before.”

  “You have?” I said. “Where?”

  “In Caleb Kinnan’s file,” said Lachlan.

  “Caleb…” I chewed on my lip. “The guy from the Order? The serial killer who saw Darla Tell kill Alastair?”

  “That guy,” said Lachlan. “You remember how he was using compulsion to make perfect sex slaves? At least, that was his attempt?”

  “Yeah,” I said slowly.

  “Well, I think these murders may be compulsion murders.”

  “What?”

  “I think the murderer gets off on forcing his victims to degrade themselves sexually. And then once he’s completely humiliated them, he makes them kill themselves. It looks like a suicide, but there are things that give it away.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the femoral artery,” said Lachlan. “Most people don’t know where that is or how to slash it. But if you compel a person to do it precisely, then they might make a slash like this guy did. Plus, look at the wound.” He shoved a printout of the crime scene photo at me.

  I recoiled. “Yeah, I see it.”

  Lachlan tapped the printout. “That’s a straight cut, a confident cut. If you were really reaching down in the bathtub, trying to cut your own femoral artery to kill yourself, don’t you think you’d be a little bit shaky?”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” I said. “Are you saying you agree with me, then? These aren’t suicides?”

  He nodded, sifting through the files on the desk. “I don’t think they’re suicides. I think this is a serial killer. A magical serial killer. Some sort of Caleb Kinnan copycat.” Then he looked up at me sharply. “Someone should call Roxbone and make sure he didn’t escape or something.”

  “Lachlan, if there was a Roxbone escape, we would have heard. It would have been all over the news. Besides, I don’t think it’s possible to escape from that place, not with the way it sucks out all your magic.”

  * * *

  I called anyway, to be sure. And Caleb Kinnan had been locked up tight in his cell since we’d brought him there last summer.

  When I got back to Lachlan’s desk after the phone call, I found the captain hovering over the printouts on Lachlan’s desk. I only knew it was the captain because I’d seen him from afar. I’d never actually met him before. He was middle aged with a thinning hair line and a double chin.

  I approached slowly and then stopped beside Lachlan’s desk, waiting.

  “…so, you’re saying that they’re not suicides?” said the captain. “And you’re sure of that?”

  Lachlan bobbed his head. “Fairly sure, sir. I can’t be positive, of course. But it’s strange for there to be so many similar suicides in one area, regardless of the magic implications.”

  “You really think these people were compelled to kill themselves?” said the captain.

  “I’ve seen something like it before in a case file for a killer named Caleb Kinnan,” said Lachlan.

  “Oh?” said the captain, rubbing his chin. “That’s the guy you brought in from that Order place?”

  “Yeah,” said Lachlan. “He, um, would target a victim and then compel them to do whatever he wanted until they couldn’t take it anymore. Really disturbing stuff—he would compel them to penetrate themselves with horrible things, like broken bottles, and to do damage to themselves that way. He liked watching them suffer.”

  I grimaced. I didn’t know if I’d really wanted to know that. Before, when Lachlan had been using Caleb for information, he’d never been so graphic explaining things to me. If I had known what a monster he was, things might have gone differently.

  The captain barely looked fazed by that. I guessed he’d heard a lot worse in his time, working as the captain of the department and all. “Well, you think these are copycat crimes?”

  “They aren’t exactly the same,” said Lachlan. “This killer is compelling people to kill themselves outright. In Kinnan’s case, it was more often that the victim’s bodies simply gave out during whatever perverse thing he was forcing them to do. Their deaths were incidental. In these cases, the deaths are the point. But there’s enough similarity that I do think there could be a copycat element.”

  The captain studied a photograph, grimaced, and then tossed it back on Lachlan’s desk. “Well, I can’t say I like the idea of opening… how many more cases?”

  “Uh, four, sir,” said Lachlan.

  “Our ratio of open cases to closed cases isn’t good as it is,” said the captain. “I’d rather you take care of whatever’s on your plate first.” He sniffed, raising his chin, and that was when his gaze settled on me. Suddenly, his demeanor changed. He smiled at me, looking like a charming uncle or something. “Ms. Caspian, what are you doing on your feet?”

  “Um…” I said.

  The captain wagged his finger at Lachlan. “You’re letting her stand around in her condition?”

  Lachlan turned to see me, eyes wide. “Geez, Penny, how long you been there?”

  I shrugged.

  He got up and tugged a chair over for me. “Sit down.”

  I sat down. It was painful to stay on my feet for too long these days. I let out a long breath. “Well, so, are we opening these cases or what? I know it’s technically four cases, but it’s one killer, so it’s not really the same thing.” I beamed up at the captain.

  He pulled up another chair and sat down next to me. “When are you due?”

  “Um, couple weeks,” I said. “I really think that if it’s a magical killer—”

  “Horrible thing to think about,” said the captain. “Compelling a person to kill himself. Completely taking away his own free will. It’s not something you should be thinking about right now. You should be home, folding baby clothes and stacking up bottles.”

  “I assure you, I’m quite capable of doing my job,” I said. “I’m pregnant, not an invalid.”

  The captain laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He gave me a patronizing sort of smile.

  My nostrils flared. “I want to catch killers, not stack bottles. Besides, I’m going to breastfeed.”

  “Good for you!” said the captain, reaching out to pat my hand. “That’s the best thing for the baby. But listen, if it doesn’t work out, no guilt. My Betsey, she tried with the first two, and she couldn’t get it. She was determined, though. Little Ricky nursed until he was three and a half. So, in the end, she made it work. But all three of our kids were loved the same, no matter how they were fed as babies, you know.”

  I smiled tightly. I didn’t want to talk about this.

  “You’ll want bottles anyway,” said the captain, turning to include Lachlan in the conversation. “Because if you ever want to go out for dinner or to a movie, then you’ll want to pump—”

  “About the case,” I nearly shrieked. I couldn’t bear the thought of this man who I had never actually even met talking about pumping milk out of my breasts.

  The captain sighed. “Well, I was looking over reports, and there are at least five open cases in the magical creatures department.”

  “Five?” I said, looking over at Lachlan. “Why haven’t we been following up on those?”

  Lachlan groaned. “Because they kick us stuff like some kid gargoyle’s cat is up a tree.”

  “Did we get it down?” I said.

  Lachlan rolled his eyes. “It’s an example.”

  “That’s an easy case to close,” said the captain.

  “Fine,” said Lachlan. “I promise that if w
e pursue this serial killer, we’ll also get all the cats out of trees.”

  “You won’t be able to do that,” said the captain. “No, you’ll need help. I tell you what. You can open these up if you get Dirk to agree to pick up the slack for your cases. She takes over your open load, then okay, you two can go chase serial killers.” He shook his head at us. “Why do I get the impression that’s like telling you that you can have chocolate cake or something?”

  “It’s not,” I said.

  “No,” said Lachlan.

  But neither of us were looking at the captain.

  He stood up, shaking his head. “Police. All the good ones got a screw loose.” He pointed at me. “You make sure you get an electric pump, got me?”

  “My insurance covers it,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. He started off. Then he stopped and turned back to us. “Oh. And if the baby comes in the middle of the investigation? You’re all right with turning it over to Dirk then?”

  “Sure,” said Lachlan.

  I wrinkled up my nose.

  Lachlan gave me a look.

  I sighed. “Sure.”

  * * *

  “Here.” Christiane Dirk thrust a polka-dotted gift bag at me. “Sorry I missed the shower.”

  My baby shower had been thrown for me by my best friend Felicity, who wasn’t exactly the baby shower type. She was, by her own admission, never going to have children. She had thrown the baby shower for me in a bar downtown, and everyone except me had gotten drunk. We’d all eaten steak from the grill and there hadn’t been a balloon in sight, nor one little game involving baby diapers. Or any games at all, for that matter. Still, it had been wonderful. One of the most cherished memories of my pregnancy, actually.

  “Oh, well, that’s okay,” I said, taking the gift bag. “We, uh, we missed you though.” Truthfully, I had never expected her to come.

  She looked down at the gift bag. “It was on your registry, so it’s not like it’s a surprise or anything.”

  “Oh,” I said. Suddenly, I was much more inclined to want to open the gift. I pulled out the tissue paper and peered inside. “Hey, it’s the backpack diaper bag we wanted!” I took the backpack out of the bag and showed it to Lachlan. It was chocolate brown and utterly unisex, meaning either of us could carry it with no problem.