Circus of the Damned abvh-3

by Laurell Hamilton

  “That’s what his friends called him,” I said, “Why?”

  She shook her head. “I know a Cal Rupert.”

  I watched her and let my body do the exercise without me. I was holding my breath, which is bad. I remembered to breathe and said, “Tell me.”

  “When I was asking questions around Humans Against Vampires during that rash of vampire deaths. Cal Rupert belonged to HAV.”

  “Describe him for me.”

  “Blond, blue or grey eyes, not too tall, well built, attractive.”

  There might be more than one Cal Rupert in St. Louis, but what were the odds that they’d look that much alike? “I’ll have Dolph check it out, but if he was a member of HAV, it might mean the vampire kill was an execution.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Some of HAV thinks the only good vampire is a dead vampire.” I was thinking of Humans First, Mr. Jeremy Ruebens’s little group. Had they killed a vampire already? Was this retaliation?

  “I need to know if Cal was still a member of HAV or if he’d joined a new, more radical group called Humans First.”

  “Catchy,” Ronnie said.

  “Can you find out for me? If I go down there asking questions, they’ll burn me at the stake.”

  “Always glad to help my best friend and the police at the same time. A private detective never knows when having the police owe you one may come in handy.”

  “True,” I said.

  I got to wait for Ronnie this time. On leg machines she was faster. Upper body was my area. “I’ll call Dolph as soon as we’re finished here. Maybe it’s a pattern? A hell of a coincidence if it’s not.”

  We started around the track and Ronnie said, “So, have you decided what you’re wearing to Catherine’s Halloween party?”

  I glanced at her, nearly stumbling. “Shit,” I said.

  “I take that to mean you forgot about the party. You were bitching about it only two days ago.”

  “I’ve been a little busy, okay?” I said. But it wasn’t all right. Catherine Maison-Gillett was one of my best friends. I’d worn a pink prom dress with puff sleeves in her wedding. It had been humiliating. We’d all told the great lie of all bridesmaids. We could cut the dress short and wear it in normal life. No way. Or I could wear it at the next formal occasion I was invited to. How many formals are you invited to once you graduate college? None. At least none where I’d willingly wear a pink, puff-sleeved, hoop-skirted, reject from Gone With the Wind.

  Catherine was throwing her very first party since the wedding. The Halloween festivities started long before dark so that I could make an appearance. When someone goes to that much trouble, you have to show up. Dammit.

  “I made a date for Saturday,” I said.

  Ronnie stopped running and stared at me in the mirror. I kept running; if she wanted to ask questions she’d have to catch me first. She caught me.

  “Did you say date?”

  I nodded, saving my breath for running.

  “Talk, Anita.” Her voice was vaguely threatening.

  I grinned at her and told her an edited version of my meeting with Richard Zeeman. I didn’t leave out much, though.

  “He was naked in a bed the first time you saw him?” She was cheerfully outraged.

  I nodded.

  “You do meet men in the most interesting places,” she said.

  We were jogging on the track again. “When’s the last time I met a man?”

  “What about John Burke?”

  “Other than him,” Jerks did not count.

  She thought about that for a minute. She shook her head. “Too long.”

  “Yep,” I said.

  We were on our last machine, the last two laps, then stretching, showers, and done. I didn’t really enjoy exercising. Neither did Ronnie. But we both needed to be in good shape so we could run away from the bad guys, or run them down. Though I hadn’t chased after many villains lately. I seemed to do a lot more running away.

  We moved over to the open area near the racquetball courts and the tanning rooms. It was the only place with enough room to stretch out. I always stretched before and after exercising. I’d had too many injuries not to be careful.

  I started rotating the neck slowly; Ronnie followed me. “I guess I’ll have to cancel the date.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Ronnie said. “Invite him to the party.”

  I looked at her. “You’ve got to be kidding. A first date surrounded by people he doesn’t know.”

  “Who do you know besides Catherine?” she asked.

  She had a point there. “I’ve met her new husband.”

  “You were in the wedding,” Ronnie said.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Ronnie frowned at me. “Be serious, ask him to the party, make plans for the caving next week.”

  “Two dates with the same man?” I shook my head. “What if we don’t like each other?”

  “No excuses,” Ronnie said. “This is the closest you’ve been to a date in months. Don’t blow it.”

  “I don’t date because I don’t have time to date.”

  “You don’t have time to sleep, either, but you manage it,” she said.

  “I’ll do it, but he may say no to the party. I would rather not go myself.”

  “Why not?”

  I gave her a long look. She looked innocent enough. “I’m an animator, a zombie-queen. Having me at a Halloween party is redundant.”

  “You don’t have to tell people what you do for a living.”

  “I’m not ashamed of it.”

  “I didn’t say you were,” Ronnie said.

  I shook my head. “Just forget it. I’ll make the counteroffer to Richard, then we’ll go from there.”

  “You’ll want a sexy outfit for the party now,” she said.

  “Do not,” I said.

  She laughed. “Do too.”

  “All right, all right, a sexy outfit if I can find one in my size three days before Halloween.”

  “I’ll help you. We’ll find something.”

  She’d help me. We’d find something. It sounded sort of ominous. Pre-date jitters. Who, me?

  Chapter 13

  At 5:15 that afternoon I was on the phone to Richard Zeeman. “Hi, Richard, this is Anita Blake.”

  “Nice to hear your voice.” His voice was smiling over the phone; I could almost feel it.

  “I forgot that I’ve got a Halloween party to go to Saturday afternoon. They started the party during daylight so I could make an appearance. I can’t not show up.”

  “I understand,” he said. His voice was very carefully neutral—neutral cheerful.

  “Would you like to be my date for the party? I have to work Halloween night, of course, but the day could be ours.”

  “And the caving?”

  “A rain check,” I said.

  “Two dates; this could be serious.”

  “You’re laughing at me,” I said.

  “Never.”

  “Shit, do you want to go or not?”

  “If you promise to go caving a week from Saturday.”

  “My solemn word,” I said.

  “It’s a deal.” He was quiet on the phone for a minute. “I don’t have to wear a costume for this party, do I?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” I said.

  He sighed.

  “Backing out?”

  “No, but you owe me two dates for humiliating myself in front of strangers.”

  I grinned and was glad he couldn’t see it, I was entirely too pleased. “Deal.”

  “What costume are you wearing?” he asked.

  “I haven’t got one yet. I told you I forgot the party; I meant it.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “I think picking out costumes should tell a lot about a person, don’t you?”

  “This close to Halloween we’ll be lucky to find anything in our size.”

  He laughed. “I might have an ace up my sleeve.”

  “What?”

  He laughed aga
in. “Don’t sound so damn suspicious. I’ve got a friend who’s a Civil War buff. He and his wife do re-creations.”

  “You mean like dress up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will they have the right sizes?”

  “What size dress do you wear?”

  That was a personal question for someone who’d never even kissed me. “Seven,” I said.

  “I would have guessed smaller.”

  “I’m too chesty for a six, and they don’t make six and a halfs.”

  “Chesty, woo, woo.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he said.

  My beeper went off. “Damn.”

  “What’s that sound?”

  “My beeper,” I said. I pressed the button and it flashed the number—the police. “I have to take it. Can I call you back in a few minutes, Richard?”

  “I’ll wait with bated breath.”

  “I’m frowning at the phone, I hope you know that.”

  “Thanks for sharing that. I’ll wait here by the phone. Call me when you’re done with (sob) work.”

  “Cut it out, Richard.”

  “What’d I do?”

  “Bye, Richard, talk to you soon.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said.

  “Bye, Richard.” I hung up before he could make any more “pitiful me” jokes. The really sad part was I thought it was cute. Gag me with a spoon.

  I called Dolph’s number. “Anita?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We got another vampire victim. Looks the same as the first one, except it’s a woman.”

  “Damn,” I said softly.

  “Yeah, we’re over here at DeSoto.”

  “That’s farther south than Arnold,” I said.

  “So?” he said.

  “Nothing, just give me the directions.”

  He did.

  “It’ll take me at least an hour to get there,” I said.

  “The stiff’s not going anywhere, and neither are we.” He sounded discouraged.

  “Cheer up, Dolph, I may have found a clue.”

  “Talk.”

  “Veronica Sims recognized the name Cal Rupert. Description matches.”

  “What are you doing talking to a private detective?” He sounded suspicious.

  “She’s my workout partner, and since she just gave us our first clue, I’d sound a little more grateful, if I were you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hurrah for the private sector. Now talk.”

  “A Cal Rupert was a member of HAV about two months ago. The description matches.”

  “Revenge killings?” he asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “Half of me hopes it’s a pattern. At least we’d have some place to start looking.” He made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “I’ll tell Zerbrowski you found a clue. He’ll like that.”

  “All us Dick Tracy Crimebusters speak police lingo,” I said.

  “Police lingo?” I could feel the grin over the phone. “You find any more clues, you let us know.”

  “Aye, aye, Sergeant.”

  “Can the sarcasm,” he said.

  “Please, I always use fresh sarcasm, never canned.”

  He groaned. “Just get your butt out here so we can all go home.” The phone went dead. I hung up.

  Richard Zeeman answered on the second ring. “Hello.”

  “It’s Anita.”

  “What’s up?”

  “The message was from the police. They need my expertise.”

  “A preternatural crime?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it dangerous?”

  “To the person who was killed, yeah.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” he said.

  “It’s my job, Richard. If you can’t deal with it, maybe we shouldn’t date at all.”

  “Hey, don’t get defensive. I just wanted to know if you would be in any personal danger.” His voice was indignant.

  “Fine. I’ve got to go.”

  “What about the costumes? Do you want me call my friend?”

  “Sure.”

  “Will you trust me to pick your costume?” he asked.

  I thought about that for a few heartbeats. Did I trust him to get me a costume? No. Did I have time to hunt up a costume on my own? Probably not. “Why not?” I said. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “We’ll survive the party and then next week we’ll go crawl in the mud.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said.

  He laughed. “Neither can I.”

  “I’ve got to go, Richard.”

  “I’ll have the costumes at your apartment for inspection. I’ll need directions.”

  I gave him directions.

  “I hope you like your costume.”

  “Me too. Talk to you later.” I hung the receiver on the pay phone’s cradle and stared at it. That had been too easy. Too smooth. He’d probably pick out a terrible costume for me. We’d both have a miserable time and be trapped into a second date with each other. Eek!

  Ronnie handed me a can of fruit juice and took a sip of her own. She had cranberry and I had ruby red grapefruit. I couldn’t stand cranberry.

  “What’d cutesie pie say?”

  “Please don’t call him that,” I said.

  She shrugged. “Sorry, it just sort of slipped out.” She had the grace to look embarrassed.

  “I forgive you, this once.”

  She grinned, and I knew she wasn’t repentant. But I’d ribbed her often enough about her dates. Turnabout is fair play. Payback is a bitch.

  Chapter 14

  The sun was sinking in a slash of crimson like a fresh, bleeding wound. Purple clouds were piling up to the west. The wind was strong and smelled like rain.

  Ruffo Lane was a narrow gravel road. Barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other. The reddish gravel crunched underfoot. Wind rustled the tall, dry weeds in the ditch. The road disappeared over the rise of a hill. Police cars, marked and plain, were lined up along one side of the road as far as I could see. The road disappeared over the rise of a hill. There were a lot of hills in Jefferson County.

  I was already dressed in a clean pair of overalls, black Nikes, and surgical gloves when my beeper went off. I had to scramble at the zipper and drag the damn thing out into the dying light. I didn’t have to see the number. I knew it was Bert. It was only a half hour until full dark, if that. My boss was wondering where I was, and why I wasn’t at work. I wondered if Bert would really fire me. I stared down at the corpse and wasn’t sure I cared.

  The woman was curled on her side, arms shielding her naked breasts, as if even in death she was modest. Violent death is the ultimate invasion. She would be photographed, videotaped, measured, cut open, sewn back up. No part of her, inside or out, would be left untouched. It was wrong. We should have been able to toss a blanket over her and leave her in peace, but that wouldn’t help us prevent the next killing. And there would be a next one; the second body was proof of that.

  I glanced around at the police and the ambulance team, waiting to take the body away. Except for the body, I was the only woman. I usually was, but tonight, for some reason, it bothered me. Her waist-length hair spilled out into the weeds in a pale flood. Another blonde. Was that coincidence? Or not? Two was a pretty small sample. If the next victim was blond, then we’d have a trend.

  If all the victims were caucasian, blond, and members of Humans Against Vampires, we’d have our pattern. Patterns helped solve the crime. I was hoping for a pattern.

  I held a penlight in my mouth and measured the bite marks. There were no bite marks on the wrists this time. There were rope burns instead. They’d tied her up, maybe hung her from the ceiling like a side of beef. There is no such thing as a good vampire who feeds off humans. Never believe that a vampire will only take a little. That it won’t hurt. That’s like believing your date will pull out in time. Just trust him. Yeah, right.

  There was a neat puncture wound o
n either side of the neck. There was a bit of flesh missing from her left breast, as if something had taken a bite out of her just above the heart. The bend of her right arm was torn apart. The ball joint was naked in the thin beam of light. Pinkish ligaments strained to hold the arm together.

  The last serial murderer that I’d worked on had torn the victims into pieces. I had walked on carpet so drenched with blood that it squelched underfoot. I had held pieces of intestine in my hand, looking for clues. It was the new worst-thing-I’d-ever-seen.

  I stared down at the dead woman and was glad she hadn’t been torn apart. And it wasn’t because I figured it had been an easier death, though I hoped it had. And it wasn’t because there were more clues, because there weren’t. It was just that I didn’t want to see any more slaughtered people. I’d had my quota for the year.

  There is an art to holding a penlight in your mouth and measuring wounds without drooling on yourself. I managed. The secret was sucking on the end of the flashlight from time to time.

  The thin beam of the flashlight shone on her thighs. I wanted to see if she had a groin wound like the man. I wanted to be sure this was the work of the same killers. It would be a hell of a coincidence if there were two vampire packs hunting separately, but it was possible. I needed to be as sure as I could that we had just one rogue pack. One was plenty, two was a screaming nightmare. Surely, God would not be that unkind, but just in case… I wanted to see if she had a groin wound. The man’s hands had shown no rope marks. Either the vampires were getting more organized, or it was a different group.

  Her arms had been glued over her chest, tied in place by rigor mortis. Nothing short of an axe was going to move her legs, not until final rigor went away, which would be forty-eight hours or so. I couldn’t wait two days, but I didn’t want to chop the body into pieces either.

  I got down on all fours in front of the corpse. I apologized for what I was about to do, but couldn’t think of anything better.

  The flashlight’s thin beam trembled over her thighs, like a tiny spotlight. I touched the line that separated her legs and pushed my fingers in that line, trying to feel by fingertip if there was a wound there.

  It must have looked like I was groping the corpse, but I couldn’t think of a more dignified way to do it. I glanced up, trying not to feel the solid rubberiness of her skin. The sun was just a splash of crimson in the west like dying coals. True darkness slipped over the sky like a flood of ink. And the woman’s legs moved under my hands.