Supernatural Vigilante series Box Set

by D. R. Perry

  Stephanie says it’s because we’re magical creatures, so we just know if someone we’re on the trail of has died. Blood from a dead person doesn’t do as much for us as stuff from someone who’s still alive, even if it’s stored in a bag. Hunting down an already-dead person isn't productive for a vamp, but it works in a weird way, like most supernatural stuff.

  Smoke, alcohol, and old blood are all easy to filter out. But Cigarettes is alive, and has so little blood in his nicotine stream I can’t help but pick that up. There’s also the guy he bumped off my first night here. And yeah, Butter has been killed, all right. His scent is on stuff, though that’s more faded, which is exactly right for a dead person.

  There are two other living people’s scents in here, more feminine. One of those puts me in mind of glowing green stuff and drunken sailor curses. Esther Solomon, who is on the kill list, but Cigarettes lets her suck wind and pay rent. Maybe he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty killing a paying tenant. Or maybe she's so cranky because one of her relatives got murdered recently. And then, there's the other woman's scent. It would be intimately familiar to me even if it wasn’t all mingled with Anais Anais and rifle oil.

  Bingo. That’s my sniper. Also known as Kayleigh Killarney, my old high school girlfriend, who’d been responsible for most of my adolescent firsts. Her dad didn’t want us dating anymore on account of me being in the Drama Club. He thought I was gay and using her to cover for it. Which I guess seemed like the case at the time even though that's not exactly true. So she broke up with me. We stayed the sort of friends who drift apart the second they walk away from school with diplomas. I don’t know where she lives because the Killarneys moved a few years ago. But with both a vampire and a werewolf on the trail, we're going to find her.

  “You got your keys, now scram already.” Cigarettes is shooing us out of the room.

  Scott’s got a wild and ferocious gleam in his eye. He shoots me a look like he’s asking my permission to attack the murderous mafioso instead of following his instructions. But when I comply with Cigarettes, so does the teen wolf. In the hall, I put one finger over my mouth. Scott gets it and follows me down the hall and out of the building. When we’re in his truck with the door closed, I speak.

  “I got a couple of leads. Thanks, Scott. Tell me if you recognize any of these names.”

  Taking the list out of my pocket is tricky to do while sitting in the truck, but I manage. I read the list silently and then out loud. Scott shakes his head at each of them except mine. His eyes widen when I tell him Esther’s last name is Solomon. Then, I mention how Tierney is on that list. Larry. He sighs.

  “I got one thought on my mind about that list, and you’re not going to like it.”

  “You mean that this is a list of people the Caprices have hired Kayleigh to kill?”

  “Yeah.” Scott pulls out of the parking lot. “It must suck to know that your ex-girlfriend grew up to be a hitwoman. But on the bright side, I guess you vamps have decent tracking skills.”

  “I’m going to have to run this list by someone else.”

  “Esther?”

  “No, I want her out of this until I learn more about dealing with magicians. Because that's what I think she is.” I make a mental note to call Raven about that after we leave. And I don’t care about owing the attaché if it means saving a life. “I’m talking about showing this to Maury. And one of my fangy contacts.”

  “Okay.” Scott nods like a determined kid protagonist in an anime. “You want me to ask Gramps if he knows any of them?”

  “That’s a good idea. It’s a long shot, but if he does know any of them, there might be a juicy gossip bonus round from him about these people.”

  “You want to go back to the Belfry or your parents’ house?” He turns the key in the truck’s ignition.

  “Belfry.”

  “Yeah, I get it.” He pulls out of the parking lot. “You don’t want to mix the vamp family stuff with the human family stuff.”

  “Pretty much.” I lean against the door. "Also, they're still at the hospital."

  “It must be hard for you. Not having the natural and supernatural sides all mixed in together, I mean.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you, man.” I chuckle. “Or the opposite, or whatever.”

  Scott lets out an honest to goodness belly laugh. He even slaps the steering wheel. But thankfully, he’s a good driver. Or maybe the old rust bucket truck is just that sturdy. It doesn’t weave or wobble us out of the lane. I jot a copy of the list on the back of an envelope that once graced the passenger-side floorboard. Writing the name “Tierney” reminds me that even though two of them got killed, the name’s only on this list once, so which one was Kayleigh’s target? I might not get a chance to ask her, but I could pump Stephanie for more details.

  When we get to my place, I remind Scott about the curtains and hand him the copied list. The passenger-side door doesn’t shut on the first try. It probably needs some oil on the hinges, but I don’t mention that because it also means I need a drink. It shuts on the second try, after I put my hips into it like when you swing a golf club.

  Upstairs, there’s no sign of Stephanie. I call her while making my mug of blood, but the phone goes straight to voicemail. Staring at the name Solomon on that hit list, I try Raven. That gets me an answer.

  “What do you want, Crispo?” They sound more curious than annoyed, thank God.

  “Stephanie told me you might have information.” I tap the phone to put it on speaker because I forgot to wash my mug.

  “She also told you it’d cost you.”

  “Yeah.” I don’t say more because some of the blood is caked into the bottom of the mug, and it’s a bitch to scrub out.

  “That wasn’t a question.”

  “Okay.” I keep scrubbing because if I just leave it, the whole fresh cup will be soured.

  “So ask, already. I don't have time for you to waste.”

  Finally, the stupid cup is clean. I shut off the water and reach for a towel to dry it and my hands. After that, I put the cup next to the coffee maker and pick the phone back up. Raven can wait until I’m done. They’re old, so maybe a minute feels like a second to them by now.

  But where was I in the discussion? I forget, so I just say the first thing that comes to mind. “I was thinking we could negotiate a price.”

  “Listen well, Crispo. I’m the king’s attaché. I don’t haggle like a street-market salesperson. Besides, does it make sense for me to name a price before you’ve asked?”

  “No, it doesn’t.” I close my eyes.

  “Because you’re new to all this, I won’t demand payment for the insult of wasting my time.”

  “Insult?” My eyes go wide. That’s one thing I’m good at, and if Raven thinks this is all I’ve got, they’re absolutely wrong. “Trust me, if I’d meant to insult you, you’d know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I’m in the mood to own another vampire.”

  “Harsh, Raven.” It occurs to me that I could make a mint selling tickets to a dis-slinging contest between Esther and Raven, but those two would probably team up to stake-and-ash me right afterward.

  “Did you call with a purpose other than this unlovely conversation?”

  “Um. Yes.” I clear my throat out of nervous habit. “So, I met a woman recently—”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Uh, thanks.” My blood’s warm, so I pour some into the mug, then sit down with it in the comfy chair. “Anyway, there’s something weird about her.”

  “Maya’s a perfectly normal vampire.”

  I almost drop the phone. Was I that obvious? Do I dare ask Raven what they’re on about, assuming I want to go into debt for information about Maya? Maybe I do, but that isn’t the reason I called. I take a deep breath and let my thinker work. Raven’s trying to get me to ask them for more than I intended so I’ll rack up more debt with them later.

  “I’m not calling about Maya. It’s a mor
tal neighbor. She’s got this odd scent with green light and sparkles around her.”

  “Hmm.” In the background, I hear Raven’s fingernail tapping on something. “Are the special effects all around her entire body, or mostly the hands?”

  “The hands.” I close my eyes, conjuring an image of Esther in my mind’s eye. “One time around her head. And she leaves it behind on her stuff sometimes, too.”

  “I see. If I tell you what I know about this brand of human, you will owe me a set of small favors.”

  “Okay, that’s fine.” When it comes to vampire favors, a set is three, and small is stuff like picking up the dry cleaning. A fair price. “Lay it on me.”

  “It sounds like she uses one of the three forms of human magic. Alchemy, specifically.”

  “Should I avoid her?” I take a sip of my blood.

  “Answering that will cost you another set.”

  I shake my head. So this is how Raven haggles. “Go on.”

  “Alchemy isn’t about things like calling fire or making the sun shine in the middle of the night. You should be safe around this alchemist, but remember that extended use of this form of magic often comes with severe consequences for the practitioner. They have a way of losing things and inflicting property damage beyond insurance coverage limits. If you become allies or even friends, keep this downside in mind. Alchemists always end up getting hurt one way or another. And never let her work any of her magic directly on you. It’s not something vampires ought to get mixed up in. It's got a few nasty side-effects.”

  “Wow, Raven. You really know tons about magic.” I figure a little flattery never hurts.

  “I learned the hard way before I got turned.” Raven chuckles over the line. It makes no sense until I realize that sound wasn’t in the same hemisphere as a laugh. I’d made the king’s attaché cry or something like that. Oops.

  “Thanks for talking to me about this. I appreciate it.”

  “Show me your appreciation by actualizing your potential so your debt to me increases in value. And try not to get staked and ashed. Or worse.”

  “I’ll do that.” Before I can thank them again, Raven hangs up.

  I plug my phone into the charger and head over to my journal. Leaving all that valuable information inside my noggin seems like a bad idea. While I write it down, I wonder where Stephanie is and what she’d make of it.

  I try phoning my vampy mom again, but she still doesn’t answer, so I send a text saying we need to talk. And there’s no way to procrastinate anymore. I’ve put it off long enough already.

  “Time to call Maury.” I tap the green button on my phone next to his name. It rings twice before he answers.

  “Weintraub.” I can hear over the line that he's at home, not the precinct. Good.

  “Hello, Maury.”

  “Tino. You got information for me?”

  “I hope so.”

  So I tell my former bestie about this list I found and all the names on it, but I change the mysterious Tierney to Edwin Tierney specifically. I’ve got a hunch he'll do everything in his power to take it from me if he thinks his partner was on it. No matter how much he insists, I don’t tell him where I got it or how. He wants it for evidence, and I say maybe, partly because I want to check with Stephanie about whether I’d leave evidence of vampires on a piece of paper for CSI to find. But mostly because this is my case, dammit. I saw it first.

  “This list is a big deal, Tino. But I can’t do much with it or even help you unless it’s actually in my possession for me to show to the captain.”

  “I understand, and I want to give it to you.” I wrack my brain for how I can explain without revealing the secret of vampires. Then, I remember my PI business that I just rented office space for. “It’s from a case for a client, so I need to wrap that before sending it to you.”

  “Tino.” Maury’s sigh has a rattle at the end of it that reminds me he’s ill, maybe without knowing it. “While I’m glad you’re getting business, you still need to share things like hit lists with me. Otherwise, I can’t be your contact on the force.”

  “Look, I want to present it to the client first.” I close my eyes, hating the fact that I’ll always have to lie to Maury. “Maybe their reaction will give even more clues that I can share with you.”

  “That’s a good point, Tino.”

  “Thanks. Now, I called so we could help each other, so what can you tell me about the names on this list?”

  “That Edwin Tierney character. He was a lawyer and consultant friend of Larry’s, no relation. They found his house burned down just over a month back. All Forensics found was his ashes. Raph had a hard time with the ID, too. And I met him a couple of times.” Maury takes a breath that I know comes with a drag on a cigarette.

  “Edwin was more straight-laced than most consultants I’ve met, old-fashioned, too. But oddly open-minded when it came to other people’s lives. Like someone who’s a fiscal conservative but has a live-and-let-live attitude about social stuff. An odd duck.”

  “Do you have maybe an example or anecdote you can tell me about him?” I get up to pace because it helps me think. “I never heard of him when I was on the force.”

  “He seemed like the kind of guy who’d be intolerant, you know, cracking your grandpa’s uncomfortable jokes and that kind of thing. But he wasn’t like that at all. Ed Tierney kicked a beat cop out of a meeting for making remarks about Jews and ovens even though I wasn’t there. And he had a couple of weird people doing research for him, but he didn’t treat them like crap for just being who they are.”

  “Weird people?”

  “Yeah. One of them was this huge librarian-looking lady. Ms. Kent. He said she was an archivist or something. And there was the Enby.”

  “Enby, like in Non-Binary?”

  “Exactomundo. Dressed in all black, white hair, some kind of hippy name to do with birds, too.”

  “Raven.” I stop pacing in the kitchen.

  “Yeah, that’s it. And then, about two months ago, Ed Tierney shows up with the strangest one of all.”

  I get a weird feeling. It takes me a second to remember what it is. I’m nauseated. My gut intuition, which is enhanced by the instincts vampirism gives me, is in such high gear I can barely move. It’s like having the wind knocked out of you while in the throes of illness from norovirus. Don’t ask me how I know what that feels like because it’s a long and unrelated story with a messy ending. Anyway, I know what Maury’s going to say before it comes out of his mouth.

  “This guy wore all white, a suit like something out of the Roaring Twenties. I can’t remember his name or his face exactly. And you know me, Tino.”

  “Yeah, you never forget a face.” And he doesn’t. Remembers names almost as well, too.

  “Anyway, I saw that guy twice. That was right before Edwin Tierney’s place burned to the ground with him in it.”

  “That sucks.” I’m leaning my forehead against the fridge because it’s colder than the wall. Opening it is out of the question. Vampires sicking up is bad news. There are rumors we can end up knocked out for half a century or even die if we puke too much because eventually what comes up isn’t food or even blood, but bits of our insides.

  “Yeah. I kinda miss the guy.” Maury takes another drag on his cigarette. “You would have liked him, Tino.”

  “I bet.” I know for sure that Stephanie did.

  “Anyway, I notice that your name’s on this list. So you get it over to me as soon as you’re done with your client, Tino. Don’t make me come to your door with a warrant.”

  “I won’t, Maury.” And just like that, the gut feeling’s gone. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

  “Listen, I’d rather go grab a coffee or a beer than call in a favor.”

  “We can do that. Maybe in a few days.”

  “Yeah, sure. Talk to you later, Tino.”

  I let Maury hang up, then dash over to my notebook again. I jot the words down, then look at them.

  Whitby�
�s behind this. Can his face be forgettable?

  I realize he’s put a ton of roadblocks between him and me that I’ll have to contend with before I can touch him. I barely know a thing about Whitby except that he's connected to Maya and is double related to Raven. But that’s okay. I’m a vampire, and we can wait.

  But of course, Whitby’s a vamp, too. And way older than me.

  I’m so screwed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I decide to take the makeup off my face, but CVS is closed by now. There’s a bottle of olive oil in the salad set Mom gave me as a misinformed housewarming gift. Even though I’m not sure that’ll work, at that point, I’m willing to try. I plug my phone in and am about to see if I’m right when the damn thing rings. I tap the green square.

  “Hello?”

  “Tino, thank goodness it didn’t go to voicemail.”

  “What’s up, Scott?” I blink, trying to remember what he’d be calling about.

  “Are we going to track Kayleigh or what?”

  “Yeah, we’re going to. But I had to call my contact first.”

  “Oh, right.” Scott clears his throat. “What did they say?”

  I tell him everything I know about alchemists, including that unfriendly neighbor Esther is one. Scott whistles.

  “Well, we can avoid dealing with her for now because I passed that list of names to Gramps, and he told me a few things.”

  “Okay, lay the wisdom of old werewolves on me.”

  “Only three people on that list got shot. Gramps has either heard of all of them or knows them personally.”

  “But our Caprice family landlord mentioned something about a silver anniversary’s worth of killings under her belt.”

  “And I’m not saying she didn’t kill that many people.” Scott sighs. “I mean Gramps says the Irish girl could have lied to the Italian Mafia. Or she could have told the truth. But if she killed twenty-five people, they were folks not on this list. And there have been enough deaths in the supernatural community to account for it lately. Not all suspicious, but that's hard to determine for reasons.”