by Andy Hyland
“Just go then.” She looked at me and I couldn’t tell if she was pissed off or not. It was getting so much harder to know these days. “I can walk myself home. Or call a cab. I’m not helpless.”
“That’s not -” I began, but she’d already started walking. “Bugger.”
I watched her disappear, the snow falling heavily between us. Before long she was lost in the crowd, just one more pedestrian on the streets. I turned round and headed south, ducking into an alley, through a bar’s cellar, and into a disused part of the sewer system. It was quiet down here. I could hear myself think. But I didn’t like what I was hearing, so I stepped up the pace and headed off to see Mercy.
She was waiting at the red door when I emerged from the labyrinth of tunnels. “Am I late?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No, but I was hoping you’d be early. He’s…impatient tonight.”
“The little git’s impatient every night. What’s he done now?”
“Oh, verbal sparring, damage to person and property, some other minor -”
“Hang on. Rewind there, Mercy. You mean he’s hit you?”
She looked down and nodded. “As I said to you last week, he is becoming stronger. Wilful. He has the mind of a small boy but his body, though it looks frail, is completing its transformation. His powers have grown. He is fast, strong, alert.”
“A killing machine. I know. We need to take this to the Union. Liberty, at least. Otherwise, it’s got the potential to go very bad, very quickly.”
She looked at me, fire in her eyes. “We will not. He is our problem to deal with.”
She had that right. Mercy was the only legitimate, fully-sanctioned vampire in Manhattan. As far as most of us knew, up until a few months ago she’d been the only vampire in Manhattan. Her line ran through my old friend Simeon, and back across the years before that. Always partnered with the Union, a human organization meant to police and deal with psychic and magical occurrences, so that we didn’t need constant help from the Host. That hadn’t worked out too well lately, but it’s a long story. The key thing was that to get some crucial information, we’d rescued a young boy who was near death, and convinced Mercy to turn him. All of that happened a very long eight months ago.
We’d got what we needed from him, but ended up with a whole new vampire. Charlie, the boy, was home-sick. And also very difficult to like; constantly petulant and demanding. Sure, he’d been through some shit, but he wasn’t dead. You think he’d be a little bit grateful, at least. We kept him in a distant room down here, far away from prying eyes. If the Union found out about him, I had a suspicion that it wouldn’t just be his head on the line. Literally.
“Right then,” I said, bracing myself. “Let’s go and see the little arsehole.”
We went through the main, domed cavern, and Mercy led me through another series of corridors to a locked room at the very end. I could never remember how to get there, which I’m pretty sure was the whole point. If Mercy was anything like Simeon with her security arrangements, confuscation runes would be heavily involved.
Mercy knocked on the door out of politeness, before sliding a bolt and gently pushing it open. Between the few of us that knew of Charlie, we’d furnished his room as best we could. Bringing a bit of home to what was effectively a cell. This was the fourth time he’d wrecked the joint. The bedframe was reduced to splinters, the wardrobe and dressing table were slammed into the corner, and what was left of the mattress littered the floor like badly made confetti.
“Hey champ.” I tried to muster up an enthusiasm I didn’t feel.
Charlie glared at me from the center of the room, arms crossed, chin lowered. As yet he hadn’t physically attacked me. He knew as well as I did that the moment he did that, his days were numbered. I wasn’t happy he’d raised his hand to Mercy, but at least she wasn’t human. She was at the very least his equal. More of a superior, actually.
“I wanted to go early today,” he growled. “It’s too late. I won’t see anyone now.”
I held out my hands, palms up. “It is what it is. I couldn’t get away any quicker than I did. If they’re in bed, we’ll get them up. Somehow.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Charlie,” Mercy chided, “we’ve spoken about this. About the need to accept the change. To not wish for the past.”
“Not helping,” I said out the side of my mouth as his eyes narrowed.
“Fine,” he spat. “Let’s go.” He walked past, deliberately shouldering both of us out of the way.
“We’re going to have to have a serious talk about him,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll get everyone together.”
“He needs more time.”
“He’s had time. We did it because we had to, but it’s not working. Time to shut things down.”
“You can’t talk about him like he’s an experiment.”
“I know this is a sensitive topic with you, but open your eyes.” We walked down the corridor, knowing we’d catch up with him in the main chamber. “We can’t hide him forever. And the moment he figures out we can’t control him, which isn’t going to be long, we will be in a pile of shit right up to our necks.”
“Hurry up,” he shouted from way ahead.
“I used to wonder what having children was like,” Mercy mused. “Is it always like this, do you think?”
“Bloody hell, I hope not.”
“Nice place,” I said. We followed the same routine every time we came across here, to Crown Heights in Brooklyn, Charlie’s old stomping ground. His family had a small house off Crown Street. We’d stand the other side of the road and he’d point out all the rooms – who was in each bedroom, where he liked to play. For the half hour or so that we did it, playing this little game of let’s-pretend-everything’s-normal, I’d get a glimpse of who he used to be.
“They’re asleep,” he said eventually. “We won’t see them tonight.”
“I’ll knock and ask for directions,” I offered. “Someone will answer the door, and you can get a look at them again. How about it?”
He pondered the idea, before shaking his head. “No,” he said sadly, “Dad’s probably got to work early. He’d just be pissed if you wake him up now.”
“Language,” I warned him, without conviction. If I was in his position my choice of words would be several degrees worse. “Want to head off, then?”
He shrugged. “Nothing worth sticking around for.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. Maybe next time.”
We turned to leave, but just then a scream shattered the night. Young girl. Scared. Strike that. Terrified. And something on the air – a sharp tang, and a whiff of sulphur.
I looked at Charlie, then up the street to where the scream came from, then back to the boy. “I need to check this out,” I told him. “Five minutes, tops. You stay here. Do. Not. Move. You get me? I’m trusting you.”
He nodded obediently. “Got it. I’ll stay right here and watch the house.”
“Good boy. Back soon.”
I ran up the road as fast as I could. The dress shoes I was wearing weren’t designed for extreme weather conditions, and I slipped and slid in the deepening snow. Casting out my senses, I identified a bright fog of magic, just up and to the right.
“Just in time,” I muttered as I swung round the corner, skidding to a halt. The girl was in the middle of the road, dress ripped, the contents of her bag spilt out across the ground. She was spinning around, trying to figure out which of her attackers was going to make the first move.
There were four of them: Incubi, slowly circling her, sticking to the shadows. Their very presence had wiped out the street lights for half a block, the hellish natures playing havoc with the electronics. The Incubi of legend were the great seducers of hell, the romantic and intense lovers who would sweep a woman off her feet, tempting her all the way to damnation. The reality was far more mundane - vile predators who wouldn’t know seduction if it jumped up and kicked them in the ball
s.
The attempt at a human guise was almost pathetic. Their faces were too long, the chins too jutting. One of them had a green tongue that flicked obscenely, and snaked down to his chest. Another threw back his head as he laughed, displaying four browned and sharpened canine teeth.
“Hi guys,” I said, walking into the middle of the circle, getting close to the girl. “What’s up?”
The laughing stopped. They made eye contact with each other, counted a second, and then leapt at me simultaneously. Obvious, and far too easy. I threw up a ward and they bounced back, one falling into a bin and toppling feet over ass. I could have ended it right then – four quick strikes. Should have ended it right then. But shit, this was the first decent fight I’d had for months, and I didn’t want it to be over too quickly, so I played with them. I switched the ward, angling it so that only one could come at me at a time.
The shortest one was foaming at the mouth. Clearly had some height-based insecurity issues, so I let him have first crack. He ran forward, but with a deft flick of my hand I whipped his legs out from under him and he spun backwards, neck cracking as he landed. Groggy and injured, but still alive and twitching. Number two was more wary, dancing to the left and the right, grinning as he got close. Close enough for me to stick a knife straight into his side. Number three called down witchfire. I reversed that and he was blown backwards and singed by his own cast. “Come on then,” I called out to number four. “What’s your move?”
He simply snarled and slid out, back to the Fades, his footsteps in the snow the only evidence that he’d ever been here. One by one the others did as well, even the one with the snapped neck.
I turned to the girl, who was darting about, grabbing her things from the ground and stuffing them back in her bag. “Hey,” I said, reaching down. “Slow down. It’s all okay.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, not stopping or slowing down at all. “So sorry.”
“Hey, come here.” I gently took her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. “Look at me. It’s over. Whoever they were, whatever all that was, it’s finished. You’re in shock. You probably saw some things that you don’t understand. I’d suggest you just stay quiet and get home. They won’t bother you again. But don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“No, I am sorry,” she insisted, snot bubbling out of one of her nostrils. “I was scared. And they told me that if I screamed loud enough to get you here, they wouldn’t hurt me.”
“They what? So this was…?” My mind raced. There was no point to this. No point at all. Unless – but no, surely not. Nobody knew.
“I’m sorry,” she called out behind me, but I was already sprinting away from her, back to where I’d left Charlie. He wasn’t there, of course. Not by the tree where we’d last spoken. Not in the dumpster on the edge of the sidewalk (sounds weird, but we’d hidden there on more than one occasion.) There were still no lights on in his old house, but it’s not like he was going to be anywhere else.
I crossed the street, checked nobody was around, and tried the front door. It opened without a problem. Frame was cracked, lock broken. Yes, a human could do it, but it would still take a huge amount of effort and not a little noise. A prepubescent vampire, however – well, what’s a locked door to something like that? I stepped into the hallway. Too dark to see clearly, especially after being outside under the streetlights, but I wasn’t about to start switching lights on. Not before I knew the score.
“Charlie,” I whispered, absolutely sure that he could hear me. “Charlie, we’re leaving. Now.”
Nothing. I kept moving forward, checking the living room on the left. That was empty, as was the kitchen. I turned to head back and go upstairs, but something stopped me. Words, but muffled, and from behind me. I retraced my steps and found another door, just out of sight at the back of the kitchen. “Charlie, it’s me,” I said quietly. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I opened the door slowly. It wasn’t Charlie. A middle-aged woman was huddled at the back of a small utility room, hunkered down in the gap between a dryer and the wall. A mobile phone to her ear, eyes wide, mouth trembling.
“Are you okay?” I said, kneeling down, but keeping my distance. I didn’t need her making a noise or freaking out on me. That wouldn’t help matters any. “I’m just going to take this…” I reached for the phone but she whimpered and pulled back even further. Words from the phone. A woman’s voice. Couldn’t make it out, but she was calm and deliberate. Exactly as you’d expect an operator to be who was dealing with a 911 call. Shit. Didn’t have much time. “Stay here,” I told her, and ran back through the house, swinging round the stairs and taking them three at a time.
The first body was just inside the upstairs bathroom. Charlie’s Dad, I’d guess. What was left of him. Lying on his back, hands up in self-defense. But that hadn’t stopped his throat being ripped out. A section of his tongue flopped out through the wide gash. Shit.
What I found in the smaller of the three bedrooms was worse. Teenage boy, dressed in only his boxer shorts. Music video playing on his laptop, balanced on his desk, earphones plugged in so nobody else got disturbed. He’d been thrown back against his bed, which had cracked down the middle with the impact. His mouth was still moving, eyes darting frantically, but he was on his way out. No sign of tissue damage, but the angle he was at, it could only be a broken spine or neck. Probably both. I put my hands on his chest, reaching out, seeing if I could somehow stabilize him until the medics could get here. Damn it, it should be Zack trying this, not me. Someone with greater skill and experience might have saved him, but there was too much damage and he was too far gone for me to make a difference. All I could do was look into his eyes as the light left them. Tell him that he wasn’t alone as he prepared to step through the door on that one-way journey elsewhere.
Sirens wailed on the street outside, getting closer. Time to leave. I tried the window, which gave way after a few attempts, and hopped out onto the flat roof of the kitchen. From there it was a short drop into the yard, and a sprint for the gate. It was locked, but two swift shoulder-charges had it flying open, and I was out in an alley that ran behind the houses, shin-deep in snow. To the left it ran on further than I could see. To the right, the road was thirty meters away. I went for it, hands twitching and pulling together some energy in case I needed to cast once I was in the clear. If Charlie was still around, he was going down.
I reached the end, and took a hard left, my legs nearly swinging out from under me. I’d go two blocks, then call a cab – one of my trusted drivers, who’d know what to say if they were asked any questions. Then it was time to call for backup, get some –
It felt like a rhino crashed into my ribs. One moment I was upright, moving, making plans, and the next I was on my back clutching my side and struggling to draw in air. Straddling my chest was the widest cop I’d ever laid eyes on. His cap was lying two meters away on the ground, so he got to show off his military buzz-cut. Eyes wide, face flushed and fists clenched, he was all set to start swinging.
“Easy Mick, easy,” a woman called as she rushed up. “Probable cause, remember? We spoke about this?”
“Crime scene,” Mick muttered. “He was here, running away. Looked suspicious. Pretty fucking probable from where I was standing.””
“Fine. I give up. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sit on him while we check the house. Stuart should be -”
Her radio crackled and a flat male voice spoke slowly through the static. “Guys, you need to get in here. And Mary, you can forget your niece’s birthday. None of us are going home early tonight.”
“Aw shit,” Mary groaned, glaring down at me. “Sir, if you are in any way involved in this, I swear I am going to make you pay. In the meantime, let’s get you somewhere nice and safe, where we know exactly where you are.”
By the time I’d got my breath back I was cuffed and in the back of a car, with Mick sitting close beside me as escort, looking intently for the remotest possibility
that I constituted a threat. None of this would normally be a problem. Cuffs? I laugh at them. And a quick mesmer would sort Mick out. I could do that even if my hands were stuck behind my back. But things were escalating too quickly. Neighbors were starting to stand at their doors. Two more cop cars arrived, then another two. The ambulances were only minutes behind them. I saw the woman from the utility room, who could only be Charlie’s mom, led out and gently placed in the back of one of them. Cops were taking it in turns to wander over, stare into the window at me, and shake their heads. I didn’t recognize a single one of them. Eventually, Mary came back and climbed into the driver’s seat. She looked round, no longer angry. More worried and confused than anything. “Think we’d best get you somewhere else,” she said to me. “People are starting to talk, and if they find out what happened in there and think you did it, we’re going to be facing down a freaking lynch mob.”
CHAPTER TWO
The cells in the 71st Precinct stank to high heaven. Piss and vomit. A far cry, I had time to reflect, from the sights and smells on offer earlier at the ballet. Mary and Mike had come down, stuck me in here and wandered straight off. They took my phone, but left my shoelaces and belt. Honestly, I could have done myself a mischief. Without a watch, there was no way to measure time. I just laid down and let my thoughts run.
Someone – well let’s face it, something was far more likely– was playing games. With me, though? Or Mercy? Or was this all about Charlie? Whatever the endgame was, they’d played me like a fiddle. Knew I’d go and assist, play the hero. But I couldn’t help but shoulder some of the blame. If I’d wanted to, I could have ended the situation with the Incubi a hell of a lot quicker. Four blasts, girl safe, then back. But the feeling of being back in the thick of it was just too much to run away from so quickly. And thus here I lay.
The cell door opened. I caught sight of Mick standing out there, but it was Mary and another guy who stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind them. They stood there, staring down at me. Mary was gray-haired and green-eyed, with angled features. Nobody to be messed with. The man next to her was altogether fuzzier, with rusty curled hair and the beginnings of a gut. “This is him,” Mary said to her colleague. “What do you think, Stu?”
