Bare Bones

by Debra Dunbar

  “So I could end up with…” I counted the figurines, “…a dozen of these souls, moving all over my apartment with their glowing eyes?”

  “It is rare to even be host to one, dear. They are mostly empty hotels, but if a soul is drawn to you and wants to help, he will pick the vessel best suited to his purpose.”

  So the fox. Wisdom and knowledge, Gran had said. I did want to clear up one major concern, though. “Human souls only, right? I’m not going to get demons or malignant spirits taking up residence in these things?”

  That would be totally creepy. I imagined waking up to find the figurines lined up at the edge of my bed, staring at me with glowing eyes as I slept.

  “They house only human souls.”

  I shook my head, looking down at the sitting fox, its bushy tail curled around its legs. “Why me? Why would a spirit be drawn to help me?”

  “Only you can answer that, Aria. And you may never know why or even who this spirit was when alive. Some souls do not rest. Some spirits wander. A few of these choose to make use of their time by assisting someone they deem worthy.”

  “Assisting how? Because it doesn’t speak. It just relocates the little fox figure around the apartment. And I think maybe its eyes glow.”

  “Eh. Sometimes the soul can’t figure out its way around the lelek raktarban. You’ll just have to pay attention and be patient.”

  I picked up the figurine. It felt so warm in my hands, as if there really was something living inside the resin. The fox appeared to grin saucily at me, his eye’s twinkling. Pay attention. It seemed to like my coffee table a whole lot. That wasn’t much to go on. The table was filled with books, an old coffee mug, a box of tissues, and a dirty bowl that once had held cereal.

  Ugh. I was a total slob. Maybe that’s what my spirit-helper was trying to tell me. Clean up, girl.

  “Thanks, Gran. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Aria. Give that vampire a big old kiss for me. One with lots of tongue.”

  I rolled my eyes and disconnected the call, setting the fox figurine down on the table once more. There were just too many variables going on here. Yes I’d clean, especially the dirty dishes, but I also needed to make it easier for whoever this was inside the fox to communicate with me.

  Foxy went back on the shelf and I went to work, tidying up and separating the books that were on the coffee table. One went on the floor by the television, one on the kitchen counter, one on the edge of the couch and so on, until they were a good distance apart. If the fox was back on the coffee table, then I’d figure my message had something to do with either the table itself or the box of tissues. Hopefully the fox would instead move toward one of the books.

  As a precaution, I went and picked up the other animal figures. They all felt cool, with none of the glowing eyes of the fox figure. Good. One spirit taking up residence in my apartment was enough. Hopefully soon this one would start to do more than just creep me out with random movements, otherwise foxy might find himself in a box on his way back to my great-grandmother in Middleburg, Virginia.

  Chapter 5

  THE VAMPIRE REFILLED my wine glass, nudging the plate of calamari over toward me. “So the exorcism sounds like it was a complete waste of time.”

  I shoved a few of the fried squid pieces in my mouth. “Yeah, I don’t even think Janice can get a good human interest story out of it. Maybe if she wants to do something Geraldo-style. I was disappointed. I’ve never seen an actual exorcism and I was looking forward to it. The priest said he’d call me if another one came up, but that he hasn’t had a true exorcism in over a decade.”

  Dario made a sympathetic noise and sipped his wine. “Speaking of Janice, how did the attraction charm go?”

  Oh sheesh, I’d been so busy telling him about the exorcism that I’d forgotten the museum. “She did meet someone she liked and is going out on a date with him tonight. But get this, I opened up the door to a broom closet and had a dead guy fall out on top of me.”

  The vampire blinked, his mouth open in astonishment. “You what?”

  “I was at the museum, and a corpse fell out of a closet. Knocked me down. I thought it was a side of beef at first because the body was completely skinned.”

  Dario shut his mouth with a snap. “Skinned? As in no skin at all? Like at a slaughterhouse?”

  “Yeah. What kind of crazy freak skins his victims?”

  The vampire raised his shoulders and shook his head. “That’s revolting. So what did you do when this corpse fell on you? And why were you going into a broom closet at a museum?”

  Oops. “Umm, I was getting a broom? Anyway, I called the police. Tremelay came down. I guess he spent the rest of the day interviewing museum attendees and employees. Someone had to have seen the killer sneaking a skinned body into a broom closet.”

  “I’d assume so.” Dario took a sip of his wine, a faint smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “A skinned corpse falling out of a broom closet on top of you. I wish I wasn’t dead during the day. I would have paid good money to see that.”

  It was like we were an old married couple, out each night to drink wine and discuss our day’s events. Weird as it was, I liked our few hours every evening together. I just had to not think about where he was probably going afterwards. Did he sit like this with Giselle discussing her day? Did he tell her what was going on with the Balaj? A truly horrible part of me hoped not. I wanted these sort of things to be just between us. She could have the ecstasy, the sex and the blood. Just let me have this bond, unshared with another.

  Okay, I was lying. I didn’t want her to have the ecstasy, the sex and the blood, but since I wasn’t supplying it, I really didn’t have any room to complain. Life wasn’t fair. I needed to put on my big girl panties and deal. Plus, it’s not like I hadn’t been two seconds away from getting busy with Zac in a museum closet. I was such a hypocrite.

  “I haven’t heard any updates from Tremelay,” I told Dario. “Although I’m not sure I’ll find anything out if it’s just some whacked-out serial killer. I hear those bath salts users turn cannibalistic, maybe they also develop a weird taxidermy thing?”

  He shrugged. “All I know is I’m a vampire, and I’m weirded out by this whole thing. I wonder what he did with the skin.”

  Hopefully the police could figure that out. “Well, it wasn’t in the broom closet. But enough about me, what’s going on with you guys?”

  I finished off the last two bites of calamari and cradled my wine. I was probably a little tipsy at this point. Dario always ordered the good stuff and he was pretty heavy-handed when it came to filling up my glass.

  “There have been a batch of killings north of the city that have us worried.” Dario’s tone was casual, his eyes fixed on the swirl of red in his wine glass. “In case they come to your attention I want you to know that they are not sanctioned in any way by our Balaj. We suspect a group of renegades has banded together and is testing our ability to hold the outer edges of our territory. We’ll take care of it ourselves.”

  My fuzzy wine-brain cleared right up at his words. “What kind of killings?”

  “Humans. We found a disposal site with the bodies. They’d died of blood loss. Some of them showed signs that they’d been aggressively fed from over the course of a week.”

  All I could do was wonder how this was any different from the blood slaves that Dario’s Balaj took. Yes, they seemed to make it several months. No doubt the taking of other prey each night and the support of their family allowed the vampires to keep the relationship going for an extended period of time. But still—how could they blame other vampires for not having such restraint, especially if they were starving and outcasts?”

  “How many humans died?”

  “Six.” Dario frowned, glaring at the glass as if it were the wine’s fault. “At first we thought it was a starving rogue who was gorging himself, but each vampire leaves their scent, their mark, on the victim. We sensed at least four different vampires. A common dump site me
ans they are working together. One renegade is troublesome. Four is cause for worry.”

  At least I had some solace that blood slaves such as Giselle and Sarge came into these relationships willingly. I doubted these renegades got consent from their victims. “Is Leonora sending a group out to track them?”

  Dario nodded. “We’re leaving tomorrow right at first dark. I’m not sure how long it will take. I’ll text you, but our meetings may need to be on hold for a while.”

  I opened my mouth only to snap it shut. I desperately wanted to ask him to check in with me each evening, so I knew he was okay. That wasn’t my place, though. “Let me know if you need my help,” I said instead. “It’s not like I’m doing anything right now beyond research, the occasional LARP and RPG, and my shifts at the coffee shop.”

  He tilted his head and gave me that smile of his that made me want to throw my panties at him. “Bored?”

  “Yes,” I grumbled.

  “So I need to scare up a hydra or open a portal to hell? Can’t have my Templar getting bored,” he teased.

  I didn’t need that kind of fun. “Just let me know if you need a woman with a good sword arm, okay?”

  He nodded and saluted me with his wine.

  “And…be careful.” My face felt on fire just saying that. It got even hotter at the intent look on Dario’s face in response.

  “You’re concerned about me?”

  Oh sheesh. “Of course. I mean, we’re friends. And we’re kind of diplomatic liaisons, business partners. Yes, I’m concerned about you.”

  Thankfully my embarrassing speech was interrupted by my phone. I’d had it on do-not-disturb, so this was probably one of my family.

  It was Tremelay. I shot Dario an apologetic grimace and he waved for me to take it. I’ll admit my pulse raced a bit at the thought that there might be something going on that would require my help.

  “The dead guy at the museum?” the detective announced without any sort of greeting or preamble. “His name is Brian Huang.”

  “Huh.” Did I know this guy? Was his name supposed to mean something to me?

  “Do you know how hard it is to identify a skinned body? There are no fingerprints. No easily identifiable facial features. No tattoos or moles or scars. It’s impossible. Guess how we ID’d him. Guess.”

  Heck if I knew. “Dentures?” It was a long shot, but I remember reading a crime fiction where a victim was identified through distinctive dental work.

  “Close. Dude had a knee replacement. They’re numbered and registered. The M.E. pulled the number and bingo—Brian Huang.”

  Again I grimaced apologetically at Dario. This was interesting and all that, but I didn’t see why the detective had called me. Unless he just wanted to chat and we’d become the sort of friends who talked about this stuff. Maybe. I had these scheduled debriefings with Dario. I met with Janice regularly to exchange info. Why not Tremelay? If this kept up, I’d need to have them all in one room to do it all at once, like a press conference. It would save me repeating everything three times and playing a torturous game of telephone.

  “Ready for the weird part? Well, weirder than a skinned guy in a museum broom closet?”

  Yes. Yes, I was.

  “No missing person’s report. His family claims they’ve seen him since the murder. In fact, we accounted for him at the museum. He was at the reception area and my records show we spoke to him when we were clearing the crime scene.”

  Dario looked intrigued and I realized that he could probably hear every word Tremelay said. Vampires. I’d need to be careful what calls I took when he was around. It would be horribly embarrassing if someone let slip a personal bit of information.

  “Identical twins? Or maybe Brian Huang is a common name and there’s another guy with the same name and knee replacement?”

  “Not twins according to hospital birth records.” Tremelay snorted. “Maybe he’s a clone. After what I’ve seen in the last month I’m not ruling out alien body snatchers.”

  Body snatchers. Right. “Maybe the hospital screwed up the knee replacement ID. Typed a seven instead of a one or something?”

  “Come on, Ainsworth. I thought you’d be the first to be on board with my alien theory.”

  Normally I would, but I’d just spent a disappointing afternoon at a non-exorcism. “So, what’s the next step?”

  “Well, we also considered the possibility of a screw up in registering the knee replacement, so we’re checking similar numbers to see if any of them line up with a missing person’s report. It’s gonna take forever, though. In the meantime I’m going to ask Brian Huang to meet me and answer a few questions. It’s a long shot that he’ll have any information, but I’ve got a skinned body and not a lot else to do until the researchers run through the device registration possibilities.”

  “Soooo…what can I do to help?”

  I heard Tremelay sigh. “I don’t know. Cookies. A batch of cookies would really help.”

  My eyes met Dario’s. We both shook our heads, eyebrows raised. “What are cookies going to do?”

  “Keep me in a good mood. Show up tomorrow at ten with cookies, chocolate chip or peanut butter, and I’ll let you listen in while I talk with Huang.”

  “Am I allowed to do that?” I knew he’d been skirting the line of police procedure with my involvement in the death mage case. Having me hang out on the other side of a two-way mirror while he interviewed a potential…witness? Suspect? I was pretty sure that wasn’t permitted.

  “Heck, he’s not even a person of interest. It’s just an informal chat that we’re doing at the station as opposed to me going to his house or on a street corner. No biggie.”

  “Umm, okay.” It’s not like I really had anything else to do besides scour my research texts for the umpteenth time for info on demon marks.

  “Cookies. Don’t forget the cookies.”

  Cookies? Like I knew how to make cookies. We had servants growing up, a cook. I was lucky I could microwave a frozen dinner. The only chocolate chip cookies this guy was getting were ones baked by a bunch of Keebler elves. And the more I thought about it, the more annoyed I got. So the only help I could provide was baking cookies? What was I, some kinda Betty Crocker? Should I show up tomorrow in a poofy 50’s era dress with hot-rollered hair and false eyelashes?

  But I did want to listen in on the interview because I was bored and this skinner serial killer was the most interesting thing that had crossed my path in weeks. If I had to run by a bakery on the way, so be it. Although I was tempted to burn a batch of cookies into a rock-hard, blackened crisp, just to teach the detective a lesson.

  “I’ll be there.” I hung up the phone and plastered a smile on my face as I looked up at Dario. He had a wary expression on his face—one part amusement, one part terror.

  “Are you going to poison him with your baking?”

  Now my smile was real. Dario didn’t care that our dinner had been interrupted by a call from another man. He wasn’t getting all puffy-chested and demanding to know who Tremelay was. Heck, he’d met Tremelay and hadn’t reacted that way either. This was so nice, not having to worry about misplaced jealousy.

  But I wasn’t going to think of that now. Not when I was enjoying the company of a charming vampire. And not tomorrow when I was listening to the police interview someone who could be a murder victim—or suspect.

  Chapter 6

  I WAS UP early for once, breakfasting on the box of cannoli that Dario had insisted I bring home with me. Things were looking up. I was going to watch the cops work their magic. I had no one trying to kill me or my friends. There was nothing supernatural going on that required my attention.

  Of course, a glass half full was still half empty. I had a demon mark on my waist. And sometimes at night, right when I was about to drift off to sleep, I saw the emptiness of death in Dark Iron’s eyes, saw the blood flowing around my sword blade, coating it crimson.

  Did soldiers feel this way? Did cops feel this way? If it hadn’t bee
n for Dario helping me clean up the mess, hiding what I’d done from the police who would have a very different opinion of my taking justice into my own hands, I might have fallen to pieces right then and there. It was justified. It was the right thing to do…wasn’t it? I was a Templar, and I needed to protect pilgrims on the path. If that involved spilling the blood of murderers, then that was a cross I’d need to bear.

  But I’d stabbed him in the back. I’d made my decision to deliver justice a split second too late and stabbed him in the back. That was just as hard to live with as the fact that I’d taken a human life.

  I pushed those memories into the dark corners of my mind, pulled my drapes open as far as they’d go, and danced around my apartment in my pajamas while eating pastry, trying to start the day off without the nightmares that came in the dark. The radio station had a classic rock thing going on and I was digging it—digging it so much that I almost missed the little resin fox figurine perched on top of a book by the bathroom door.

  Ah. My resident spirit was pointing me in a direction, and that direction was Peterson’s Monsters of the New World. I patted the fox’s pert little nose and put it back on the shelf, grabbing my coffee before curling up on the couch with the Peterson book.

  An hour later and I still didn’t know what I was looking for. After getting sucked into Wendigo lore, I’d fallen into the abyss of Mothman legends. It was after nine o’clock when I reluctantly set the book aside, wishing I had more time to delve into the section on Lupe Garou. Almost as an afterthought I left the book on the sofa, opening it randomly to a page and wincing as I thought what my father would say if he saw what I was doing to the binding of the book.