“How’s Paul?” I asked.
Paul was her late husband, but he was also the yappy little Yorkshire Terrier she’d bought seven years ago.
“Oh, he’s great.” She started talking about her dog’s latest exploits as she led me through the house and into the kitchen.
As usual, her place was pristine. She’d had elaborate crown molding installed, and it had made the formerly modern interior now feel like walking into a home straight out of a Jane Austen book. The walls were a mint green and the wood trim was white. It was beautiful, and I told her so during a lull in her story about the field mouse Paul had caught the other day.
“Do you think the walls are too green? I was hoping for more of a sage color.”
“I think they’re perfect.”
Eleanora pulled a fresh batch of cookies from the oven, and my mouth immediately started watering. One of her many good—I mean, bad—qualities is her ability to produce the perfect chocolate chip cookie. I don’t know how she stayed so trim after eating all the stuff she baked.
I gratefully accepted two of them and a glass of milk, and we sat at the kitchen table to chat while I munched.
Once we got the small talk over with, Eleanora looked at me with her intelligent hazel eyes and asked for the real reason for my visit.
I sighed, leaning back in my chair, setting my now empty milk cup on the table. “Detective Cole invited me to give feedback on their latest crime scene.” I glanced at her. “It was pretty bad.”
Eleanora frowned. “They’re asking for help on a crime that’s already been committed?”
I shook my head. “They know I’m not experienced in that, but this murder was different.” I gathered my thoughts. “There were signs of a short struggle before the person was killed. He was put on the floor in the living room, then burned alive. Nothing else in the room was touched by the fire and there was no hint of smoke, only the smell of the agent that was used to burn the body.”
I rubbed my eyes, careful not to smudge my makeup too much, thinking how everyone had waited to hear what I thought. I wished I could have been more helpful. “I have no idea what caused it, but it was obvious that it was a magical fire. Have you heard of anything like this before?”
Eleanora’s eyes had clouded over as she listened to my description, and when I finished, she got to her feet, pushing away from the table, a little unsteady. She took my glass to the counter and refilled it. She didn’t respond for several moments, and I waited patiently.
Once the woman returned to the table, she took a sip from her own glass, and then another. I knew she had something on her mind and was hesitant to say anything.
Finally, she looked at me. “I think you’re ready to hear.”
Ready? “Hear what?”
Eleanora leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table in front of her, her hazel eyes studying me again. “It was a fire vampire.”
Chapter Fifteen
I raised my eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“I suspected you weren’t aware of their existence. And it’s probably because they were sent back to their dimension—their world—hundreds of years ago. Lizzie, I hate to tell you this, but vampires do exist. This scene you described to me makes it sound like a fire vampire has been at play in American Fork.”
I folded my arms. “You’re kidding, right?”
Eleanora chuckled. “After everything you’ve seen, you actually think that vampires don’t exist? You’ve already run into one.”
“What? When?” To my knowledge, I’d never been around one. I think I would remember if I had.
“The Croent?” she said. “Drinks blood through its fingertips? Turns invisible? Has the ability to take on the shape of the loved ones of its victims? Does any of this ring a bell?”
I sat, stunned, unable to respond. Was it possible I’d already met a vampire? Nicole and I had encountered a Croent while we were in college. It had taken quite a lot of effort for us to stop it, with Nicole finally shooting it in the head with a gun. I wasn’t even aware that vampires could be killed that way. I guess, by the strictest definition of the word, that what we’d fought could be categorized as a vampire. But it hadn’t occurred to me, probably because it didn’t use its mouth to drain victims.
“Tell me more about this fire vamp,” I said. “Where did it come from? Why is it here now?”
“I suspect that the adventures you and Nicole had several years ago may have put earth back on the map for very powerful and intelligent beings. It—and others—probably saw a world where man was at the top of the food chain and realized there was plenty of room for them to come and take over. This is what I suspect, anyway.”
I kept going back to her earlier argument, how I didn’t have any business being surprised about the possibility of other creatures coming to earth, especially since it had happened before. But I seriously thought we’d resolved all that. Rather than stewing over it, I leaned forward again and asked, “How do we get rid of it?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve obviously never fought one—as I said, they haven’t been on earth in hundreds of years. I think, though, that you need to figure out what it’s after. And then find a way to mollify it, possibly bribing it to leave.”
“Someone is dead—doesn’t that mean the fire vampire got what it needed?”
Eleanora shrugged. “I don’t know. If what it sought was the person who is now dead, then probably. But I wouldn’t count on that, and if more bodies pop up, then no—that wasn’t what it needed.”
“Are fire vampires like the ones we see on TV and in the movies?” And the most important question . . . I couldn’t help it. I had to ask. “Do they sparkle in sunlight?”
Eleanora looked at me like I was crazy. “Why would a vampire sparkle?”
I chuckled. “Who knows?” Lest she think I’d come up with it myself, I quickly explained to her the idea behind the vampires in a popular book, the title of which she recognized.
Eleanora shook her head. “No. They don’t do that. Like traditional vampires, though, they don’t like sunlight. It doesn’t make them burst into flames, but it causes severe burns everywhere they’re touched by it.
“The only way to kill a vampire is with a stake through the heart. There may be other ways, but it’s been hundreds of years since we had them here, and that knowledge has left us.” She squinted, obviously thinking hard. “You need to avoid eye contact with them. Croents are only part vampire, so they don’t have all the traits that true vampires have. The fire vampire will control you through eye contact, if that contact is maintained long enough.
“Also, they can’t enter a private residence unless they’re invited. Keep that in mind—it’s a great way to protect yourself. Some myths say that vampires turn into bats, while others say they turn into mist. Fire vampires and most of their relatives take the mist form and disappear that way.” She tapped her cheek, still thinking. “Yes, they drink blood. When a fire vampire feeds on a victim, they inject a poison into the bloodstream that does two things. First, it’s highly flammable, allowing them to hide evidence on the body itself, and second, it acts as a slight numbing agent, making it so victims aren’t able to feel pain or move.”
Good to know. “So, the people aren’t in agony while they’re dying?”
“That’s the theory, though we aren’t sure, of course. Their accelerant is organic, but it’s not found on earth. Even if it were, you wouldn’t be able to test it because it only comes through their teeth, and every bit of it gets burned up in the process of destroying their victims.”
I slumped in my seat, completely overwhelmed by this information. Heavens.
I left soon after our discussion of vampires ended. Eleanora tired easily, and I didn’t want to outstay my welcome. I couldn’t stop thinking about our discussion as I drove home. What were we about to get into? And who should I tell? My gut instinct said that the fewer people who knew, the better. At least until what the fire vamp wanted was understood.
My mind drifted
to the hounds, and I wondered how far away that amulet was. I hadn’t seen a dog in a long time. Where had it gone? Had it tracked down my exact location?
The next morning, I walked Sia in the yard instead of taking my usual route around the neighborhood. I missed being able to walk near the train tracks and see the different flowers that were blooming in my neighbors’ yards, but I would much rather stay safe than have a change of scenery.
Mrs. Russell saw me wandering the yard and waved, motioning for me to come over. I looked around and didn’t see anything, so I put Sia in the house and jogged over to Mrs. Russell’s.
“The pilot light in our water heater is gone out again,” she said. “Would you mind lighting it?”
“Sure.” I’d encouraged them multiple times to get a new water heater, they still hadn’t. It honestly didn’t bother me. I enjoyed spending time with them.
Once inside, Mrs. Russell opened up the little closet to their water heater, and I reached forward with my magic, sensing for the pilot light, then commanding my powers to create fire there.
After I’d finished, I shut the door and turned to her. “You really should look into getting a new one, as I always say.”
Mrs. Russell smiled. “And miss our interactions with you? Not on your life.” The twinkle in her eyes showed she was teasing, but I sensed a bit of truth behind her words. I really wished I could spend more time with them. They were such good neighbors—always helping with my garden and roof and anything else long-time homeowners learn to do. I was slowly catching up.
I headed back home, fed Sia, then filed some paperwork that I’d needed to get to for a long time. This waiting-for-the-amulet-to-arrive business was killing me. I was worried about going out because of the dog, but also because I didn’t want to make it hard for the shade to find me.
My phone rang, and I glanced at the caller ID. It was a number not programmed into my contacts. Usually, I didn’t answer unknown numbers, but I was bored and picked up anyway. It was Detective Cole.
“Hey, Lizzie,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner tonight or tomorrow . . . or whenever you’re available.”
I was about to respond when somebody knocked on the door. I stepped over and looked through the window. It was Abel. How had he figured out where I lived?
“I’d love to. Can I get back to you, though? A friend is here visiting.”
Detective Cole said that was fine, and we ended the conversation.
I opened the door a crack, keeping the chain in place. “How did you find my house?”
“It wasn’t hard,” Abel said. “You’re the only Fire Impeder, and most people know who you are, and, as a result, where you live.”
I raised my eyebrow at him. I wasn’t above making him uncomfortable enough to where he’d feel a need to explain himself.
He sighed, clearly exasperated. “I needed to talk to you. See if you’re ready to accept the job.”
I shrugged. “I think so, but I still don’t know enough about you.”
Abel chuckled. “Weren’t you extending me a job offer? Isn’t that proof that you don’t really need to know me well to have a business relationship with me?”
That was beside the point.
It occurred to me then that all these weird things had started right around the time Abel came back into my life. A thought popped into my head, and my eyes widened. Was he the vampire?
Chapter Sixteen
Okay, so I was a little hypersensitive and already suspecting everyone. I’d been around Abel a lot several years before, and he hadn’t drained me of blood then. I didn’t think he was a vampire—not seriously, anyway—but still, I wasn’t willing to invite him into my house without knowing more. I stepped onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind me, and motioned for him to have a seat on my furniture there, then joined him.
I’m not new to awkward situations with members of the opposite sex. I was a chronic flirt in high school and college, and it wasn’t until I worked in Washington D.C. that I calmed down. As a result, however, I had a new boyfriend every month or so and got very good at helping people feel comfortable enough to open up to me. (It’s a good thing I wasn’t a social engineer. I could have infiltrated so many companies . . .) And even with all this experience, I still struggled to get to know Abel and get him to open up to me. Trying to engage him in small talk was painful. He was quiet about his past, only talking about his very young childhood, but still not giving many particulars.
And I didn’t feel like I was getting to know him.
We’d been talking for about ten minutes when I sensed something approaching. I got to my feet, stepping off my porch and looking around. What was that? It didn’t bring the same sensation an Arete would, but it was definitely something magical, and it was a pressure that was building, growing stronger and stronger. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it made my hackles rise just the same. Abel joined me, glancing at me sidelong, confused. He hadn’t Restarted, so he wouldn’t be able to feel magic yet.
I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say. Trusting that the detractors Alexander had put in place were functioning, I stayed where I was, studying the neighborhood. The pressure came from the north.
Screams erupted from the Russells’ house, and Abel and I only glanced at each other for a split second before I decided I didn’t care about the protectors. He was a half-step behind me when I jumped the small fence that separated my yard from the Russells’.
I flung their front door open, not caring that we hadn’t been invited in, and Abel followed close after. Good. Not a vamp.
Another scream came from farther back in the house, and a dark gray dog bounded into the front room. I froze, staring at it. It also stopped, returning my gaze. Its lips curled up as a growl sounded from its throat. This was the same dog, I was sure of it.
Mrs. Russell came running into the room screaming, struggling with a gun. She pointed it at the dog, but the huge thing lunged for me, and I scrambled backward, bumping into Abel.
Not hesitating, Abel jumped out from behind me and sprang at the dog, catching it in midair before it could hit me. Almost like the cattle ropers I’d seen at the Lehi rodeo, he grabbed the animal by the legs and swung it over, slamming it on its side. He pinned it, then grabbed its huge head, and with a massive twist, he broke the creature’s neck.
The dog stopped moving. I put my hand to my heart and took deep breaths. That had been terrifying. I’d never forget what it was like to have such a huge dog wanting to kill me. Sure, it wasn’t the biggest in the world, but the intelligence in its eyes had been frightening. It had to have been a hound.
But Abel wasn’t done yet. He took the gun from Mrs. Russell and promptly released four bullets into the dog. Mrs. Russell and I both screamed.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “He’s dead!”
Abel ignored me, pocketing the gun and turning to Mrs. Russell. “Do you have rope?”
Mrs. Russell’s eyes didn’t leave the dog. She nodded. “In—in the shed off the kitchen.”
Abel acted fast while Mrs. Russell and I could only stare after him. He disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard a lot of shuffling around before he returned, carrying heavy rope. He tied up the dog, making sure its mouth was bound just as well as its legs, then picked it up, easily slinging it over his shoulder as he walked out of the house.
Mrs. Russell and I looked at each other, then I turned to follow him.
“Stop!” I called after him.
He still didn’t respond. Aggravating man! How hard is it to use your mouth while your hands are busy? If he couldn’t multi-task better than this, I would hate to see him drive.
Abel continued his fast walk, and I followed after, not sure what else to do. When he turned toward the railroad tracks, I realized what he was doing. I rushed to catch up with him. “Are you sure this is necessary?”
He turned on me, and the intense expression on his face made me take a step back. The hatred
was deep, the anger representing years of abuse he’d experienced. His arm closest to me tensed up, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to hit me. Instead, though, he shifted the dog’s position and whirled, continuing forward.
The exchange had been brief, but it left me rattled. I saw something in those eyes—something that frightened me even more than the dog had. What was he capable of? What had he been doing since coming home? Judging by how quickly he had broken the dog’s neck and then shot it, I could easily imagine him doing things like that before.
We reached the train tracks. Abel tossed the dog down, and after moving rocks and dirt out of the way, he threaded the rope under one of the wooden ties, knotting it around the dog multiple times. As I watched him, I realized he was left handed. Not sure how I’d never noticed that before.
He turned to me. “Go home, Lizzie.” It definitely wasn’t a request. “I have to make sure he doesn’t escape.” He pulled the gun from his pocket, stepped off the tracks, and leaned against a large tree, holding the gun between his leg and the trunk. He looked so casual, as if he was only there to enjoy the sunny afternoon.
“Why . . . why . . .?” I didn’t know what to say.
“Only a hound can kill a hound, Lizzie. It’s not dead.”
I didn’t like the way he kept saying my name. It was almost accusatory, like he was upset with me for something. But what about?
“What’s going on, Abel?”
“You’re smart—figure it out.”
“Jerk,” I muttered, glaring at him.
The way he set his mouth told me he wasn’t going to reply, and I stood there for several moments, watching him. Trains ran on these tracks pretty regularly, so he wouldn’t be waiting for long.
The dog twitched, and I gasped. How on earth was it still alive? Not only had Abel broken its neck, but he’d also shot it!
My eyes widened when I noticed that the bullet holes had closed over and were barely visible now. I knew Alexander had told me that only hounds could kill hounds, but I hadn’t totally believed him.
The Shade Amulet (Koven Chronicles Book 1) Page 8
