Tonight was most definitely a night for a head spin.
I pulled out of his grasp and muttered, "Yeah, just a lot on my mind. We're late." He smiled at my words, I cursed inwardly and tried frantically to raise some of my old walls. What was wrong with me? Where were my rules now?
"Come on then, slow coach," Samson said through a grin. "Let's get a move on. I gather we're on foot?"
I stared at him for a moment, debating how easy or hard it would be to lose him in the shadows. Of course, he knew where we were heading, so that really wasn't my most intelligent mental argument yet.
I sighed and started in the direction of Mt Eden Prison, where hopefully Mark was waiting and Samson's reality altering talents weren't going to cause us any more grief and Stu could finally answer a few questions about this case.
Yeah. That was so going to be how it played out.
Chapter 29
Disappointment
Detective Mark Anderson was waiting at the entrance to the prison when we arrived. Samson hadn't said a word on how he was going to play this, he'd just stayed glued to my side as we approached. I could still smell him, feel the heat from his body, the constant touch of his Sanguis Vitam - so constant I wondered if he ever turned it off when around me now - and hear his soft footfalls to my side.
But it was obvious as soon as Mark noticed my arrival, that Samson was invisible to him. I blinked at a still corporeal Samson at my side, his eyes trained on Mark, and then blinked again at Mark's obvious concentrated attention on me alone. How Samson was doing it, I wasn't sure, but it was working. Mark, a Norm immune to vampire mind tricks, was suckered into believing a reality where Samson did not exist - at least at this moment.
There was no increase of Sanguis Vitam on the air, no hum to indicate power. Nothing. I could see Samson and Mark could not. Impressive.
But what I could also tell was there was an increase of Dark all around us, that hadn't been there before. Samson, having kept in touch with me through his Sanguis Vitam, couldn't hide it. Even if he tried. And I wasn't sure he was. His eyes were no longer chocolate, but completely awash with that new grey/black - I think they might call it bistre. There is a hint of brown in there, but all you see is soot.
And I knew what this new colour was now. His Dark. Something I had never before seen. My Dark Shadow was intrigued. I was just worried. Had we released a part of Samson that should have remained contained?
"Georgia," Mark murmured, breaking my disturbing thoughts. "You're late." I could tell he wasn't impressed, so I didn't try to excuse it.
"Sorry, I know you're busy. It was rude."
He stared at me for a long moment and then sighed, whilst shaking his head from side to side.
"Come on," he muttered. "I am busy, this better not take long."
Gee, thanks, but I thought I was helping him.
It took several minutes to get through the various levels of security before we were inside the prison proper. The moment the first clang of the doors behind us rang through the air I had to force my Dark Shadow to retreat. We were as securely imprisoned as those incarcerated in this ancient and foreboding structure.
Prisoners had been held here in some form since 1856, not that the building we were in was that old. It had only been around since 1888, but it felt older. A Victorian stone structure with high towers and thick stone walls, it was oppressive. And that heavy atmosphere continued inside the walls. Dank and dark and altogether way too dreary. And the further we got below the ground, down one set of stairs after another, through one bolted steel grilled door after another, it became even more dreary.
I could feel the weight of bleakness from those humans behind the walls. I couldn't see them or hear them, but I could smell their frustration, their fear, their confusion, rage, anger, disappointment and despair. It took everything I had not to inhale those scents, but my talent didn't just lie in smelling them. I could taste them too. So breathing though my mouth was out.
So I just stopped. Samson noticed first and flicked me a worried glance, but it wasn't long before Mark did too. His glance was more of a glare, as in the can't you even pretend to breathe like a normal person type of glare. I glared back. Fuck him. I'd like to see how he'd handle the emotions pummelling my senses right now.
Finally we reached our destination, a small, private conference room. Probably the sort of room a prisoner met their lawyer in, or was questioned by police in. I doubted they'd meet family or friends in such an intimate, if not perfunctory room.
We waited for several minutes, Mark pacing and throwing me the odd look as I still hadn't started breathing. I admit, I was too scared. Even locked away in this small unventilated room I was sure I'd receive every emotion swirling throughout the brick building right now. I didn't particularly want to test that theory though.
After anxious minutes the door to the room opened and in walked my childhood friend. My best friend's cousin. The guy who had always looked out for us, taken us under his wing on many a Christmas holiday. Been kind and caring and full of life.
Stu didn't look full of life now, he looked defeated. He'd lost weight, his hair was long and not its normally greased back and well-cared for look. The orange jumpsuit did nothing for his figure, but the dark bags under the eyes told me all I needed to see. His dull brown eyes flicked uninterestedly over Mark and then landed on me. It took a second, maybe two, but then he visibly jerked. As though I had hit him.
I cringed internally, but kept my vampire neutral mask in place, then purposely forced a smile to my lips.
"Hey, Stu," I said with false cheer as the guard shut the door behind him and I heard the lock click.
"Gigi? What are you doing here?" Even his voice sounded different; older, deeper.
I sighed without thinking, taking in a host of emotions in one hit. Apple mixed with lime. Bold grapefruit and lime. Ink and crisp parchment. Soggy wet wool. Uncomfortable mouldy cheese. Stringent ammonia. And decaying leaves and grass. I staggered a little under the onslaught, my hand reaching out to grasp the back of a chair to keep me upright. Mark was beside me in an instant, taking my weight and leading me to a chair. I accepted his direction without comment.
"You shouldn't have come," Stu whispered and I knew he thought my reaction was to seeing him here, in this place. And it was, but more so from the plethora of emotions, so suddenly received. So strong, so conflicting. So many.
He was a wreck and he didn't deserve to be.
"I'm OK," I said holding my hand up to ward off any more of Mark's help. Typical Mark, he may not have been able to accept or understand what I was, but that wouldn't stop him coming to my aid if I needed it.
I looked back up at Stu, who was still standing, back and shoulders hunched, staring with mortification down at me. My Dark Shadow crept further forward inside. I let her. This talent I have is part of my vampire side, if I was to use it now, with so many differing emotions around to distract me, I would need as much help as I could.
"Take a seat, Stu," I commanded, somehow finding my voice. "I'm here in my capacity as a consultant to the Police Department. I'm going to ask you a few questions."
He took a seat, but said incredulously, "You're a bartender, Gigi. How can you be involved with consulting to the cops?"
"I've taken night classes," I replied steadily and heard Mark stifle a grunt of amusement at my words. Samson just chuckled openly, but I was thinking I was the only one to hear that.
"Oh," came Stu's once again defeated voice. "That's cool." He didn't mean it.
I closed my eyes briefly, but knew I couldn't delay this any longer. What purpose would delaying it suit? I looked back up at Stu, knowing full well my Dark Shadow had now appeared in the redness of my eyes. He cringed, opened his mouth to say something, but I took the opportunity to glaze him before he had the chance to utter a sound.
"You will ignore the colour of my eyes. You will answer my questions immediately, with the most honest answer you can think of at the time. Understood?"<
br />
"Yes," he whispered, while Mark cleared his throat.
"I can't use any of this in a court of law, Georgia."
"Of course not," I replied, still holding Stu's gaze. "I'm not doing this for you."
"Then why the fuck are we here?" he demanded in return.
I turned slowly in my seat, releasing Stu from my glaze, and stared at Mark.
"To find out what the fuck is happening and prevent another murder."
Mark leaned in to me, his face was set in stone. "If you can't give me something to take to my superiors, I can't get this man out of jail. If all you've got is some vampire hocus-pocus then this is a waste of both of our times. I know he is innocent, I just can't prove it."
I was aware that Stu had gone deathly still, hearing every word and no doubt trying to make sense of it. Vampires. Hocus-pocus. The fact that the lead detective on the case thought he was indeed innocent. I didn't spare him a glance.
I turned fully towards Mark instead and said through gritted teeth, "Do you want to know what's going on here or not? How about you worry about how to prove it once you have all the facts. And anyway," I demanded, my voice rising, "what the fuck did you think your little psychic advisor would actually do? Isn't it enough that I'm going to solve your unsolvable case for you? Do you want me to prepare your court presentation as well?"
His lips twitched at the edges, which I thought was a strange reaction to having a vampire stare daggers at your face. Then he pulled back and muttered under his breath, "Carry on."
I glared at him for a few more moments, then returned my attention to Stu, who was watching me with a strange expression on his face. I gave him a glare too. I was feeling that pissed off and then settled myself and allowed my Dark Shadow back in.
"Did you kill Alison Danvers?" My question was met by a grunt from Mark, I think he had expected me to build up to that one, but he failed to realise that the glaze I had given meant Stu would have to answer quickly and as honestly as he could, whether he was shocked by the question and unprepared for it or not.
"No, I did not," came his instant and not totally unexpected reply.
"Do you know who did?"
There was a slight pause. This could have been because he didn't understand the question, but who wouldn't understand that? It wouldn't have been because he was thinking of a lie. There was absolutely no sharp citrus or tart lemon on the air, even if he could have circumnavigated that glaze. So his hesitation was a surprise, one I couldn't explain at this point.
Finally he did answer though. "No, I don't know them."
I sat still for a second and mulled over that answer, something wasn't right. It was Samson who interrupted my thoughts.
"He said he doesn't know them, perhaps he has taken the question literally. To know someone, means you have met them and have some form of prior understanding of them. Enough to form an opinion that you know them. Maybe if you rephrase it?"
I twisted my head and looked at Samson, who had been standing casually, leaning against the side wall. He held my gaze for a moment and then shrugged. Even in this depressing environment he looked good enough to eat. He smiled, a full white teeth smile, as though he'd heard my embarrassing thoughts.
"Thanks," I muttered and turned back to Stu, catching Mark's sudden straightening of his back and shoulders off to my other side.
"Stu, do you..." I changed direction. "Could you recognise the murderer if you saw him again?"
"Yes."
"So, you know what he looks like?" That was the question I should have asked before.
"Yes."
"What does he look like?" I asked, feeling my own tension get added to that already in the room.
"Long, dark hair. Tallish, maybe six foot, muscular. Handsome. Alison thought he was handsome."
Mark shifted at those words and stepped closer to my side, just over my shoulder.
"What else can you tell me, Stu? Eye colour, skin colour? Anything would help." At the moment the description left a lot to be desired. It could be anyone and although Jett was taller and not exactly my pick for the murderer, it could still have been a hashed description of him. And it certainly could have been a description of the Rogue, but then again, not definitive.
"His skin was tanned, not exactly dark, but not white either. His hair came to just below his shoulders and he always wore it loose. It shone."
"Always?" Mark asked and Stu's attention flicked to the detective at my back. "How many times did you see him?"
"Three, maybe four," Stu replied without hesitation.
"Where?" Mark demanded and I shot a glare at him for high-jacking my interrogation. He ignored it, his attention solely focused on Stu now.
"Her office at SubZero twice, the lunch-room there, and then again at her apartment when I dropped something off."
"When?" Mark again demanded.
"SubZero, three times the week before last. Her apartment, last Thursday." The day before Alison was killed.
Mark seemed to have run out of questions, so I dived back in.
"What else can you tell me about this guy? Did he seem different?" How do you ask a Norm if he looked like a vampire when vampires don't officially exist?
"Yes. He made her do things she wouldn't normally do." Now we're getting somewhere.
"Like what, Stu?" I prompted.
"Alison was a nice girl, the sort you bring home to meet your mum. She partied with us, but she was the CEO, she always set a high standard of behaviour, even at our corporate events. Lead by example. That was Ali. She was fun, but a controlled type of fun. When he turned up she lost her head. Fawned all over him. Never seen her act like that before with any guy. It just wasn't her style. But with him, she'd practically suck face in front of you, climb up his body while he had his hand up her shirt. Right in front of you in the hallway or the lunch-room."
I was getting a bad feeling about all of this, a guilt-by-association feeling and I could tell Mark was right there with me. Not feeling guilty, but judging me by this obvious vampire behaviour. I could feel his heated stare on the back of my head.
Stu hadn't finished sharing though. Unfortunately. "I walked in on them in her office once. He had her on the desk. The door hadn't even been locked. There's a lock on that door. She should have locked it. We have an open door policy, you can walk into any room as long as it isn't locked. She should have locked it."
He looked a little green around the gills. I really didn't want to know what he saw when he burst in on that scene, but I had to know. "What were they doing?" I asked in a small voice and felt Samson's hand come down softly on my shoulder. I hadn't even realised he'd moved closer.
"Having sex," Stu replied dully, as though he'd distanced himself from the memory, despite having to relive it again now. "He was giving her a hickey. She was moaning and writhing beneath him as he fucked her hard on top of her desk."
OK. That's an image I didn't need. But...
"Stu, you say hickey, was his face at her neck?"
"Yes."
"Could you see his mouth?"
"Yes."
"What did you see, Stu?"
"Blood," he whispered. "And fangs." Almost inaudible.
Even when you see it, your mind forms an explanation to make it fit into your world. For Stu vampires don't exist, so therefore the vampire feeding off Alison while he fucked her was not a vampire feeding, but a guy giving her a hickey during sex.
I licked my lips and sat up straighter. This was the world I was part of now. No hiding from it, no pretending this wasn't a vampire. I had hoped, even though evidence had so far proven otherwise. Now there was definitely no doubt.
"Right," I said, clearing my throat. "What else can you tell me about this guy? We know his height, skin and hair colour. Any distinguishing marks?" Other than the fangs.
"His eyes."
"What about them?"
"They were all red. Not all the time, but when he was getting heavy with her, when she started acting strange. All r
ed."
"Did you tell the cops any of this?" I couldn't believe they hadn't already uncovered this from him through their previous interviews.
"No."
I frowned, so did Mark I noticed to the side.
"Why not?"
"He told me not to."
"The guy... um... making Alison act strangely?"
"Yes."
Oh shit. "Were his eyes red when he told you this?"
"Yes."
He'd glazed him into keeping quiet about his presence, yet I had countered his glaze with ease.
"Is that because he is my Sire?" I asked the room, but my question was for Samson. And clearly my brain was malfunctioning to say that aloud right now.
"Possibly," he replied, showing no surprise at my outburst, "or because you have additional talents he does not. You are not pure vampire, you are not just of his line. You are more."
"Who the fuck are you talking to?" Mark demanded from his arms-across-chest position on the other side of the room.
"Thinking aloud," I replied instantly.
"Don't bullshit me, Georgia. Who else is in this room?" And now he looked every inch the commanding police detective. His stare bore right through my defences, but I still managed to hold my ground.
"You don't need to know. It's irrelevant."
"To hell with that!" he shouted and this time appeared in my face. "This interview is over. I will not have you hiding something as big as this right under my nose."
"He has a temper on him," Samson remarked, also moving closer to my side.
"Maybe you should just come out, I have more questions for Stu."
"No you don't," Mark barked back as Samson said, "I don't think that would be wise."
"He knows you're there now, you might as well come out," I insisted, feeling infinitely tired all of a sudden.
Mark hesitated in his attempts to stare me down and Samson sighed.
"Babe, you're the only person I have ever told in this country of what I can do. I can glaze your friend's cousin to forget me, but I can't glaze this police detective."
Mark started tapping his foot waiting for me to make a move. He was clearly pissed off, but also curious. Human nature when faced with the bizarre.
Mixed Blessing (Mixed Blessing Mystery, Book 1) Page 33
