High Stakes

by Helen Harper

  ‘Sure. Come around five, right before dusk.’

  ‘Thanks, Bo Peep.’ He waits a beat, then adds, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’ I almost add that I do remember what it was like to be his age, even if it’s a struggle. Then I realise that would be patronising.

  ‘Were the files I gave you any use?’ he asks.

  ‘They were just what I needed.’ If nothing else, they confirm what Corinne’s occupation is and make it clear that there is little in her history to suggest it was a targeted attack. I doubt she’d be impressed if I told her that she beat the statistics by not knowing her rapist, however. I reckon she was nothing more than very unlucky.

  ‘Can I help with anything else?’

  I bite my lip. I’d been going to pass the photo I’d snapped of the Agathos goons’ number plate to Nisha but if the car was stolen, Rogu3 will have a better chance of tracking down information about it than either the court or the police. But I don’t want him to think that’s the only reason I’m calling him. It’s not.

  ‘Only if you’ve got time,’ I say finally. ‘I can pass it along to someone else easily enough.’

  ‘What?’ he shrieks. I wince and hold the phone away from ear. ‘You can’t go to someone else! Do you have another hacker? Is that it?’

  I smile. Professional pride. ‘No. But I’m at the Agathos court right now. I can pass it over to someone here.’

  ‘They’re completely fucking incompetent. Don’t bother.’

  ‘Don’t swear.’

  He laughs. ‘Yeah, yeah. What is it?’

  ‘I have a photo of a car that tried to run me over about half an hour ago. It was probably driven by a couple of Agathos daemons. Anything you can find out…’

  ‘Send me it immediately,’ he interrupts. ‘I’ll do more in five minutes than those idiots could in five hours.’

  He’s probably right. I say goodbye then hang up so I can forward the photo. It whooshes away just as I feel the tell-tale hackles rise on the back of my neck. Someone is watching me. I glance up and my eyes immediately meet X’s black ones. He is standing in his glamorous human form at the other side of the corridor. I stiffen as he raises his hand in friendly greeting. My heart starts to race. He walks towards me unhurriedly. I know I can’t escape. Even if I could outrun a Kakos daemon, my feet are rooted to the spot in terror.

  ‘Ms Blackman,’ he drawls. ‘What a pleasure.’

  I swallow, taking in his appearance. His tattoos aren’t visible but his eyes still possess the menacing glitter I’d expect from one of his kind. His skin is so blemish free that he looks airbrushed. He leans in towards me. ‘I exfoliate.’

  I swallow again. ‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, congratulating myself on managing not to stammer.

  The corner of his mouth quirks up. ‘Streets of Fire has just gained the contract to run all of the Agathos court’s computer systems. I was signing on the dotted line.’

  Sweet Jesus. He’s just infiltrated the entire court system – and he’s getting paid for it. ‘They’re daemons, too,’ I whisper. ‘How can they not tell what you are?’

  He shrugs elegantly. ‘People think we’re like witches. Two sides of the same coin. The truth is far more complicated. As you appear to be. Tell me, why haven’t you taken the blood yet? I gave you your heart’s desire, yet you are holding out. It would be disappointing to think you are enjoying the vampire lifestyle more than you expected.’

  My eyes narrow. ‘Piss off.’ As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realise what I’ve said. Fortunately, he doesn’t take offence. ‘Taking the cure doesn’t affect just me.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ he nods thoughtfully. ‘If the world discovers there’s a cure for vampirism, you’re worried everyone will be after it.’ He smirks. ‘My blood won’t last forever and this is a onetime deal. You won’t get any more. You need to make a decision soon. Will you be selfish or selfless? I will wait with bated breath to see the result.’ He grins. I can only stare at him. ‘Well, toodle pip,’ he says genially. ‘You should have a look at the Wall on your way out. You never know what you might find.’ His eyes gleam. ‘I’ll see you around, Ms Blackman.’

  He turns on his heel and strides back the way he came, just as O’Shea and D’Argneau emerge from Nisha’s office.

  O’Shea frowns. ‘Who was that?’

  I cough. ‘No one.’

  He looks at me curiously look but thankfully doesn’t pursue it. ‘The good news is she’s not going to lock me up.’

  ‘You might be safer in a cell.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  ‘Don’t get too cocky,’ D’Argneau warns. ‘You’re not going to get off scot-free.’

  Given that this is the third time in the few months I’ve known him that someone has wanted to kill O’Shea, I agree. ‘What about the ear?’ I ask. ‘And Renfrew?’

  ‘Nisha is sending it to the lab. They’ll get the DNA results back in a day or two. Until they know either way, they’re not going to make a move. She’s going to email several departments about it, though. The news will leak within the hour.’

  Good. The only way O’Shea will be safe from further attacks is if there’s no longer any reason to kill him. I nod briskly and start marching down the corridor.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ D’Argneau calls out.

  ‘I want to see the Wall.’

  ‘Why?’

  My phone beeps with a text message, saving me from answering. I pull it out. It’s Rogu3; that was fast work. I guess he really was determined to prove he was better than anything the Agathos court could offer.

  Car stolen 2 days ago. Will scan thru CCTV 4 backtrack & email with news. J

  I roll my eyes at the emoticon. For someone who has an expansive vocabulary, it seems to be an unnecessary addition. I’m glad it’s a smile, though, rather than anything else.

  *

  Although I’m irritated at following X’s suggestion as if I’m little more than a trained seal, I can’t let a potential tip slide by. The court is about to close and we’ll all be turfed out soon, so I move quickly with both O’Shea and D’Argneau trotting behind me.

  I know where the Wall is; it stretches the length of the building. I frequently scoured it during my Dire Straits days. As the name suggests, it is a wall. It’s covered in missing persons’ posters, wanted mugshots and requests for help. If you’re a private investigator, it’s a goldmine. If you’re anyone else, it’s a depressing comment on the dangers of living in today’s society.

  I don’t have time to look over everything carefully, so I scan it all as quickly as possible.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ O’Shea asks.

  ‘I have no idea. I just, um, have a feeling there might be something useful here.’

  ‘About Renfrew?’

  I purse my lips. I guess. What else could it be? I shuffle along as I read. It would be one thing if the Wall were reserved for violent criminals but it’s more than that. I pass an entire section, at least three metres wide, filled with pleas from spouses – usually female daemons although not exclusively – searching for their errant partners who owe child support. There are also far too many parents desperately seeking their runaway children. I pause at one, tracing over the cherubic cheeks of Alice Goldman, whose unsolved disappearance resulted in my initial meeting with Rogu3. My chest is tight. I might be a damn vampire but it still feels like I have a human soul.

  O’Shea whistles. ‘There’s a woman here who’s embezzled more than three million by turning up to the homes of the elderly and telling them she’ll daemon proof their houses.’ He tuts. ‘Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.’

  ‘Bo, the court will be open tomorrow. Why don’t we go for a drink instead?’ D’Argneau says.

  I don’t look but I catch him
gesturing to O’Shea out of the corner of my eye. ‘What?’ the daemon asks plaintively. ‘I don’t understand.’

  D’Argneau sighs melodramatically. ‘After all that running around in the sewers…’

  ‘Underground. Not sewers. Do I smell like shit to you?’

  I do my best to ignore them and keep searching.

  ‘Whatever,’ D’Argneau says dismissively. ‘You should probably go home and get some rest anyway.’

  ‘Maybe I’d like to come out for a drink with you and Bo.’

  I run my index finger down a line of alleged bank robbers. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, except I don’t even know what a needle looks like. I bet that somewhere X is laughing his sodding head off. D’Argneau and O’Shea continue bickering.

  ‘You look too tired.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Well, I think you look tired. And wrinkly.’ O’Shea sniffs. ‘Maybe you should go home. I can come with you and give you a massage to soothe those aching muscles. Do you have any scented oil?’

  Annoyed, I turn towards them. ‘Guys, will you cut it out?’

  ‘Ooooh. Touchy much?’

  I roll my eyes at O’Shea. ‘This is a waste of time,’ I say to myself. ‘I need to get back to New Order and do some real work.’

  ‘It’s time you three left.’ Meg, the unfriendliest receptionist in the world, is standing at the far end of the Wall, tapping her wrist. It’s not as if she’s wearing a watch. She must have some spooky powers because I could swear she appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘We’re going,’ I mutter. Then my eyes fall on an old Crimewatch poster. I hear D’Argneau say something to placate Meg but I don’t register the words. Instead I move forward. The paper is yellowing, with faded typeset appealing for information about the brutal rape of a young Agathos girl. Her attack took place four years ago on the other side of the city. What interests me is the one bloodcurdling detail at the bottom. Whoever the bastard was, he used stakes through her palms to stop her running away. I rip the poster from the wall while Meg protests loudly. I look up and give her my ultimate death stare. She falls silent.

  ‘I’m taking this,’ I announce, as if daring Meg to disagree.

  Corinne Matheson wasn’t the first.

  Chapter Eleven: A Man’s Best Friend

  As I sprint breathlessly into New Order, I realise from the sudden hush that everyone is talking about me. Not only that, every single person is in the office. That’s not normal.

  ‘Ah, Bo,’ my grandfather says. ‘I’m glad you could join us.’

  I look from face to face. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘We were going to ask you that,’ Arzo says gently. ‘The argument you had with Lord Montserrat was … loud.’

  ‘That was ages ago. We’ve got much more important things to worry about.’

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘Bo, you effectively told the Lord of the most powerful vampire Family to fuck off. Have you been going to your counselling sessions?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say through gritted teeth.

  ‘They can help a lot, Bo,’ Peter says, not looking me directly in the eye.

  I stare at Matt. ‘Don’t you have something to add?’

  ‘You are a kind of Montserrat vampire,’ he says awkwardly. ‘I mean, you’re not, but you are. If you see what I mean.’

  I look at Kimchi who merely wags his tail. At least someone is pleased to see me although he does seem to have gnawed off half a chair leg in the brief time he’s been here. Tiny splinters of wood are lying in a pile on the floor. I drag my attention away from them as Connor approaches. ‘Do you need some blood?’ he asks.

  I nod. As everyone is staring at me, I point towards the small room at the back. I don’t need a sodding audience. ‘Look,’ I say, exasperated. ‘It is possible I may have been too hasty in what I said to Michael. But it’s between me and him. It’s got nothing to do with New Order.’

  ‘I beg to differ, my dear,’ my grandfather says. ‘He’s responsible for setting up New Order. If we fail in our endeavours, he will go down with the ship, so to speak. It’s imperative we maintain good relations.’ He looks at me disapprovingly. ‘And really, it’s in incredibly bad taste to have a shouting match when one is in earshot of others.’

  I grit my teeth. ‘I get what you’re saying and I will make amends. Right now, however, we need to find this Crimewatch video.’ I wave the poster in the air.

  Arzo scan it. ‘Stakes? Bo, you don’t think…’

  ‘It’s incredibly rare for cross-species attacks to occur,’ my grandfather chimes in.

  I soften my voice. ‘Please, just find the video. We need to see it.’ I follow Connor and close the door firmly behind me.

  ‘Are you okay, Bo?’

  I smile at him reassuringly. ‘I am.’ The etched furrow of concern on his forehead doesn’t go away. ‘I promise.’

  He holds out his wrist and I check his eyes carefully. ‘If you don’t want to do this, Connor, I understand. You can say no whenever you want.’

  He smiles faintly. ‘I think you’re still hoping I will say no. It’ll get easier, Bo. Other vampires don’t feel like this, so I’m sure your aversion to blood will go away soon.’

  ‘Why do you do this?’ I ask for the umpteenth time. I know he’s answered me before but I’m still not satisfied. ‘Is it because you want to be recruited and you think this is a way in?’

  ‘Nah. I don’t want to be a bloodguzzler. I thought about it for a while but seeing you…’ He wrinkles his nose. ‘It’s not for me. I want a long life, though. I have other plans to achieve that longevity.’

  ‘Eating your greens?’

  He laughs. ‘No. There’s a company called Time Lapse that’s doing cool things. You know how some rich dead people have their bodies cryogenically frozen so that when we solve the mysteries of death, they can be brought back to life? Well, Time Lapse have discovered there are these things called time bubbles. They’re pretty rare and they don’t have much reach but they can be used to preserve time. Maybe even to go back in time.’

  I gaze at him incredulously. ‘Time travel? That’s your big plan to cheat death?’

  ‘Don’t scoff,’ he says earnestly. ‘They’re a long way from success right now but I’m young. They’ll figure it out.’ He points to leaflet on a nearby shelf. There’s a picture of an orb with blue swirls floating around inside and the words Cheat Death underneath.

  I decide he’s even crazier than I thought. He’s probably in good company. He points to his neck and smiles at me so, for the sake of a quiet life, I bob my head. My fangs lengthen so I can sink them into his soft flesh. For a brief moment I gag before the sustenance his blood offers takes over.

  Once we’re finished, we re-enter the office. The others are crowded round a computer screen.

  ‘We found it!’ Matt says cheerfully. At my glance, his expression falls. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, subduing his tone. ‘I mean, we found it.’

  I join them, although with my lack of height I can’t see anything. Connor manages fine. I cough delicately.

  ‘Sorry, Bo,’ Arzo says, moving out of the way. ‘Always forget you are so short.’

  ‘You’re cruising for a bruising.’ I give him my death stare that so effectively silenced Meg. Unfortunately, Arzo doesn’t even notice.

  The photo of the young daemon on the poster appears on the screen as the presenter details the circumstances of the crime.

  ‘Park,’ Peter mutters. ‘Just like the other one.’

  ‘That one’s much more secluded though. You couldn’t get more public than bloody Jubilee Park.’

  ‘Shhh!’ I hiss, pulling out my notepad and watching carefully.

  The victim’s name is Rebecca Small. I’m surprised that her identity is revealed so carelessly but the presenter says she has waived
her right to confidentiality in the hope that her attacker will be brought to justice swiftly. I’m guessing that didn’t happen then. She was barely seventeen when it happened and living with her parents; that probably rules out her being a prostitute like Corinne. Fresh-faced and very, very young – not to mention a daemon. They couldn’t be further removed from each other.

  I feel a flash of pain in my hands and realise that I’ve drawn blood with my fingernails. I try to release the tension in my body but it’s not easy. Apparently, Rebecca was walking home from school when she was dragged off the street in broad daylight. The park she was taken to was quiet and rarely used at that time of year. The manner of her abduction suggests the perpetrator didn’t worry about being seen. He was wearing a balaclava the entire time so there’s no photofit to match with Corinne’s. But, like Corinne, Rachel was staked to the ground and brutally raped. He didn’t try to kill her though. Once he was done, he merely stood up, zipped his trousers and left.

  ‘They have to be the same person,’ Arzo says, once the video is finished. ‘Even though the victims are worlds apart.’

  ‘He’s escalating though. He used to wear a balaclava; now he doesn’t. He used to hide his crimes; now he doesn’t. And,’ I add quietly, ‘he used to let his victims go. He’d have killed Corinne Matheson if he could.’

  ‘He almost did,’ my grandfather says grimly. ‘Bo, you need to pass this information to the police. They can deal with it.’ He shakes his head. ‘This is why we need greater cooperation between different triber groups and the humans. The similarities between the two crimes should have been spotted earlier.’

  I take a deep breath. ‘There can’t be just two. There’s no way this prick left a four-year gap between Rebecca and Corinne. What was he doing in between? Going to work? Watching the soaps? Doing his laundry? No,’ I shake my head. ‘There are others.’

  Peter’s voice is so quiet I have to strain to hear him. ‘Are we sure it’s not a vampire who did this?’