Too late, there was a staff entrance just before the vehicle bay and checking around for people, he slipped up to the door. It was locked, but one thing Brett had learned since his parents died was how to pick a lock. Slipping the rucksack from his shoulders he reached inside one of the outside pockets and found a slim piece of metal. It was about the diameter of a paper clip but longer and stronger. It was about time to put to use the skills Hanna had taught him.
Checking over his shoulder again, he slipped the probe into the lock and eased it against the tumblers. It was easy if you took your time, held your breath and felt for them to turn. One, ease out the probe and try again, until the second one catches. So easy and the third slipped over with little effort and he was in. Putting the tool away and the rucksack back onto his shoulders, he eased the door open.
Before him was a dimly lit corridor. Its walls were painted white at the top with a green floor that looked like melted plastic that had slid up the walls and the bottom foot was covered in the green. It was scuffed but clean and the hallway was empty. With his heart pounding, he walked in.
It had been easy to check the building layout online. He needed to go to the end of the corridor turn right and he would come to some double doors; these would lead him down to the basement. Then just follow the corridor and he was at the final destination: the morgue.
A shiver traced down his spine as he stepped onto the stairs. They were painted exactly the same but looked newer, as if they were hardly used. His trainers squeaked on the floor as he walked down and he cursed himself. Maybe he should take them off? No, that would look suspicious. He had already decided that if he got caught, he would play the distraught boyfriend of Ange. It was normal to want to see her. To want to say goodbye, wasn’t it?
The corridor was long and dark as it stretched away. This no longer felt like such a good idea, but he could not turn back now. He had to find out what had happened. The reporter had said she had taken too many pills, but having spoken to her not that long ago, it didn’t make any sense. Ange was a vegan and never put anything into her body that was impure. She even drank organic beer that cost twice as much as the regular stuff. It should have been annoying, but he found her so cute even though it dug into his allowance.
Brett passed the lift, the stainless steel doors stood closed and silent. There were other doors leading off the corridor. All were white. All were closed. At the bottom of the hallway, he came to double doors that lead into the morgue. Again, they were steel and designed to open either way to facilitate the transportation of… corpses. Inside those doors were dead people. The girl he had hoped to date was lying in there, cold, dead and possibly mutilated by the coroner.
His hand reached out and touched the cold steel. It sent a shock up his arm and into his bowels. Did he really want to open that door? Did he really want to do this? Maybe it would be better to just let her go, to remember the good memories rather than see something that he could never un-see.
As if of its own accord, his body stepped forward and through the doors. The room was cold, icy almost and no lights chased away the gloom. The scent of disinfectant was overwhelming, stinging the back of his nose and making his eyes water. But there was another scent beneath it and after a few seconds he was glad of the acrid stench.
There were three steel tables with tools beside them, fortunately, they were empty. What would he have done if one had held a corpse?
With a shiver, he walked past them and through an archway. There was another steel door, shiny and huge. It had a lever handle and he knew that it was sealed to keep the body storage area super cool. Shrugging his shoulders, he grabbed that cold handle and pulled back. There was a hiss of air escaping and the door swung toward him.
Brett stepped into a dark room and panic clawed at his chest. He should just turn and run out of there. He should just go, get away and never come back. Yet, he could not, he owed Ange this. If she had committed suicide - as a friend, he should have known. Automatically his hand searched and found a switch. He clicked it on and the room was flooded with light. Along the back and right side wall were large steel doors. They went up three layers high and looked like tombs, like death. With a shaky hand and his breath causing streams of air before him, he approached the wall.
Brett had gotten used to the smell and he hardly noticed that it was less in here. Most of the doors bore a label and with a mixture of excitement and terror, he started reading. They were simply numbers, no names. He would need to check each drawer. With a shaky hand, he grabbed the handle of the first one. It was so cold that he almost let go. Should he just leave? Chastising himself, he pulled it open. A white sheet covered a body. This was not too bad. Pulling it back, Brett stared into the opaque eyes of an old man. There was a purple blotch on his cheek that veined down his neck and he stank of dried blood and excrement. Brett nearly lost his breakfast.
He quickly pushed the door closed and pulled out another. This was a woman, her eyes closed, but there was a huge gash on her cheek. The skin wept some form of mucus and the stench was overwhelming. Brett slammed the door closed and pulled out another before his courage failed him. He was lucky this time it was Ange.
As he pulled back the sheet, she looked so white, so pale and so fragile. Her blonde hair was spread around her face as if it had been styled and Brett wondered if maybe she would wake any minute now. Shaking away the thought, he steeled himself and looked at her. There was no sign of trauma, maybe they were telling the truth. He was about to close the door when he notice something on her neck. Moving around her to the other side, he saw it. There were two puncture marks about three centimeters apart and it looked like something had been stuck in her and wiggled about tearing the skin. This was definitely not a suicide.
A wave of dizziness rolled over him and the room went black. Brett grabbed onto the steel that held her body and fought to stay conscious. With his eyes closed he saw her sit up, blood weeping from the two holes. “Save me Brett, don’t let them get away with this.”
A scream ripped from his throat just as a hand clasped onto his shoulder and he was spun around. All his nightmares had come true; one of the corpses had come back.
Chapter Four
Deb drove to the grill and parked in the car park. She had noticed a black Mercedes as she left the lane driving away from Mace’s house. It slunk down the blacktop behind her like some huge beast waiting to pounce. Who could be following her? A spike of acid filled her stomach and the hairs on her arms stood to attention until she turned the next corner. As the car passed beneath the shade of a willow tree, she remembered it belonged to Vincent. The old vampire was following her, supposedly to keep her safe but it felt creepy and she wondered if she should race the car and see if she could lose him. Who was she kidding? Her Dodge Charger was no match to his Mercedes and besides he had vampire reflexes; she had no chance.
Stopping the car at the back of the Rookby grill, she lowered her wheelchair ramp with the touch of a button and rolled toward the entrance. Backing through the doors the sounds and smells assaulted her. Ever since she had learned how to change into her vampire form, all of her senses were amplified tenfold. You would think that enhanced vision, hearing and scent would be an advantage, but it was hard to concentrate when you could smell the rotting meat and maggots that crawled around the bottom of the bins. She passed a biker guy at the pool table and he smelled of piss and semen; this was really more than Deb needed to know and she wondered if Alix could help her tune out these senses.
Across the room at their usual bench, Summer sat waiting. Next to her was a tall, good looking man. With sun kissed blond hair and a splattering of stubble, he could have been a model or maybe even a rock star. It was Isaac; some investment guy who Summer was dating and Deb had to agree with her notion of him being gorgeous. As Deb approached, his eyes turned to her as if he knew she was there. They were a cold blue and seemed to drink her in and taste her before he turned away as if she were beneath his attention.
Just before she got to the table Summer spotted her. Leaping from the bench her friend rushed over. “Deb you look wonderful. This is Isaac, I told you about him.”
The man stood before her and offered his hand. Deb took it and shivered at his touch. “Oh, cold hands,” she said.
He smiled and stepped back. “Yes, but a warm heart.” His hand went around Summer’s waist and he steered her back to the table.
As they sat down Deb noticed how pale Summer looked and she had a light green scarf around her neck. It matched her jumper perfectly and seemed to complete the look, but Deb had the urge to rip it from her. She shook her head. I’m getting too involved with this vampire thing. “Where’s Nova?”
“I’m here,” Nova said as she seemed to skip across the room with a smile on her face. Her blonde hair was tied back so tightly from her face, which made Deb wonder if the poor girl was in pain. She was wearing a checkered shirt in red and yellow with a pair of puce green jeans. Under her arm, she carried the helmet she wore when she used her push bike.
Introductions were made and Isaac doted on Summer, listening to her every word. At all times, he agreed with everything she said and kept his arm snuggly around her. To Deb it seemed a bit too much. He was too old to be smitten like a school boy. But then again maybe she was jealous because the man she wanted to date turned out to be a one hundred and forty-two year old vampire. Or maybe it was because she wanted him to leave so she could talk to her friends. Well, whatever it was he made her feel… uneasy.
“Earth to Deb,” Summer said.
“Sorry, what did I miss?”
“We were just saying Isaac and I have to go. We’re going to a party at the gallery.”
The smile on Summer’s face made Deb smile back. “You go, have a great time. I needed Nova’s help with the computer anyway.
Deb watched as the couple left and to her it seemed that she could breathe a little easier without Isaac’s cold penetrating eyes.
“So what do you need?” Nova asked.
“Does he seem weird to you?” Deb asked.
“Oh yeah. A great looking man with loads of money who drives a Range Rover and is fawning all over Summer… Not so much. Now if it were me he was after, that would be weird.”
“Sorry,” Deb said. “I need your help.”
***
Brett was spun around to face a wall of chest, encased in a security guard’s uniform. He had been caught. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked and tried to bat the guard's hands away.
“I think I’m the one who should be asking that,” the man said as he pulled Brett away from the drawer. Letting go he pulled the cloth back over Ange and turned to Brett. “You should have more respect. She’s someone’s daughter, someone’s love. Now, come on, let’s get you outta here while I decide what to do with you.” With that, he grabbed Brett’s collar and dragged him toward the door.
Shaking loose, Brett turned to run, but then stopped and faced the man. He was big and strong looking but his face was softer than Brett first thought. In fact, he was amused. “She was my friend… I… Look, I don’t believe she committed suicide and I had to see her.” The words sounded hollow and Brett could just picture the look of disappointment on Mace’s face when he was called to the police station. He was always a let down; the one who balled things up and now he had lost his only friend and it seemed too much.
“Okay, okay kid, I’m not gonna turn you in. But maybe in the future you go through official channels and look…” The man paused searching for the right words. “Your friend, remember her how she was, don’t go looking for trouble where none exists. Maybe she just had problems you knew nothing about.” They were at the big glass doors and the guard pushed him through and out onto the street. “I don’t want to see you again, okay?”
Brett nodded and turning around he walked straight into Luke and Nick. Nick pushed him and he stumbled and nearly went down. Turning, he swung for Nick but his fist impacted with the older boy’s hand.
“What the fuck asshat, swing at me would you?” Nick asked.
Brett could feel his hand being crushed as Nick forced him to his knees. Tears of humiliation, loss and pain sprang to the back of his eyes as his knees hit the cold concrete. He had let Ange down, had let Mace down. Jesus, he had even let Deb down and now this prick was gonna beat him. It was as if a switch had been turned and he went insane. Power surged through him and he stood, yanking his fist free he swung again. This time his fist connected with Nick’s chest muscles and he felt the air rush from the man’s lungs. Suddenly they were on top of each other fighting and punching like a whirling dervish as each of them tried to best the other.
Standing by them, Luke tried to shout to stop them. He attempted to pull at a shoulder whenever it presented itself, but he was ignored or even batted out of the way. There was a piercing whistle and when nothing happened, the security guard slung a bucket of ice-cold water over the two boys. The fighting stopped and they parted like bedraggled cats, eying each other cautiously until Luke stepped between them and let out a belly laugh. He lost it and dissolved into guffaws and giggles as the two eyed each other around his head. At last Nick started to laugh and grabbing hold of Luke, he walked away leaving Brett cold, angry and desolate as people scuttled past him on the street. A towel was pushed into his hand and he looked up to see the security guard smiling down.
“The name’s Martin, dry yourself and if you want to get warm there’s a fire and hot coffee in my office.”
Brett patted at his hair and wiped the water from his eyes, nodding. It would be better to dry off and hope the news of his fight never got back to Mace.
It was a small, neat office and soon he was sitting in the corner next to the fire with a coffee in his hands. “So how long have you worked here?” Brett asked.
“Five years. It wasn’t exactly what I intended when I left Uni, but it’s a good job… Look, you really liked this girl?”
Brett’s ears pricked up. “Yes, do you know what happened?”
“You shouldn’t get involved. You hear me, just leave it and let her go.”
Brett got the feeling he was being tested. The guy wanted to know how much he cared and if he passed he had a feeling that he would be given more information. “I can’t do that. Firstly, she would not commit suicide and secondly some animal bit her. What do you know?”
Martin dropped his eyes and seemed to be staring at the loom on his dark blue trousers, inspecting it as if it was the most important thing ever. The seconds ticked on.
“Come on, man,” Brett said. “You can’t tease me then hold out. You know something don’t you?”
There was a sadness to the man’s face, it seemed to age before Brett’s eyes and he could see that he was fighting a great internal conflict. At last he looked up and spoke.
“You really should leave this but I guess you’re not going to.”
Again he paused and looked directly at Brett. He had big brown eyes and this time they looked frightened. “No, I’m not,” Brett said. “So you may as well tell me.”
“Alright. I’ve seen that wound before, only a few times but it is always put down as suicide. I don’t know anymore except that the police chief, some of the detectives and the coroner are all involved. Be careful kid because you don’t want to get mixed up in this. Now get outta here and if anyone finds out about this, you heard nothing from me.”
Chapter Five
As Summer and Isaac left the table, Deb felt as if a weight had lifted off of her shoulders. It was like the sun coming out on a spring morn or the sound of beautiful music.
“Well, what did you need?” Nova asked.
Deb turned back to her friend and noticed the dark blue smudges beneath her eyes, the tightness to her jaw and if she concentrated really hard, she could smell stress. She shook her head. What was she doing? “We can get to that in a bit. How are you?”
Nova looked a little taken aback and Deb felt a jolt of guilt. Had she been so far up her
own ass these last two years that she had stopped caring about her friends? Well, that was all about to change. She was not the only one with problems. “I mean it. How are you? How’s the move going?”
Nova dropped her head as if she was unsure but when she lifted it, there was a strained smile on her face. “It’s been difficult, if I’m being honest. Aunt Rebecca is a tad… well, I think the technical term is insane.”
Deb couldn’t help but let out a howl of laughter and that seemed to lighten the mood. She noticed Nova’s pupils relax, the tension go from her jaw and her smell seemed less acidic. Could she really see and smell those things? “Did your dad get the job? And if so, will you have to stay there long?”
Nova was smiling this time. “Yes, thank you and please thank your uncle Mace. He loves the new job …but we lost the house and got into quite a bit of debt. I should have told you earlier but I couldn’t, you know.”
Deb did know and she kicked herself for being so involved in her own problems that she had not spotted her friend’s pain. Of course, she would not need to thank Uncle Mace; he had simply given her a few names of people who needed accountants. Deb had compelled the one she thought was the best fit. She had to hide a chuckle; there were some things about being a vampire that were really fun. “I’m really sorry Nova and if there is anything I can do, let me know.”
Her friend had the ‘I really want to ask’ look and Deb felt a sliver of fear.
“I was wondering if I could stay a few nights, weeks or even years at your place. You have that great big house. Your uncle is a peach and well, it would be easier…”
Deadwood: A Vampire Series (The Darker Side of Deb Book 2) Page 2
