Touch of Evil

by C. T. Adams

  I drove down to Colfax to look for Dusty, Voneen or both. I had to admit that driving was a bit easier with the shoulder all numb. But I didn’t look forward to tomorrow; again, if there was a tomorrow. Boy, aren’t I just a ray of sunshine?

  The rules said I couldn’t run and couldn’t leave town, but it’s harder to hit an unpredictable moving target. That’s me all right. Unpredictable and moving.

  I parked Edna at a burger stand and sprinted across Colfax with the light. You have to sprint on Colfax, even when you have the light—and suddenly I was standing in front of the place. The building is both unassuming and gaudy. Neon screams at passers-by about the variety of X-rated offerings available inside, but the building itself is low-key, with wood paneling and brick, and tastefully small windows. It’s right at the edge of the Capitol Hill residential area, full of old towering houses that are once again becoming trendy. The shop has to stay low-key or it will die.

  A pair of bikers were just swinging off their bikes as I walked by. The first guy, a blond, wearing a scarf tied around his head, lowered his sunglasses as I walked by.

  “Whoa! Now there’s something worth stopping here for!” I continued to walk, ignoring the comment and the resounding whistle from his buddy. I’m used to fending off catcalls when I run. “C’ mon, baby. How much for a couple of hours?”

  “Not for sale,” I finally said when I felt movement behind me. The pair kept following. They smelled of gasoline, oil and sweat. I was really not up to dealing with these two. I wanted to get what information I could and get off the street. I shrugged off the jacket. Most guys, when they see the wrist sheaths over my thick forearm muscles, will back off.

  A low whistle eased into my ears. The voice that followed was a whisper of excitement so strong that I knew it wasn’t faked. “Hit me, hurt me, beat me, burn me—take me with you, mistress.”

  I stopped cold with wide eyes and blushed to my fingertips. That was not the reaction I expected. I did what any sane person would do. I retreated. The light just turned, so I bolted over to the next block. The pair didn’t follow. They just laughed and elbowed each other in the ribs at my discomfort and entered the lounge.

  I put the jacket back on quickly and tried to figure out my next move. I didn’t know if I could go inside to ask questions. I could do violence just fine. But sex and violence?

  “If you keep running from the customers, honey, you won’t last long in this business. Mmm-hmm. Take it from someone who knows.” I turned to the rolling alto voice. My eyes scanned the corner. They passed over a middle-aged black woman sitting on the bus bench twice before settling on her. She was the only person who could have spoken.

  She wasn’t dressed provocatively. She wore blue jeans and a v-necked T-shirt. While it did show off her ample chest, it didn’t appear intended to entice.

  She smiled, showing strong white teeth. “Don’t look so surprised, honey. I’ll share this corner. You’ll be attracting a whole different crowd than me anyway.”

  “No,” I stammered quickly, “You don’t understand. I’m . . .”

  “Well, sure! It’s obvious you’re new. I haven’t seen you anywhere down here, and I would have. You’re very distinctive. You’ll be popular if you can just get over being embarrassed.”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not a hooker. I’m a courier.”

  That raised her eyebrows. “Well, okay. I should warn you, though—the cops work this area a lot. You carry anything harder than weed, and they’ll bust your ass.”

  Shit! Wrong kind of courier! This conversation was going badly. I took a deep breath and worked for control. The woman watched me. I opened my eyes and held out my hand to her. She eyed it suspiciously.

  “Okay, let’s just start over. My name is Kate. I work as a bonded courier, but I’m here looking for a couple of missing girls. I’m hoping someone has seen them.”

  Now the woman’s face shut down. She didn’t take my hand. Her voice was harsh. “We don’t want no trouble down here, and we don’t tell tales. Maybe the girls want to be missing.”

  Okay, now this was more of the reaction I was expecting. I could deal with this. I pulled back the offered hand.

  “You’re right. They probably don’t want to be found. But bad people are after them. I’ve been sent to keep them safe. I can’t do that if I don’t know where they are. They’re just kids.”

  She snorted a short blast of air that was close to a laugh. “Honey, I’ve been on the street since I was twelve. I’ve seen my share of bad people and I haven’t seen any down here. The neighborhood’s gotten better. They’re safe enough.”

  I noticed that the bench where the woman sat was in the shade of a large tree growing from a hole in the middle of the sidewalk. I moved over and sat down next to her. She scooted over to keep the same distance between us. I could smell her perfume now. It was an older fragrance, one that my mom used to wear sometimes. I think it’s called Evening in Paris. It felt a little surreal—something in my brain connected it as a comforting smell. I smiled at the woman and shrugged my shoulders.

  “Sorry, but I’m dying in this outfit.”

  Her reply was the stern voice of a mother. Why didn’t it surprise me that she might be one? “And you’re a fool to wear it. You need to get some sense, girl. If you’re going to do detecting, you aren’t doing so hot at being low-key. You stand out like a sore thumb.”

  I chuckled. “No shit. I’m going for protection.” I stared at the woman’s hard, life-weary face with intensity. “The Thrall is after one of the girls. I have to find them.” I was hoping that she’d been on the street long enough that she understood that the vamps aren’t just myth.

  I got the reaction I was hoping for. She hissed in a deep breath and her face grew worried. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “So you believe they’re real, too?”

  I laughed then, a startled sound that ended with a deep breath. “Oh, I know they’re real. I’ve met the queen. It’s why I’m wearing leather in the middle of a hot July afternoon.” I pulled the two photos of the girls from my pocket and passed them to her.

  She glanced at them and started to cackle. She held the photos aloft. “I knew it! I just knew it!”

  “You’ve seen them?” I asked eagerly.

  Her face sobered suddenly and she handed back the pictures. “Oh, I’ve seen ‘em, honey. But you won’t be finding them. No, ma’am!” She pointed to the girl in tie-dye. “That one’s dead—not more than a couple of days ago. The other girl ran off.”

  I looked down at Voneen’s young face, trying so hard to look cool in the photo. “Are you sure? How do you know she’s dead?”

  “Why, honey, they only lived a few doors down!” She pointed at a decrepit brick building less than a block away. She saw my look and shook her head. “Won’t do you no good to go look there, neither. The cops have already cleaned out the place, and the landlord, he’s already got a new tenant in the spot. Rooms are hard to come by down here, and someone dying in the room don’t matter to folks round here.”

  “So how do you know which one died?”

  “I called the ambulance, girl!” She pointed a long finger at Dusty’s face. “This one here—she comes screaming into the street that her friend was dead. I held her in my own arms, honey! I went upstairs with her, and she was right. The other one was stone cold, lying on the floor of the bath. I called the ambulance and told that little bitty thing to get moving, or the cops would have her downtown for questioning in two shakes. That scared her. Yes, it did. You could tell she was running from something.” She made small clucking noises and shook her head with pity.

  She leaned toward me and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. “But I saw the marks, honey! I saw the teeth marks, right on that dead girl’s arm. Mmm-hmm. Yes, I did. I know some boys on the squad—we’ve met a couple of times. I asked them what she died of. The coroner said it was a drug OD.” She tapped her temple. “But I know, honey—I’ve seen the people that have been bled down. The evil one
s, they got that poor girl.”

  I stared at the hooker, and returned my gaze to the photo.

  She shook her head. “And there was something wrong with that bite, too—something bad wrong. The arm was all swollen up and bruised. And there was foam on her mouth. But she’d been bit. That’s for sure. I know the marks of the evil ones.” She lowered her voice even further, until I could barely hear her. “They’re everywhere, you know. That queen they’ve got now, she’s got her fingers in all the pies. Not like it used to be. Mmm-hmm.”

  “Do you . . .” I saw movement from the corner of my eye, and waited until a street person, his shopping cart full of his life’s belongings, shambled by us. His hair was a dirty mat of brown.

  “Morning, Martha,” he said with a leering grin at the black woman. Two lower teeth were missing.

  She made kissing motions in his direction. “Morning, Billy. You get any money on your corner today, you come see me, hear?”

  He chuckled and licked his lips. I smothered my initial reaction. It was her life, her choices. Martha turned her attention back to me once he was past.

  “You were saying?”

  I cleared my throat. “Do you have any idea where the other girl went?”

  Martha nodded. “She called a friend. He came and picked her up in a cab. Real nice looking fella, too. I’ve seen him before. He was in one of those sexy calendars, for the firemen. They sold them down at the 7-11. Mmm-hmm—he’s a fine one, honey!”

  My breath stilled. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe not. There were eleven other firemen in that calendar. But how many ride in a cab?

  “Thanks, Martha.” I rose, but then stopped. I should at least ask. “You want anything for your time? I’ve kept you from a customer.”

  She raised her hand and flipped it dismissively. “Old Billy? Nah. He never has any money left after his bottle.” Her eyes stared at me with intensity. “No, honey, you just go and keep that girl safe. You keep the evil ones away from her. She’s a nice girl. She didn’t belong on the street—and she don’t need to wind up dead.”

  I nodded and turned toward my truck. I needed to go back to the house. I hoped Tom was there, because I needed to talk to him. A brief glance toward Martha’s bench showed that she wasn’t alone. A tall black man had just sat down and rested his arm on the bench back. He was smiling at her and tracing a slow line down her arm. She raised her hand and waved at me as I got in the truck. I waved back, feeling a little strange for just leaving her there. Her life, her choices.

  I drove back to LoDo, trying to think of what to say. “Gee, Tom, been hanging around Colfax lately picking up young girls?” “Have any firemen friends who date sixteen-year-olds?”

  I had misgivings about looking for Dusty. Jake could be right. I could be leading the enemy right to her. But Dylan had begged me to help her—and he believed that she needed my help. I didn’t trust the stepfather, so I believed Dylan. Of course, I’d believed Dylan in the past, and look where that got me. And now Dylan was a Thrall Host, so any hope of trusting him was out the window. Plans within plans—who was bullshitting who in all of this?

  There were no easy answers: no way of knowing what was the right thing to do. If I dropped it, and the girl was killed or worse, I’d never forgive myself. If I didn’t drop it, and she wound up dead or turned, I’d blame myself. Damn it.

  I started to turn the truck into the parking garage, which is a real trick with one arm and no power steering. I stopped short, because a sedan was parked right up to the gate. There was no driver in the car, which ticked me off. It seems to run in streaks that someone will think that any place off the road is a great parking spot, and then I have to get them towed. It’s worse during baseball season, because the stadium is only a few blocks over. I try not to be really mean about it. I just have the tow company pull them off into a street spot and then boot the car so that they have to go to the tow company to pay for the tow. Some of the other building owners call the cops. They have the car towed all the way to the impound lot. The owner won’t know where it is until they call to put in a police report that it’s been stolen. Then they have to pay for an illegal parking ticket and the tow.

  I parked at the corner in front of the fire hydrant, which would earn me a ticket if I didn’t reach the tow company before the cops spotted it. I could probably talk my way out of the ticket, but I’d have to go to court and show them a picture of the car blocking my garage, and my truck next to it. Then I’d have to get the tow company logs and my phone bill showing the times matched. I’ve done it, but it was a royal pain.

  I’d just started to walk around the back of the car to add the license plate number to the make and model I’d written on the back of an envelope, when two things happened simultaneously: The hive roared to life in my head, causing a blinding pain right behind my eyes, and I heard Tom shout a warning.

  “Kate, look out!”

  Instinct took over. I dropped to the sidewalk and rolled toward the building with every ounce of my strength, ignoring the screaming in my shoulder. It was just in time. A Thrall Host sailed over me with a flying kick that would have hit me squarely in the head. He landed on the car and rolled over the trunk. It’s just not fair when vampires can do martial arts. We poor humans should have some advantage. I quickly got to my feet and scanned the area.

  Not good.

  Four Hosts converging from different directions, and they all looked pretty young and athletic. Two were coming from across the street, one was next to my truck on the right and the kicker was sliding behind the car on my left. I saw movement from almost behind me and risked a quick glance before I moved, since I’d heard Tom’s voice from that direction. Sure enough, two white boxes were lying on the floor of the parking garage by the elevator. Silverware and kitchen canisters were scattered across the cement. He lifted the garage gate up a few feet with sheer brute strength and rolled underneath it to wind up beside me. There was a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he faced the Hosts closing in on us.

  Mortal enemies. I wondered what that meant in the real world. “This isn’t your battle, Tom. It’s me they want.” I said it quietly, as we both moved into better position to fight.

  He never took his eyes off the opponents as he spoke. “Yeah? Well, they’ll have to come through me to get you.”

  Truthfully, I was glad to have someone fighting with me. Four of them was a bit much and I was hardly in tip-top shape. Monica wasn’t kidding around anymore. My head felt like it should have a wide crack down the center from the level of pain, and my arm was throbbing. Anything I was going to do would have to be quick and dirty. I wouldn’t be able to fight for long.

  Never one for defense, I burst forward in a run toward the nearest vamp, the one by my truck. He was a male with a runner’s build. The attack, combined with a very cleansing primal scream, took him off guard. He was even more surprised when I ran squarely into him, past the punch he tried to throw. I’d planned for the collision, so I was better prepared. We slammed into Edna, and I heard a satisfying thud as his skull hit the solid steel mirror brace.

  I grabbed his left arm and got a firm grip on his belt buckle as he fell backward off balance. I lifted him off his feet and all of my upper body strength went into slamming him face first into the building, just like a whomping big alarm clock. It didn’t even hurt—adrenaline is an amazing thing. They should really bottle it.

  Fortunately for me, supernatural strength does not give you supernatural mass, and a brick wall is an immovable object not to be messed with. He dropped to the ground and stayed there. I could see that both fangs, along with a couple of regular teeth, had snapped off at the gum line.

  A second later, the shoulder reminded me of its existence, and it was not happy. The pain nearly took my breath away, but I tried not to let it show. The other three Hosts couldn’t quite grasp what was happening quickly enough, and Tom was able to step inside his female vampire, throw a straight finger punch to her throat at the same time as he bla
sted a kick squarely through the side of her knee. She crumpled to the ground with both hands around her neck, which was emitting a strange gurgling sound.

  Now we were down to two. But predators aren’t stupid, and Hosts have the whole Thrall group mind behind their actions. They took one look at their fallen comrades, saw that we were both standing and moving toward them and did the smart thing—they took off running down the street. They almost ran into a police car making regular rounds. The cops saw bodies on the ground and made the logical assumption. The officer in the passenger side took off after the runners before the car even came to a stop. He didn’t catch them.

  It was the second time the police had been to my place in two days. I didn’t lie to them about what I knew or didn’t know, but I did bend the truth into little salted pretzels. After explaining about the attempted break-in and a quick call to the dispatch, they decided they weren’t terribly surprised to be returning. I was betting that Connie would be able to identify the female vamp as the “junkie” from yesterday. The police took away the Hosts without issuing us any warnings, which was nice.

  They did tell me that I’d have to get the car towed myself, because they couldn’t say it belonged to one of the muggers, which is how they defined them. That part sucked big slimy river rocks. At least they pasted a parking pass on Edna until the sedan could be removed.

  Tom went back inside while I took care of the details. When I was done with the police and the tow company had removed the sedan, I parked Edna and went inside. It felt sort of strange to knock on the door of 2B, because I was so used to coming and going. Now there was this invisible barrier of propriety there.

  He answered on the first knock and held the door wide so I could come in. As I walked past him into the apartment I could suddenly smell that amazing cologne again. It reminded me of the feeling of his hands on my skin. When he closed the door behind me, I jumped. I was suddenly nervous, and not just about Dusty or about Monica.

  He must have found another truck to help him move, because the whole place was set up except for a few stray boxes here and there.