Vampire Campfire

by Clare Kauter

  “Oh, for Satan’s sake! You asked Ed to keep an eye on me too?” I frowned. “That’s why he has your number!”

  Well, that was one mystery solved.

  “You’re really hung up on that phone number thing, aren’t you?”

  “No!” I snapped, convincing everyone present.

  Death rolled his eyes as he took a teapot from a shelf. “Tea?”

  I ignored him. “You couldn’t know that Henry wouldn’t turn me in.”

  “You think he would risk upsetting me? Really?” Death rolled his eyes and measured a spoonful of tealeaves from a tin. Dragon’s breath blend, if you’re curious, although I doubted it contained any actual dragon’s breath. “Sometimes you’re a bit thick.”

  “I’m the King of the Damned, right?”

  Death paused, standing frozen for a moment before going back to making his tea. I raised my eyebrows, but he didn’t look at me. He poured water over the leaves in the pot in silence. Clearly he hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction.

  Growing impatient, I said, “Are you going to answer me?”

  He placed the lid on the teapot and took two cups and saucers out of a cupboard. He sat them on the bench next to the teapot and then finally looked back at me. “You’re you,” he replied.

  I frowned. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning exactly what I said. ‘King of the Damned’ is just a label. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “A lot of people seem to think it does.”

  “A lot of people are idiots.”

  Death’s tone surprised me. He was usually so calm – especially just after meditating – but I seemed to have hit a nerve.

  “Did you expect me to never find out?”

  “What exactly have you found out?”

  Good question. “That I’m the reincarnation or descendent or something of this king dude.”

  “And?”

  “And people seem to think he really liked human sacrifice.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Well, I’m planning on heading to the library once I’m done talking to you. But now that I have a name it shouldn’t be so hard to find stuff out.”

  “Fine. Go to the library. Have fun.”

  “Well, I meant after I have some tea.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me.

  The rest of our conversation was relatively boring. I tried to probe a couple more times, but Death was having none of it. He didn’t want to answer my questions. In fact, my revelation that I’d discovered who I was seemed to have put him in a bad mood. Had he really thought I wouldn’t find out? Why did he even care? Oh well. I figured when I left his place and headed to Hell’s library a few of my questions would be answered.

  However, an hour later when I was sitting in the restricted area of the library, right under the glass domed roof, bathed in red light from the moon outside and the candles lit with hellfire on the desk I was using, I began to feel that I wasn’t going to have my questions answered for some time.

  I started with an encyclopaedia, and when I looked up ‘King of the Damned’ all it said was: Mythical figure. That was the most in-depth piece of information I managed to find that night.

  I found myself wondering if maybe Death had already visited the library and hidden the useful books from me, seeing as he seemed so unhappy that I’d found out about the king. He could time-travel, so it was possible that after our conversation he’d made his way to the library and removed all the books that would actually be of use to me. Or maybe Satan was in on it and was trying to keep things from me. But I knew this library well, and there didn’t appear to be any books missing. Clearly I was just looking in the wrong place. Maybe I’d have to ask someone to help me research and point me in the right direction.

  Chapter 3

  So now I knew who I was, kind of, but I knew nothing about myself or my powers or my history. Death didn’t seem to want to help me, and the other people I could talk to about it (Henry and Ed) were still bound by a secrecy spell to not tell me anything I hadn’t already found out for myself. Due to his weird reaction when I’d visited him in Hell, I’d begun to wonder if Death was the one to put that secrecy spell in place. I could only hope that my magical cloud-cracking secretions would somehow begin to break down that spell.

  But back to the cafe.

  Henry, my partner in crime-busting, whipped up a quick breeze to get rid of the lingering ork scent. He wasn’t technically a member of the coven, but he was a shifter so he could cast decent spells. Henry was the only male and the only non-witch working for the police in Hellfire Shire, and the only reason he was my partner was that he was on assignment from The Department. (Henry had some pretty decent blackmail material on them, so they pretty much just let him do what he wanted these days.) I doubted Hecate would have let him onto the force without orders from on high – as much as she liked Henry, she said men were too emotional to be trusted with such important jobs as law enforcement.

  “What’s this?” I asked Henry, gesturing at the ghost.

  “Our new case,” said Henry.

  “What did he do?”

  “I can hear you, you know,” said the ghost.

  “Don’t care,” I replied.

  “He got himself murdered.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair,” the ghost protested. “I didn’t get myself murdered on purpose.”

  “So what did happen, exactly?” I asked the ghost. It had to be something magical, otherwise it would go to the normal police.

  “Well… I’m a little fuzzy on the details.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Great. That’s handy.” I turned to Henry. “Do we at least have a body?”

  He nodded. “Yep. Well, of sorts.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “We have bits of a body.”

  The ghost shifted uncomfortably. I guess that was kind of understandable. Not everyone was as used to dead bodies as me, and I suppose even I would feel odd discussing my own dismembered corpse.

  “And we’re investigating the murder?” I asked.

  Henry nodded. “Since Hecate and Daisy are out of town, they wanted us to handle it.”

  Hecate and Daisy were away at the moment, attending some sort of awards ceremony held by The Department. They were receiving their accolades for recovering one of the Doomstone’s companion items. Little did they know that the item they’d taken to The Department was nothing more than a polished stone. It was pretty, but it had no magical powers. The real companion item, a rusted arrowhead, was in my possession. I’d swiped it from the dragon’s treasure we’d recovered from a werewolf death cult in Scotland. It had an engraving: Property of His Majesty, King of the Damned. That was how I’d found out my title. Not that it had done me much good so far.

  “And we’re the best they have for this investigation?” I asked. “We’ve only been cops for a few weeks. Surely there are other witches in the coven with more experience in this kind of thing.”

  “We’ve investigated plenty of murders,” Henry pointed out. “There are other witches who could look into this, but Hecate has assigned us to the case.”

  “Seriously? She couldn’t think of anyone better than us?”

  Henry gave me a look. I think he wanted me to shut up. “She’s worked cases with us before. She knows we’re capable.”

  More capable than her some of the time, truth be told. I didn’t want to take this murder case, though. I wanted to keep looking for Honey.

  “We’ve been cops for about ten minutes.”

  “It’s been plenty of time and we’re more than capable,” said Henry, giving me ‘shut up’ eyes again.

  “I’m sorry,” said the ghost. “Are you telling me that they’ve assigned two rookies to look into my murder?”

  “No, not at all,” said Henry. He slid his gaze to me. “Nessa’s an expert in murder.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him slightly before turning back to the ghost. “What’s your name?” I asked hi
m.

  “Ravi.”

  “And you were murdered.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “But you can’t give us any more details than that?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember anything about the day I died. Well, I remember getting up and going to work, but nothing much else.”

  “Useful.”

  Henry crossed his arms and looked at me silently for a beat before saying, “Nessa, can I talk to you alone for a moment?”

  I sighed and we both stood. I picked up my latte and followed Henry to a quieter corner of the outdoor area. (It was shaded by a large maple tree, so the cafe’s patrons had dragged their tables and chairs away to sunnier areas.) Shivering in the cold, I tried to warm my hands up with the coffee and took another sip. I inhaled, enjoying the scent of coffee and coconut mixed with the floral notes of the lavender. My nose thanked me for the respite after the time spent with the ork. I looked at Henry expectantly.

  “What?” I said when he didn’t speak.

  “I’m guessing questioning the ork didn’t go well.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “He said Pierre was already gone when the orks took over the caves. I’d already pretty much figured that, seeing as I’m pretty sure if Pierre was there the orks wouldn’t have won.”

  Henry nodded. “I know you’re disappointed that we keep hitting walls looking for Honey, but you don’t need to take it out on Ravi. The poor fellow only died last night. He’s a bit fragile.”

  Rather than answer, I turned and leant on the railing at the edge of the seating area. We were on a slightly raised veranda-style part of the cafe overlooking the main street of Gretchen. We weren’t far from a full moon, which meant that although it was daytime now, the streets were bustling. Around here everyone freaked out around the full moon, as though they didn’t realise there’d be another one next month, and the month after that, and every month until they died and even then the moon would keep going about the same old cycle. (Unless they moved to Hell, that is. The blood moon there worked a little differently.)

  I spotted a shifty-looking character eyeing a couple of normals who were studying a map. Tourists. The guy watching them was handsome as goblins go, which meant he was still very ugly indeed. He crept up behind the women as they tried to figure out what direction they were supposed to be heading in to reach one of the ‘authentic’ magical sites of the town. (If they headed somewhere actually authentic, they’d probably end up dead. Steven would eat them for lunch.) As the goblin slipped his spindly hand into one of the tourists’ bags to grab a wallet, unbeknownst to its owner, I shot a little ball of magic at him. Just a tiny one. A warning shot.

  At least, that had been my intention.

  When the energy connected with the creature, he screamed as he was lifted off the ground by its momentum and carried back through the air at speed, slamming into the wall of a nearby jewellery store. The tourists turned to see what the fuss was about, and upon seeing the little man lying in a crumpled heap on the ground, took out their iPads and started snapping pictures.

  I looked back at Henry, who was eyeing me over the top of his gold frames. “What?” As though I didn’t know.

  “That might have been a bit of overkill.”

  “I was doing my duty,” I said. “I swore to uphold the law, remember?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Really.”

  I sighed. “OK, so maybe I channelled a bit of my bad mood into that spell, but he’s a lowlife. He deserved it. At least I didn’t accidentally –”

  Henry clapped a hand over my mouth and looked around to make sure no one was listening. “Mmsgdjgs, Hnrghy?” I said. He frowned and removed his hand, so I repeated, “Really, Henry?”

  “You don’t know who might be listening,” he said in a low voice.

  “I thought you said The Department wasn’t interested in me anymore,” I said.

  “Maybe not, but plenty of other people are.”

  I sighed. “Fine. From now on I’ll refrain from making any jokes about killing people.”

  He glared at me. I grinned.

  “Loosen up, Henners.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “I should give you a nickname,” I said. “Now that we’re partners and all. You should have a cool cop name.”

  “Like what?”

  “Fleabag.”

  He glared at me with such venom I half expected him to shift into a snake and bite me. “I wouldn’t suggest it.”

  “Wow, Henry,” I said. “You were almost scary then. Maybe you’ve been spending too much time around me.”

  “I definitely have.”

  I took another sip of my latte, which was starting to go cold. “Have you been practising flying like I told you to?”

  “You’re not my boss,” he said. “Not even close to it.”

  Henry hated flying, which seemed a bit stupid for someone who could shift into a bird at will. Surely being able to fly was one of the biggest perks of being a shifter. I’d recently read a self-help book on unlocking your potential, and while I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to implement that for myself (my potential was probably better off staying caged), I had no problems using my new knowledge on Henry.

  “It’s called a limiting belief, Henry. You think you’re not a flyer, so you don’t even try. If you just –”

  “I know you just want me to shift into a dragon so you can ride me.”

  His eyes widened in realisation at what he’d just said and my face began to grow hot. Suddenly this shaded corner, which had been so cold only a moment ago, seemed uncomfortably warm. I drank the rest of my coffee, mostly for something to do other than look Henry in the eye. He and I had kissed before, but mostly we tiptoed around the subject. I wasn’t ready for anything so blunt as ride me like a dragon, you know?

  “What did you drag me over here for?” I asked, purely to change the subject. I needed to dispel this weird mood before we actually had to address the subject that had been hovering over our heads since Christmas. Or as I sometimes thought of it, Kissmas. I’ll show myself out. “Before I got distracted by the pick-pocket.”

  “To tell you to be nice to Ravi,” he replied. “We’re out of leads on Honey’s disappearance anyway, so there’s no reason not to work on this murder. We don’t have anything better to do.”

  I nodded reluctantly. “You’re probably right.”

  “I’m definitely right.”

  “Don’t push it.”

  He smiled. “Plus, most of the other witches can’t see ghosts. They really don’t have anyone else who could work the case.”

  “Ah, so now the truth comes out.”

  Henry shrugged. “So, should we go back and talk to Ravi now?”

  I nodded. “Yep. And we should order another round of drinks, too.”

  “I’ll get them. What are you having?”

  “Well, I was drinking a lavender, coconut and barista spit blend, but you can just get me whatever you think.”

  His brow wrinkled slightly. “I’m not even going to ask.”

  Chapter 4

  Takeaway coffee in hand (a hazelnut soy latte this time, in a reusable cup because I might be King of the Damned but I’ll be damned if I don’t look after the environment), I strode out of the cafe with Henry and Ravi trailing along behind me. Henry had assured me that he’d watched the barista while she’d made it and she hadn’t spat in it, although she’d looked like she was considering it. He’d also informed me that her name was Rainbow, which seemed a little at odds with her general disposition. I don’t think I’d seen her smile once.

  Before leaving the cafe, Henry had used the station’s wi-fi to email me the info we had on the case so far. It was a fresh murder, so there was no autopsy as of yet, and due to the state of the body when it was found we didn’t know what was the cause of death. I flicked through the items Henry had sent me as I followed him through the streets of Gretchen and out of town. I mostly skimmed the file, until I reached the c
rime scene photographs. Yeesh. Even I was a little shocked by what I saw.

  The body – or what was left of it – seemed to have been dumped in several different locations around the crime scene. There didn’t appear to be any rhyme or reason to the placement of the different Ravi chunks. A foot here, an arm there, unidentifiable blobs of internal organ everywhere. Part of his intestines seemed to be draped over a gravestone. I flicked through the pictures. So he’d been dumped in a cemetery. I frowned as I studied the photographs. Wait, I recognised that tombstone…

  “Is this Watergrove Cemetery?” I asked.

  Henry nodded, turning to give me a concerned look. “You didn’t notice that there was a crime scene outside your house this morning?”

  “I didn’t sleep at my house last night,” I explained. Henry’s eyebrows rose and before any thoughts of dragon riding could pop into my brain I added, “I stayed with Satan.”

  Ravi looked shocked. “You what?”

  Normals were so predictable. You so much as mention the devil and they freak out. Imagine if he knew I sometimes accidentally killed people. “I stayed with Satan,” I said. “Ruler of the Underworld, torturer of souls, administrator of the official Hellhounds Instagram account. I stayed at her place last night.”

  “You – you went to Hell?” said Ravi. “Wow. I always wanted to visit, like on a holiday or something, but I was too scared.”

  “Well, you’re a ghost now. You could move there permanently.”

  Ravi’s eyes widened and he opened and closed his mouth without saying anything.

  “Nessa,” said Henry, baring his teeth slightly (which is super intimidating coming from a gorilla), “remember what we were saying a moment ago about you being nice to Ravi?”

  I sighed. “Sorry, Ravi. I didn’t mean to scare you, especially since you’ve probably had a bit of a rough day already. Hell’s actually really nice if you were looking for somewhere new to live, though.”

  He swallowed. (Unnecessary, given that he was a ghost, but old habits die hard. Ha. Die. Get it? Because he was a ghost.)

  “Anyway,” I said, “that’s enough talk about me. Why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself?”