Black Market Blood (The Lazarus Hunter Series Book 2)

by Cas Martin

  ‘Thanks Garth. Likewise.’ Monica resolutely made eye contact with him and forced a bright smile.

  Anything other than acknowledge the rigid tension emanating from Dennis next to her.

  9

  Elizabeth hated Monday mornings. A spiritual sympathy for the rest of her kind, the vast majority of whom were startled into another week of submission by that early alarm. Her own hours were too irregular for it to matter, but the pull of loathing remained. She made a cup of coffee and trudged to the study. With a glare at the last of the summer light coming through the window she opened the laptop. The books she had placed on order five weeks ago had finally come in. She could borrow them for a whole forty-eight hours before they had to be returned. It was time for some enforced heavy duty study.

  After another coffee, obviously.

  She opened her email and felt her heart spasm when she saw a name nestled in there amongst the spam.

  Once she clicked open, there would be no going back.

  There, sitting at his desk, she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder once again. Damn it.

  She couldn’t ignore the email. She couldn’t unsee it, and her conscience wouldn’t let her send it straight to trash. If Garth was in trouble, then she would do what she could to help him. She knocked back her coffee and steeled herself against the words to come.

  Hi,

  I know you’re laying low. But ‘people’ ain’t doing so great over here. Getting sick. Dying. Monica’s pretty worried about it. I didn’t know if you’d want to know. Or if you’d have something in your pop’s books that could help?

  I know you said I could get in touch whenever, but we both knew you only meant if something really bad happened.

  Garth

  Elizabeth re-read Garth’s email another two times. What he was saying didn’t make sense. She had seen Monica and Dennis in action. She had fought others far more aggressive than either of them. What made their species stand apart was their strength.

  Was Garth actually asking for help? If Monica was worried then why hadn’t she got in touch? Pride?

  Garth hadn’t outright requested she get involved.

  He was just giving her the option.

  She pushed the chair away from the desk to gather her thoughts. On the other side of the room was the safe. In there, she kept a different laptop. The one with her old notes. Her father’s too, digitally scanned and collected in her massive database. It had been months since she had opened it.

  She turned back to the desk. She had already made this decision once. She’d never asked for that life. She didn’t want it.

  So why was she still thinking about it?

  Loyalty?

  Not only towards Monica, but also her own father. She had tried to embrace his legacy even as it made her a darker person. A dangerous person. She had done things she’d never thought she was capable of. She had killed in the name of revenge. When vengeance was done, what else was there to keep her in their world?

  She sat back in his chair and threw her eyes heavenward: what would you do?

  It was a question she hadn’t asked for a while. She rolled it around on her tongue, trying to guess his answer and assess the implications of it. Her eyes wandered across the room to the safe again.

  Curiosity.

  Intrigue.

  She loved her PhD subject, but this was more than interest. It was impulse. The desire to see if her father had recorded any other instance of something like this. His study of vampire history and culture spanned back several millennia, collected from groups around the globe. How he had remembered so much without an easily searchable database she would never know. Another mark of genius she could never live up to.

  She drained her coffee cup and placed it down on the desk. She took a deep breath. It couldn’t hurt to look, could it?

  Elizabeth walked across the room and entered the code. The heavy, fireproof door swung open, revealing its contents. It was dark inside, but she could see the outline of her father’s key journals stacked at the back. In front of them lay a laptop and a small jewellery box.

  She picked the small velvet box up and placed it on top of the journals without opening it.

  There was no turning back now.

  She took out the laptop and cleared space for it on the desk. By the time it powered up, her hands were shaking. Whether from fear or excitement she wasn’t sure, and she had no intention of probing her damaged psyche any further to find out.

  As the loading screen flickered the memories came rushing back. It had been dangerous. It had been terrifying. But it had also been thrilling. It made her life now nothing more than a hollow void.

  She typed in the password and reminded herself in a stern voice there had been a perfectly good reason why she had chosen to walk away. It hadn’t been fun and games.

  Some of them hadn’t made it out alive.

  Her mind went to David. She had never wanted things to end that way. It was why she had chosen to come back to the straight and narrow. She didn’t want the guilt of another person’s death on her hands. It was bad enough she had lost her father. David hadn’t even wanted to help Monica. She had talked him into it, believing that it was for the greater good of them all. She had been right.

  But being right didn’t make any difference at all when you closed your eyes and could still see the body of your dead friend lying there.

  Muscle memory typed in the three passwords required to access the system. A necessary precaution. As the application loaded, she contemplated search words. Garth had hardly been forthcoming with the details. Perhaps, if her attempts didn’t come up with anything useful, she could get in touch with Monica and see if she had any more information. If she wanted her help at all, that was. Perhaps there was a reason why she hadn’t got in touch.

  Elizabeth typed in ‘sickness’ ‘illness’ ‘weakness’ and hit go. They seemed a sensible choice of words. She watched the timer bar progress as the program combed the data for her request. She looked down at her legs. In her jeans they didn’t look as strong as they had been a year ago. She didn’t run much these days. She still went out occasionally, when the weather looked nice and she needed to clear her head. It wasn’t the same as pushing herself. She no longer had the stamina she’d needed when she was prepared to fight for her life at any moment. Her last run had barely covered a mile before she turned around and came back home.

  She had become complacent.

  As the database returned 2438 results, she felt her heart leap in her chest. Yes, she had become far too complacent. She had been a fool to think that walking away could be her decision. If a vampire decided she was still a threat, whether justified or not, they would do something about it.

  Right now, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She went cold at the thought.

  2438 results were too many to skim through. The search terms were too vague. The word weakness triggered the most results. Her father’s research had delved deep into that. Some said he knew more about their weaknesses than they did.

  She opened the first article. She had read it before. The words tugged at her brain like some distant memory trying to escape. It pulled and squeezed until she gave in.

  She decided to put on a pot of coffee. This was going to turn into a long day. Perhaps she could take a break at lunch and go for a run. If it rained she could dust off the treadmill, untouched since Christmas, when she'd given up all pretence of staying in tip-top condition.

  She walked to the kitchen, mind racing, thoughts of going to the library to collect musty books long forgotten.

  10

  Lawrence had lived until late Tuesday night. Monica had got the call when it happened, in line with obligations as leader. She was glad his pain was finally over. She had kept her promise to not visit him in person, but she knew he had suffered in the end.

  It made it clearer what she must do.

  Dennis had been surprised when she had told him she would be leaving for a meeting. Overseas. There
were issues in the MaxiData Corp London offices and they needed a member of the Exec to smooth things out. She had volunteered to go.

  He’d argued with her. Dennis never shied away from home truths.

  Work was important, but she had a bigger job now. It was the worst possible time. The family would see her running away. She needed to be there. Where they were.

  She had already been on board the flight. His arguments were too late to matter. Before they hung up, he asked if there was anything she wanted to tell him. Anything she had forgotten to mention. When she had told him there wasn’t, he had hung up without saying goodbye.

  They hadn’t spoken since. Now Monica was in an unfamiliar hotel room about to make a call she swore she’d never make. She took a deep breath. What was the worst that could happen? That her request for help would be refused? If that happened, she would have to try another way.

  She checked the number one more time and pressed the call button before she could lose her nerve again. It rang out, each shrill pierce lasting forever. Monica was about to hang up when it was answered.

  ‘Hello?’ the voice on the other end of the line was cautious.

  ‘Hi. It’s me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Is this a bad time?’ Monica stood up. If she paced the room, her legs might stop shaking.

  ‘Not at all. How are you?’

  ‘I’m well. I think. How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought I’d call. I’m in London.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Work. Sort of. I was wondering if we could meet up.’ Monica held her breath. Silence greeted her down the line. ‘Elizabeth? Are you still there?’

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘Sorry. I realise this is probably a bit of a shock.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Tonight? We could go for dinner somewhere. Catch up.’ The silence stretched out again. Monica braced herself for a polite no.

  ‘Sure. You do realise I don’t live in London though?’

  ‘I know. But it’s not that far away is it?’ Monica had looked on a map. It didn’t seem that far.

  ‘About an hour’s drive, if there’s no traffic. I could try to get into London if that’s easier. Which hotel are you staying at?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m the one who’s dropped this on you at the last minute. My meeting finishes at four. I can get a driver to bring me up. The company will pay for it.’

  ‘Which one?’ With that single question, Elizabeth asked so much more.

  ‘MaxiData Corp. I really am over here on official business. Although I’d appreciate your help with something else.’ There was no point lying. Monica owed her old friend more than that. More hesitation in the silence. Monica hoped her honesty had changed Elizabeth’s mind.

  ‘I’ll book a table for a restaurant in town. It won’t be exclusive compared to where you go in New York, but it’s quiet. We can talk.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘I’ll message you with the address.’

  ‘Fantastic.’

  ‘Look, I’d better go. I um…I have company.’

  ‘Oh. I see. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’ Monica felt a surge of guilt and embarrassment she couldn’t quite give name to.

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you later.’

  ‘You will. And thanks.’

  ‘No problem. Bye Monica.’

  Monica pressed the end call button. That hadn’t been so hard after all. She sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath. They owed each other nothing. Elizabeth was just a friend she didn't get to see often.

  So why did she feel like she wanted to throw up?

  11

  His plan’s perfection lay in its simplicity. That and its subtlety.

  It had taken him nearly a year to develop what he needed. His expensive foreign education had not been wasted.

  He looked at the list of families on the page in front of him. He had crossed it out and rewritten it several times, trying to decide who to hit first. For each family, there was a second list. The names of the head and the members of their so-called Council of Elders.

  On his list of one hundred and three names, spread across four families, he counted no more than three women. He had never really thought about it before, this strange imbalance. Only one of them had the position as head of the family. He had circled Monica Carletto’s name in red. She was something of a curiosity. That was why he had decided to save her family until last.

  There was something different about her, they said. The way she ran her family. The company she kept. She ran things by intellect rather than brute force. Other leaders understood that if you wanted to remain unchallenged, you had to show your ruthless side. He’d heard the stories.

  It didn’t matter. They would all be rendered powerless by what he had done.

  The excitement ran through his veins as he looked at the numbers on the screen. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and read figures on the y-axis of the graph again. He let out a whoop of joy he would never have allowed himself in the company of others. The lab was different. It was his refuge. When he was here it didn’t matter that he could understand things others thought were pointless. No one could laugh at him here. They wouldn’t call him a geek again once his special mission had at last been completed.

  No one paid any attention to him. The only person who had even acknowledged his presence for weeks was the woman down in the warehouse. She made him sign for the packs of blood each time after she had carefully counted them out. He admired her attention to detail, but they’d not spoken more than a few words to each other. She’d not asked him what he needed such frequent restocks for. He’d been tempted to reassure her, confirm that he wasn’t impotent and could feed off a human naturally if he wanted to. But that would have led to more conversation than he could handle and she would think he was protesting too much.

  If there was one thing worse than going unnoticed, it was getting noticed for all the wrong reasons.

  He had three bags left. Enough to see him through until the end of the week. By then, his data modelling had told him things would reach tipping point. Still too early to show his hand, but soon enough for the sense of panic to arrive in others. He relied upon their fear. The sensation that came from knowing something was horribly wrong, but having no idea what it was.

  Fear was the beginning. After fear would come the stark realisation they were under siege.

  Then would come death. If there was anything to increase the power of fear it was death. Unexplained, unknowable.

  Out of view, the hand of God, ready to strike.

  He flexed his own hands in front of him. Yes, he liked the sound of that.

  12

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be late,’ Monica checked her watch for what felt like the millionth time as she walked towards the table. She hadn’t anticipated a traffic diversion and by the time they reached the restaurant she was uncharacteristically flustered.

  ‘That’s okay. I was starting to think I’d been stood up.’ Elizabeth got to her feet then hesitated. To shake hands seemed too formal. Anything else was too personal. Monica smoothed it over by shaking herself out of her coat. She handed it to the waiter with a polite smile.

  ‘Traffic. Have you been here long?’

  ‘Enough to know the menu inside out.’

  ‘Well, dinner is on me, so have whatever it takes to make you feel better.’

  ‘Company expenses again?’

  ‘No, really, this one is on me. It’s only fair.’ Monica sat down, trying to look comfortable and relaxed. Instead, she was on guard. She might be here at Elizabeth’s invitation, but she was still a vampire in a strange place. The conversation she needed to have with Elizabeth was difficult enough, without starting some kind of territorial dispute by mistake.

  ‘I’m not going to argue with that. It will make a change from eating like a student again.’

  ‘
In that case, do you want to share a bottle of wine? I could do with a drink after that journey.’

  ‘We could share a red?’

  ‘Perfect.’ Monica signalled the waiter back over and opened her mouth to order. She snapped it closed when she realised she should ask for Elizabeth’s opinion first. She looked across and saw she’d been busted. ‘Sorry. What would you like?’

  ‘Don’t worry, you can choose the wine. I don’t mind. As long as I get to pick my own meal?’ A twitch at the corner of her mouth gave away the teasing.

  ‘Of course you do. We’ll have a bottle of the Californian merlot.’

  ‘Thank you madam,’ the waiter bowed his head and took the wine list.

  Neither of them spoke as they waited for him to return. Monica pretended to peruse the menu as she looked at Elizabeth over the top. She looked different. More relaxed somehow. Monica reminded herself that their previous encounter was unlikely to engender feelings of tranquillity.

  Elizabeth seemed happier. It made what she needed to do even harder.

  The wine arrived and Monica took a sip. She nodded acceptance at the waiter. It was good wine. More suited to a happier time than this.

  Monica decided the real reason she was here could wait until later. ‘So how are you?’

  ‘Studying hard. A PhD in medieval history. Not exactly the action life I was living the last time I saw you.’

  ‘I’m impressed Miss Hastings. When you said you were going to leave it all behind, I had my doubts. Apparently I was wrong. Perhaps there will be a second Professor Hastings in your family. Every bit as capable as the first, I’m sure.’

  ‘I don’t know about that. I wouldn’t say it was easy. Just easier. What about you? The one who can’t run away?’

  ‘It was easier for me too. Until recently. But let’s talk about that later. I don’t have to watch my back like I used to. It’s a nice feeling to be almost accepted.’

  ‘MaxiData Corp still doing well as ever?’