by Amy Cross
Before I can react, I'm hit by a powerful wave of recognition. The wine glass falls from my hand and smashes against the floor, spilling its contents.
Vampires.
I turn to the window. A second ago, I didn't sense any vampires at all, and then suddenly everything changed. They're out there somewhere, in the city. A lot of them. Usually, when I sense a vampire's presence, it starts with a fleeting impression, but this was different. It feels like one moment they weren't here, and then the next they were, as if someone had pulled away a sheet that had been covering their souls. Staring out at the city, I realize that I only have one option. I have to go and track them down right now and I have to find out what they want. One thing's for certain, though. Vampires are never good news.
Mark Gregory
"I don't want to sign this," I say, staring at the simple A4 printed form. "I don't even -"
"She was a junkie," Duffield replies, sounding tired and stressed. "She probably fucked her body up every fucking day for a decade. It's no wonder she was a total mess. Did you see how many fucking needle marks there were on her body? She was injected into her fucking toes, for Christ's sake. That's how desperate she was getting!"
It's getting late, and just as I was about to head home for the night I was told that Clare Stamler, the girl who was brought in earlier to tell us about the kidnappers, has been released. The original plan was to keep her for a little longer, under the pretense of trying to get her some help, but some kind of clerical error was made and she was allowed to wander off into the night. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a huge problem, but we've subsequently discovered that Clare's mother is a lawyer who knows exactly which procedure should have been followed, and now she's threatening to bring a ton of lawsuits down onto the department.
"If you don't sign the form," Duffield whispers, "there might be questions."
"Maybe there should be questions," I reply.
"Awkward questions." He pauses, and it's clear that he's worried. "Look, we more or less followed the letter of the rulebook, but there are still areas where this bitch's could make trouble. Sign the fucking form and we can just make this all go away."
I want to argue with him, but it's late and I know there's nothing I can say that'll bring Clare Stamler back into custody. Signing the form, I hand it back to him, but I can't shake the feeling that I just made a deal with the Devil.
"Necessary evil," he mutters.
Without saying anything, I turn and walk away. Although I know that Duffield and I both break the rules from time to time, I hate the way he seems to almost enjoy this kind of thing. The guy revels in getting away with little bureaucratic side-steps, whereas I feel as if the entire system is slowly pushing down on me. By the time I get to the basement parking lot, I'm feeling nauseous at the thought of that girl being sent back out onto the streets. Sure, there's nothing in our job description that says we should have helped her, and I know for damn certain that no-one's going to bother looking into her case, but I feel as if I should have done something on a human level. I - we - can be better than this. That girl is somebody's daughter. She needs help.
As the lights flicker above me, I make my way toward my car. It's late, and most people have gone home for the night. I know I won't be able to sleep properly, but I also know that I have to at least try. After all, I'm no use to anyone if I'm an insomniac zombie tomorrow, and given recent developments, I figure I'm going to have to find some way to kick-start the investigation. After a few days of chasing dead-ends and whispered leads, I'm basically back at the start, and I'm all out of ideas. The only relief is that since the bodies were basically just a bunch of homeless junkies, and since the press hasn't picked up on the story, no-one's going to be breathing down my neck for immediate results. This is one of those cases that might end up being forgotten and ignored, just like Clare Stamler.
Hearing a sound nearby, I turn and glance back across the parking lot. The lights flicker above me again, and for a moment I feel as if there's a presence down here with me. Just as I'm about to turn and keep walking, the lights give out altogether, plunging the basement into darkness.
I stand completely still.
Over the years, I've been involved in enough cases to know that I've built up an enemy or two. You can never tell when some weedy little hood rat might get out of prison and decide to come and hunt down the cop who sent him away. I also know, however, that this whole building is falling apart, which means the lights could easily just give out without any prompting. In other words, it's about fifty-fifty whether I'm being stalked by a guy with a grudge, or let down by a crappy janitorial service. As I reach for my gun, just to be safe, I figure an attacker would probably have made a move by now and certainly wouldn't bother sabotaging the lights, unless they were being ultra-cautious and wanted to make sure they wouldn't be caught on surveillance cameras.
Grabbing my phone, I bring up the number for Janelle in the office upstairs.
"Power's gone in the basement," I tell her.
"I'll get someone on it," she replies, sounding bored.
"Can you hurry up?" I continue. "Without power, the barriers won't work. I was hoping to get home before sunrise." With that, I cut the call off.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can just about make out the nearby wall. The only sound comes from the distant hum of traffic as it passes above the far end of the basement, plus the faint rumble of the air conditioning system. I remain exactly where I am, figuring that I just need to wait a minute or two in case there's someone down here. Finally, realizing that I've probably been a little too jumpy, I turn toward my car.
And that's when I see them.
Three figures, barely visible in the darkness, standing just a few meters away. All I can really make out about them is that they seem to be tall and thin, and that they're definitely staring in my direction. They've seen me, and they must know that I've seen them, yet they don't seem to be reacting at all.
"This is a restricted area," I say, my heart racing as I realize that I could have a problem here. "You're not allowed down here without authorization."
Silence.
"If you -" I start to say, but suddenly the lights flicker back to life and I realize that the figures have disappeared, as if they're only visible when the light's low. Still, I know I saw them. Stepping over to the car, I keep my gun in one hand while I fumble for my keys. I know first-hand that stress can have some pretty strong effects, and I'm certainly not going to go running for help just yet. After all, with the lights on, there's clearly no-one nearby, so I figure I just need to get into the car and drive away. Moments later, however, the lights cut out again and I turn to see that the figures are back, and this time they're closer.
I stand in silence, staring at them.
Slowly, they start walking around the car, heading straight for me. They seem tall, and there's an eerie kind of calmness about them.
"Okay," I say, raising my gun, "I'm a -"
The lights come back on, and the figures disappear.
"This is a federal building," I continue, glancing around for any sign of them, "and -"
I wait.
Nothing.
"You need to leave," I mutter. "You really need to -"
Before I can finish, something crunches against me, sending me slamming back into the car. I try to steady myself, but a second impact pushes me against the wall and the gun falls from my hand. The lights flicker off, but this time one of the small illuminated fire exit signs over by the far wall stays on, allowing me to just about make out the three figures who are now visible in the low light. They're male, wearing dark robes, and they're standing right in front of me, staring at me with dark, shadowed eyes.
"This area is under surveillance," I say, reaching for my gun before one of the figures kicks it away. Realizing I need to get out of here, I turn and try to run, but I'm quickly hauled back and thrown onto the roof of the car. As I slide down the other side and slam into the concrete floor, I feel
a sharp pain in my side and realize that several of my ribs have snapped. I try to get up, but the figures have already walked around the car and are standing over me.
Getting up, I lean against the car and stare at the closest figure.
"My name is Detective Mark Gregory," I say firmly, trying not to show that I'm in pain. "If you -"
Stepping closer, the figure opens its mouth to reveal what appear to be a set of fangs.
"This is federal property," I continue, even though I'm aware that nothing I say seems to be having any effect. Turning, I try to open the car door, but it's too late. One of the figures grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me back, while another leans closer and bares its fangs, letting out a dull hissing sound as it leans toward my neck. At the last moment, I make a lunge for my gun, grabbing it just in time and turning to fire straight at my attackers.
Abby Hart
They're here. I can smell them. I can hear them. I can sense them. It's been so long since I was so close to another vampire. This is going to be messy.
To my surprise, I find that the trail leads all the way to the downtown precinct where I have my lab. Moving quickly through the shadows, I pause when I reach the street corner opposite the building. It can't be a coincidence that these creatures have turned up right where I work. I've long known that someone or something would come after me eventually, and I guess I've just been lucky that to date I've managed to avoid attracting attention. I've kept my head down, and I've tried to blend in with the world, but this was a strategy that was always doomed to fail. Right now, I'm picking up on the presence of three distinct entities, and they seem to be just a hundred meters away. Although there's a part of me that wants to run, I also know that if I start running now, I'll never be able to stop. I know what I have to do. I know what my father would have done.
Hurrying across the street, I use my access card to get into the main lobby. There are still a few people around, and no-one seems to be aware of a problem. The bored receptionist glances over at me but doesn't bat an eyelid as she continues a phone conversation with a recalcitrant janitor, while a couple of colleagues wander past in a last night insomniac haze. A phone rings in the distance, and the air conditioner hums above me, but there's no sign of any kind of disturbance. Still, I know that something's wrong. Standing completely still, I listen out for any sign of an attack.
"You alright?" asks a familiar voice, as one of my colleagues walks past.
I nod.
"You look a bit pale. I thought you were off duty tonight?"
"I am," I mutter, hurrying away. Why the hell do humans have to interfere in other people's business? Who was that person, anyway? I recognized his face, but only as one of the sea of people I see in the corridors every day. Suddenly I'm filled with horror at the thought that other people recognize me as a fellow worker.
I make my way to the stairwell, planning to go up and check the place floor-by-floor, until I realize that my awareness of a vampire presence isn't coming from above at all. Looking down, I realize that whatever they're doing here, they're in the basement. As far as I know, the basement contains nothing more than a few maintenance rooms and a parking lot, and the vampire stench doesn't seem to have passed through the main part of the building. It's almost as if they've got no interest in my lab, and are instead focused on something down below. That doesn't make sense, of course, since I must be the only interesting thing in the entire place, but I can't deny the truth.
As I head down into the basement, I realize that the trail is getting stronger and stronger. There are definitely vampires here, and I can feel my heart starting to beat faster and faster as I get to the bottom of the stairs. It's at times like this that I feel my father's influence becoming louder in my soul, pushing my mother's calming voice to one side. Patrick's approach to any kind of dangerous situation was to use violence, and although I've tried over the years to improve my level of self-control, I know that the rage is still a part of me. I've been lucky in the sense that I've rarely encountered vampires who pose any kind of threat, or who work together, but I know the day is coming when I'll have to fight again. Sure, I look human, but deep down I'm something far more dangerous.
Seconds later, I hear a gunshot ring out.
Racing through the nearest door, I emerge in the main part of the parking lot. The lights are flickering on and off, but in the distance I spot three figures standing by a car, and after a moment one of the figures leans down and hauls a human up from the floor. It takes a second or two for me to realize that the human figure is none other than Detective Gregory, and as a gun drops from his hand, I see that he's somehow managed to attract the attention of three vampires. As they sense my presence, however, the creatures slam Gregory back down and turn to face me. This is it. I'm finally on the brink of the violence I've been avoiding for so long. Why the hell couldn't I have stayed away from this kind of life?
It all happens in a blur. One of the creatures runs toward me and I have no time to think properly; I simply wait for him to get close and then I grab him, slamming him into the ceiling before bringing him cracking down against the concrete floor with such force that I damn near break his body in half. Filled with a mixture of panic and anger, channeling my father's rage, I turn and throw the creature toward the far wall; as he flies through the air, his body catches one of the under-hanging concrete roof struts, which rips his head clean off his shoulders. All I can do is watch as his corpse thuds lifelessly into the wall, and finally I realize that whatever type of vampires these are, they don't seem to be particularly strong.
I can do this. I'm scared, but I can do it.
The other two creatures come at me together. For a moment, the flickering light manages to distract me, but finally the first of the creatures tries to bite me. I duck out of the way and then grab his colleague by the head, twisting him round and holding him firmly before I tear the head away and toss it to the ground. Blood sprays across my face as the headless body drops to the ground, and I turn to see the final creature standing a few meters away, staring at me with a look of concern. He clearly knows that I'm not a normal human, but I'm not sure whether he's capable of picking up my scent. I wait for him to attack me, but finally I realize that this time I'm going to have to be the one who strikes first.
Without waiting a moment longer, I rush at him, quickly knocking him to the ground before landing on his chest and finally baring my fangs for a moment before biting down hard on the side of his neck. As my fangs rip into his old, leathery skin, I realize that I've already weakened him, and I'm quickly able to tear away enough of his flesh to subdue any last vestiges of struggle in his body. I keep going a little longer, just to be certain that he's dead, but eventually I sit back and spit out a mouthful of blood and muscle. My heart is racing faster than I've ever known before, and I feel a surge of energy rush through my body.
I'm strong.
No, I'm more than strong.
I'm the strongest.
And I need blood.
At the last moment, I realize that there's another figure coming up behind me. I thought there were only three creatures, but I guess there must have been a fourth, hanging back. Before he can surprise me, I turn and launch myself at him, slamming him against the concrete and then throwing him several meters across the parking lot until he slams into the nearby car. Realizing that I probably haven't done enough to kill him yet, I hurry over and haul his prone form from the floor, before ripping a hole in the side of his torso and then crunching him into the car's frame. As I stare at him, however, I feel the rush of blood and anger starting to subside, and finally I recognize that I've made a terrible mistake.
Consumed by the desire to kill my enemies, I didn't notice that the fourth figure wasn't a vampire at all. Bloodied and bleeding on the ground in front of me, Detective Mark Gregory is clearly on the verge of death. He must have thought I was here to save him, and then in my madness I attacked him after I'd finished with the vampires. Feeling the blood rush starti
ng to abate, I kneel next to him and tilt his head toward me, but when I check for a pulse, I realize that there's nothing but the very faintest sign of life.
I think I've killed again.
Mark Gregory
When I open my eyes, everything's dark and quiet.
Slowly, and with an aching and battered body, I sit up. I feel as if I've been through some kind of massive trauma, and after a moment I remember the incident in the parking lot. I was attacked by three figures, and although I tried to shoot them, I...
Pausing, I realize that my memory hasn't quite caught up with the rest of my body. Hauling myself to my feet, I realize that I'm in a dark apartment, and the only faint light is coming from a large window that overlooks the city. It's still night, and as I step cautiously over to the window, I realize that my injuries are worse than I'd feared. Reaching down to touch the side of my chest, I feel a sharp, stabbing pain. I must have a few broken ribs, and there's a throbbing sensation in my head. As I reach the window, I feel a wave of nausea pass through my body, but finally I manage to keep from throwing up.
After checking my pockets and finding that there's no sign of my cellphone, I make my way carefully through the darkened room until eventually I reach a door that leads into a narrow corridor. I'm clearly in someone's apartment, although I'm struggling to connect the dots between the attack in the parking lot and my sudden arrival in this unfamiliar place. The only possible explanation is that I must have been kidnapped, in which case it seems a little strange that I'm not tied up. Nothing about this situation makes sense. Walking over to a nearby door, I find that it's locked. I turn and -
"Hey," says Abby Hart, standing in the shadows.
Stepping back, I find myself staring in shock until she finally flicks a switch and the lights come on.
"Sorry," she continues, staring at me with a kind of dark intensity. "Did I freak you out?"
