Love In Death

by Elizabeth Stokes

  And a rose. He always left roses for her. Red ones. Blood red, with small teeth marks on them just below the bud.

  It was his attempt at humor – red for blood as well as for love. Allison chose to believe he was being more romantic than he probably was.

  Now, Allison had adjusted her sleeping schedule to go to bed close to dawn and wake up just as the sun was setting. As the days started to grow longer, she found her “nights” book-ended by sunlight, which still resulted in Xander being gone when she awoke. But anticipating him for the hour or so it took the sun to set in the springtime was much more appealing than having to make it through the whole day only to be ready to fall asleep when he did appear at her bedroom window again.

  However, this day she had to wake up when most of the rest of humanity did. The burden of a job forced her to do so. As a detective, she was at the whim of her case load, and there was a certain flexibility to work on leads in the evening hours. Plus, with her newly discovered lifestyle, she sought out the cases that took her to the darker corners of the city, and those happened to be most active at night.

  Many of her colleagues tried to avoid these cases, not just because of the hours involved but because they revealed the darker side of humanity and wore on their souls. But now, Allison lived in the darker side of humanity. As long as Xander was there with her, she knew she could handle it.

  But today was different. She had her monthly briefing, and while her boss was understanding of her situation (which he only knew as her continually recovering from the death of Xander Reese more than a year ago), he still required her to offer up the appearance she was a normal police detective. Allison knew this excuse would not last much longer. However, she also knew if she was able to be productive and solve some cases in the process – especially cold ones – she could stave off him reassigning her... or worse. Allison worried he would assign her a new partner, which would be a disaster. As it was, Xander and Allison still made a good team.

  So today, Allison had to wake up with the sunlight just starting to cut through her windows rather than leaving its last gasps on her bed.

  After hitting the snooze alarm two more times than she really should have, Allison dragged herself out of bed and went into the bathroom. In the middle of her waking rituals, she paused to look at the nape of her neck. Two small red dots were healing, still fresh from the night before. A small bruise had started to form around them, and she could see the impression of Xander’s lips around the new-found spot of eroticism between them.

  Allison gently touched the bruise and smiled.

  “You’ll have to be a little more gentle,” she said softly, opening her make-up kit and pulling out the foundation.

  † † †

  Allison stared at the stack of police files on her desk. The sun cut through the room from the large range of open windows, causing her to squint and her eyes to water. It’s not that the sunlight was any stronger than before she had been reunited with Xander three months ago. If anything, it had dimmed a little bit with the dreary mid-winter clouds looming over the Cleveland skyline.

  Allison had just gotten used to the dark. Living with a vampire would do that to you.

  She finally leaned forward and grabbed the pile of folders. She took a deep breath and spread them out over her desk, knocking over her mug filled with pens and sliding her desk calendar onto the floor. She took no notice of this. It was a mess she could clean up later, or not at all.

  The people in the folders before her did not have that luxury. Their mess had been physically cleaned up, but they still held a mystery.

  Allison opened the first folder and was greeted by a scowling, tattooed woman in her 20s. Like the rest of the victims in this stack, she was a bit of a loner with no local familial attachments. The woman’s name was Jennifer, but she went by several aliases ranging from street names like “Ice” to whatever she decided to tell her johns in a long string of prostitution busts.

  Jennifer had been found dead almost a month ago, her body broken and discarded next to a dumpster. There had been a lot of blood, but not as much as the medical examiner expected. In fact, the official statement suggested Jennifer had been killed somewhere else and her body dumped there. However, flipping through the file to the crime scene photos revealed something different to Allison.

  In death, Jennifer had been torn apart. Multiple wounds were found all over her body, but a result of what appeared to be claws rather than a blade of some sort. Her throat had been torn open, exposing her vital jugular vein and carotid artery. Even though she had been bathed in tacky crimson when she was found, there had not been much blood on the ground near her. No signs of struggle around the body suggested that she had been moved, hence the statement that Jennifer had been killed elsewhere.

  But Allison suspected something else. The allusion to an animal attack was truer than anyone in the station would believe. Though not an animal. Something else.

  Allison flipped through the rest of the files and examined the crime scene photos. All the victims were the kind of loners who would not be immediately missed. They’d have no family pounding the pavement or hiring private investigators to search for their killers. They were ghosts long before they were ever dead.

  The deaths all seemed to be at the hand of an animal, but everyone at the station dismissed this. There were no such creatures roaming the streets of the city. No exotic animals had been reported missing, and northeast Ohio did not have mountain lions or bears wandering around. Moreover, these attacks were happening all over the city with no discernable geographic pattern, implying they were unrelated.

  No one wanted to suggest there was a serial killer in the city again. Before The Sieve came on the scene a couple years back, there hadn’t been one since the Torso Murders in the 1930s. Sure, the media would have devoured a story like this, as they did with The Sieve, but no one at the station wanted this burden. The Sieve had been enough for the authorities. They did not want to go through that again so soon.

  However, these deaths were connected. Allison was sure of it.

  She examined the photos, making sure they all fit a general pattern of attack. Allison pulled three files from the line-up because they implied a different type of kill with dismemberment and large teeth marks on the legs and abdomen. Those would be for another day.

  She lined up the files in chronological order, each happening within a week of one another. Then she pulled the crime scene photos out and put them on top of the folders. Then Allison stood up and heard herself audibly gasp.

  Laid out like this, Allison saw the pattern immediately. The kills were evolving.

  The earliest victims showed the most brutality, the most frenzy. They were the most wild, with the kill wound the biggest and sloppiest. With each successive kill, the attack became slightly more sophisticated. This was what the others were missing. The kills were different, but they were related. They were evolving.

  By the time she reached Jennifer’s murder, the body was relatively clean. The kill wound still showed a disturbing level of gore, but they were the most refined. She was also found in the cleanest location, the best place to leave a dead body where no one would find it right away.

  And then they stopped. After two months of murders that appeared more and more sophisticated as time went on, the kills like this stopped. Things had been relatively quiet for the past few weeks now. Some at the station suggested if this were a wild animal that had wandered into the city, that it had been killed or moved on. Other suggested the would-be serial killer had lost interest or traveled to a different city.

  Allison knew there was something more happening, which is why she grabbed a new stack of files and set them on her desk.

  This stack was smaller, and it was not murder victims. Instead, it was a stack of missing persons reports, which are much harder to investigate. This is why they languished in the police files. No new leads meant nothing more that could be investigated. However, Allison picked these files beca
use they fit the general profile of the murder victims on her desk below them.

  Again, with almost a weekly regularity, someone with no history and no local family connections went missing. She had four files for this stretch, and she knew they were connected somehow.

  Allison was startled when her cell phone on her desk suddenly buzzed and vibrated. She grabbed it and looked at the screen, which said, “Georgia: I’m here.”

  Allison hit the “Reply” button and texted back: “I’ll be right down.”

  She gathered up her files and stacked them in a neat pile. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, she then slid the files into a large tote bag. Then she slung the bag over her shoulder and walked out of the office.

  † † †

  Allison stepped onto the pavement. The Cleveland winter breeze stung her cheeks. She hadn’t grabbed her coat, and standing under the shadow of the police building, the cold air seemed to cut right through sweater. She looked around, but she did not see Georgia.

  Allison pulled her phone out and sent a text: “I’m outside the precinct. Where are you?”

  A moment later, her phone buzzed: “Georgia: Across the street. In the Book Nook.”

  Allison sighed and looked across the busy street. Nestled into the downtown skyscrapers was one of the few remaining local businesses. The Book Nook was a tiny used book store and coffee house that still managed to keep its doors open. Allison nodded and headed across the street.

  She stepped inside the Book Nook and was greeted by the warm atmosphere of brewing coffee and old paperbacks. Allison couldn’t help but smile at these smells that reminded her of an easier time when she had the leisure of snuggling up with a good novel. Sadly, in recent years, the tragic loss of Xander, then his sudden reappearance made her focus on darker, more stressful things.

  At first, Allison didn’t see Georgia, whom she expected would be waiting in the coffee shop area. But after a quick glance around, she figured she would have to look in the stacks. Sure enough, she saw Georgia cowering near the back of an aisle, ironically near the subject “Paranormal Romance.”

  That’s a little paranoid, even for you, Georgia, Allison thought as she walked down the aisle.

  George was a petite, pretty blond woman in her early 30s. Normally aggressive with a feistiness that seemed to balance out her diminutive statue, Georgia looked scared... or at least worried. Allison felt a little concerned for her, especially when she saw a small tuft of gauze poking from under the left sleeve of her jacket. She was about to ask her what was wrong when George spoke first.

  “What have you got for me, Pratt?” Georgia asked.

  Allison paused for a moment before answering. She gave Georgia a concerned look, the kind that girlfriends can give each other and know if it’s a serious problem. Georgia broke eye contact and shook her head.

  “It’s been a long week. Dealing with some things,” she said.

  Allison nodded and touched Georgia on the shoulder, as if to say that she was here to help her out if she needed it, but she knew her well enough to drop any questioning for now.

  “I understand,” Allison said, then walked a little deeper into the aisle. Paranoid or not, she was happy Georgia chose this location to meet. Even though it wasn’t uncommon for cops to walk across the street and patronize the business, Allison wanted some privacy. After all, it wasn’t exactly legal for her to share confidential police files with someone outside of the precinct.

  Allison set her tote bag on a small leather easy chair in the corner, then pulled out the stack of files.

  “I need you to work a bit of your magic on these,” Allison said.

  “Can I hold onto them for a day or two?” Georgia asked, though she probably already knew the answer.

  Allison laughed softly. “I don’t think so. I could maybe give you one or two, but if this whole stack went missing, I’d be in deep trouble.”

  Georgia pulled out her phone and grabbed several files. She opened the first one and snapped a photo of the victim’s information sheet. Then she paused, looking closer at the victim’s picture. She flipped it slowly to the death photo and cringed. Georgia went suddenly pale.

  Allison looked down and shook her head. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I should have warned you. These can be pretty graphic.” Then Allison took the file from Georgia and put it back in the tote bag. “This one isn’t part of the group, though. It’s another attack from a different person, I think.”

  Georgia nodded and looked down at the photo she took. “Gotcha. I’ll pass on that one.”

  Allison then grabbed the relevant files, both the murder victims and the missing persons, and handed them to Georgia. As Georgia snapped photos with her camera phone, Allison explained what she needed: “There are no immediate connections, but all their data is there including everyone’s Social Security number. Can you cross reference cell phone records, credit cards, and whatever else you can to see if they have a common pattern. Places they visited, people they hung out with. You know the drill.”

  “Doesn’t the station have resources for this?” Georgia asked, snapping more pictures.

  “Sure they do, but not for this search. These are not high priority murders and disappearances. The official word is it’s not in the budget.”

  Georgia nodded. She finished taking pictures and handed the files back to Allison.

  “I’ll see what I can find,” she said.

  CHAPTER 9

  Allison’s briefing did not take very long. She made it back to her place in the middle of the afternoon, the stack of police files in tow. Initially, Allison planned on spreading them all out on her kitchen table and pinning the different elements on the wall to produce a massive murder board that would be the envy of any police detective on a television series.

  Unfortunately, with her sleep schedule disrupted, things did not go as planned.

  Even though Allison brewed a fresh cup of coffee and set the files on the kitchen table, she decided to sit down and eat a Luna bar before getting started. She hadn’t had much to eat all day, aside from more coffee at the precinct in a desperate attempt to not fall asleep in the presence of her sergeant.

  And that was the end of it. Even with the lights on and the shades wide open, letting the blinding sunlight from the autumn day into the corner apartment, Allison dozed off almost immediately in her easy chair, a half-eaten Luna bar on a plate next to her.

  With her days and nights reversed, this was the middle of her normal sleep cycle, and she fell deeply into sleep, which lasted hours. Of course, aside from the eventual crick in her neck that she felt upon waking, she would never have even noticed the passage of time.

  Except for the fact that when she finally rose out of unconsciousness, she noticed the apartment had grown significantly darker.

  A soft, cool breeze came in from the window... a window she was sure was not open when she had dozed off.

  However, Allison was not afraid. Even without opening her eyes, she knew he was here. She could smell his scent carried by the breeze from the window.

  “Xander...” she said softly, opening her eyes and letting them slowly adjust.

  Before she could even focus, Allison felt Xander’s cool touch on her cheek. His thin, icy fingers stroked downward from her temple to her neck, pausing gently to feel her pulse.

  “I didn’t want to wake you,” Xander said softly.

  Allison looked up at him. His hair, which was forever a bit longer than she usually liked, fluttered softly in the breeze. He stood in shadow, but she could see the bright glint of his eyes reflecting the lights in the room, shimmering slightly red.

  Allison stretched, and Xander started to pull his hand away. She grabbed it and held him close. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she said, “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?” he asked, kneeling next to her and putting his other hand on her knee.

  “Look so good? I mean, all the time. It’s uncanny.”

  Xander grinne
d, and she saw his incisor teeth grow ever so slightly into points, a sign of excitation.

  “Side effect,” he said. “That, and that little bit of danger that comes with my... condition.”

  Allison grinned back. “Like riding a motorcycle. Chicks dig the bad boy.” She paused for a moment, then reached up and touched his face. His cheek was cool, like his hands were. They were the temperature of the cool outside air. Another side effect. “But you’re a little more dangerous than a motorcycle, aren’t you?

  Xander leaned forward and cupped her cheek. “Never to you, my love,” he said and kissed her deeply.

  Allison kissed him back hard and eagerly. She tore at his shirt, popping the buttons off and exposing his muscular chest. She was just now realizing how hungry she was for his touch. The sleep had masked her desire, but now that he was here with her, she felt the warmth down below her waist, aching for him.

  She was the one to break the kiss first, needing to breathe, a side effect of her normal condition. But the break was swift and she nuzzled into his neck. Allison wrapped her legs around his torso, and Xander stood, almost effortlessly lifting her from the chair and heading towards the bedroom.

  Even with all his raw power, Xander was gentle with her, far more gentle than she was with him. He laid her on her back and took the moment to quickly but smoothly remove his shirt and jeans. As Allison shimmied out of her own jeans, Xander climbed on top of her and unbuttoned her shirt, leaving it open. Allison leaned back, presenting herself on the bed beneath them.

  Exposed and naked, their bodies intertwined, but he did not enter her right away even though she was warm and ready. Instead, he kissed her on the cheek, then the neck, then down the sloping curve of her breastbone. Soon, Xander settled on her left breast, his tongue darting around her nipple which stood erect in his mouth.