by M. D. Massey
I seriously doubted that the local Austin coven had 20,000 willing volunteers lined up to feed their number. It made more sense to procure human cattle who would not be missed, draining them and storing the blood in sufficient amounts to feed the vampire population over time. Renewability was an innate feature of the human species, after all, as we’d doubled our numbers over the last fifty years. Among a steadily growing world population of 8 billion—despite 60 million deaths a year—a few million extra deaths would hardly be noticed.
Indeed, they were not.
Approximately 85,000 missing persons cases went unsolved in the United States each year, representing roughly a million units of blood to potentially be harvested by the covens in each major city. I estimated that perhaps half of that actually went to the covens. The data indicated that a sizable fraction of the remaining unsolved missing persons cases could be attributed to lone and rogue vampires. At least one-third of those cases involved missing children.
Of course, those numbers did not include murder cases in which exsanguination was determined as the cause of death. Such cases were almost always covered up, often by local government officials who received regular bribes from their local coven. Most of the remaining cases were swept under the rug by a government that feared what the general populace would do on discovering they weren’t at the top of the food chain—and never had been.
Needless to say, I felt no remorse for what I was about to do to the courier. And while I had no interest in destroying the Vampire Nations—I had my own battles to fight, after all—their lives held little value in my regard. As far as I was concerned, they were nuisance predators who needed to be culled, and nothing more.
I stood in the center of my meditation circle as I considered these things, taking the time to work through some stretches and joint mobility exercises. Once done I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to clear my head. It was time to deal with Monty.
“Oh, man,” he said by way of greeting as I walked into my laboratory. “That opium you gave me was awesome. Gettin’ kind of hungry, though. Got anything to snack on?”
“If you’re asking whether I keep the odd human vagrant in my dungeon, on the remote possibility that I might need to entertain guests of the bloodkin variety, the answer is no.”
He frowned, twitching his rat-like nose as he did so. “Bummer. Meh, I just ate before you captured me, so I can wait a few more hours. This won’t take long, will it?”
“No, not long at all,” I said as I calmly laid out an array of surgical instruments on a nearby instrument stand.
He had, in fact, recently eaten. After Templeton had urged me to hunt the vamp down, our chase began when I caught him in flagrante delicto, so to speak, lapping at the savaged neck of a homeless man in a dark corner of a parking garage. I wished I’d felt some small pang of regret that I hadn’t arrived sooner, but empathy was an emotion I rarely experienced. Still, I knew that killing was wrong, and an eye for an eye just punishment. It would have to do.
Monty finally noticed what I was doing, despite the lingering opium haze he must have felt. “Hey, dude, that’s some serious hardware you’ve got there.”
“Yes, it is,” I muttered as I tested the teeth on my amputation saw with my thumb.
It was necessary that I remove spell components while the vampire remained animated. He wouldn’t bleed to death, no matter how I treated him, but I liked to do neat work whenever possible. Sharp tools were essential for such tasks.
“Wait a minute,” he gasped as the lightbulb finally went off in his mostly empty skull. “I thought you said you would only take a little off the top. Hair and nails and stuff.”
“Oh, no—you said that. I merely agreed with your assumption, as I will in fact be taking hair and nail samples. However, my current project requires quite a bit more raw materials than your keratinous tissues can provide. Now, be a good… thing, and do be quiet while I work.”
He blinked away a pink bead of sweat before arching an eyebrow at me. “You expect me to be quiet while you cut on me?”
I shrugged. “No, not really. But I find that asking sometimes calms a subject down enough to make gagging them easier.”
“Holy shit, you’re a fucking monster,” he said softly as his face somehow managed to blanch to an even paler tone. Then he began to fight against his bonds, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Somebody get me out of here! Help!”
I sighed softly, rubbing my temples. Then I reached for a ball gag.
“No, wait,” the vampire protested in a somewhat calmer voice. “I can be useful to you. Just don’t kill me, alright?”
“That’s what they all say when they near the end,” I replied with a sardonic roll of my eyes. “‘Wait, I’ll make you rich.’ Or, ‘if you don’t kill me, I’ll help you find a much better specimen than me.’ I’ve heard it all before, so don’t bother.”
As I leaned forward with the ball gag in hand, his eyes went wide. “I know who your parents are!” he blurted out.
I paused. “My parents are dead.”
“M-maybe not,” he stammered. “Look, I was there when they took you. I know your old address and everything.”
“You were there when the fae took me?” I asked, my voice straining with the tedium of listening to the vampire’s nonsensical pleas. “I doubt it.”
“No, it’s true,” he replied enthusiastically. “The flippin’ fae have been hiring the vamps to supply them with human children for centuries.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You lie.”
“I’m not, dude, I swear. I’d cross my heart even, if I wasn’t strapped down. And a vampire.”
“Crosses mean nothing to your kind,” I hissed through my teeth.
“Yeah, but appearances, and all.” He paused, and I could see the effort it took his pea-sized brain to resist going off on a tangent. “Anyway, you’re getting off track. I can help you find your family—your real, human family.”
“I thought you said you knew where they were,” I quipped as my mouth twisted in a sullen scowl. “My patience wears thin, leech.”
“No, man, for real. I have a photogenic memory—that’s why they made me a courier.” He tilted his head. “Let’s me keep everything up here. No evidence if I’m caught.”
“You mean ‘photographic.’ And having perfect recall doesn’t mean much if an enemy can torture the information right out of you.”
He frowned. “True. But I’ve never been caught before now. No one’s ever been able.”
“Oh, hooray for me,” I said, spinning the ball gag in lazy circles on my index finger as I considered what he’d said. What if he told the truth? “Fine, prove it.”
“H-how?”
“Give me the information, and I’ll find these people and determine for myself whether you’re telling the truth.”
“Uh-uh, nope. I may be dumb, but I ain’t stupid. This info is all I have to bargain with, and you’re not getting it until I’m free.” He squinted as if he were doing long division in his head, a feat I doubted he could perform. “And in one piece.”
“How then shall I verify this information, hmm? Tell me then, sage.”
The vampire squinted harder, then his face relaxed, his expression morphing into a smug grin. “Ask Luther. He knows the truth.”
5
Luther and I were not on the best terms, although I’d been known to pull the odd job for him on occasion. We did have a mutual acquaintance in the druid justiciar. For that reason alone, the coven leader would see me should I request an audience. Besides, he wasn’t difficult to find, as he rarely left his café.
As it turned out, Luther was not at his café. I arrived shortly after dark, which would be considered proper etiquette in dealing with most vampires. When I told the scruffy, youthful-looking vampire at the counter that I wished to speak to his boss, he shrugged.
“He’s not here. Are you ordering, or not?”
“Unless you can make a proper tea, no,” I replied. “Where is
he?”
“Dunno,” he said, popping his gum as he glanced at the line of mundanes behind me. “You can wait if you want, but you have to order something.”
“As a matter of principle, I refuse to engage in such plebeian activities as ‘waiting.’” I let a bit of shadow magic slip, until my eyes were two pools of black nothingness. “Again, where is Luther?”
The vampire yawned. Not to be deterred, I drummed my fingers on the counter. Finally, he handed me an address on a piece of scrap.
“Your funeral,” he remarked as I headed for the door. “Next, please.”
The address led me to a run-down warehouse on the East side, in an area that appeared to be transitioning from blighted to bourgeois. Seemingly abandoned buildings stood next to recently renovated storefronts and converted loft tenements. A few lots had been cleared to make way for new construction, likely multi-story condominiums of the type that had been popping up all over the downtown area.
I had little interest in real estate, but I knew an opportunity when I saw one. In the short time I’d spent living in human society, I’d observed how wealth greased the gears that made the modern world spin. Acquiring money was never an issue, as I took what I needed from those who ran afoul of me. However, the government had an annoying way of noticing when large amounts of money were spent by those of seemingly humble means.
Thus, I owned several shell corporations through various cover identities, which served to hide my assets from prying eyes. I paid the law offices of Borovitz and Feldstein handsomely for making everything appear legal, and it was worth every penny. It would be wise to have them invest in property nearby, and I made a mental note to do exactly that as soon as time permitted.
The warehouse itself appeared to be undergoing a renovation, as there were work trucks and a large haul-off dumpster parked adjacent to the front entrance. Workers entered and exited the place at intervals, and the shrill sounds of electric saws and power drills pierced the relative quiet. If this was one of Luther’s investments, he must have been paying the city code enforcement agents a goodly sum to ignore the noise pollution violations.
I exited my car, locking the doors and triggering a minor lookaway spell on the way. The spell would keep mundanes away from the vehicle. Not that I cared much about losing it; I simply didn’t want to suffer the indignity of hailing a cab or hiring a rideshare. As I approached the door, one of the workers eyed me as he measured a length of steel frame for trim.
He paused in his work, fixing me with what was intended to be an intimidating stare. “Private job site, buddy. Take a hike.”
I ignored him, walking past toward the front door.
There was a rush of wind, and I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Didn’t you hear? I said no trespassing.”
I stopped midstride, turning my head slowly to take in the worker’s hand and hard, cool expression. “I suggest you remove your hand, else you’ll be regenerating it shortly.”
Vampires are inhumanly fast and strong, which is why a competent wizard always prepared for such meetings beforehand. I’d prepped a few spells on the drive over, setting them to trigger with only a single gesture. Voice-activated spells were much too slow to use on creatures such as bloodkin, which was why I preferred shadow magic over conventional spell work. However, with proper forethought, conventional spells would do in a pinch.
The vampire’s eyes tightened, a clear tell if ever there was one. With a flick of my fingers, I unleashed my magic, freezing him in place. I’d used a simple neural override spell, one that targeted human anatomy. Vampire anatomy was close enough, as only certain organs and tissues were altered by the vyrus, leaving the basic structure of their nervous system mostly unchanged.
Removing the vampire’s hand from my person with a light, two-fingered grip, I continued toward the door, just as three more vampires blurred into view.
“Gentlemen,” I said with a nod. “If you could direct me to your leader?”
This little outing was turning out to be a rather droll affair. I would’ve preferred to avoid a direct confrontation with members of Luther’s coven, and I’d have done so had the first thug not accosted me. Thankfully, I was saved the trouble of dealing with these newcomers when a baritone voice with the barest effeminate lisp echoed from within the edifice.
“Leave him. He’s here to see me.”
“Luther,” I said with a nod as I brushed past his contract crew.
The coven leader was standing in the shadows, just inside the entrance. “This had better be worth my time, Crowley,” he said in a tight voice. “I don’t have the patience for your bullshit tonight.”
“Rest assured, you’ll want to hear me out. However, we should speak in private.”
He spun on his heel, heading further into the building as he deftly dodged hanging electrical conduit, protruding metal framework, and the odd bits of fiberglass insulation and drywall scattered on the floor. I followed him without a word, noting the fact that he somehow managed to avoid getting drywall dust on his charcoal Canali slacks and black Dolce & Gabbana dress shirt.
I also noticed the necromantic circle that was hidden somewhere in the building to our right, as we headed toward the back of the building. Although I couldn’t see it, the dark magic called to me, causing my shade to stir within. Something foul had been done in this building once, and I hoped that Luther had the sense to have it magically cleansed before he put it to use.
Moments later, Luther stopped in front of a keypad on the only intact wall in the building. I noted that the wall was concrete, and rather solid-looking, matching the metal door the keypad unlocked. We stepped through into a large room where a metal trapdoor lay, of the type used in industrial buildings to cover stairwells so workers didn’t accidentally fall in. In my opinion, if someone was dull enough to walk into an open hole in the floor, they deserved whatever injury they suffered. But, attorneys, after all.
“Shut the door,” he said. “We’ll have all the privacy we need here. It’s soundproofed.”
I shut the door, noting the click of the magnetic lock. Luther was a dangerous enemy to have, and I doubted I could stop him if he attacked in such close quarters. Yet I had deadly spells etched in shadow magic just under the surface of my skin, ready to trigger at the smallest scratch. The coven leader was old enough and smart enough to understand the concept of mutually assured destruction, and I didn’t need to voice a warning to make him aware of it.
I glanced around the room, observing the placement of electrical outlets, plumbing, and other renovations. “Rather strange to soundproof a kitchen, don’t you think?”
He crossed his arms and frowned, crinkling the dark, smooth skin at the corners of his mouth. “It’ll come in handy once the place opens. Kitchen noises destroy the ambiance of a five-star meal, you see. Now speak—I have work to do.”
“I’ll get right to the point, then. Do you know anything about the fae hiring the Vampire Nations to abduct human children to be used as slaves in Underhill?”
His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. “Not in my territory, no. And I don’t keep up with what the other coven leaders allow in their own enclaves.”
I did my best to hide my surprise. I’d expected an outright denial of the activity, not a statement of willful ignorance. “But such an arrangement does exist.”
He gave a slight, noncommittal tilt of his head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss Council business. However, if it had been done—on scale, that is—then the Council would have to approve the contract.”
“Even if it were the work of one lone coven?” I asked, keeping my voice calm and neutral, despite my roiling gut.
“Nothing happens among the Nations that escapes the notice of the Vampyri Council.” He gave me a hard stare. “Crowley, I know something of your history with the fae. If you were investigating such a thing in my territory, you’d tell me.”
It was a question, worded as an imperative. “But of course.”
“Right.” He sighe
d, mimicking a human affectation for my benefit. “Just don’t start a war with the Nations in my backyard. I have a hard enough time keeping the Council off my back as it is, now more than ever.”
“You mean after you killed Cornelius and the New Orleans coven leader.”
“With your help. And that’s the only reason I’ll keep this conversation between you and me. Just make sure your shit doesn’t splash on my shoes.”
“Noted,” I said with a jovial smile I did not feel.
“Don’t make me regret this, wizard.”
“Never fear, I’m not the druid. I know how to tidy my own messes.”
He glowered at me. “Make sure you do exactly that. Now, get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
Disturbed would be the only way I might describe my emotional state as I left the job site. I wasn’t one to engage in much despondency or sentiment, partly because my upbringing had extirpated such emotions from my psyche, but also because I saw no benefit in it. Yet I felt something as I drove away, processing the revelation that the courier might very well be telling the truth.
I mulled my perturbation over for the better part of an hour as I drove aimlessly around Austin. Driving put me in a sort of meditative, free-flowing state, of the kind I rarely experienced otherwise—that was why I tended to drive expensive and rare sports cars, like my Jaguar. Eventually, the roar of the engine and the rush of the wind did its work, and I had an epiphany.
I knew exactly what I was experiencing.
Rage.
Deciding I was quite unprepared to unpack all the reasons why I felt like going on a blind killing spree, I instead headed back to Luther’s café. Not to look for Luther, but simply to imbibe something sugary sweet and decidedly unhealthy. I’d never done so before, but then again, I hadn’t experienced this kind of emotional response since my childhood. Belladonna always said that chocolate and caffeine made her feel better, and I concluded that it was worth a try.
