(no subject)
Title: Guilty Pleasures, The SGA Remix 2/?
Author:
alena_malfoy
Rating: R
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: My name is John Sheppard, and I kill vampires for a living.
Wordcount: 10000
Spoilers: General spoilers up to season 4 for SGA, GP for Anita Blake.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and the Anita Blake series belong to MGM and Laurel K Hamilton. I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing.
Warnings: AU,WIP.
Author's Notes: This is based on LKH's Guilty Pleasures, but it has its own plot, I'm only borrowing the most basic facts, and is inspired by scribblinlenore 's "There's A New Kid in Town". Huge thanks to my beta,
jya_bd_cp_ttgb , without whom this wouldn't be what it is.
Part One
Guilty Pleasures was just as packed as ever. I could hear the blazing music and the screaming women even from where I was standing, glaring at the holy item check girl.
"Look, for the last time, I'm not giving you my cross, I don't even want to go in, so could you just, you know, get someone to come out here or something?"
Too bad it wasn't the same one as yesterday. I'd liked that one. Well, not really. I actually liked women with backbone, and to be fair, which I really wasn't inclined to be at the moment, that damn girl had some cojones I couldn't help but admire.
The new holy item check girl stared at me impassively. "And as I've already told you, I can't leave my post unattended," she replied, unperturbed despite my best attempt at intimidation. Which was pretty freaking good, damn it.
I scowled at her, getting even more annoyed when the only thing that seemed to garner was a raised eyebrow and stubbornly crossed arms, when a voice came from behind her. "It's alright, Laura, I'll take care of things here."
We both turned to look at the newcomer, a vampire with shoulder blonde hair and a navy business suit. Simpson, Rodney had called her. She was looking at me with an eyebrow raised, obviously not pleased. I wasn't exactly pleased either, so I guess that made us even.
"Is McKay here?" I asked impatiently, but Simpson simply frowned thoughtfully.
"He said you'd come, but I didn't believe him," she finally said, her nose wrinkling up slightly.
I scowled, silently seething. "Who - No, let me guess. McKay." That arrogant little-
And here I was feeling actual, well, not compassion exactly, but vague sympathy I guess, for the guy.
"He also said you'd make that face," she said, lips curving in a reluctant smile. I ground my teeth, then forced myself to relax, smoothing my face to polite blankness. Simpson nodded at Laura, and inclined her head towards the door. She didn't ask me to relinquish my cross, so I counted it as a win and followed her inside.
We crossed directly to McKay's office, which to my surprise had been returned to its original state, down to the smallest details. No one would possibly guess a vampire had gone on a rampage there, which I guess was the point.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, I wasn't really sure which at the moment, McKay was nowhere to be seen. I let out a silent sigh of relief. It was only as the knots in my stomach slowly loosened that I realized they'd been there in the first place.
"I'm afraid Dr. McKay is unavailable at the moment," Simpson said. I raised an eyebrow. Unavailable, my ass. Also, Doctor? Of what, bloodsucking? "He left this for you," she continued, bringing back my attention to her.
She took something out of the desk drawer, and held it out for me. When I made no movement to get it from her, she sighed and put the piece of paper down on the surface of the desk, backing away slightly. Reluctantly, I moved the few steps necessary to be able to look at it. It was a check.
"Isn't that a little presumptions?" I asked Simpson, barely able to keep my annoyance in check.
"You came back, didn't you?" she shot back. I made a face. Score one for the vampire lady. "Mr. Sheppard, I'm sure you are a very busy person, and I'm afraid I must go back to my duties soon, so why don't we get down to business?" I guess that was vampire code for Don't Waste My Time, Human.
"Fine. I'm going to need everything you have on the vampires murdered, as well as a list of people who might want to hurt McKay." All the victims had worked in one way or another for McKay. It didn't take a genius to see the connection.
She silently passed me a bunch of folders from the desk. Inside were what appeared to be files about the victims, whom I vaguely recognized from the photos. "Why would you need the other item?" She asked.
"You seem to be a smart lady, I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you." I snapped. That was human code for Don't Take Me For An Idiot. I realized that vampires were pretty secretive about that kind of stuff, but really, they were the ones hiring me to look into this, not the other way around.
Simpson seemed to realize that too, because she nodded. "I will have that ready for you by tomorrow night," she said. Goody, another visit to Guilty Pleasures. "I will leave it with Laura at the entrance," she added, upon seeing the lack-of-joy I was sure was apparent on my face. I nodded in thanks.
I had no qualms about taking the check. It was quite a sum of money, but McKay wouldn't miss it, and it's not like I didn't deserve it. As I drove away from Guilty Pleasures though, I had the sinking feeling that I was going to more than earn that money.
I decided to postpone my visit to the Laughing Corpse until later. The files probably contained all the intel I'd be able to get there anyway. Nobody would ever accuse McKay of sloppiness, after all.
For once, I was home early, and was able to prepare a dinner that didn't consist of a PB&J sandwich. Not that there was anything wrong with PB&J. Food of the gods, or busy animators as it is.
I settled with a turkey sandwich on the living room sofa, fanning out the files on the table in front of me. I picked up the earliest victim's folder. His name was Brendan Gall, and he'd been a stripper at Guilty Pleasures, practically since its opening. I skimmed the rest of the file. It was nothing the police hadn't been able to glean on its own and besides working at a vampire strip club, there was really nothing special about him. The second victim, Annabelle Dumais, didn't provide much new info either.
The third file, Miko Kusanagi's, was somewhat more interesting. I took a big bite of my sandwich as I read it. Kusanagi had been hired as a manager's assistant at Guilty Pleasures; to take care of the administrative work that McKay couldn’t be bothered to do probably. But that wasn't what I found interesting.
Despite her mousy complexion and the big glasses that gave her a slightly nerdish look on the photo, Kusanagi had been a Master vampire, contrarily to the two previous victims. I frowned, a suspicious feeling nagging at me, and quickly checked the fourth file. Peter Grodin, manager at the Circus of the Damned, had also been a Master vampire.
The first two vampires, Gall and Dumais had been fledglings, fifty years old at the very most. Beheading them would have been enough to kill them. But Kusanagi and Grodin were much older, and Masters to boot. Beheading them, while temporarily incapacitating, shouldn't have been enough, unless heart carving had been included too.
I checked the police reports, which I really didn't want to know how McKay got, to make sure. All hearts present and accounted for. No silver bullets had been used either. My frown deepened. The corpses were kept in the St Louis City Hospital, and I decided to swing by at the earliest occasion. I didn't need my spidey sense tingling like hell to know that something fishy was going on.
I sighed and picked up the last file. I opened it slowly, chewing on my lower lip nervously, and was faced with Jeannie Miller's smiling photo. I skimmed through the technical info quickly. As I expected, she was also a Master vampire, practically the same age as McKay.
Whoa. My eyes widened in shock and I nearly let go of the file in surprise. There, between the various official papers about her citizen status and her driving license, was a marriage certificate.
Sure, I'd wondered about the Miller surname, but marriage to a human? Didn't even make the list. As I sat there staring at the document in bemusement, I wondered if that was the reason for McKay's absence earlier tonight. I had to admit it was a damn good one, too.
Well, McKay was full of surprises, apparently. First an unheard about sister and now a human brother-in-law. What next, a hidden love child?
************************
It was nearly ten in the morning when I parked the car at the curb, making sure I had the right address before getting out. I tucked my aviator shades in my shirt pocket, looking around at the suburban neighborhood. To say it wasn't exactly where I expected a vampire to live would be the understatement of the century.
I crossed through the well-kept garden to the front door, and rang. A few minutes passed, and as I was about to ring again, the door opened to reveal a black-haired man, who looked at me suspiciously.
"Mister Miller?" I asked, giving him my best professional smile. His suspicious look intensified. My smile flickered and died. "My name is John Sheppard-" I began, before he interrupted me. "I know who you are."
Anybody who read the newspapers knew who I was, but I refrained from telling him that. "Yes. I'm here on behalf of your brother-in-law. He hired me to look into-" I stopped again, but this time it was upon seeing the devastated look that replaced the coldness from the man's face. I exhaled slightly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mister Miller."
"Call me Caleb," he said eventually, and took a step back and out of the way, holding the door open for me. I followed him inside, glancing around curiously at the utterly normal furniture. It was only as we entered the living room with its dark and heavy curtains that I found the first sign that a vampire had lived there.
Suddenly, my eyes were riveted on the figure standing in front of the fireplace, inspecting what appeared to be a set of photos. I recognized that figure. Or more precisely, I recognized that hair. The heavy dreadlocks and huge stature were kind of a dead giveaway.
"Mister Sheppard, this is Ronon Dex. He's a private investigator-"
"We know each other," came Ronon's deep voice. He turned to face us, his face utterly blank and unreadable for anyone who didn't know him. Fortunately, I did, and I could see that he was secretly amused. Probably by the fish-out-of-water expression on my face.
I closed my jaw with a click. Ronon was right there on top five of people I least expected to meet in Caleb Miller's living room, slightly below my mother and Elvis Presley, and then only because they were dead.
"Ronon," I said eventually, trying to look nonchalant. By the look on the other men's faces, I wasn't fooling anyone. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting a job," Ronon answered. I raised my eyebrow, disbelievingly. The last time I'd seen Ronon, he'd been drenched in vampire blood, holding a just carved-out heart and even more disturbing, grinning in satisfaction. You can understand why I had some difficulty believing him.
"Right." I decided to let the matter drop for the moment. I could always grill him on his hidden agenda later.
"Mister Miller, do you think you could answer some questions-"
I was interrupted by the bell ringing. Miller excused himself, and went to answer the door, leaving me alone with Ronon. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed once I was sure Miller was out of hearing range, taking a step towards Ronon, who only grinned infuriatingly.
"I told you, I'm getting-"
"Please, spare me the bullshit. I seriously doubt a human would even know how to contact you, unless you'd arranged it, which means there's something else for you in this," I snapped, pointing an accusing finger towards him.
"I'm in the ad book," he said.
"Under what? Vampire Killer For Hire?" I said sarcastically, crossing my arms. "Nope, under PI," he answered seriously, but I knew him too well not to realize he was yanking my chain. I sighed, massaging my temples against the headache I could already feel coming.
"Does he even know you're an Executioner, or did you conveniently 'forget' to tell him about it?" I asked, then closed my eyes in resignation as the only answer I received was a silent shrug. Not that I expected anything else.
I opened my mouth again, probably to yell some more, but Ronon turned brusquely away from me. I followed his movement, and came face to face with Miller's form, standing silently in the doorway. He was pale, paler than any living human being had the right to be, and he was holding what appeared to be a box in shaking hands.
Ronon took a deep breath, then growled. He crossed to Miller, gently taking the box from him, and I followed suit after a moment. As I neared them, I could finally smell the familiar stench that Ronon had picked up on before me.
The scent of blood was coming off the box, permeating the air around it. I joined Ronon where he was crouching down on the floor, carefully sliding off the lid of the box.
Blood, a lot of it, was the first thing I saw. Then I made out the cut off finger swimming inside. It obviously belonged to a woman, with some sort of signet ring with a majestic 'M' set inside. I had a sinking feeling what the letter stood for.
I turned my head to the side for a moment and took a deep breath away from the overwhelming tang of blood. I spared Caleb a glance, and saw him sitting on the couch, head tucked between his knees, taking deep breaths. An attempt to stave off a bout of hyperventilating, I guessed.
When I looked back, it was to see Ronon pushing the finger aside carefully and picking up a barely recognizable photo stuck underneath. Ronon quickly removed some of the blood with a tissue, until we could finally see the face of a blonde young woman, now missing a finger.
I looked in shock at her battered form; her face bruised was so badly she was hardly recognizable, but I could still make out her features enough to realize I knew her. Laura, Simpson had called her. Miss Manners from last night’s little romp at Guilty Pleasures. Ronon looked up at Miller, face expressionless.
"Who is she?" he asked, showing him the photo. Miller swallowed audibly, and raised his head a little to look at us with blank eyes. Shock, I reckoned. When his eyes fell on the photo, his eyes widened, showing the white around his irises.
"Her name's Laura. Laura Cadman. She works for Rodney. Some sort of bodyguard," he informed us, voice cracking painfully. Huh. Not a Holy Item check girl after all. No wonder my glare of doom hadn't impressed her much. Miller passed his hands through his hair nervously, messing it up.
"Rodney assigned her to us, after Jeannie-" he swallowed again, and took a deep breath, desperately trying to hold onto his composure. We stayed silent for a while, before Ronon frowned and reached again into the box. He picked up another photo, previously hidden by Cadman's.
Ronon looked at the picture in silence, expression growing coldly angry. My heartbeat accelerated. Ronon's anger was rare, and it was usually hot enough to burn. The few times I'd seen that kind of cold anger, things had quickly gone to hell in a hand basket.
Ronon stood up silently, and went over to Caleb, giving him the photo. Caleb flew up from the couch, his expression going from blank numbness to utter terror in a heartbeat. "Oh god, Madison!" he gasped, looking horrifyingly green.
I looked at Ronon, but his head was turned away from me, towards the mantelpiece, still with that pissed off expression on his face. I followed his line of sight to the set of photos artfully arranged there. The ones he'd been looking at when I first came in.
Ronon took a few steps forwards, his legs eating up the distance to the mantelpiece, and picked up one of the frames, looking at it intently for a moment. Just as I was about to speak, he turned around and showed me the picture.
Jeannie Miller's smiling face looked out at me, her expression brilliantly happy. Her husband had an arm around her shoulders, his expression just as happy, and between them was tucked a little brown-haired girl, a tooth gaping smile on her face.
Caleb looked at me, and my heart clenched in sympathy to the utter terror I could see through his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
It was Ronon who finally said it out loud. "They have your daughter."
***********************
I pocketed the photo Caleb had given me and reluctantly drove away from the Miller's house. I passed a police car on the way, going in the opposite direction. Ronon had disappeared shortly after Caleb had made the call to the police, and I'd taken my leave a few minutes later.
As much as I would have liked to stay, I had to get to work in time to meet with my first client, or Elizabeth really would fire me as she so often threatened to do. After all, missing an appointment, and by consequence an occasion to make money, was a big no-no in her books. Well, okay, maybe she wouldn't fire me, since it'd be my first offense, but she'd give me the 'speech', and I so wasn't in the mood for it. Thankfully, the Animators Inc. building wasn't very far and I soon found myself in the elevator leading to the office floor.
Elizabeth was standing at the front desk, animatedly chatting with Chuck, the office's regular secretary. At the elevator's ding, they both turned to look at me, their welcoming smile freezing at the expression on my face.
I made an effort to smooth that expression into casual blankness, putting the image of little Madison's scared face and Cadman's cut off finger in a corner of my mind. I couldn't afford to think about it right now, not least because it made me want to punch the hell out of something.
I gave them both a nod in greeting, and tried to quickly cross to my office, but Elizabeth had other plans in mind.
"John," she called, and I reluctantly turned back to her, pasting the best smile I could manage on my face. Elizabeth looked taken aback, and she gave me a weird look, her eyes narrowing speculatively, so I let the smile drop. "Elizabeth," I tilted my head and stared at her. "What can I do for you?"
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Yeah, I wasn't known for my politeness. "John, are you alright?" she asked, raising her hand as if to touch my arm. I took a step away as casually as I could manage, which wasn't nearly enough since she looked hurt for a fraction of a second before she let her hand drop back at her side, her face blanking out into a professional mask.
"A package came in for you. I told Chuck to put it on your desk," she informed me. Her tone was neither cold nor angry, betraying nothing of what she felt, but I knew her enough to realize I'd hurt her feelings. I sighed quietly, and nodded in thanks.
Her message delivered, Elizabeth turned on her heels and went back to her own office. I watched her go silently, wanting to call her back but unable to for some reason. Elizabeth was my friend, had been since I began working for Animators Inc two years ago, but I couldn't talk to her right now, not when I still felt like a fuse about to blow up at the slightest provocation.
Vowing to smooth things over later, I turned to go into my office. As Elizabeth had said, a brown package was waiting for me on my desk. I got out of my jacket, hanging it beside my chair before grabbing the little brown box and tearing the paper apart in jerky gestures. I wasn't the most patient of people on the best of days, and this was so far from being a good day it wasn't even in the same universe anymore.
Inside was a jewelry box. I frowned, suddenly not liking where this was going. Who the hell would send me jewelry? I contemplated some sort of sick joke from McKay for a second, before shaking my head. Anonymous taunting so wasn't his style, and anyway, I doubted he was in the mood right now.
With a raised eyebrow, I opened the box. My eyes widened and I could only watch as it fell from my suddenly numb fingers to clatter on the floor. A metallic click sounded, and my eyes automatically followed the little piece of metal as it rolled out of the box and came to rest a few feet away.
The metal was melted, but the original form was still distinguishable. It was a cross, or rather what had been one some time ago. Ten times ago precisely. I stared at it in silence, my mind caught in the flashes of memories assaulting me.
Arms surrounded me, and I reluctantly raised my own to hug back. Chapped lips grazed my cheek in a reverent kiss, before a face buried itself against my neck, lightly kissing my shoulder.
I kept the flinch at bay.
I stumbled a few steps forwards, legs jittery, and crouched slowly to pick up the piece of metal between two shaking thumbs.
My arms pressed tighter, my right hand going to the wrist of my left, calmly fishing out the cross I'd hidden underneath the wristband there.
I closed my fist around the melted cross, its jagged edges digging painfully into the skin of my palm. I let the pain wash over me, closing my eyes against the greater burn of the swift onslaught of memories.
My arms tightened, restricting as I pushed the cross into a vulnerable back.
A tortured scream.
The smell of charred flesh.
I hang on tighter.
A knock sounded, and I opened my eyes, startled out of my thoughts. I quickly shoved the cross back in its box and hid it in my jacket's inside pocket, then nervously passed my hand through my hair and took a steadying breath.
"Come in," I called, and plastered a welcoming smile into my face as Chuck escorted my first client of the day in. I guess my smile wasn't so much a smile as a grimace, because he gave me an uneasy look. I nodded my thanks, and watched as he left, throwing me a last concerned glance over his shoulder.
As I half-listened to the elderly woman tell me about her deceased son, all I could hear was the sound of screaming ringing through my head. I swallowed back the bile I could feel rising up my throat, and tried to get the image of betrayed blue eyes staring at me in agony out of my mind.
I didn't have much luck.
*************************
As I watched Chuck politely escort out the old lady with the estranged-until-too-late son, I heaved a silent sigh of relief. After the day's various events, I was feeling tired, and listening to her story which brought to mind my own issues with my father certainly hadn't helped matters.
I allowed myself a few moments of wallowing in self-pity before shaking my head and fishing out my cell out of my jacket pocket, while studiously avoiding the barely there weight of the box. I had a job to do, and I didn't have time to spend on my own issues right now. I'd examine my feelings after I found the son of a bitch who kidnapped a kid for whatever fucked up reason. Well, no, I probably wouldn't. Denial and repression had served me well in the past, why change things now?
Sam answered on the second ring. She sounded calm, but I could detect a note of tired resignation under it. We forewent the usual pleasantries and got right down to business. As I'd suspected, the police had made the obvious connection between Madison and Cadman's kidnapping and the vampire murders, and the case had become R-pit's by default. And I knew Sam enough to know that while she'd done her best to put a stop to the vampire's murders despite her personal feelings on the matter, the stakes had just been raised, and things had become much more personal for her.
"As far as we know, Madison had been sent to spend the night at her grandmother's when her father had gotten the news about his wife, and Cadman was supposed to pick her up and drive her back home," Sam informed me, when I asked her if they'd found out anything. "We found her car abandoned a few blocks from the grandmother's house. The doors had been torn off. By hand."
I stayed silent. We both knew what that meant. And while it confirmed what I'd previously suspected, it didn't make me feel particularly happy at the moment. The murderer/kidnapper was a supernatural being, which reminded me of my earlier hunch about the master level vampires. After I finished explaining my reasoning to Sam, I sighed, relieved when she seemed to give my theory some thought, instead of dismissing it out right.
"I guess you want another look at the corpses," she said. After promising me to arrange for me to be granted access at the St-Louis Hospital morgue in half an hour, we hung up. There wasn't anything more to say, and we both had jobs to do. Not that I particularly liked mine at the moment.
After I gathered my things, palming and checking my gun more out of an underlying need for comfort than anything else, I went out of the Animators building, quickly checking in with Chuck for my zombie raising schedule of the day before taking the elevator. Thankfully, I only had one raising planned, and I had more than enough time to go by the morgue beforehand. I didn't know if it was my lucky day or if Elizabeth had anything to do with it, but I was thankful nonetheless.
***********************
To my dismay, the St-Louis Hospital's morgue section was becoming morbidly familiar. I'd been there so many times I got on a first name basis with its staff in less time than it'd taken me to get to know my own neighbors. As Dr Helen Biro gave me her usual manic smile, I silently wondered how someone so small and defenseless-looking could give me the creeps.
It was in the eyebrows, I decided, following her cheery steps as she led me to the room where the corpses of the vampire victims had been stored. Helen slid her security card through the detector, and pushed the door open when the light turned green, still happily chatting with no end in sight. I followed her inside, my attention immediately caught by the two bodies laid out on the examination tables. Frowning, I turned to Biro.
"I know you asked for Miller too, but she'd left specific instructions that her body be handed over to her family in case of death. Someone came by yesterday and took her."
I raised an eyebrow at that. Rodney had been a busy little bee apparently. I wondered if he'd sent someone, or if he'd come himself. I was leaning more toward the latter, if his reaction was anything to go by. I nodded at Biro, who looked at me for a moment, as if waiting for something more.
"I'll leave you to it, then," she said finally, rubbing her hands together. I nodded my thanks again, and waited until she left before turning back to the corpses. I took a deep breath as I put on a pair of latex gloves with familiar ease, before going around the table to examine the first Master level victim.
Miko Kusanagi's headless body was a disturbing sight to say the least, but I didn't let that deter me for more than a few seconds. The usual examination didn't reveal anything new, and with a weary sigh I turned to Grodin's body to go through the same motions again. After thoroughly checked the body for any suspicious injuries, perhaps some conveniently overlooked silver bullet hole, I eventually had to admit defeat. Maybe my hunch was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time, either.
As I began taking off the gloves, I spotted the heads of the victims carefully bagged and waiting on a nearby table. I grimaced in disgust, before rolling my eyes at my own silly squeamishness and going over to complete my examination. I've never left a job unfinished, and I wasn't about to start now.
There wasn't anything more to glean from analyzing the cut, so I quickly forced Kusanagi's mouth open, examining the back of her throat and her now useless fangs. I didn't expect to find anything, so it was no surprise when I came up with nothing. With another disappointed sight, I gently closed back her jaw, studiously avoiding looking anywhere below her jaw. Yeah, maybe it was ludicrous of me to feel pity for her when most of the time I was the one cutting off vampire's heads and burning their hearts, but feelings were something I usually did my best not to analyze, and I had no intention to start now.
As I mechanically peeled back Kusanagi's eyelids to get a look at her pupils, I took a step back in surprise, my hand automatically going to gun on my shoulder holster before I got myself back under control. Frowning, I reached back and carefully used my left hand to peel back an eyelid. My right was clutching my Glock. Maybe it was overkill, but the way my day was going, I didn't want to take any chances.
Her eyes were silver, and by that I didn't mean she had a striking eye color. I meant real silver, an honest to god thin sheen of liquid silver that slipped out of her eyes once I'd opened then, leaving a clear trace on her cheeks. I let my hand drop back to my side, quickly holstering my gun and taking out my phone instead. I couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but I knew someone who could.
I called Sam, but got her voice mail instead. Frowning, I hung up without leaving a message. Sam rarely switched off her cell, not even at two in the morning on her day off, as I'd discovered some time ago. Plus, she had to be expecting my call after our earlier conversation. Still wondering about the incongruousness of it, I dialed Zelenka instead.
"Hey," I greeted once the line picked up. "It's Sheppard." He seemed surprised by my call, so I gathered that Sam hadn't shared my theory with him, but quickly pushed that aside and got down to business."Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but I need you to order another blood test on the vampire victims."
Zelenka may have liked to joke at my expense, but he was one hell of a detective, had to be to stay alive and keep his post for so long, and I'd barely began explaining my findings to him that he'd already caught on. After I'd gotten him to promise to forward me the results as soon as he got them, we quickly hang up.
If I was right and it was indeed silver, then it explained how a master vampire could die from, well, losing his head. And since the initial tox screens were checking for drugs and not heavy metals, standard procedure and all, it was no wonder nobody in the labs had picked up on it. What it didn’t explain was why the hell hadn’t the metallic silver eyeballs shown up on the initial autopsy reports. They’re not exactly as easily overlooked as a bug bite after all.
I was still pondering the question as I got into my car and took the road to go back home. I had a zombie raising scheduled in less than two hours, but I was sleep deprived hungry and pissed as hell, and by god I was going to take a goddamn nap if it killed me. Plus Teyla would be home, and I needed to check in with her about the HAV angle anyway. Hitting two birds with a stone, or whatever. Not that I'd ever call Teyla a bird to her face.
In the lift, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold metal for a blessed moment of relief. I could feel the events of the day pressing down on me, and a migraine from hell taking root in the back of my head. Uselessly massaging my temples, I deftly got the door open and stepped through, already taking off my jacket before I was completely inside.
I froze, the jacket left hanging on one arm. Teyla was sitting on what passed for the living room couch, calmly sipping her cup of tea. She spared me a look when I got in, but her eyes quickly went back to staring at the man seated in front of her, like a prey that didn't dare take off its eyes from a possible danger for long.
Ronon turned to look at me, a smirk tugging on his lips. "Hey," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Nice place."
***********************
There were a lot of things that went through my mind in the next few seconds, but what finally came out was," what the fuck are you doing here?"
I mentally shrugged. I never claimed to be an articulate person, after all, and it nicely summed up what I was thinking, so whatever. Ronon's smirk stretched, while Teyla sent me a chastising glance. I ignored her, proceeding instead to glare at Ronon.
"So?" I asked again, as I finished getting out of my jacket with brisk movements. Ronon shrugged his massive shoulders, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from ordering him to get the hell away from Teyla.
Sure, I'd trust Ronon to watch my back, in fact, I'd already done so on numerous occasions, but I also knew him. I knew what was hidden underneath that affable façade of his, and I had to admit it scared me enough that I didn't want him anywhere near my friends, even if Teyla was as far from being a damsel-in-distress as you could get.
"Needed to talk to you," said Ronon, getting up from the sofa and taking a few steps towards me, and thankfully away from Teyla, as if he could sense my unease. Which wouldn't be that hard since I wasn't exactly being discreet.
"We were just having tea, John. Would you like a cup?" Teyla asked, looking between me and Ronon with a calculating expression on her face. "No thanks, Teyla," I grinded out, offering her a tight smile. Ronon smirked at me, raising a mocking eyebrow. I glared at him.
Teyla coughed lightly and we both turned to look at her. She gave me one of her trademark looks, the one that said that she knew exactly what I was thinking, and got up too, setting her empty tea cup down on the table. "I have some matters to take care of, John. I will see you later," she informed me. "Ronon, I hope we will meet again."
"Thanks for the tea, Teyla. It was great," Ronon said, with a little smile. I raised an eyebrow at that. What, a cup of tea and suddenly they were best buddies? And no I wasn't jealous.
Seriously.
We watched in silence as Teyla gracefully slipped into a black jacket that completed her outfit, and went out of the apartment with a last warning look towards me. Once the door clicked shut, I whirled back to glare at Ronon.
"Okay, now spill. Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?"
Ronon opened his mouth, with some smartass comment probably, but I interrupted him. "What brought you to St-Louis? And, for god's sake, don't tell me you're here to investigate the vampire murders! I'd be more willing to believe you were the one who did them in."
"Not my M.O.," Ronon drawled out with infuriating calm. "Besides, why are you so interested in those killings?"
I deflated. Massaging my temple in a vain attempt to ease the migraine that had now definitely dug its roots in my head, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "It's personal," I finally said.
Ronon cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t try to dig deeper. Nobody knew better than Ronon how stubborn I could get. Instead, he said, "Whoever they are, they're gunning for McKay."
I sucked in a breath at the confirmation of what I already suspected. But hearing it stated so abruptly from Ronon still felt like a sucker punch in the gut for some reason, which didn't escape the other executioner' notice. "I'd have thought it would make you happy."
I winced and turned my head to the side, looking at the empty cups of tea on the living room table instead. "I-" I began, the words stuck in my throat, before shaking my head and looking Ronon in the eyes. I let out a laugh, but it wasn't amused in the least. "It doesn't."
Ronon looked at me for a long time, before slowly nodding his head. He was probably the only human in existence who knew exactly what happened between me and Rodney. And he understood. Or at least didn't think I was completely cuckoo. I exhaled a relieved breath, before gathering myself again and throwing him the best glare I could manage. "And don't change the subject," I said.
Ronon shrugged. "Okay," he said, folding up his impressive body into my beaten-up couch. I stared at the incongruous sight for a few seconds, before mentally shaking myself up and taking the other free seat, where Teyla had been seated.
"I'm on a job," he said after a moment. I frowned suspiciously, prompting an amused smile from him. "It's a death contract."
I froze, swallowing heavily, my hands folding into fists instinctively. "It's not on McKay," Ronon added a beat later. A few seconds of silence ensued. "Who is it on, then?" I asked, and my voice wasn't relieved or anything. Really. I ignored Ronon's knowing smirk, and crossed my arms nonchalantly instead.
"The Master of St-Louis."
*************************
After Ronon had left, it was already six o'clock, and I had just enough time to take a quick shower and swing by the Animators Inc.'s building to pick up the chicken which would later serve as a sacrifice in the raising. Of course, I could have taken it with me earlier, but I didn't exactly fancy leaving live poultry in my trunk, even if it were in a crate.
I checked that I had all the necessary supplies before setting off for the cemetery, where I was supposed to meet my client in half an hour. As I drove, my mind went over what Ronon had told me. He'd refused to divulge exactly who had hired him to eliminate the Master of the City, not that I'd expected him to. Well, maybe a little. But the realistic side of me pointed out that the only reason he'd told me about the contract in the first place was to get me to identify the Master for him.
Ronon knew that the master had until now always taken care to mask his face every time he'd appeared in public amongst humans. It was also rumored that only his most trusted servants, and thus the most powerful vampires of St. Louis, had ever seen what he looked like underneath that blue mask of his.
Since there was a pretty good chance that McKay was of one of those select few, it didn't take a genius to see where Ronon was coming from. Too bad for him McKay was more likely to stab me in the back, again, than to reveal to me something of such importance. I didn't trust him, and he sure as hell didn't trust me. Not after what happened between us. Not after what I did to him.
Before I knew it, I'd reached my destination and was parking my car at the curb. I spotted the bunch of vultures, or lawyers, whatever, waiting with my client near a tombstone some distance away. In their black suits, black hair and black expressions, you could understand my confusion.
Margaret Lillian James's grave marker was smooth, white marble. As I neared it, I could make out some of the words engraved. Beloved mother and wife. I barely kept away a snort at the irony, glancing instead at my client, Bethany James.
Bethany looked like a younger version of her mother, a fact I discovered after I'd finished the ritual and fed the zombie enough chicken blood to give her back a remembrance of humanity. Luckily, Margaret James had only been dead for a short while, and the animal blood was sufficient for her to look mostly human.
Of course, I could have used human blood to make her look perfectly human, but I didn't exactly fancy feeding my blood to a zombie. Plus, it was a good reminder to the daughter that her mother really was dead, and that this was a zombie, a rotting corpse kept alive and talking by my will alone. I'd made that mistake once when I'd just began Animating in a professional fashion, and whatever my faults were, not learning from my mistakes was not one of them.
I'd used to chicken blood to draw a circle a few feet wide around the tombstone, keeping the zombie inside unless I broke it, which meant it was safe enough for me to take a few steps back to let the grieving adolescent daughter and her accompaniment of lawyers circle my zombie. Since my mind had been pretty occupied these last days, I only remembered bits and pieces of the meeting I'd had with Calvin Morrison, the James's family head lawyer, and the wreck that had been Bethany James.
Margaret had died without leaving a will, what with her being abruptly murdered by her psychotic ex-husband, which was the official reason for the raising. Secretly, I suspected it had more to do with Bethany's desire to see her mother again than with her wanting the money. This was another reason I'd left the zombie as inhuman looking, even if I could have done a much better job without resorting to human blood. Well, that and my natural laziness.
An hour and a half later, after the sun had set a long time ago and the cemetery was plunged in the dark, I was abruptly pulled from my thoughts when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I turned around as discreetly as I could, my hands ready to go for my gun at a moment's notice, and finally spotted the reason for my spidey sense going off.
I stiffened, grimacing, and went over to the lawyers to ask them if they'd gotten everything they needed. As I suspected, the matter of the will had already been settled, leaving Bethany to say her goodbyes to her mother, and as much as I hated interrupting them, the alternative was much worse.
I briskly began the ritual to lay the zombie to rest again. From a pouch I kept at my waistband during raisings, I got a handful of salt, which I lightly threw against the zombie's chest. "With salt I bind you to your grave," I said, holding the knife I'd used to sacrifice the chicken and passing it over her lips. "With blood and steel I bind you to your grave. Margaret Lillian James, be at piece and walk no more."
A lot of people find the sight of a zombie returning to their grave's impressive, the earth opening up to swallow their bodies then closing up behind the corpses, the ground unperturbed, but I'd seen it so many times it had become as familiar to me as the feel of a gun in my hands, which just served to prove that the human mind could get used to the weirdest things.
As Morrison escorted a weeping Bethany to her car, I busied myself with getting my stuff back into the gym bag where I kept everything. Once the hum of the cars was far enough, I saw the figure that had been lurking behind the trees take a few steps towards me. If he'd wanted to, he could have been besides me before I could finish blinking, but he chose instead to walk at a human pace, slowly advancing in my direction.
I got up, the gym back lying at my feet, keeping my hands free to go for my gun if I needed it. Which I suspected I didn't, considering how careful he was being. But if I'd learned anything in my experience as an executioner, it was to never trust a vampire. Even less this particular one.
"What do you want?" I asked Kavanaugh, trying to keep my tone cool and professional. I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was for this to degenerate into a fight.
"He wants to see you."
Three guesses to who the 'he' was, and the first two didn’t count. I tried to keep from rolling my eyes, but it proved an impossible task. For god's sake, did the arrogance of that man know no bounds?
"I'm busy," I shot back. "You can tell your master he can schedule an appointment for a later ti-"
I barely kept a flinch at bay when Kavanaugh suddenly appeared in front of me. "He's not my master," he said, or rather growled. Ookay, touchy subject. I raised an eyebrow, even as I discreetly took a step back. "Sure," I said, fully into 'placating the deadly vampire' mode. I guess someone as arrogant as Kavanaugh had been while human couldn't stomach being relegated to the bottom of the food chain when it came to vampire power.
I could understand where he was coming from. Didn't mean he was any less dangerous, though. Dying from offended, if misplaced, pride didn't make you any less dead. Just more stupid.
" Look, I just meant-" I tried again, but Kavanaugh interrupted me. "You will come with me," he said instead, his voice regaining its haughty tone. I was just relieved he seemed to have gotten his anger back under control.
"I don’t take orders from vampires," I said, but even I could tell it was half-hearted at best. "But I guess I can make time to see him tonight." Who said I couldn’t be gracious?
Kavanaugh smirked, a haughty little smirk that made it clear he thought that my going to see McKay had been a foregone conclusion. I nearly told him where to shove it and going back home instead, but the image of Madison's tear-streaked face kept me from doing more than glaring in irritation. Besides, I liked to think I wasn't that petty. Or unprofessional. McKay was technically my employer, after all.
I dredged up my best phony smile, as he nodded towards my car, clearly indicating that I was going to have to drive us there, wherever that was. Cool and professional, that was me. Even if I'd rather have strangled him with his stupid ponytail.
*********************
Driving around with a vampire in the back seat, and one I didn't even remotely trust at that, proved to be an interesting experience. Nerve-wrecking and daunting, sure, but interesting nonetheless. Kavanaugh was surprisingly talkative for a vampire, and he kept up a steady stream of words with only a minimum of prompting from my part. Too bad most of it was a diatribe on his own importance and power.
Luckily, he was so immersed in his self-congratulatory speech that he didn't notice when I subtly edged the subject towards McKay. I wanted more intel on his state of mind before actually facing the guy. "So, you've been given more responsibilities since the murders, huh?" I asked nonchalantly, turning left when Kavanaugh pointed that way.
"Well, since McKay's more powerful supporters had been eliminated, he's been in a weak spot, and a lot of us have seen our work doubled. And unless he does something about it, which he doesn’t seem inclined to, well," Kavanaugh shrugged, letting his silence fill in the rest. Vampires were power-hungry bastards, and any apparent weakness in one's powerbase would be ruthlessly exploited. And having your supporters, your sister and your niece targeted was one hell of a weak spot. More of an abyss than a spot, really.
Kavanaugh went on again on his importance, and for a moment I was tempted to point out that playing chauffeur to a human was hardly a task appointed to someone of value, but thought better of it. In such close proximity, I didn't have a lot of maneuverability, and I'd probably be staring at my spine before I could draw my gun.
Twenty minutes later, I was seriously contemplating the idea just for the blessed silence I'd get when Kavanaugh told me to park. I got out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air, and found myself looking at a clown on the roof. I wondered who the sick creep who came up with that was for a second, before shaking my head at myself. Monsters out of your worst nightmares? Bring them on. Clowns? Not so much.
Kavanaugh came up beside me. "What are we doing here?" I asked. When he said he'd lead me to McKay, it was safe to say that the Circus of the Damned didn't even make the list of the places I suspected the meeting would take place.
A couple of years ago, The Circus had been an empty warehouse on the Riverfront, mostly used for raves and parties. After Addison v. Clarke, the entire neighborhood became vampire owned businesses, more commonly known as the District, or the Blood Square. Though I wouldn't call it that to their faces. Kavanaugh opened his mouth to answer, but a familiar voice preceded him. "You're late."
I had to force myself not to get angry at the familiarly irritated tone, as I turned around to look at the newcomer. The cutting answer I had prepared died in my throat, leaving an uncomfortable knot in my stomach from an emotion I refused to acknowledge.
During the day, vampires couldn't help but sleep, if having your soul desert your body to go god only knew where could be called sleeping. But Rodney looked as if hadn't rested at all since the last time I saw him a few days ago, dark circles marring the usually perfect, if somewhat pale, complexion. Even the blue of his eyes looked washed out, the crackling energy that normally animated them gone.
In the silence that ensued, I saw McKay signal Kavanaugh, who scurried off quickly. Obviously, his bravado about McKay not being his master was as much bullshit as his delusions of grandeur. When it came down to it, McKay was incontestably the more powerful vampire, and Kavanaugh didn't have a choice in obeying him as long as he wanted to keep living in his territory, or just plain keep living, really.
Once we were alone, McKay took a step towards me. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably piss me off, so I interrupted him. "What did you want?" I asked, crossing my arms belligerently. "I'm not one of your servants, you know. You can't just expect me to come whenever the hell you want."
To my surprise, McKay smiled, that crooked smile of his that I used to-
"Stop doing that," I said before I could stop myself. His smile morphed into a smirk. "Doing what?" he asked casually, a mocking edge to his tone. I grinded my teeth, and glared at him. It was hard to glare properly at a vampire when you couldn't look them in the eye, but I gave it my best. McKay surprised me again by chuckling.
It was a human sound, which meant he wasn't trying to use his vampire tricks on me, but I was just as stunned anyway. "You know what? I kind of miss you, Sheppard."
He looked awkward after saying that, which was nothing on how I felt. My look of shock changed into one of suspicion after a moment. "Are you on drugs?" I asked. It wouldn't surprise me if McKay was using narcotics to deal with everything that had happened to him lately. But I also knew that human drugs didn't have much effect on a vampire unless used in huge quantities, and McKay didn't act drugged. Just seriously, seriously weird.
McKay chuckled again, but it was bitter this time, and the sound didn't surprise me as much. "I'm sorry," he said," I don't-" He sighed, closing his eyes for a second, the expression on his face making my stomach knot in a weird way. Fortunately he seemed to gather himself before I could say something I'd seriously regret, like 'it will be alright,' or even worse, ' I'll find her for you'.
McKay's face was blank again, but strangely, that made my stomach hurt even more. He gestured to his right, then said. "Come with me."
I raised an eyebrow, prompting a sigh from him. "Please," he added, looking like he'd rather be sucking on a lemon. I shrugged, looking at the entrance to the Circus of the Damned. "Aren't we going in?" I asked, and the only answer I received was a look that clearly questioned my sanity. With a silent sigh of relief, I got in step with McKay, giving him a look from the corner of my eyes.
"I don't like crowds," he said, answering my silent question. We walked a moment in silence, until we reached the residential area of the District. McKay stopped in front of a house, unlocking the door and turning his head to give me a mocking smile. "Plus, I wouldn't want you to feel threatened, what with the scary clowns and all."
Damn. That little piece of-
Without another word, he went inside the house, leaving the door open. I waited until my blush subsided before following him, closing the door behind me. It wasn't until I heard the click of the door shutting that I realized that I was alone in a house with a vampire. And not just any vampire, but Rodney-fucking-McKay.
Well, I'll be damned.
I took a few steps inside and was met with the sight of McKay getting out of his jacket, leaving his broad shoulders nicely encased in a short-sleeved blue tee. McKay threw the jacket on one of the immaculate white couches, before turning to look at me. "Want something to drink?"
I swallowed, before nodding silently. As McKay turned to the liquor cabinet, I made a face at his back.
I'll be really, really damned.
To Be Continued….
Author:
alena_malfoy
Rating: R
Pairing: John/Rodney
Summary: My name is John Sheppard, and I kill vampires for a living.
Wordcount: 10000
Spoilers: General spoilers up to season 4 for SGA, GP for Anita Blake.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and the Anita Blake series belong to MGM and Laurel K Hamilton. I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing.
Warnings: AU,WIP.
Author's Notes: This is based on LKH's Guilty Pleasures, but it has its own plot, I'm only borrowing the most basic facts, and is inspired by scribblinlenore 's "There's A New Kid in Town". Huge thanks to my beta,
jya_bd_cp_ttgb , without whom this wouldn't be what it is.
Part One
Guilty Pleasures was just as packed as ever. I could hear the blazing music and the screaming women even from where I was standing, glaring at the holy item check girl.
"Look, for the last time, I'm not giving you my cross, I don't even want to go in, so could you just, you know, get someone to come out here or something?"
Too bad it wasn't the same one as yesterday. I'd liked that one. Well, not really. I actually liked women with backbone, and to be fair, which I really wasn't inclined to be at the moment, that damn girl had some cojones I couldn't help but admire.
The new holy item check girl stared at me impassively. "And as I've already told you, I can't leave my post unattended," she replied, unperturbed despite my best attempt at intimidation. Which was pretty freaking good, damn it.
I scowled at her, getting even more annoyed when the only thing that seemed to garner was a raised eyebrow and stubbornly crossed arms, when a voice came from behind her. "It's alright, Laura, I'll take care of things here."
We both turned to look at the newcomer, a vampire with shoulder blonde hair and a navy business suit. Simpson, Rodney had called her. She was looking at me with an eyebrow raised, obviously not pleased. I wasn't exactly pleased either, so I guess that made us even.
"Is McKay here?" I asked impatiently, but Simpson simply frowned thoughtfully.
"He said you'd come, but I didn't believe him," she finally said, her nose wrinkling up slightly.
I scowled, silently seething. "Who - No, let me guess. McKay." That arrogant little-
And here I was feeling actual, well, not compassion exactly, but vague sympathy I guess, for the guy.
"He also said you'd make that face," she said, lips curving in a reluctant smile. I ground my teeth, then forced myself to relax, smoothing my face to polite blankness. Simpson nodded at Laura, and inclined her head towards the door. She didn't ask me to relinquish my cross, so I counted it as a win and followed her inside.
We crossed directly to McKay's office, which to my surprise had been returned to its original state, down to the smallest details. No one would possibly guess a vampire had gone on a rampage there, which I guess was the point.
Unfortunately, or fortunately, I wasn't really sure which at the moment, McKay was nowhere to be seen. I let out a silent sigh of relief. It was only as the knots in my stomach slowly loosened that I realized they'd been there in the first place.
"I'm afraid Dr. McKay is unavailable at the moment," Simpson said. I raised an eyebrow. Unavailable, my ass. Also, Doctor? Of what, bloodsucking? "He left this for you," she continued, bringing back my attention to her.
She took something out of the desk drawer, and held it out for me. When I made no movement to get it from her, she sighed and put the piece of paper down on the surface of the desk, backing away slightly. Reluctantly, I moved the few steps necessary to be able to look at it. It was a check.
"Isn't that a little presumptions?" I asked Simpson, barely able to keep my annoyance in check.
"You came back, didn't you?" she shot back. I made a face. Score one for the vampire lady. "Mr. Sheppard, I'm sure you are a very busy person, and I'm afraid I must go back to my duties soon, so why don't we get down to business?" I guess that was vampire code for Don't Waste My Time, Human.
"Fine. I'm going to need everything you have on the vampires murdered, as well as a list of people who might want to hurt McKay." All the victims had worked in one way or another for McKay. It didn't take a genius to see the connection.
She silently passed me a bunch of folders from the desk. Inside were what appeared to be files about the victims, whom I vaguely recognized from the photos. "Why would you need the other item?" She asked.
"You seem to be a smart lady, I'm sure I don't have to spell it out for you." I snapped. That was human code for Don't Take Me For An Idiot. I realized that vampires were pretty secretive about that kind of stuff, but really, they were the ones hiring me to look into this, not the other way around.
Simpson seemed to realize that too, because she nodded. "I will have that ready for you by tomorrow night," she said. Goody, another visit to Guilty Pleasures. "I will leave it with Laura at the entrance," she added, upon seeing the lack-of-joy I was sure was apparent on my face. I nodded in thanks.
I had no qualms about taking the check. It was quite a sum of money, but McKay wouldn't miss it, and it's not like I didn't deserve it. As I drove away from Guilty Pleasures though, I had the sinking feeling that I was going to more than earn that money.
I decided to postpone my visit to the Laughing Corpse until later. The files probably contained all the intel I'd be able to get there anyway. Nobody would ever accuse McKay of sloppiness, after all.
For once, I was home early, and was able to prepare a dinner that didn't consist of a PB&J sandwich. Not that there was anything wrong with PB&J. Food of the gods, or busy animators as it is.
I settled with a turkey sandwich on the living room sofa, fanning out the files on the table in front of me. I picked up the earliest victim's folder. His name was Brendan Gall, and he'd been a stripper at Guilty Pleasures, practically since its opening. I skimmed the rest of the file. It was nothing the police hadn't been able to glean on its own and besides working at a vampire strip club, there was really nothing special about him. The second victim, Annabelle Dumais, didn't provide much new info either.
The third file, Miko Kusanagi's, was somewhat more interesting. I took a big bite of my sandwich as I read it. Kusanagi had been hired as a manager's assistant at Guilty Pleasures; to take care of the administrative work that McKay couldn’t be bothered to do probably. But that wasn't what I found interesting.
Despite her mousy complexion and the big glasses that gave her a slightly nerdish look on the photo, Kusanagi had been a Master vampire, contrarily to the two previous victims. I frowned, a suspicious feeling nagging at me, and quickly checked the fourth file. Peter Grodin, manager at the Circus of the Damned, had also been a Master vampire.
The first two vampires, Gall and Dumais had been fledglings, fifty years old at the very most. Beheading them would have been enough to kill them. But Kusanagi and Grodin were much older, and Masters to boot. Beheading them, while temporarily incapacitating, shouldn't have been enough, unless heart carving had been included too.
I checked the police reports, which I really didn't want to know how McKay got, to make sure. All hearts present and accounted for. No silver bullets had been used either. My frown deepened. The corpses were kept in the St Louis City Hospital, and I decided to swing by at the earliest occasion. I didn't need my spidey sense tingling like hell to know that something fishy was going on.
I sighed and picked up the last file. I opened it slowly, chewing on my lower lip nervously, and was faced with Jeannie Miller's smiling photo. I skimmed through the technical info quickly. As I expected, she was also a Master vampire, practically the same age as McKay.
Whoa. My eyes widened in shock and I nearly let go of the file in surprise. There, between the various official papers about her citizen status and her driving license, was a marriage certificate.
Sure, I'd wondered about the Miller surname, but marriage to a human? Didn't even make the list. As I sat there staring at the document in bemusement, I wondered if that was the reason for McKay's absence earlier tonight. I had to admit it was a damn good one, too.
Well, McKay was full of surprises, apparently. First an unheard about sister and now a human brother-in-law. What next, a hidden love child?
************************
It was nearly ten in the morning when I parked the car at the curb, making sure I had the right address before getting out. I tucked my aviator shades in my shirt pocket, looking around at the suburban neighborhood. To say it wasn't exactly where I expected a vampire to live would be the understatement of the century.
I crossed through the well-kept garden to the front door, and rang. A few minutes passed, and as I was about to ring again, the door opened to reveal a black-haired man, who looked at me suspiciously.
"Mister Miller?" I asked, giving him my best professional smile. His suspicious look intensified. My smile flickered and died. "My name is John Sheppard-" I began, before he interrupted me. "I know who you are."
Anybody who read the newspapers knew who I was, but I refrained from telling him that. "Yes. I'm here on behalf of your brother-in-law. He hired me to look into-" I stopped again, but this time it was upon seeing the devastated look that replaced the coldness from the man's face. I exhaled slightly. "I'm sorry for your loss, Mister Miller."
"Call me Caleb," he said eventually, and took a step back and out of the way, holding the door open for me. I followed him inside, glancing around curiously at the utterly normal furniture. It was only as we entered the living room with its dark and heavy curtains that I found the first sign that a vampire had lived there.
Suddenly, my eyes were riveted on the figure standing in front of the fireplace, inspecting what appeared to be a set of photos. I recognized that figure. Or more precisely, I recognized that hair. The heavy dreadlocks and huge stature were kind of a dead giveaway.
"Mister Sheppard, this is Ronon Dex. He's a private investigator-"
"We know each other," came Ronon's deep voice. He turned to face us, his face utterly blank and unreadable for anyone who didn't know him. Fortunately, I did, and I could see that he was secretly amused. Probably by the fish-out-of-water expression on my face.
I closed my jaw with a click. Ronon was right there on top five of people I least expected to meet in Caleb Miller's living room, slightly below my mother and Elvis Presley, and then only because they were dead.
"Ronon," I said eventually, trying to look nonchalant. By the look on the other men's faces, I wasn't fooling anyone. "What are you doing here?"
"Getting a job," Ronon answered. I raised my eyebrow, disbelievingly. The last time I'd seen Ronon, he'd been drenched in vampire blood, holding a just carved-out heart and even more disturbing, grinning in satisfaction. You can understand why I had some difficulty believing him.
"Right." I decided to let the matter drop for the moment. I could always grill him on his hidden agenda later.
"Mister Miller, do you think you could answer some questions-"
I was interrupted by the bell ringing. Miller excused himself, and went to answer the door, leaving me alone with Ronon. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hissed once I was sure Miller was out of hearing range, taking a step towards Ronon, who only grinned infuriatingly.
"I told you, I'm getting-"
"Please, spare me the bullshit. I seriously doubt a human would even know how to contact you, unless you'd arranged it, which means there's something else for you in this," I snapped, pointing an accusing finger towards him.
"I'm in the ad book," he said.
"Under what? Vampire Killer For Hire?" I said sarcastically, crossing my arms. "Nope, under PI," he answered seriously, but I knew him too well not to realize he was yanking my chain. I sighed, massaging my temples against the headache I could already feel coming.
"Does he even know you're an Executioner, or did you conveniently 'forget' to tell him about it?" I asked, then closed my eyes in resignation as the only answer I received was a silent shrug. Not that I expected anything else.
I opened my mouth again, probably to yell some more, but Ronon turned brusquely away from me. I followed his movement, and came face to face with Miller's form, standing silently in the doorway. He was pale, paler than any living human being had the right to be, and he was holding what appeared to be a box in shaking hands.
Ronon took a deep breath, then growled. He crossed to Miller, gently taking the box from him, and I followed suit after a moment. As I neared them, I could finally smell the familiar stench that Ronon had picked up on before me.
The scent of blood was coming off the box, permeating the air around it. I joined Ronon where he was crouching down on the floor, carefully sliding off the lid of the box.
Blood, a lot of it, was the first thing I saw. Then I made out the cut off finger swimming inside. It obviously belonged to a woman, with some sort of signet ring with a majestic 'M' set inside. I had a sinking feeling what the letter stood for.
I turned my head to the side for a moment and took a deep breath away from the overwhelming tang of blood. I spared Caleb a glance, and saw him sitting on the couch, head tucked between his knees, taking deep breaths. An attempt to stave off a bout of hyperventilating, I guessed.
When I looked back, it was to see Ronon pushing the finger aside carefully and picking up a barely recognizable photo stuck underneath. Ronon quickly removed some of the blood with a tissue, until we could finally see the face of a blonde young woman, now missing a finger.
I looked in shock at her battered form; her face bruised was so badly she was hardly recognizable, but I could still make out her features enough to realize I knew her. Laura, Simpson had called her. Miss Manners from last night’s little romp at Guilty Pleasures. Ronon looked up at Miller, face expressionless.
"Who is she?" he asked, showing him the photo. Miller swallowed audibly, and raised his head a little to look at us with blank eyes. Shock, I reckoned. When his eyes fell on the photo, his eyes widened, showing the white around his irises.
"Her name's Laura. Laura Cadman. She works for Rodney. Some sort of bodyguard," he informed us, voice cracking painfully. Huh. Not a Holy Item check girl after all. No wonder my glare of doom hadn't impressed her much. Miller passed his hands through his hair nervously, messing it up.
"Rodney assigned her to us, after Jeannie-" he swallowed again, and took a deep breath, desperately trying to hold onto his composure. We stayed silent for a while, before Ronon frowned and reached again into the box. He picked up another photo, previously hidden by Cadman's.
Ronon looked at the picture in silence, expression growing coldly angry. My heartbeat accelerated. Ronon's anger was rare, and it was usually hot enough to burn. The few times I'd seen that kind of cold anger, things had quickly gone to hell in a hand basket.
Ronon stood up silently, and went over to Caleb, giving him the photo. Caleb flew up from the couch, his expression going from blank numbness to utter terror in a heartbeat. "Oh god, Madison!" he gasped, looking horrifyingly green.
I looked at Ronon, but his head was turned away from me, towards the mantelpiece, still with that pissed off expression on his face. I followed his line of sight to the set of photos artfully arranged there. The ones he'd been looking at when I first came in.
Ronon took a few steps forwards, his legs eating up the distance to the mantelpiece, and picked up one of the frames, looking at it intently for a moment. Just as I was about to speak, he turned around and showed me the picture.
Jeannie Miller's smiling face looked out at me, her expression brilliantly happy. Her husband had an arm around her shoulders, his expression just as happy, and between them was tucked a little brown-haired girl, a tooth gaping smile on her face.
Caleb looked at me, and my heart clenched in sympathy to the utter terror I could see through his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
It was Ronon who finally said it out loud. "They have your daughter."
***********************
I pocketed the photo Caleb had given me and reluctantly drove away from the Miller's house. I passed a police car on the way, going in the opposite direction. Ronon had disappeared shortly after Caleb had made the call to the police, and I'd taken my leave a few minutes later.
As much as I would have liked to stay, I had to get to work in time to meet with my first client, or Elizabeth really would fire me as she so often threatened to do. After all, missing an appointment, and by consequence an occasion to make money, was a big no-no in her books. Well, okay, maybe she wouldn't fire me, since it'd be my first offense, but she'd give me the 'speech', and I so wasn't in the mood for it. Thankfully, the Animators Inc. building wasn't very far and I soon found myself in the elevator leading to the office floor.
Elizabeth was standing at the front desk, animatedly chatting with Chuck, the office's regular secretary. At the elevator's ding, they both turned to look at me, their welcoming smile freezing at the expression on my face.
I made an effort to smooth that expression into casual blankness, putting the image of little Madison's scared face and Cadman's cut off finger in a corner of my mind. I couldn't afford to think about it right now, not least because it made me want to punch the hell out of something.
I gave them both a nod in greeting, and tried to quickly cross to my office, but Elizabeth had other plans in mind.
"John," she called, and I reluctantly turned back to her, pasting the best smile I could manage on my face. Elizabeth looked taken aback, and she gave me a weird look, her eyes narrowing speculatively, so I let the smile drop. "Elizabeth," I tilted my head and stared at her. "What can I do for you?"
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. Yeah, I wasn't known for my politeness. "John, are you alright?" she asked, raising her hand as if to touch my arm. I took a step away as casually as I could manage, which wasn't nearly enough since she looked hurt for a fraction of a second before she let her hand drop back at her side, her face blanking out into a professional mask.
"A package came in for you. I told Chuck to put it on your desk," she informed me. Her tone was neither cold nor angry, betraying nothing of what she felt, but I knew her enough to realize I'd hurt her feelings. I sighed quietly, and nodded in thanks.
Her message delivered, Elizabeth turned on her heels and went back to her own office. I watched her go silently, wanting to call her back but unable to for some reason. Elizabeth was my friend, had been since I began working for Animators Inc two years ago, but I couldn't talk to her right now, not when I still felt like a fuse about to blow up at the slightest provocation.
Vowing to smooth things over later, I turned to go into my office. As Elizabeth had said, a brown package was waiting for me on my desk. I got out of my jacket, hanging it beside my chair before grabbing the little brown box and tearing the paper apart in jerky gestures. I wasn't the most patient of people on the best of days, and this was so far from being a good day it wasn't even in the same universe anymore.
Inside was a jewelry box. I frowned, suddenly not liking where this was going. Who the hell would send me jewelry? I contemplated some sort of sick joke from McKay for a second, before shaking my head. Anonymous taunting so wasn't his style, and anyway, I doubted he was in the mood right now.
With a raised eyebrow, I opened the box. My eyes widened and I could only watch as it fell from my suddenly numb fingers to clatter on the floor. A metallic click sounded, and my eyes automatically followed the little piece of metal as it rolled out of the box and came to rest a few feet away.
The metal was melted, but the original form was still distinguishable. It was a cross, or rather what had been one some time ago. Ten times ago precisely. I stared at it in silence, my mind caught in the flashes of memories assaulting me.
Arms surrounded me, and I reluctantly raised my own to hug back. Chapped lips grazed my cheek in a reverent kiss, before a face buried itself against my neck, lightly kissing my shoulder.
I kept the flinch at bay.
I stumbled a few steps forwards, legs jittery, and crouched slowly to pick up the piece of metal between two shaking thumbs.
My arms pressed tighter, my right hand going to the wrist of my left, calmly fishing out the cross I'd hidden underneath the wristband there.
I closed my fist around the melted cross, its jagged edges digging painfully into the skin of my palm. I let the pain wash over me, closing my eyes against the greater burn of the swift onslaught of memories.
My arms tightened, restricting as I pushed the cross into a vulnerable back.
A tortured scream.
The smell of charred flesh.
I hang on tighter.
A knock sounded, and I opened my eyes, startled out of my thoughts. I quickly shoved the cross back in its box and hid it in my jacket's inside pocket, then nervously passed my hand through my hair and took a steadying breath.
"Come in," I called, and plastered a welcoming smile into my face as Chuck escorted my first client of the day in. I guess my smile wasn't so much a smile as a grimace, because he gave me an uneasy look. I nodded my thanks, and watched as he left, throwing me a last concerned glance over his shoulder.
As I half-listened to the elderly woman tell me about her deceased son, all I could hear was the sound of screaming ringing through my head. I swallowed back the bile I could feel rising up my throat, and tried to get the image of betrayed blue eyes staring at me in agony out of my mind.
I didn't have much luck.
*************************
As I watched Chuck politely escort out the old lady with the estranged-until-too-late son, I heaved a silent sigh of relief. After the day's various events, I was feeling tired, and listening to her story which brought to mind my own issues with my father certainly hadn't helped matters.
I allowed myself a few moments of wallowing in self-pity before shaking my head and fishing out my cell out of my jacket pocket, while studiously avoiding the barely there weight of the box. I had a job to do, and I didn't have time to spend on my own issues right now. I'd examine my feelings after I found the son of a bitch who kidnapped a kid for whatever fucked up reason. Well, no, I probably wouldn't. Denial and repression had served me well in the past, why change things now?
Sam answered on the second ring. She sounded calm, but I could detect a note of tired resignation under it. We forewent the usual pleasantries and got right down to business. As I'd suspected, the police had made the obvious connection between Madison and Cadman's kidnapping and the vampire murders, and the case had become R-pit's by default. And I knew Sam enough to know that while she'd done her best to put a stop to the vampire's murders despite her personal feelings on the matter, the stakes had just been raised, and things had become much more personal for her.
"As far as we know, Madison had been sent to spend the night at her grandmother's when her father had gotten the news about his wife, and Cadman was supposed to pick her up and drive her back home," Sam informed me, when I asked her if they'd found out anything. "We found her car abandoned a few blocks from the grandmother's house. The doors had been torn off. By hand."
I stayed silent. We both knew what that meant. And while it confirmed what I'd previously suspected, it didn't make me feel particularly happy at the moment. The murderer/kidnapper was a supernatural being, which reminded me of my earlier hunch about the master level vampires. After I finished explaining my reasoning to Sam, I sighed, relieved when she seemed to give my theory some thought, instead of dismissing it out right.
"I guess you want another look at the corpses," she said. After promising me to arrange for me to be granted access at the St-Louis Hospital morgue in half an hour, we hung up. There wasn't anything more to say, and we both had jobs to do. Not that I particularly liked mine at the moment.
After I gathered my things, palming and checking my gun more out of an underlying need for comfort than anything else, I went out of the Animators building, quickly checking in with Chuck for my zombie raising schedule of the day before taking the elevator. Thankfully, I only had one raising planned, and I had more than enough time to go by the morgue beforehand. I didn't know if it was my lucky day or if Elizabeth had anything to do with it, but I was thankful nonetheless.
***********************
To my dismay, the St-Louis Hospital's morgue section was becoming morbidly familiar. I'd been there so many times I got on a first name basis with its staff in less time than it'd taken me to get to know my own neighbors. As Dr Helen Biro gave me her usual manic smile, I silently wondered how someone so small and defenseless-looking could give me the creeps.
It was in the eyebrows, I decided, following her cheery steps as she led me to the room where the corpses of the vampire victims had been stored. Helen slid her security card through the detector, and pushed the door open when the light turned green, still happily chatting with no end in sight. I followed her inside, my attention immediately caught by the two bodies laid out on the examination tables. Frowning, I turned to Biro.
"I know you asked for Miller too, but she'd left specific instructions that her body be handed over to her family in case of death. Someone came by yesterday and took her."
I raised an eyebrow at that. Rodney had been a busy little bee apparently. I wondered if he'd sent someone, or if he'd come himself. I was leaning more toward the latter, if his reaction was anything to go by. I nodded at Biro, who looked at me for a moment, as if waiting for something more.
"I'll leave you to it, then," she said finally, rubbing her hands together. I nodded my thanks again, and waited until she left before turning back to the corpses. I took a deep breath as I put on a pair of latex gloves with familiar ease, before going around the table to examine the first Master level victim.
Miko Kusanagi's headless body was a disturbing sight to say the least, but I didn't let that deter me for more than a few seconds. The usual examination didn't reveal anything new, and with a weary sigh I turned to Grodin's body to go through the same motions again. After thoroughly checked the body for any suspicious injuries, perhaps some conveniently overlooked silver bullet hole, I eventually had to admit defeat. Maybe my hunch was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time, either.
As I began taking off the gloves, I spotted the heads of the victims carefully bagged and waiting on a nearby table. I grimaced in disgust, before rolling my eyes at my own silly squeamishness and going over to complete my examination. I've never left a job unfinished, and I wasn't about to start now.
There wasn't anything more to glean from analyzing the cut, so I quickly forced Kusanagi's mouth open, examining the back of her throat and her now useless fangs. I didn't expect to find anything, so it was no surprise when I came up with nothing. With another disappointed sight, I gently closed back her jaw, studiously avoiding looking anywhere below her jaw. Yeah, maybe it was ludicrous of me to feel pity for her when most of the time I was the one cutting off vampire's heads and burning their hearts, but feelings were something I usually did my best not to analyze, and I had no intention to start now.
As I mechanically peeled back Kusanagi's eyelids to get a look at her pupils, I took a step back in surprise, my hand automatically going to gun on my shoulder holster before I got myself back under control. Frowning, I reached back and carefully used my left hand to peel back an eyelid. My right was clutching my Glock. Maybe it was overkill, but the way my day was going, I didn't want to take any chances.
Her eyes were silver, and by that I didn't mean she had a striking eye color. I meant real silver, an honest to god thin sheen of liquid silver that slipped out of her eyes once I'd opened then, leaving a clear trace on her cheeks. I let my hand drop back to my side, quickly holstering my gun and taking out my phone instead. I couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but I knew someone who could.
I called Sam, but got her voice mail instead. Frowning, I hung up without leaving a message. Sam rarely switched off her cell, not even at two in the morning on her day off, as I'd discovered some time ago. Plus, she had to be expecting my call after our earlier conversation. Still wondering about the incongruousness of it, I dialed Zelenka instead.
"Hey," I greeted once the line picked up. "It's Sheppard." He seemed surprised by my call, so I gathered that Sam hadn't shared my theory with him, but quickly pushed that aside and got down to business."Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but I need you to order another blood test on the vampire victims."
Zelenka may have liked to joke at my expense, but he was one hell of a detective, had to be to stay alive and keep his post for so long, and I'd barely began explaining my findings to him that he'd already caught on. After I'd gotten him to promise to forward me the results as soon as he got them, we quickly hang up.
If I was right and it was indeed silver, then it explained how a master vampire could die from, well, losing his head. And since the initial tox screens were checking for drugs and not heavy metals, standard procedure and all, it was no wonder nobody in the labs had picked up on it. What it didn’t explain was why the hell hadn’t the metallic silver eyeballs shown up on the initial autopsy reports. They’re not exactly as easily overlooked as a bug bite after all.
I was still pondering the question as I got into my car and took the road to go back home. I had a zombie raising scheduled in less than two hours, but I was sleep deprived hungry and pissed as hell, and by god I was going to take a goddamn nap if it killed me. Plus Teyla would be home, and I needed to check in with her about the HAV angle anyway. Hitting two birds with a stone, or whatever. Not that I'd ever call Teyla a bird to her face.
In the lift, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cold metal for a blessed moment of relief. I could feel the events of the day pressing down on me, and a migraine from hell taking root in the back of my head. Uselessly massaging my temples, I deftly got the door open and stepped through, already taking off my jacket before I was completely inside.
I froze, the jacket left hanging on one arm. Teyla was sitting on what passed for the living room couch, calmly sipping her cup of tea. She spared me a look when I got in, but her eyes quickly went back to staring at the man seated in front of her, like a prey that didn't dare take off its eyes from a possible danger for long.
Ronon turned to look at me, a smirk tugging on his lips. "Hey," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Nice place."
***********************
There were a lot of things that went through my mind in the next few seconds, but what finally came out was," what the fuck are you doing here?"
I mentally shrugged. I never claimed to be an articulate person, after all, and it nicely summed up what I was thinking, so whatever. Ronon's smirk stretched, while Teyla sent me a chastising glance. I ignored her, proceeding instead to glare at Ronon.
"So?" I asked again, as I finished getting out of my jacket with brisk movements. Ronon shrugged his massive shoulders, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from ordering him to get the hell away from Teyla.
Sure, I'd trust Ronon to watch my back, in fact, I'd already done so on numerous occasions, but I also knew him. I knew what was hidden underneath that affable façade of his, and I had to admit it scared me enough that I didn't want him anywhere near my friends, even if Teyla was as far from being a damsel-in-distress as you could get.
"Needed to talk to you," said Ronon, getting up from the sofa and taking a few steps towards me, and thankfully away from Teyla, as if he could sense my unease. Which wouldn't be that hard since I wasn't exactly being discreet.
"We were just having tea, John. Would you like a cup?" Teyla asked, looking between me and Ronon with a calculating expression on her face. "No thanks, Teyla," I grinded out, offering her a tight smile. Ronon smirked at me, raising a mocking eyebrow. I glared at him.
Teyla coughed lightly and we both turned to look at her. She gave me one of her trademark looks, the one that said that she knew exactly what I was thinking, and got up too, setting her empty tea cup down on the table. "I have some matters to take care of, John. I will see you later," she informed me. "Ronon, I hope we will meet again."
"Thanks for the tea, Teyla. It was great," Ronon said, with a little smile. I raised an eyebrow at that. What, a cup of tea and suddenly they were best buddies? And no I wasn't jealous.
Seriously.
We watched in silence as Teyla gracefully slipped into a black jacket that completed her outfit, and went out of the apartment with a last warning look towards me. Once the door clicked shut, I whirled back to glare at Ronon.
"Okay, now spill. Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?"
Ronon opened his mouth, with some smartass comment probably, but I interrupted him. "What brought you to St-Louis? And, for god's sake, don't tell me you're here to investigate the vampire murders! I'd be more willing to believe you were the one who did them in."
"Not my M.O.," Ronon drawled out with infuriating calm. "Besides, why are you so interested in those killings?"
I deflated. Massaging my temple in a vain attempt to ease the migraine that had now definitely dug its roots in my head, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "It's personal," I finally said.
Ronon cocked an eyebrow, but didn’t try to dig deeper. Nobody knew better than Ronon how stubborn I could get. Instead, he said, "Whoever they are, they're gunning for McKay."
I sucked in a breath at the confirmation of what I already suspected. But hearing it stated so abruptly from Ronon still felt like a sucker punch in the gut for some reason, which didn't escape the other executioner' notice. "I'd have thought it would make you happy."
I winced and turned my head to the side, looking at the empty cups of tea on the living room table instead. "I-" I began, the words stuck in my throat, before shaking my head and looking Ronon in the eyes. I let out a laugh, but it wasn't amused in the least. "It doesn't."
Ronon looked at me for a long time, before slowly nodding his head. He was probably the only human in existence who knew exactly what happened between me and Rodney. And he understood. Or at least didn't think I was completely cuckoo. I exhaled a relieved breath, before gathering myself again and throwing him the best glare I could manage. "And don't change the subject," I said.
Ronon shrugged. "Okay," he said, folding up his impressive body into my beaten-up couch. I stared at the incongruous sight for a few seconds, before mentally shaking myself up and taking the other free seat, where Teyla had been seated.
"I'm on a job," he said after a moment. I frowned suspiciously, prompting an amused smile from him. "It's a death contract."
I froze, swallowing heavily, my hands folding into fists instinctively. "It's not on McKay," Ronon added a beat later. A few seconds of silence ensued. "Who is it on, then?" I asked, and my voice wasn't relieved or anything. Really. I ignored Ronon's knowing smirk, and crossed my arms nonchalantly instead.
"The Master of St-Louis."
*************************
After Ronon had left, it was already six o'clock, and I had just enough time to take a quick shower and swing by the Animators Inc.'s building to pick up the chicken which would later serve as a sacrifice in the raising. Of course, I could have taken it with me earlier, but I didn't exactly fancy leaving live poultry in my trunk, even if it were in a crate.
I checked that I had all the necessary supplies before setting off for the cemetery, where I was supposed to meet my client in half an hour. As I drove, my mind went over what Ronon had told me. He'd refused to divulge exactly who had hired him to eliminate the Master of the City, not that I'd expected him to. Well, maybe a little. But the realistic side of me pointed out that the only reason he'd told me about the contract in the first place was to get me to identify the Master for him.
Ronon knew that the master had until now always taken care to mask his face every time he'd appeared in public amongst humans. It was also rumored that only his most trusted servants, and thus the most powerful vampires of St. Louis, had ever seen what he looked like underneath that blue mask of his.
Since there was a pretty good chance that McKay was of one of those select few, it didn't take a genius to see where Ronon was coming from. Too bad for him McKay was more likely to stab me in the back, again, than to reveal to me something of such importance. I didn't trust him, and he sure as hell didn't trust me. Not after what happened between us. Not after what I did to him.
Before I knew it, I'd reached my destination and was parking my car at the curb. I spotted the bunch of vultures, or lawyers, whatever, waiting with my client near a tombstone some distance away. In their black suits, black hair and black expressions, you could understand my confusion.
Margaret Lillian James's grave marker was smooth, white marble. As I neared it, I could make out some of the words engraved. Beloved mother and wife. I barely kept away a snort at the irony, glancing instead at my client, Bethany James.
Bethany looked like a younger version of her mother, a fact I discovered after I'd finished the ritual and fed the zombie enough chicken blood to give her back a remembrance of humanity. Luckily, Margaret James had only been dead for a short while, and the animal blood was sufficient for her to look mostly human.
Of course, I could have used human blood to make her look perfectly human, but I didn't exactly fancy feeding my blood to a zombie. Plus, it was a good reminder to the daughter that her mother really was dead, and that this was a zombie, a rotting corpse kept alive and talking by my will alone. I'd made that mistake once when I'd just began Animating in a professional fashion, and whatever my faults were, not learning from my mistakes was not one of them.
I'd used to chicken blood to draw a circle a few feet wide around the tombstone, keeping the zombie inside unless I broke it, which meant it was safe enough for me to take a few steps back to let the grieving adolescent daughter and her accompaniment of lawyers circle my zombie. Since my mind had been pretty occupied these last days, I only remembered bits and pieces of the meeting I'd had with Calvin Morrison, the James's family head lawyer, and the wreck that had been Bethany James.
Margaret had died without leaving a will, what with her being abruptly murdered by her psychotic ex-husband, which was the official reason for the raising. Secretly, I suspected it had more to do with Bethany's desire to see her mother again than with her wanting the money. This was another reason I'd left the zombie as inhuman looking, even if I could have done a much better job without resorting to human blood. Well, that and my natural laziness.
An hour and a half later, after the sun had set a long time ago and the cemetery was plunged in the dark, I was abruptly pulled from my thoughts when I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I turned around as discreetly as I could, my hands ready to go for my gun at a moment's notice, and finally spotted the reason for my spidey sense going off.
I stiffened, grimacing, and went over to the lawyers to ask them if they'd gotten everything they needed. As I suspected, the matter of the will had already been settled, leaving Bethany to say her goodbyes to her mother, and as much as I hated interrupting them, the alternative was much worse.
I briskly began the ritual to lay the zombie to rest again. From a pouch I kept at my waistband during raisings, I got a handful of salt, which I lightly threw against the zombie's chest. "With salt I bind you to your grave," I said, holding the knife I'd used to sacrifice the chicken and passing it over her lips. "With blood and steel I bind you to your grave. Margaret Lillian James, be at piece and walk no more."
A lot of people find the sight of a zombie returning to their grave's impressive, the earth opening up to swallow their bodies then closing up behind the corpses, the ground unperturbed, but I'd seen it so many times it had become as familiar to me as the feel of a gun in my hands, which just served to prove that the human mind could get used to the weirdest things.
As Morrison escorted a weeping Bethany to her car, I busied myself with getting my stuff back into the gym bag where I kept everything. Once the hum of the cars was far enough, I saw the figure that had been lurking behind the trees take a few steps towards me. If he'd wanted to, he could have been besides me before I could finish blinking, but he chose instead to walk at a human pace, slowly advancing in my direction.
I got up, the gym back lying at my feet, keeping my hands free to go for my gun if I needed it. Which I suspected I didn't, considering how careful he was being. But if I'd learned anything in my experience as an executioner, it was to never trust a vampire. Even less this particular one.
"What do you want?" I asked Kavanaugh, trying to keep my tone cool and professional. I was tired, and the last thing I wanted was for this to degenerate into a fight.
"He wants to see you."
Three guesses to who the 'he' was, and the first two didn’t count. I tried to keep from rolling my eyes, but it proved an impossible task. For god's sake, did the arrogance of that man know no bounds?
"I'm busy," I shot back. "You can tell your master he can schedule an appointment for a later ti-"
I barely kept a flinch at bay when Kavanaugh suddenly appeared in front of me. "He's not my master," he said, or rather growled. Ookay, touchy subject. I raised an eyebrow, even as I discreetly took a step back. "Sure," I said, fully into 'placating the deadly vampire' mode. I guess someone as arrogant as Kavanaugh had been while human couldn't stomach being relegated to the bottom of the food chain when it came to vampire power.
I could understand where he was coming from. Didn't mean he was any less dangerous, though. Dying from offended, if misplaced, pride didn't make you any less dead. Just more stupid.
" Look, I just meant-" I tried again, but Kavanaugh interrupted me. "You will come with me," he said instead, his voice regaining its haughty tone. I was just relieved he seemed to have gotten his anger back under control.
"I don’t take orders from vampires," I said, but even I could tell it was half-hearted at best. "But I guess I can make time to see him tonight." Who said I couldn’t be gracious?
Kavanaugh smirked, a haughty little smirk that made it clear he thought that my going to see McKay had been a foregone conclusion. I nearly told him where to shove it and going back home instead, but the image of Madison's tear-streaked face kept me from doing more than glaring in irritation. Besides, I liked to think I wasn't that petty. Or unprofessional. McKay was technically my employer, after all.
I dredged up my best phony smile, as he nodded towards my car, clearly indicating that I was going to have to drive us there, wherever that was. Cool and professional, that was me. Even if I'd rather have strangled him with his stupid ponytail.
*********************
Driving around with a vampire in the back seat, and one I didn't even remotely trust at that, proved to be an interesting experience. Nerve-wrecking and daunting, sure, but interesting nonetheless. Kavanaugh was surprisingly talkative for a vampire, and he kept up a steady stream of words with only a minimum of prompting from my part. Too bad most of it was a diatribe on his own importance and power.
Luckily, he was so immersed in his self-congratulatory speech that he didn't notice when I subtly edged the subject towards McKay. I wanted more intel on his state of mind before actually facing the guy. "So, you've been given more responsibilities since the murders, huh?" I asked nonchalantly, turning left when Kavanaugh pointed that way.
"Well, since McKay's more powerful supporters had been eliminated, he's been in a weak spot, and a lot of us have seen our work doubled. And unless he does something about it, which he doesn’t seem inclined to, well," Kavanaugh shrugged, letting his silence fill in the rest. Vampires were power-hungry bastards, and any apparent weakness in one's powerbase would be ruthlessly exploited. And having your supporters, your sister and your niece targeted was one hell of a weak spot. More of an abyss than a spot, really.
Kavanaugh went on again on his importance, and for a moment I was tempted to point out that playing chauffeur to a human was hardly a task appointed to someone of value, but thought better of it. In such close proximity, I didn't have a lot of maneuverability, and I'd probably be staring at my spine before I could draw my gun.
Twenty minutes later, I was seriously contemplating the idea just for the blessed silence I'd get when Kavanaugh told me to park. I got out of the car, taking a deep breath of fresh air, and found myself looking at a clown on the roof. I wondered who the sick creep who came up with that was for a second, before shaking my head at myself. Monsters out of your worst nightmares? Bring them on. Clowns? Not so much.
Kavanaugh came up beside me. "What are we doing here?" I asked. When he said he'd lead me to McKay, it was safe to say that the Circus of the Damned didn't even make the list of the places I suspected the meeting would take place.
A couple of years ago, The Circus had been an empty warehouse on the Riverfront, mostly used for raves and parties. After Addison v. Clarke, the entire neighborhood became vampire owned businesses, more commonly known as the District, or the Blood Square. Though I wouldn't call it that to their faces. Kavanaugh opened his mouth to answer, but a familiar voice preceded him. "You're late."
I had to force myself not to get angry at the familiarly irritated tone, as I turned around to look at the newcomer. The cutting answer I had prepared died in my throat, leaving an uncomfortable knot in my stomach from an emotion I refused to acknowledge.
During the day, vampires couldn't help but sleep, if having your soul desert your body to go god only knew where could be called sleeping. But Rodney looked as if hadn't rested at all since the last time I saw him a few days ago, dark circles marring the usually perfect, if somewhat pale, complexion. Even the blue of his eyes looked washed out, the crackling energy that normally animated them gone.
In the silence that ensued, I saw McKay signal Kavanaugh, who scurried off quickly. Obviously, his bravado about McKay not being his master was as much bullshit as his delusions of grandeur. When it came down to it, McKay was incontestably the more powerful vampire, and Kavanaugh didn't have a choice in obeying him as long as he wanted to keep living in his territory, or just plain keep living, really.
Once we were alone, McKay took a step towards me. He opened his mouth to say something that would probably piss me off, so I interrupted him. "What did you want?" I asked, crossing my arms belligerently. "I'm not one of your servants, you know. You can't just expect me to come whenever the hell you want."
To my surprise, McKay smiled, that crooked smile of his that I used to-
"Stop doing that," I said before I could stop myself. His smile morphed into a smirk. "Doing what?" he asked casually, a mocking edge to his tone. I grinded my teeth, and glared at him. It was hard to glare properly at a vampire when you couldn't look them in the eye, but I gave it my best. McKay surprised me again by chuckling.
It was a human sound, which meant he wasn't trying to use his vampire tricks on me, but I was just as stunned anyway. "You know what? I kind of miss you, Sheppard."
He looked awkward after saying that, which was nothing on how I felt. My look of shock changed into one of suspicion after a moment. "Are you on drugs?" I asked. It wouldn't surprise me if McKay was using narcotics to deal with everything that had happened to him lately. But I also knew that human drugs didn't have much effect on a vampire unless used in huge quantities, and McKay didn't act drugged. Just seriously, seriously weird.
McKay chuckled again, but it was bitter this time, and the sound didn't surprise me as much. "I'm sorry," he said," I don't-" He sighed, closing his eyes for a second, the expression on his face making my stomach knot in a weird way. Fortunately he seemed to gather himself before I could say something I'd seriously regret, like 'it will be alright,' or even worse, ' I'll find her for you'.
McKay's face was blank again, but strangely, that made my stomach hurt even more. He gestured to his right, then said. "Come with me."
I raised an eyebrow, prompting a sigh from him. "Please," he added, looking like he'd rather be sucking on a lemon. I shrugged, looking at the entrance to the Circus of the Damned. "Aren't we going in?" I asked, and the only answer I received was a look that clearly questioned my sanity. With a silent sigh of relief, I got in step with McKay, giving him a look from the corner of my eyes.
"I don't like crowds," he said, answering my silent question. We walked a moment in silence, until we reached the residential area of the District. McKay stopped in front of a house, unlocking the door and turning his head to give me a mocking smile. "Plus, I wouldn't want you to feel threatened, what with the scary clowns and all."
Damn. That little piece of-
Without another word, he went inside the house, leaving the door open. I waited until my blush subsided before following him, closing the door behind me. It wasn't until I heard the click of the door shutting that I realized that I was alone in a house with a vampire. And not just any vampire, but Rodney-fucking-McKay.
Well, I'll be damned.
I took a few steps inside and was met with the sight of McKay getting out of his jacket, leaving his broad shoulders nicely encased in a short-sleeved blue tee. McKay threw the jacket on one of the immaculate white couches, before turning to look at me. "Want something to drink?"
I swallowed, before nodding silently. As McKay turned to the liquor cabinet, I made a face at his back.
I'll be really, really damned.
To Be Continued….