Dawn Chorus: Verse Four
Dawn Chorus: Verse Four
By: Liz B
---
“Third floor, more slammed doors, more no answers and more “I don’t knows”.” John said with false cheer as he stepped out of the stairwell with Fin on his heels.
Fin chuckled, “Hey, they don’t pay us the big bucks for nothing.”
John grunted his agreement and knocked on the first door of the third floor. They should have sent uniforms instead. He was getting to old to tramp up and down stairs all day. Fin clapped him on the shoulder as he went down to the next door.
Three floors and they had exactly what they started with, nothing. No one had seen anything. Apparently people didn’t watch the rain fall in the city. John was almost glad about it. Olivet only saw shadows, there was no description of huge black wolves to draw anyone’s attention to anything weird going on. Sure, it meant they were chasing their tails - no pun intended - investigation wise, but it kept what was supposed to be secret, secret. He held out the hope that if anyone did start talking about big black wolves, no one would believe them.
Problem was, anyone who actually saw the werewolves could be hunted down. Werewolves were crazy about loyalty and revenge. They were good at hiding though, the chances anyone had seen them were slim in John’s understanding of werewolves.
Revenge was more common in demon cases, the type he was most familiar with, but it wasn’t unheard of in werewolves. He really needed to call his contact and ask him about the local Centuria that had shown up. Maybe they could work together to get these werewolves and stop the killing. That’s really what mattered to John, that’s why he worked with wacky Catholics.
He banged on the door again, and yelled. “NYPD, I need to ask you a few questions!”
“I didn’t see nothin’!” A man called through the door.
“First, it’s “you didn’t see anything” and second NYPD I need to ask you a few questions.” John called back, motioning to Fin to join him. For two floors even the people who hadn’t seen anything had opened the door first. John’s finely tuned cop senses told him this was something good.
“Hey, open the door.” Fin pounded on the door, “Otherwise we don’t go anywhere.”
A few minutes later the door jerked open and a middle aged, over weight, balding man glared out at them. “I didn’t see anything, there, happy now?”
Fin slid his foot between the door frame and the door, “Your apartment over looks the street and you didn’t see anything?”
“I was watching the game.”
“Which game?” Fin asked.
“And think before answering. This guy has every sports package known to man.” John added, tilting his head towards Fin.
The man stared them down and they stared back. John mentally smiled as he watched the guy’s resolve cave. The day when he didn’t get that thrill he was retiring for real.
“Look, all I saw was a bunch of hobos, hanging out in the alley across the street.” The guy said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Bunch of hobos?” John raised an eyebrow, “What did they look like?”
“Homeless.” The man rolled his eyes.
“Alright, funny man, you’re coming down to the station with us to look at mug books.” Fin said, reaching for the guy with one hand while he dug out his cuffs with the other.
“Hey, hey!” The guy stepped back, “Alright, alright. Christ, you guys are a pain in the ass.”
“What did you see?” John pressed, taking a step into the apartment to counter act the guy’s step back.
The guy grunted, “Four of them were hanging out in the alley. I was watching ‘em because someone’s been stealing radios out of cars parked along the street and I don’t want it to happen to me.”
“What did they look like?”
“You know, ratty clothes, no shoes.”
“No shoes?” John straightened a little at the words.
“Yeah, no shoes for any of them. Wouldn’t want to walk around this city without shoes, never know what you might step on. Look, you should be harassing those guys not law abiding citizens.”
“Alright, back to what they looked like.” Fin rolled his eyes, and shot John a look. John shrugged one shoulder. He stepped around the witness and went to the window, looking out over the street. He could see only one alley from the window, but there was no one in it now. It was well lit though. Homeless people with no shoes, John figured it was werewolves. Wasn’t a bad spot to hide, except for the light. From the alley, he would bet there was a clear view of where the kid had been playing just before the attack.
“Jesus, I couldn’t see details or nothin’. They all had, I don’t know, these chains hangin’ around their necks and half of them didn’t have shirts on.”
John wanted to shake his head, but simply turned around to face the witness, “You’re going to need to come with us.”
“Aw, come on!”
“Hey, the faster you talk to the sketch artist the faster you can get back here and get back to sitting on your ass.” Fin grabbed the guy’s shoulder and pushed him to the door. John followed, closing the door behind them, tuning out the witness’s complaining. These were stupid werewolves. They’d left hairs and been seen by a witness. He needed to get Goren to introduce him to whoever he knew in the Centuria. This may just be the first case of werewolves getting arrested and while that would be great for the tabloids, it was definitely not good for any of the societies.
He may not like it, but he may have to throw this case.
---
“Really, someone should teach these guys the meaning of “subtle”.” Anna said as she stared at the flashing neon sign of The Hell Hound Club. In the driver seat, Andy chuckled. “So, think I can get past the bouncer looking like this?”
Andy looked over and took in her black jeans, boots and black sweater. “You need thicker eye makeup. This looks to be one of those Goth clubs.”
“So, Plan B?” Anna said, rubbing her hands together.
“Plan B. And only get a look around, okay? You and Lee can stake this place out tomorrow night. We just want information tonight.” Andy slid off her holster and got out of the car, heading for the door at a fast walk. She started yelling at the bouncer before she even made it across the street. When one of them couldn’t get in through the front door of a club, Plan B was Andy acted like an enraged parent and distracted the bouncer while Anna slipped in the side door. It was surprising how often they got into clubs that way.
Anna waited until Andy was going at full speed - and full volume - before getting out of the car and heading for the end of the line going out the door. She lingered there for a few minutes, listening to Andy’s tirade about how the country was falling apart because of clubs like the one the bouncer was working for and then slipped away. The side door was easy to find, and the security camera easy to duck under. She took a few seconds to pick the lock and disable the alarm and then slid inside.
First step inside and she was swallowed whole by screaming Goth rock music. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Man, she hated this kind of music. At least the techno clubs had good music. The club was done up in blacks and reds, with pulsating lights that were supposed to look like burning fire. It was relatively well light for a Goth club. She could make out a few faces, mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings sitting in booths with large pewter goblets that had growling dog faces on them. There was a bar along one wall that looked like it was made of bones, fake bones, but the skulls all had red lights in the eyes and it was freaky.
She rolled her sleeves up, showing off the braces she wore for her bow, trying to look more like the other patrons. She took the pins out of her hair and fluffed it up with her hands, going for that sexy messy look. She couldn’t really “slut up” her sweater much, but she figured she’d manage, her breasts were bigger than half the girls in here.
As she made her way along the outskirts of the dance floor she opened her senses and wasn’t the least bit surprised when she smelled the old blood scent of vampires. Judging from the décor this was just the type of place vampires used to get young disillusioned teenagers to feed from.
She hated these places, hated the fact that vampires prayed on kids who were just looking for someplace to belong. She didn’t want to sound sentimental, but if it hadn’t been for the Company and Andy she probably would have ended up like these kids. At least she’d found something productive to pour her angst into. Although, having your life goal being killing your own father was still messed up. Anna didn’t think about it too much.
She swept her gaze around the place again and started for the bar. It would take her right through the dance floor and from the bar she could get a better look around. Maybe she’d even track down one of the vampires in this place and see if she could get them to talk. While she kept her nose tuned to the scent of vampires, she kept her eyes open for flashing chain. She never understood how werewolves got around undisturbed for so long with giant chains hanging out of their necks. Wouldn’t that be a dead give away that someone wasn’t human? Maybe Andy was right, people didn’t see what they didn’t want to see.
“Anna…”
Anna whirled around at the whisper in her ear and had to take a step back as she came face to face with Matteo. She lunged for him, but he grabbed a wrist and then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and effectively pinning her arms.
“Hello, Anna.”
She growled, trying to slam her forehead into his nose, but Matteo tilted his head to the side before she could connect and ended up with her face pressed against his neck. The coopery rotting flesh smell overpowered Anna’s senses and she fought back a wave of nausea. She tried to pull her head back, but Matteo turned his slightly, his lips inches from her ear.
“How advantageous that you found this place.”
“I’ll kill you.” She whispered, “You’re dead.”
“He may come here tonight. He often visits.” She went still as a wave of hate rolled through her. Matteo chuckled, “How long will you wait here?”
And then he was gone, leaving her alone on the dance floor. She whipped around, trying to spot his distinctive white outfit. She didn’t see anything but a sea of pale faces and black clothes. She shuddered, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of Matteo’s arms around her. God, she wanted a shower. Where the hell had he come from? She hadn’t even smelled him coming. She should have, her senses were wide open. She shuddered again, and started towards the bar. She settled herself onto a corner stool, so she had one side to the wall and ordered a drink.
Andy would be pissed that Anna was gearing up for a long wait, but Matteo’s words were still ringing in her ears and if she had even the slightest chance to get her hands on her dear father she’d risk Andy’s wrath.
---
Vlad grabbed a chair and flipped it onto a table, “I should have known getting involved would bring the Centuria running. Even after all these years they still think of me as a traitor first.”
“I can’t believe Andrea’s still here.” Alexie said, also flipping a chair over onto a table. “I thought you said they moved around a lot.”
“Boys, less complaining, more helping me close down.” Damek called as he mopped the floor.
Vlad ignored him and dropped into a chair, “The Consilium, why didn’t I sense their presence? I thought Andrea was gone, I couldn’t,” He waved a hand through the air in front of him, “I couldn’t feel her anymore.”
Damek paused in mopping, looking over at him, “Your powers have been awfully quiet lately.”
“I know! There’s no good reason for the Consilium to be following me around. I’m not doing anything.”
“Which is weird because we couldn’t keep you from running off a few months ago.” Alexie also stopped stacking chair, “There wasn’t even a trickling off, which you’d expect with you know, the typical bell curve of Caerimonia Obtinere activity.”
“You made a graph of Caerimonia Obtinere activity?” Vlad looked over at his cousin who rolled his eyes.
“No, I hacked the Gizmo database. Please, I’ve got term papers on Catastrophe Theory to grade. I don’t have the time to gather the kind of data I’d need to even begin constructing a decent statistical study.”
“Look what you started. Alexie, did you have a point before prost here got you off topic?” Damek leaned against the mop, looking at them in exasperation.
“Well, yeah, of course. Look, there’s only seven Caerimonia Obtinere in the world, so statistically speaking the bell curve for you guys should be too small to be statistically useful, but you guys have been around for thousands of years, so the data just keeps building over time. Vlad, I’ll throw a chair at you, this is important.”
Vlad laughed and stopped pretending to sleep, “Sorry, sorry, continue.”
“So, any way, on the bell curve the Gizmos’ have the sudden drop off you’re experiencing is super rare, towards this end of the bell curve.” Alexie held one hand up, curved in an upside down “u” and then used the other to point towards the tips of his fingers, “Get it?”
Vlad leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand, “Yes, but I don’t get your point.”
“It’s an anomaly!” Alexie threw up his hands, “It shouldn’t be happening because statistically you’re more likely to have the gentle trickling off like thousands of years of data says. There’s got to be an explanation for this.”
“Well, we’ve always thought Vlad was an anomaly in the first place.”
“Har-dee-har-har.” Vlad drawled, narrowing his eyes at his bother who grinned unapologetically back.
“The real question is how do we find the explanation for this.” Alexie started picking up chairs again, flipping and talking, “Because everything was statistically normal up until now.”
“No everything.” Damek said, “Andrea returned.”
“Oh please, the data on Caerimonia Obtinere working together completely contradicts that.” Alexie snorted, but Vlad sat up straight, a tingle building in his brain for the first time in months.
“Andrea…”
“It’s only logical,” Damek continued, still leaning against the mop, “First things are going just like Alexie said, then she shows up, you guys work together and when you go your separate ways, you’ve got nothing but silence.”
“Are you saying he needs to see Andrea again?” Alexie said incredulously, “Hello, Damek, she’s spying on him for the guys who all hate Vlad. She’s like twisting the knife in his back.”
Vlad looked down at his hands, remembering how it felt working with Andrea, how he’d royally screwed up with that kiss, and got up to stack chairs. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
“Vlad, don’t do this to yourself.” Alexie pleaded, “She’s never done anything good for you.”
“Alexie, don’t interfere. It has to be done.” Vlad ordered, “If this can’t be painless, it can at least be quick.”
---
Bobby stood in the center of the SVU squad room, all eyes focused on him. He glanced at Eames once before starting, “This is a pack, a… brotherhood even. There’s one guy in charge, and he started in Denver where he and a partner killed these women. Those killings are more… clean and practiced than these here. The victims are bigger and more able to fight back. Something happened to his partner to bring him here. He manipulated these boys, most likely runaways, to help him. And he… he got more of them than before. Instead of one partner he’s got three or four, based on the witness statement.”
“So, we’re dealing with another Manson?” Benson asked.
Bobby nodded, though in reality what they were dealing with was much worse than Charles Manson. God, all this covering up gave him a headache and sat uneasy in his stomach. It didn’t seem to bother Detective Munch, but Bobby hated it. Still, he kept going.
“Only, I believe the… leader is more involved that Manson.” Bobby strode over to the board of pictures he had set up and pointed to the first crime scene photo, “Look how sloppy it is, especially when you look at the latest scene. He’s… critiquing their performance, grading them, in a sense. He wants them prefect…”
“Like his first partner.” Stabler said, “We should check Denver’s records, see who got picked up just after the last murder there. Maybe his partner’s serving time and that’s why he had to start over here in New York.
“There’s no garuntee he was picked up in Denver, or that he was picked up at all.” Bobby countered, “This leader is the type to kill anyone who challenged him. His partner is most likely dead.”
“And if you’re wrong, we’ll have to scramble to make up the days we lost on your say so.” Stabler bristled and Bobby shifted on his feet, but he wasn’t about to back down. It wasn’t just that he knew his profile was most likely right, it was Stabler’s attitude on a whole. He wanted to lead and saw Bobby as a threat to that. He’d keep pushing until Bobby either backed down or earned his respect, a task which Bobby knew would need time and a stubborn mind set.
“Look, if you want to look through Denver’s records, go ahead. I’m telling you the partner is dead.” Bobby turned back to the board, “Instead of escalating the attacks are getting more and more like the Denver ones, quicker and more… refined. This guy wants these hearts for something.”
“Any ideas on what that might be?” Tutuola asked, sitting with his feet up on his desk.
“Some native tribes eat their enemies hearts to get their strength, don’t they? Maybe he’s after power.” Benson theorized.
“If you were after power wouldn’t you take down someone big and strong, not little kids?” Eames pointed out. “Maybe he’s after something else that kids have.”
“Chicken pox?” Munch proffered and everyone rolled their eyes.
“He wants their life force,” Bobby broke in, “Arguably the brain is what really keeps everything going, but the heart is what we most consciously associate with life. He might be sick and dying and thinks this is the way to keep himself away. Children are seen as full of… of potential and life and energy. He wants that for himself.”
“So you don’t think he’s sharing his prize with his followers? How does he talk them into helping if they don’t get anything out of it?” Stabler asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“He’s got to give them something, Elliot’s right.” Tutuola said, “Manson used drugs, right? Maybe this guy’s paying for their drug habits.”
Bobby shook his head, “No, no, he wouldn’t use junkies. Junkies are sickly and, and sloppy. Too sloppy for a guy like this. No, they get something out of the chase, out of hunting these boys.”
“You said the first killings were sloppy. He could be weaning them off the drugs, that’s why the killings are getting better.” Stabler countered and Bobby paced a few steps away before turning back to face him.
“The man you’re looking for is a manipulator, highly intelligent and a con artist. He’s found these disillusioned kids to help him get what he wants. He doesn’t think about their needs, he doesn’t think about what they want outside of what will keep them loyal. He’s refining their technique and give it another three or four killings and they’ll be identical right down to the victims to the Denver killings. He’s teaching his children how to hunt and kill because he no longer has his mate to help him.”
“Mate?” Stabler frowned and Bobby mentally backpedaled.
“Partner,” Bobby said quickly, gesturing with his hands and pacing to cover up the slip with physical action. “It’s about his place as leader and the power he can exert over the others helping him. Taking the heart like he does shows how powerful he is. He’s taking their life, literally and metaphorically when he takes the heart.”
“Hey, look, we’ve got Mr. Helpful looking through mug books, if he picks anyone out, we’ll put it out city wide and these guys won’t be able to hide.” Munch broke in, “We’ve got the DNA in the lab and the bite mark. Once we pick these guys up it’s just a matter of figuring out who belongs to what evidence.”
“He’s right,” Eames said, getting up and standing next to Bobby, “In the mean time we should get the rough description out to patrols just to be safe. We don’t want to be arguing about a profile when we’ve got work to do.”
Bobby relaxed his shoulders a little, grateful Eames had stepped in. He didn’t want to admit it, but Stabler was getting to him. The constant glaring and skepticism was unfair and grating on his nerves. He was helping. His profile and the information he’d given them was right, for a human killer. It was like Stabler knew he was hiding something. Bobby paused for a second, wondering if that was it. Stabler could tell Bobby was lying.
For a moment, Bobby’s respect for the detective’s skills came to the surface but Bobby was just as good at lying as he was catching people in lies. He hadn’t been obvious about the fact that something more was going on. Something else must have tipped Stabler off. Or someone, Bobby thought, remembering Anna’s visit. With a little click, the pieces of Elliot Stabler finally fit together for Bobby and accordingly, Bobby would adjust himself to make sure not to disturb the pieces.
---
Coming in to work the next morning, Mike stopped outside at the coffee vendor for his now traditional two cups of coffee. He still wasn’t used to Marvin’s early morning walk preference. He was digging in his pocket for some loose bills when he heard his name.
“Hey, Logan!” Mike turned to see Mallory from the 2-7 walking towards him.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing here? One second.” Mike managed to pay the vendor then set the coffees down to shake hands with Mallory. “Jesus man, you’re far from home. How’d you get the leash off?”
Mallory laughed and stole one of his coffees, “Van Buren’s got me running some paper work up to the Chief of D’s for her. Hey, you hear about Olivet?”
“Something happened to Olivet?” Mike said, instantly concerned.
“No, no, she saw the guys who are ripping kid’s hearts out. A kid in her building got attacked just as she was coming home. She’s been at the 1-6 all night, giving a statement.”
“How’d you find out?”
“The uniform who drove her to the 1-6 is a friend of mine from the Academy. He remembered I worked a case with her once, gave me a call. You know, police work is all gossip and paper work.” Mallory blew on the coffee, “Thought you’d like to know since you and Briscoe you know, helped her out that one time.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks man. Hey, what’s she saying?”
Mallory shrugged, “Don’t know. My guy said she was quiet the whole ride over. You should ask your buddy Goren if you want to know that.”
Mike pointed a finger at him, “You ever think about being a detective, Mallory? You’re pretty quick on the draw.” Mallory laughed and Mike grinned, “Hey, I’ll walk you in. You can catch me up on all that good gossip.”
Mike only half listened as Mallory started to talk about business down at the 2-7. He was having another one of those crises that seemed to happen whenever the real world suddenly took a hard right into weird-ville. He really shouldn’t have helped Bobby out that one time. He’s still be locked in blissful ignorance and his world would still make sense most of the time.
On the sixth floor, Mallory stepped off the elevator and left Mike alone with his thoughts. He didn’t want to get involved, but Liz was his friend, had been ever since Max had been shot. If she had seen one of these attacks would she be in danger he wondered. He’d been attacked just because someone suspected he was part of this Company crap and he had an uneasy feeling in his gut that the same might happen to Liz. It meant he only had one option, he had to call Anna Morasca and ask for her help.
“Whoo-hoo.” He muttered to himself as he stepped off the elevator. This was just going to be a cracker jack day.
By: Liz B
---
“Third floor, more slammed doors, more no answers and more “I don’t knows”.” John said with false cheer as he stepped out of the stairwell with Fin on his heels.
Fin chuckled, “Hey, they don’t pay us the big bucks for nothing.”
John grunted his agreement and knocked on the first door of the third floor. They should have sent uniforms instead. He was getting to old to tramp up and down stairs all day. Fin clapped him on the shoulder as he went down to the next door.
Three floors and they had exactly what they started with, nothing. No one had seen anything. Apparently people didn’t watch the rain fall in the city. John was almost glad about it. Olivet only saw shadows, there was no description of huge black wolves to draw anyone’s attention to anything weird going on. Sure, it meant they were chasing their tails - no pun intended - investigation wise, but it kept what was supposed to be secret, secret. He held out the hope that if anyone did start talking about big black wolves, no one would believe them.
Problem was, anyone who actually saw the werewolves could be hunted down. Werewolves were crazy about loyalty and revenge. They were good at hiding though, the chances anyone had seen them were slim in John’s understanding of werewolves.
Revenge was more common in demon cases, the type he was most familiar with, but it wasn’t unheard of in werewolves. He really needed to call his contact and ask him about the local Centuria that had shown up. Maybe they could work together to get these werewolves and stop the killing. That’s really what mattered to John, that’s why he worked with wacky Catholics.
He banged on the door again, and yelled. “NYPD, I need to ask you a few questions!”
“I didn’t see nothin’!” A man called through the door.
“First, it’s “you didn’t see anything” and second NYPD I need to ask you a few questions.” John called back, motioning to Fin to join him. For two floors even the people who hadn’t seen anything had opened the door first. John’s finely tuned cop senses told him this was something good.
“Hey, open the door.” Fin pounded on the door, “Otherwise we don’t go anywhere.”
A few minutes later the door jerked open and a middle aged, over weight, balding man glared out at them. “I didn’t see anything, there, happy now?”
Fin slid his foot between the door frame and the door, “Your apartment over looks the street and you didn’t see anything?”
“I was watching the game.”
“Which game?” Fin asked.
“And think before answering. This guy has every sports package known to man.” John added, tilting his head towards Fin.
The man stared them down and they stared back. John mentally smiled as he watched the guy’s resolve cave. The day when he didn’t get that thrill he was retiring for real.
“Look, all I saw was a bunch of hobos, hanging out in the alley across the street.” The guy said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Bunch of hobos?” John raised an eyebrow, “What did they look like?”
“Homeless.” The man rolled his eyes.
“Alright, funny man, you’re coming down to the station with us to look at mug books.” Fin said, reaching for the guy with one hand while he dug out his cuffs with the other.
“Hey, hey!” The guy stepped back, “Alright, alright. Christ, you guys are a pain in the ass.”
“What did you see?” John pressed, taking a step into the apartment to counter act the guy’s step back.
The guy grunted, “Four of them were hanging out in the alley. I was watching ‘em because someone’s been stealing radios out of cars parked along the street and I don’t want it to happen to me.”
“What did they look like?”
“You know, ratty clothes, no shoes.”
“No shoes?” John straightened a little at the words.
“Yeah, no shoes for any of them. Wouldn’t want to walk around this city without shoes, never know what you might step on. Look, you should be harassing those guys not law abiding citizens.”
“Alright, back to what they looked like.” Fin rolled his eyes, and shot John a look. John shrugged one shoulder. He stepped around the witness and went to the window, looking out over the street. He could see only one alley from the window, but there was no one in it now. It was well lit though. Homeless people with no shoes, John figured it was werewolves. Wasn’t a bad spot to hide, except for the light. From the alley, he would bet there was a clear view of where the kid had been playing just before the attack.
“Jesus, I couldn’t see details or nothin’. They all had, I don’t know, these chains hangin’ around their necks and half of them didn’t have shirts on.”
John wanted to shake his head, but simply turned around to face the witness, “You’re going to need to come with us.”
“Aw, come on!”
“Hey, the faster you talk to the sketch artist the faster you can get back here and get back to sitting on your ass.” Fin grabbed the guy’s shoulder and pushed him to the door. John followed, closing the door behind them, tuning out the witness’s complaining. These were stupid werewolves. They’d left hairs and been seen by a witness. He needed to get Goren to introduce him to whoever he knew in the Centuria. This may just be the first case of werewolves getting arrested and while that would be great for the tabloids, it was definitely not good for any of the societies.
He may not like it, but he may have to throw this case.
---
“Really, someone should teach these guys the meaning of “subtle”.” Anna said as she stared at the flashing neon sign of The Hell Hound Club. In the driver seat, Andy chuckled. “So, think I can get past the bouncer looking like this?”
Andy looked over and took in her black jeans, boots and black sweater. “You need thicker eye makeup. This looks to be one of those Goth clubs.”
“So, Plan B?” Anna said, rubbing her hands together.
“Plan B. And only get a look around, okay? You and Lee can stake this place out tomorrow night. We just want information tonight.” Andy slid off her holster and got out of the car, heading for the door at a fast walk. She started yelling at the bouncer before she even made it across the street. When one of them couldn’t get in through the front door of a club, Plan B was Andy acted like an enraged parent and distracted the bouncer while Anna slipped in the side door. It was surprising how often they got into clubs that way.
Anna waited until Andy was going at full speed - and full volume - before getting out of the car and heading for the end of the line going out the door. She lingered there for a few minutes, listening to Andy’s tirade about how the country was falling apart because of clubs like the one the bouncer was working for and then slipped away. The side door was easy to find, and the security camera easy to duck under. She took a few seconds to pick the lock and disable the alarm and then slid inside.
First step inside and she was swallowed whole by screaming Goth rock music. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. Man, she hated this kind of music. At least the techno clubs had good music. The club was done up in blacks and reds, with pulsating lights that were supposed to look like burning fire. It was relatively well light for a Goth club. She could make out a few faces, mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings sitting in booths with large pewter goblets that had growling dog faces on them. There was a bar along one wall that looked like it was made of bones, fake bones, but the skulls all had red lights in the eyes and it was freaky.
She rolled her sleeves up, showing off the braces she wore for her bow, trying to look more like the other patrons. She took the pins out of her hair and fluffed it up with her hands, going for that sexy messy look. She couldn’t really “slut up” her sweater much, but she figured she’d manage, her breasts were bigger than half the girls in here.
As she made her way along the outskirts of the dance floor she opened her senses and wasn’t the least bit surprised when she smelled the old blood scent of vampires. Judging from the décor this was just the type of place vampires used to get young disillusioned teenagers to feed from.
She hated these places, hated the fact that vampires prayed on kids who were just looking for someplace to belong. She didn’t want to sound sentimental, but if it hadn’t been for the Company and Andy she probably would have ended up like these kids. At least she’d found something productive to pour her angst into. Although, having your life goal being killing your own father was still messed up. Anna didn’t think about it too much.
She swept her gaze around the place again and started for the bar. It would take her right through the dance floor and from the bar she could get a better look around. Maybe she’d even track down one of the vampires in this place and see if she could get them to talk. While she kept her nose tuned to the scent of vampires, she kept her eyes open for flashing chain. She never understood how werewolves got around undisturbed for so long with giant chains hanging out of their necks. Wouldn’t that be a dead give away that someone wasn’t human? Maybe Andy was right, people didn’t see what they didn’t want to see.
“Anna…”
Anna whirled around at the whisper in her ear and had to take a step back as she came face to face with Matteo. She lunged for him, but he grabbed a wrist and then wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close and effectively pinning her arms.
“Hello, Anna.”
She growled, trying to slam her forehead into his nose, but Matteo tilted his head to the side before she could connect and ended up with her face pressed against his neck. The coopery rotting flesh smell overpowered Anna’s senses and she fought back a wave of nausea. She tried to pull her head back, but Matteo turned his slightly, his lips inches from her ear.
“How advantageous that you found this place.”
“I’ll kill you.” She whispered, “You’re dead.”
“He may come here tonight. He often visits.” She went still as a wave of hate rolled through her. Matteo chuckled, “How long will you wait here?”
And then he was gone, leaving her alone on the dance floor. She whipped around, trying to spot his distinctive white outfit. She didn’t see anything but a sea of pale faces and black clothes. She shuddered, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of Matteo’s arms around her. God, she wanted a shower. Where the hell had he come from? She hadn’t even smelled him coming. She should have, her senses were wide open. She shuddered again, and started towards the bar. She settled herself onto a corner stool, so she had one side to the wall and ordered a drink.
Andy would be pissed that Anna was gearing up for a long wait, but Matteo’s words were still ringing in her ears and if she had even the slightest chance to get her hands on her dear father she’d risk Andy’s wrath.
---
Vlad grabbed a chair and flipped it onto a table, “I should have known getting involved would bring the Centuria running. Even after all these years they still think of me as a traitor first.”
“I can’t believe Andrea’s still here.” Alexie said, also flipping a chair over onto a table. “I thought you said they moved around a lot.”
“Boys, less complaining, more helping me close down.” Damek called as he mopped the floor.
Vlad ignored him and dropped into a chair, “The Consilium, why didn’t I sense their presence? I thought Andrea was gone, I couldn’t,” He waved a hand through the air in front of him, “I couldn’t feel her anymore.”
Damek paused in mopping, looking over at him, “Your powers have been awfully quiet lately.”
“I know! There’s no good reason for the Consilium to be following me around. I’m not doing anything.”
“Which is weird because we couldn’t keep you from running off a few months ago.” Alexie also stopped stacking chair, “There wasn’t even a trickling off, which you’d expect with you know, the typical bell curve of Caerimonia Obtinere activity.”
“You made a graph of Caerimonia Obtinere activity?” Vlad looked over at his cousin who rolled his eyes.
“No, I hacked the Gizmo database. Please, I’ve got term papers on Catastrophe Theory to grade. I don’t have the time to gather the kind of data I’d need to even begin constructing a decent statistical study.”
“Look what you started. Alexie, did you have a point before prost here got you off topic?” Damek leaned against the mop, looking at them in exasperation.
“Well, yeah, of course. Look, there’s only seven Caerimonia Obtinere in the world, so statistically speaking the bell curve for you guys should be too small to be statistically useful, but you guys have been around for thousands of years, so the data just keeps building over time. Vlad, I’ll throw a chair at you, this is important.”
Vlad laughed and stopped pretending to sleep, “Sorry, sorry, continue.”
“So, any way, on the bell curve the Gizmos’ have the sudden drop off you’re experiencing is super rare, towards this end of the bell curve.” Alexie held one hand up, curved in an upside down “u” and then used the other to point towards the tips of his fingers, “Get it?”
Vlad leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand, “Yes, but I don’t get your point.”
“It’s an anomaly!” Alexie threw up his hands, “It shouldn’t be happening because statistically you’re more likely to have the gentle trickling off like thousands of years of data says. There’s got to be an explanation for this.”
“Well, we’ve always thought Vlad was an anomaly in the first place.”
“Har-dee-har-har.” Vlad drawled, narrowing his eyes at his bother who grinned unapologetically back.
“The real question is how do we find the explanation for this.” Alexie started picking up chairs again, flipping and talking, “Because everything was statistically normal up until now.”
“No everything.” Damek said, “Andrea returned.”
“Oh please, the data on Caerimonia Obtinere working together completely contradicts that.” Alexie snorted, but Vlad sat up straight, a tingle building in his brain for the first time in months.
“Andrea…”
“It’s only logical,” Damek continued, still leaning against the mop, “First things are going just like Alexie said, then she shows up, you guys work together and when you go your separate ways, you’ve got nothing but silence.”
“Are you saying he needs to see Andrea again?” Alexie said incredulously, “Hello, Damek, she’s spying on him for the guys who all hate Vlad. She’s like twisting the knife in his back.”
Vlad looked down at his hands, remembering how it felt working with Andrea, how he’d royally screwed up with that kiss, and got up to stack chairs. “I’ll go see her tomorrow.”
“Vlad, don’t do this to yourself.” Alexie pleaded, “She’s never done anything good for you.”
“Alexie, don’t interfere. It has to be done.” Vlad ordered, “If this can’t be painless, it can at least be quick.”
---
Bobby stood in the center of the SVU squad room, all eyes focused on him. He glanced at Eames once before starting, “This is a pack, a… brotherhood even. There’s one guy in charge, and he started in Denver where he and a partner killed these women. Those killings are more… clean and practiced than these here. The victims are bigger and more able to fight back. Something happened to his partner to bring him here. He manipulated these boys, most likely runaways, to help him. And he… he got more of them than before. Instead of one partner he’s got three or four, based on the witness statement.”
“So, we’re dealing with another Manson?” Benson asked.
Bobby nodded, though in reality what they were dealing with was much worse than Charles Manson. God, all this covering up gave him a headache and sat uneasy in his stomach. It didn’t seem to bother Detective Munch, but Bobby hated it. Still, he kept going.
“Only, I believe the… leader is more involved that Manson.” Bobby strode over to the board of pictures he had set up and pointed to the first crime scene photo, “Look how sloppy it is, especially when you look at the latest scene. He’s… critiquing their performance, grading them, in a sense. He wants them prefect…”
“Like his first partner.” Stabler said, “We should check Denver’s records, see who got picked up just after the last murder there. Maybe his partner’s serving time and that’s why he had to start over here in New York.
“There’s no garuntee he was picked up in Denver, or that he was picked up at all.” Bobby countered, “This leader is the type to kill anyone who challenged him. His partner is most likely dead.”
“And if you’re wrong, we’ll have to scramble to make up the days we lost on your say so.” Stabler bristled and Bobby shifted on his feet, but he wasn’t about to back down. It wasn’t just that he knew his profile was most likely right, it was Stabler’s attitude on a whole. He wanted to lead and saw Bobby as a threat to that. He’d keep pushing until Bobby either backed down or earned his respect, a task which Bobby knew would need time and a stubborn mind set.
“Look, if you want to look through Denver’s records, go ahead. I’m telling you the partner is dead.” Bobby turned back to the board, “Instead of escalating the attacks are getting more and more like the Denver ones, quicker and more… refined. This guy wants these hearts for something.”
“Any ideas on what that might be?” Tutuola asked, sitting with his feet up on his desk.
“Some native tribes eat their enemies hearts to get their strength, don’t they? Maybe he’s after power.” Benson theorized.
“If you were after power wouldn’t you take down someone big and strong, not little kids?” Eames pointed out. “Maybe he’s after something else that kids have.”
“Chicken pox?” Munch proffered and everyone rolled their eyes.
“He wants their life force,” Bobby broke in, “Arguably the brain is what really keeps everything going, but the heart is what we most consciously associate with life. He might be sick and dying and thinks this is the way to keep himself away. Children are seen as full of… of potential and life and energy. He wants that for himself.”
“So you don’t think he’s sharing his prize with his followers? How does he talk them into helping if they don’t get anything out of it?” Stabler asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“He’s got to give them something, Elliot’s right.” Tutuola said, “Manson used drugs, right? Maybe this guy’s paying for their drug habits.”
Bobby shook his head, “No, no, he wouldn’t use junkies. Junkies are sickly and, and sloppy. Too sloppy for a guy like this. No, they get something out of the chase, out of hunting these boys.”
“You said the first killings were sloppy. He could be weaning them off the drugs, that’s why the killings are getting better.” Stabler countered and Bobby paced a few steps away before turning back to face him.
“The man you’re looking for is a manipulator, highly intelligent and a con artist. He’s found these disillusioned kids to help him get what he wants. He doesn’t think about their needs, he doesn’t think about what they want outside of what will keep them loyal. He’s refining their technique and give it another three or four killings and they’ll be identical right down to the victims to the Denver killings. He’s teaching his children how to hunt and kill because he no longer has his mate to help him.”
“Mate?” Stabler frowned and Bobby mentally backpedaled.
“Partner,” Bobby said quickly, gesturing with his hands and pacing to cover up the slip with physical action. “It’s about his place as leader and the power he can exert over the others helping him. Taking the heart like he does shows how powerful he is. He’s taking their life, literally and metaphorically when he takes the heart.”
“Hey, look, we’ve got Mr. Helpful looking through mug books, if he picks anyone out, we’ll put it out city wide and these guys won’t be able to hide.” Munch broke in, “We’ve got the DNA in the lab and the bite mark. Once we pick these guys up it’s just a matter of figuring out who belongs to what evidence.”
“He’s right,” Eames said, getting up and standing next to Bobby, “In the mean time we should get the rough description out to patrols just to be safe. We don’t want to be arguing about a profile when we’ve got work to do.”
Bobby relaxed his shoulders a little, grateful Eames had stepped in. He didn’t want to admit it, but Stabler was getting to him. The constant glaring and skepticism was unfair and grating on his nerves. He was helping. His profile and the information he’d given them was right, for a human killer. It was like Stabler knew he was hiding something. Bobby paused for a second, wondering if that was it. Stabler could tell Bobby was lying.
For a moment, Bobby’s respect for the detective’s skills came to the surface but Bobby was just as good at lying as he was catching people in lies. He hadn’t been obvious about the fact that something more was going on. Something else must have tipped Stabler off. Or someone, Bobby thought, remembering Anna’s visit. With a little click, the pieces of Elliot Stabler finally fit together for Bobby and accordingly, Bobby would adjust himself to make sure not to disturb the pieces.
---
Coming in to work the next morning, Mike stopped outside at the coffee vendor for his now traditional two cups of coffee. He still wasn’t used to Marvin’s early morning walk preference. He was digging in his pocket for some loose bills when he heard his name.
“Hey, Logan!” Mike turned to see Mallory from the 2-7 walking towards him.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing here? One second.” Mike managed to pay the vendor then set the coffees down to shake hands with Mallory. “Jesus man, you’re far from home. How’d you get the leash off?”
Mallory laughed and stole one of his coffees, “Van Buren’s got me running some paper work up to the Chief of D’s for her. Hey, you hear about Olivet?”
“Something happened to Olivet?” Mike said, instantly concerned.
“No, no, she saw the guys who are ripping kid’s hearts out. A kid in her building got attacked just as she was coming home. She’s been at the 1-6 all night, giving a statement.”
“How’d you find out?”
“The uniform who drove her to the 1-6 is a friend of mine from the Academy. He remembered I worked a case with her once, gave me a call. You know, police work is all gossip and paper work.” Mallory blew on the coffee, “Thought you’d like to know since you and Briscoe you know, helped her out that one time.”
“Yeah, yeah, thanks man. Hey, what’s she saying?”
Mallory shrugged, “Don’t know. My guy said she was quiet the whole ride over. You should ask your buddy Goren if you want to know that.”
Mike pointed a finger at him, “You ever think about being a detective, Mallory? You’re pretty quick on the draw.” Mallory laughed and Mike grinned, “Hey, I’ll walk you in. You can catch me up on all that good gossip.”
Mike only half listened as Mallory started to talk about business down at the 2-7. He was having another one of those crises that seemed to happen whenever the real world suddenly took a hard right into weird-ville. He really shouldn’t have helped Bobby out that one time. He’s still be locked in blissful ignorance and his world would still make sense most of the time.
On the sixth floor, Mallory stepped off the elevator and left Mike alone with his thoughts. He didn’t want to get involved, but Liz was his friend, had been ever since Max had been shot. If she had seen one of these attacks would she be in danger he wondered. He’d been attacked just because someone suspected he was part of this Company crap and he had an uneasy feeling in his gut that the same might happen to Liz. It meant he only had one option, he had to call Anna Morasca and ask for her help.
“Whoo-hoo.” He muttered to himself as he stepped off the elevator. This was just going to be a cracker jack day.