Paranormal Romance: Gehenna (Chapter Two) PG13
Title: Gehenna (Chapter Two)
Author: HelenT
Rating: PG13
Genre(s) : Paranormal Romance/angst/action
Summary: Whatever she’d been expecting of Hell it wasn’t what Liz Grant found. People and demons alike can be predator or victim. Caught between opposing sides in a fight for eternal life or eternal death, she has no option but to throw caution to the wind.
Disclaimer Characters and plot remain the property of the owner (me).:)
Link to Prologue and chapter one
CHAPTER TWO
The Voluptarius was on the outskirts of the old quarter and so middle of the road when it came to seediness, licentiousness and violence. If a man was bent on trouble, but wanted to enjoy a few drinks along the way, well, it was a good place to start and work your way up to the serious dives. There was nothing like alcoholic oblivion to drive out dreams, or so Michael Thane hoped. Revealing its Roman origins the tavern was built of fired brick with a vaulted ceiling and a large central, circular bar. The newest owner had added angled mirrors to the top of the bar servery, allowing customers to keep an eye on what was going on behind their backs whilst ordering drinks. The gesture was appreciated and well used. Michael weaved his way through the crowds towards the bar. Those patrons who were not so deep in their cups that they couldn’t recognise trouble watched his approach warily in the mirrors. The reek of fear spiked as conversations dropped to whispers and warning nudges. Two men downed their drinks and slunk off, making way without him having to utter a word. Idly, he wondered if he now had the word ‘vampire’ stamped on his forehead.
Taking their place, he found himself looking at the eccentric new owner herself. Eyeing the two inch tall, multi-coloured spikes that made up Lady’s hair, he said, “I’ll have a double whiskey.”
Instead of complying, she folded her arms over her chest and glared. “The last time I served you it took me forever to get rid of the blood stains-not to mention the clientele you cost me.” Now she wagged a finger at him. “I seem to recall telling you never to step foot in here again.”
Lady-short for Gladys-was taller than most men and had a baritone voice deep enough to sing in an all male choir. Her dress sense was even wilder than her hairstyle.
“I figured you were kidding.”
That brought a scowl to her face. “Why, ‘cause I have a weakness for a pretty face? Is that why you think you can come waltzing back in here expecting to drink my booze? Pfft! I should kick your ancient-but-cute arse out of here.”
Michael considered several responses, and settled for, “I don’t waltz and you’re welcome to try.”
“Not worth the effort.” Snorting in amusement, Lady slammed an empty glass on the counter and proceeded to fill it for him. “All right, all right. Take this and go find a corner to brood in-that’s all you seem to do these days.”
“Gee thanks-and I didn’t start the fight last time.”
“No, but you helped finish it. Impressive to watch when you’re not paying the repair bill.” Lady’s golden eyes gleamed when she added, “Just so you know. A conciliatory phone call, maybe even dinner, would have gone a long way to smoothing my feathers.”
Michael took a sip, felt the fire drip down his throat. “I don’t remember taking your phone number.”
Lady winked. “I’m still waiting for you to ask.”
He was saved from having to answer that loaded hint by a new customer claiming the space next to him. Making good his escape, he headed for an empty table. He’d barely sat down when he felt the presence of another. He looked up to see a stranger standing by the remaining chair, apparently waiting to be noticed. Crystalline blue eyes gazed steadily back at him.
Frowning because it had been centuries since anyone had managed to sneak up on him unawares, Michael spoke first. “I’m not the sociable type. Find yourself another seat.”
“Then it’s lucky that I’m not here to socialise but to issue a warning, Mr Thane.” The stranger gestured to the chair, “May I?”
Michael let the moment stretch out, taking his time in a thorough appraisal. A short beard that was little more than deliberate stubble framed the man’s jaw, the same brown colour as the hair that reached his shoulders. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but appearance of age was meaningless in Gehenna. He had the air of age and yet he smelled human. The clothes too, partially hidden as they were by a hooded cloak, strongly hinted at a preference for earlier Earth times. There was no hint of a weapon.
Still, this man raised the hairs on the back of Michael’s neck. He trusted his instincts and something was definitely off. It wasn’t just that this man knew his name. Michael was well-known among the less salubrious of Gehenna’s inhabitants. Still, why seek him out?
Hiding his unease, Michael leaned nonchalantly back in his own seat and then nodded. “All right, but make it quick.”
Once seated, the stranger held out a hand across the scarred, wooden table. “I’m Aaron.”
There was a pause. Handshakes were rare in this part of Gehenna. Too many people were afraid it was a ruse to lower defences. Michael reached out. They shook briefly.
Settling back in his seat, Aaron gestured to indicate the tavern. “This place seems a little tame for one such as yourself. Do you mind if I ask why you frequent it?”
“It’s different, and normal humans move around more so you don’t end up staring at the same faces night after night.” Not to mention that the lack of couples-or even multiples-locked in sweaty embraces on table tops, or writhing in cushioned booths. The air might not be wholesome in here, but at least it didn’t stink of sex. Michael kept the rest to himself.
“I see.”
“You see what?”
“That you still have a preference for human company.”
“Preference is too strong a word. I don’t like tedium and this place breaks it up every now and then.” Michael gave a grim smile. “Generally, I don’t like any company at all, so why don’t you hurry up with this warning.”
“If that is your wish then certainly, however, before I do I must ask you another question. You’ve been here many years, yes? Long enough, I imagine to realise that Gehenna-the whole plane of existence-is much larger than this one city?”
“Yeah. I knew that.” Michael shrugged. “I’ve been to a few of the other cities. I don’t recommend Sodom or Gomorrah-to say that their sense of fun is a little twisted is an understatement.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but they’re not, unfortunately, the worst.” Unsmiling, Aaron leaned forward, eyes intent. “And that’s where the warning comes in. Another vampire has to come to this city, from just one such a hellish place. He is already aware of you and his interest is not based on your welfare-quite the opposite.”
“And does this unknown enemy have a name?”
“He does. Gabriel Hugh Tracey.”
The bottom dropped out of Michael’s stomach and this time he couldn’t hide his reaction. Unwelcome memories swamped him. He hadn’t thought of that name or the man who it belonged to since he himself had been alive on Earth. Every muscle locked.
Aaron noticed. “I see that the name means something to you.”
Abruptly a red haze descended over his mind as fury came to Michael’s rescue. The son of a bitch was playing with him. A heartbeat later he had Aaron’s throat held in a grip strong enough to crush the man’s larynx. When he spoke, Michael’s voice was flat, low and oddly calm. “You know damned well that it means something to me. You couldn’t know the name or see the man without recognising the connection.” His grip tightened and he let his eyes transform. “I am, after all, the image of my father.” The last was said on a guttural growl.
The noise level in the tavern dropped as those nearest noticed the tense tableau presented by the two powerful-looking men.
Aaron didn’t struggle, try to remove Michael’s crushing fingers or attempt to retaliate in any way. In fact, he appeared unfazed by the attack, as if merely waiting patiently for the opportunity to speak. Any doubts about whether this Aaron was human or not were now put to rest. He was not human. “What the hell are you?” Michael asked.
In response, Aaron quirked a brow, making it clear that if Michael wanted an answer he had to release him. Michael did so with a snarl and fell back into his seat.
“I can’t tell you what I am, but I’m no threat to you, Mr Thane, and while I’m sure that you won’t believe me, my motives are for you own good.”
The asshole wasn’t even struggling for breath. Yanking his temper back into check, Michael picked up his whiskey and tossed half of it back before answering. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
Aaron’s motives remained suspect, but Michael didn’t doubt that the threat was real, or the cause. For one thing it went a long way towards explaining the weirdness he’d been experiencing lately; the worsening of his killing-dreams and irrational mood swings. He hadn’t been able to do any jobs recently because he couldn’t trust his judgement. Hell. He’d been half convinced that he was finally losing his mind.
Conversations around them picked up again once the rest of the taverns patrons realised there was no more violence in the offing. “Let’s just say that I have a vested interest in you overcoming this little problem,” Aaron offered as additional assurance.
“My father has never been what anyone can call a little problem,” retorted Michael. “Apart from the fact that he was a sadistic son of a bitch even when alive, there’s the small fact that he died relatively young and I look enough like him to be his twin rather than his bastard son.” There was a bad taste in his mouth and the rage that the name of his father had invoked was still simmering under the surface. Jesus. He had to get out of here-he needed to think. Standing, he tossed back the last of the whiskey and slammed down the glass. “Thanks for the warning. Now take one from me. Don’t come near me again. I don’t trust you, and if I think you’re a problem I’ll deal with you on that basis.”
Aaron remained seated when Michael turned to walk away, but spoke again before he’d gone more than a few steps. “One final warning. Good deeds can return to haunt you just as surely as bad ones.”
Michael slowed, but didn’t bother looking back. “Then I have nothing to worry about. I haven’t done any good deeds in a very long time.”
~o~
Waste disposal is a huge problem in Gehenna. It’s not just human ageing that is put on hold. Refuse that would decay within months back on Earth can take decades or centuries here. On the plus side, buildings don’t rot and crumble to dust after a mere few centuries, meaning they can withstand multiple conversions for different functions without collapsing under the strain. When yet another victim was found in the ancient Illyria sector, on the very outskirts of the old quarter, the body was taken to the nearby Medical Centre for the Research of Human Demonology. The MCRHD, known as the vamp lab by those in the DCD, had once been a large and labyrinthine library. Carved statues of angels, as well as stone biblical reliefs and murals could be found in almost every room and corridor.
As the only confessed empath available to work on identifying and studying vampires, Liz’s work was split between the two departments. When she spotted both Harry and the DCD Director, Carl Cabrera walk past her as she walked into the armoured-glass surrounded reception area, she impulsively followed. A sudden flurry of activity in the usually calm and orderly atmosphere allowed her to join the group and slip unnoticed into the mortuary behind Harry. They arrived just in time to see the opaque transportation pod opened. The body it had contained was then moved to a moulded plastic slab with channels for draining bodily fluids. Liz felt her gorge rise the moment she set eyes on the body.
Oh God!
The victim was female and riddled with the puncture marks and deep lacerations. In some places the flesh had been viciously torn, and then there was the bruising. To Liz it looked as if she’d been mauled by a vicious beast.
Doctor Nicole Keller looked and sounded more like a wholesome farm girl than a certified medical doctor who had specialised in genetics in life. Odder still was that she'd turned that expertise into studying vampires in death. With her auburn hair safely pulled back in a braid to avoid contamination, she bent to examine the wounds on the woman’s throat and neck. Silence reigned for a few minutes, until Cabrera asked, “What’s your opinion, doctor. Is it a vampire kill-the same as the others?”
Nicole didn’t look up from the body. “I’ve only just begun, Carl. You’ll have to give me time to complete a full exam.” The American Midwest accent didn’t hide the steel in her voice.
“I’m not asking for chapter and verse, and I won’t hold you to it. I just want your first impressions. Give me something to get started on.”
She puffed out an aggravated breath but conceded. “An initial examination certainly leads me to that assumption. These are definitely vampire bites.”
“I can hear a ‘but’ coming,” said Cabrera.
She finally looked up, a frown marring her piquantly pretty face. “This victim is similar to the others in differing from the normal results of a vampire attack.”
“What do you consider normal?”
“For a start, they’re not normally so well preserved.”
Cabrera quirked both brows and gestured at the body. “You call that well-preserved?”
She pulled a face. “I should have said ‘intact’. Most vampire attacks are frenzied. They’re ravenous, driven mad by a hunger that they can never quench and this shows in the state of the victim’s body. They don’t just go for blood but flesh too. Not this one though. This kill looks far more controlled-each bite seems considered and evaluated.”
“I see. Is there anything else?”
“I estimate that she’s been dead approximately twenty four hours.” Nicole’s unblinking blue eyes stayed level on Cabrera’s. “Also, both arms and both legs have been broken. I don’t know yet if the breaks were pre or post mortem. I’ll know more in a few hours.”
A considering silence fell.
Standing next to Cabrera, Harry finally noticed Liz by the door and sent her a furtively comical look of stern disapproval mixed with an appeal to make herself scarce now. Liz was in the middle of her retreat when Cabrera spun on his heel and found her backing out of the swing doors. “Ms Grant. I don’t recall authorising your presence during this consult.”
Even in the best of circumstances Carl Cabrera unnerved Liz, perhaps because he was one of the few that she couldn’t read. Despite his lack of height he had an imposing presence, and he never failed to make Liz feel like the useless, spoiled party girl she’d once been. He didn’t raise his voice or bluster and yet every member of his staff admired, respected, and yes, feared him. He also had a way of inspiring fanatical loyalty. Now his gaze pinned her to the spot. Liz swallowed. “No, sir, you didn’t.”
His expression didn’t change and neither did his rough-gravel voice. “Is there some reason that you felt you needed to be here? Perhaps you have something to add to this investigation?”
They both knew that dead bodies don’t emote and Liz’s ability was centred on people and not things or places. Unless the killer was standing in the room with them, she couldn’t do a thing.
Oh crap! She could feel the ice forming in the air. “No, sir, I have nothing to add. I just…erm…followed you in.”
“Really? That’s odd considering that Harry informed me that you were busy on another mission and so unavailable at this time.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak and Cabrera shot him a quelling look. Locking his jaw, Harry lifted his eyes ceiling-wards and rocked back on his heels. Liz wondered if he was praying.
Without warning, Cabrera strode past her, saying, “Since you’re here, come with me.”
Cabrera could move fast and Liz had to trot to keep up with him. A harassed looking, tight-lipped Harry strode beside her. She would have liked to ask where they were going but decided that the less she said the better. They went up one level and then entered an empty conference room. The room had an octagonal table and six chairs. At the far end of the table was a high-end, built-in computer with a touch sensitive screen and slide out keyboard and digital data ports. Cabrera inserted a data stick, pressed his thumb to the screen for an ID scan and then keyed in a password when prompted. Left standing off to the side, Liz still didn’t have a clue why she was there and Harry was refusing to meet her gaze.
After a moment, Cabrera straightened and swivelled the screen towards Liz. “I want your opinion on this footage, Ms Grant.”
Doing as bidden, Liz watched the short segment. As she did a tight band spread over her chest. The grainy recording had obviously been made by a low-grade surveillance camera. Even so, she recognised the man half supporting an obviously inebriated woman. Michael Thane.
“Who’s the woman?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“The likely preceding victim to the woman you just saw being examined in the mortuary. Her name was Vanessa De Bois and she was found dead in her own apartment two days ago. What about the man, Ms Grant, do you recognise him?”
Liz took a deep breath and lifted her chin to look at the director of the DCD squarely. “You know I do. It’s Michael Thane.”
Cabrera nodded and kept his piercing gaze on her. “The facial recognition programme back at the DCD agrees with you, and you happen to be the only person within my department that has had personal contact with the main suspect.”
Liz was beginning to despise the feeling of being at sea, as in, out of control and non-comprehending. “I don’t understand.”
“Congratulations,” said Cabrera, enlightening her. “You just volunteered yourself and your empathic abilities to help locate a feral, extremely dangerous vampire. Hopefully before he tortures and kills any more women. I suggest you go home and get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
~o~
“I tried to keep you out of it,” Harry told her as he escorted her out of the lab. Liz was too preoccupied to reply to that aggrieved statement. He continued regardless. “But no, you had to follow your usual practice of being precisely where you shouldn’t.”
He led her to his car, neither of them earning enough to purchase a flight-capable vehicle. When he opened the passenger door for her, she ducked inside and sat down with a sigh of relief. She waited for Harry to get in before speaking. “Harry, stop harping on at me. You heard Cabrera, he would have roped me in soon enough anyway. What were you planning to do, send me on a trumped up mission on the other side of the city and keep me there?”
At that time of night the car park was empty. “Well, no, not exactly,” he conceded ungraciously, starting the engine. “But I was at least hoping to warn you properly in advance.”
Liz felt some of her tension leave her at that gruff admission. Harry was more than just a supervisor, he was her friend. There were rumours about them at work. Mostly due to the fact that he was an attractive man and she had good looks enough to ensure that she had a fleet of admirers to worry about and ward off. Not that there was anything between them. He was just a decent, noble man behind the outward stuffiness. Affection squeezed her insides and to appease it she reached over and squeezed his free hand. “Of course you did and I appreciate the thought. I don’t know what I’d do without you looking out for me.”
Discomforted by the display of affection, Harry shifted in his seat, the picture of male embarrassment. “Yes, well, I do what I can. I consider you a friend too, you know that.”
Knowing he’d jibber on for several more fractured sentences, Liz let him off the hook by interrupting, “I do know it, which is why I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m okay about this, honestly.”
Taking his eyes off the empty roads, he shot her a searching glance. “Honestly, honestly?”
She knew what he was asking. A sense of shame washed over her and brought a headache along for the ride. “I know. God. I know. It’s truly idiotic of me to have carried this stupid, stupid ‘thing’ about Thane for the last year.” Wryly, she shook her head at herself and threw up her hands in aggravation. “I met the man once, for heavens sake! I honestly don’t know why I’ve not been able to get him out of my head. At least this horrible mess should help me exorcise him.” She tried a smile and prayed it wouldn’t wobble and give her away, then quipped, “Yay! Silver lining.”
A few minutes later, Harry pulled up outside of her apartment building. By this time it was raining hard enough to bounce off the pavement. Waving a brief goodbye, Liz dashed to the entrance. She was soaked through by the time she reached the stone archway into the foyer. Shivers racked her as the elevator climbed towards the nineteenth floor. To make matters worse, she had to press her door code in twice because she mis-keyed the first time. Cold, aggravated and with a head that was now pounding, she entered her apartment muttering under her breath about wishing that she’d never heard the name Michael Thane. The sodden over-tunic landed with a splat on the tiny, tiled hallway floor, leaving Liz in a comfortable vest-top and linen trousers.
She was headed for her bedroom when a hard hand snagged her elbow and swung her around. Her wide-eyed gaze collided with darkly amused obsidian. “What’s the matter, Ms Grant? Not so grateful that I saved your life anymore?”
TBC
SEE LINK BELOW
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Your thoughts, including concrit, are most welcome!
Link to chapter three
Author: HelenT
Rating: PG13
Genre(s) : Paranormal Romance/angst/action
Summary: Whatever she’d been expecting of Hell it wasn’t what Liz Grant found. People and demons alike can be predator or victim. Caught between opposing sides in a fight for eternal life or eternal death, she has no option but to throw caution to the wind.
Disclaimer Characters and plot remain the property of the owner (me).:)
Link to Prologue and chapter one
CHAPTER TWO
The Voluptarius was on the outskirts of the old quarter and so middle of the road when it came to seediness, licentiousness and violence. If a man was bent on trouble, but wanted to enjoy a few drinks along the way, well, it was a good place to start and work your way up to the serious dives. There was nothing like alcoholic oblivion to drive out dreams, or so Michael Thane hoped. Revealing its Roman origins the tavern was built of fired brick with a vaulted ceiling and a large central, circular bar. The newest owner had added angled mirrors to the top of the bar servery, allowing customers to keep an eye on what was going on behind their backs whilst ordering drinks. The gesture was appreciated and well used. Michael weaved his way through the crowds towards the bar. Those patrons who were not so deep in their cups that they couldn’t recognise trouble watched his approach warily in the mirrors. The reek of fear spiked as conversations dropped to whispers and warning nudges. Two men downed their drinks and slunk off, making way without him having to utter a word. Idly, he wondered if he now had the word ‘vampire’ stamped on his forehead.
Taking their place, he found himself looking at the eccentric new owner herself. Eyeing the two inch tall, multi-coloured spikes that made up Lady’s hair, he said, “I’ll have a double whiskey.”
Instead of complying, she folded her arms over her chest and glared. “The last time I served you it took me forever to get rid of the blood stains-not to mention the clientele you cost me.” Now she wagged a finger at him. “I seem to recall telling you never to step foot in here again.”
Lady-short for Gladys-was taller than most men and had a baritone voice deep enough to sing in an all male choir. Her dress sense was even wilder than her hairstyle.
“I figured you were kidding.”
That brought a scowl to her face. “Why, ‘cause I have a weakness for a pretty face? Is that why you think you can come waltzing back in here expecting to drink my booze? Pfft! I should kick your ancient-but-cute arse out of here.”
Michael considered several responses, and settled for, “I don’t waltz and you’re welcome to try.”
“Not worth the effort.” Snorting in amusement, Lady slammed an empty glass on the counter and proceeded to fill it for him. “All right, all right. Take this and go find a corner to brood in-that’s all you seem to do these days.”
“Gee thanks-and I didn’t start the fight last time.”
“No, but you helped finish it. Impressive to watch when you’re not paying the repair bill.” Lady’s golden eyes gleamed when she added, “Just so you know. A conciliatory phone call, maybe even dinner, would have gone a long way to smoothing my feathers.”
Michael took a sip, felt the fire drip down his throat. “I don’t remember taking your phone number.”
Lady winked. “I’m still waiting for you to ask.”
He was saved from having to answer that loaded hint by a new customer claiming the space next to him. Making good his escape, he headed for an empty table. He’d barely sat down when he felt the presence of another. He looked up to see a stranger standing by the remaining chair, apparently waiting to be noticed. Crystalline blue eyes gazed steadily back at him.
Frowning because it had been centuries since anyone had managed to sneak up on him unawares, Michael spoke first. “I’m not the sociable type. Find yourself another seat.”
“Then it’s lucky that I’m not here to socialise but to issue a warning, Mr Thane.” The stranger gestured to the chair, “May I?”
Michael let the moment stretch out, taking his time in a thorough appraisal. A short beard that was little more than deliberate stubble framed the man’s jaw, the same brown colour as the hair that reached his shoulders. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, but appearance of age was meaningless in Gehenna. He had the air of age and yet he smelled human. The clothes too, partially hidden as they were by a hooded cloak, strongly hinted at a preference for earlier Earth times. There was no hint of a weapon.
Still, this man raised the hairs on the back of Michael’s neck. He trusted his instincts and something was definitely off. It wasn’t just that this man knew his name. Michael was well-known among the less salubrious of Gehenna’s inhabitants. Still, why seek him out?
Hiding his unease, Michael leaned nonchalantly back in his own seat and then nodded. “All right, but make it quick.”
Once seated, the stranger held out a hand across the scarred, wooden table. “I’m Aaron.”
There was a pause. Handshakes were rare in this part of Gehenna. Too many people were afraid it was a ruse to lower defences. Michael reached out. They shook briefly.
Settling back in his seat, Aaron gestured to indicate the tavern. “This place seems a little tame for one such as yourself. Do you mind if I ask why you frequent it?”
“It’s different, and normal humans move around more so you don’t end up staring at the same faces night after night.” Not to mention that the lack of couples-or even multiples-locked in sweaty embraces on table tops, or writhing in cushioned booths. The air might not be wholesome in here, but at least it didn’t stink of sex. Michael kept the rest to himself.
“I see.”
“You see what?”
“That you still have a preference for human company.”
“Preference is too strong a word. I don’t like tedium and this place breaks it up every now and then.” Michael gave a grim smile. “Generally, I don’t like any company at all, so why don’t you hurry up with this warning.”
“If that is your wish then certainly, however, before I do I must ask you another question. You’ve been here many years, yes? Long enough, I imagine to realise that Gehenna-the whole plane of existence-is much larger than this one city?”
“Yeah. I knew that.” Michael shrugged. “I’ve been to a few of the other cities. I don’t recommend Sodom or Gomorrah-to say that their sense of fun is a little twisted is an understatement.”
“I couldn’t agree more, but they’re not, unfortunately, the worst.” Unsmiling, Aaron leaned forward, eyes intent. “And that’s where the warning comes in. Another vampire has to come to this city, from just one such a hellish place. He is already aware of you and his interest is not based on your welfare-quite the opposite.”
“And does this unknown enemy have a name?”
“He does. Gabriel Hugh Tracey.”
The bottom dropped out of Michael’s stomach and this time he couldn’t hide his reaction. Unwelcome memories swamped him. He hadn’t thought of that name or the man who it belonged to since he himself had been alive on Earth. Every muscle locked.
Aaron noticed. “I see that the name means something to you.”
Abruptly a red haze descended over his mind as fury came to Michael’s rescue. The son of a bitch was playing with him. A heartbeat later he had Aaron’s throat held in a grip strong enough to crush the man’s larynx. When he spoke, Michael’s voice was flat, low and oddly calm. “You know damned well that it means something to me. You couldn’t know the name or see the man without recognising the connection.” His grip tightened and he let his eyes transform. “I am, after all, the image of my father.” The last was said on a guttural growl.
The noise level in the tavern dropped as those nearest noticed the tense tableau presented by the two powerful-looking men.
Aaron didn’t struggle, try to remove Michael’s crushing fingers or attempt to retaliate in any way. In fact, he appeared unfazed by the attack, as if merely waiting patiently for the opportunity to speak. Any doubts about whether this Aaron was human or not were now put to rest. He was not human. “What the hell are you?” Michael asked.
In response, Aaron quirked a brow, making it clear that if Michael wanted an answer he had to release him. Michael did so with a snarl and fell back into his seat.
“I can’t tell you what I am, but I’m no threat to you, Mr Thane, and while I’m sure that you won’t believe me, my motives are for you own good.”
The asshole wasn’t even struggling for breath. Yanking his temper back into check, Michael picked up his whiskey and tossed half of it back before answering. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.”
Aaron’s motives remained suspect, but Michael didn’t doubt that the threat was real, or the cause. For one thing it went a long way towards explaining the weirdness he’d been experiencing lately; the worsening of his killing-dreams and irrational mood swings. He hadn’t been able to do any jobs recently because he couldn’t trust his judgement. Hell. He’d been half convinced that he was finally losing his mind.
Conversations around them picked up again once the rest of the taverns patrons realised there was no more violence in the offing. “Let’s just say that I have a vested interest in you overcoming this little problem,” Aaron offered as additional assurance.
“My father has never been what anyone can call a little problem,” retorted Michael. “Apart from the fact that he was a sadistic son of a bitch even when alive, there’s the small fact that he died relatively young and I look enough like him to be his twin rather than his bastard son.” There was a bad taste in his mouth and the rage that the name of his father had invoked was still simmering under the surface. Jesus. He had to get out of here-he needed to think. Standing, he tossed back the last of the whiskey and slammed down the glass. “Thanks for the warning. Now take one from me. Don’t come near me again. I don’t trust you, and if I think you’re a problem I’ll deal with you on that basis.”
Aaron remained seated when Michael turned to walk away, but spoke again before he’d gone more than a few steps. “One final warning. Good deeds can return to haunt you just as surely as bad ones.”
Michael slowed, but didn’t bother looking back. “Then I have nothing to worry about. I haven’t done any good deeds in a very long time.”
~o~
Waste disposal is a huge problem in Gehenna. It’s not just human ageing that is put on hold. Refuse that would decay within months back on Earth can take decades or centuries here. On the plus side, buildings don’t rot and crumble to dust after a mere few centuries, meaning they can withstand multiple conversions for different functions without collapsing under the strain. When yet another victim was found in the ancient Illyria sector, on the very outskirts of the old quarter, the body was taken to the nearby Medical Centre for the Research of Human Demonology. The MCRHD, known as the vamp lab by those in the DCD, had once been a large and labyrinthine library. Carved statues of angels, as well as stone biblical reliefs and murals could be found in almost every room and corridor.
As the only confessed empath available to work on identifying and studying vampires, Liz’s work was split between the two departments. When she spotted both Harry and the DCD Director, Carl Cabrera walk past her as she walked into the armoured-glass surrounded reception area, she impulsively followed. A sudden flurry of activity in the usually calm and orderly atmosphere allowed her to join the group and slip unnoticed into the mortuary behind Harry. They arrived just in time to see the opaque transportation pod opened. The body it had contained was then moved to a moulded plastic slab with channels for draining bodily fluids. Liz felt her gorge rise the moment she set eyes on the body.
Oh God!
The victim was female and riddled with the puncture marks and deep lacerations. In some places the flesh had been viciously torn, and then there was the bruising. To Liz it looked as if she’d been mauled by a vicious beast.
Doctor Nicole Keller looked and sounded more like a wholesome farm girl than a certified medical doctor who had specialised in genetics in life. Odder still was that she'd turned that expertise into studying vampires in death. With her auburn hair safely pulled back in a braid to avoid contamination, she bent to examine the wounds on the woman’s throat and neck. Silence reigned for a few minutes, until Cabrera asked, “What’s your opinion, doctor. Is it a vampire kill-the same as the others?”
Nicole didn’t look up from the body. “I’ve only just begun, Carl. You’ll have to give me time to complete a full exam.” The American Midwest accent didn’t hide the steel in her voice.
“I’m not asking for chapter and verse, and I won’t hold you to it. I just want your first impressions. Give me something to get started on.”
She puffed out an aggravated breath but conceded. “An initial examination certainly leads me to that assumption. These are definitely vampire bites.”
“I can hear a ‘but’ coming,” said Cabrera.
She finally looked up, a frown marring her piquantly pretty face. “This victim is similar to the others in differing from the normal results of a vampire attack.”
“What do you consider normal?”
“For a start, they’re not normally so well preserved.”
Cabrera quirked both brows and gestured at the body. “You call that well-preserved?”
She pulled a face. “I should have said ‘intact’. Most vampire attacks are frenzied. They’re ravenous, driven mad by a hunger that they can never quench and this shows in the state of the victim’s body. They don’t just go for blood but flesh too. Not this one though. This kill looks far more controlled-each bite seems considered and evaluated.”
“I see. Is there anything else?”
“I estimate that she’s been dead approximately twenty four hours.” Nicole’s unblinking blue eyes stayed level on Cabrera’s. “Also, both arms and both legs have been broken. I don’t know yet if the breaks were pre or post mortem. I’ll know more in a few hours.”
A considering silence fell.
Standing next to Cabrera, Harry finally noticed Liz by the door and sent her a furtively comical look of stern disapproval mixed with an appeal to make herself scarce now. Liz was in the middle of her retreat when Cabrera spun on his heel and found her backing out of the swing doors. “Ms Grant. I don’t recall authorising your presence during this consult.”
Even in the best of circumstances Carl Cabrera unnerved Liz, perhaps because he was one of the few that she couldn’t read. Despite his lack of height he had an imposing presence, and he never failed to make Liz feel like the useless, spoiled party girl she’d once been. He didn’t raise his voice or bluster and yet every member of his staff admired, respected, and yes, feared him. He also had a way of inspiring fanatical loyalty. Now his gaze pinned her to the spot. Liz swallowed. “No, sir, you didn’t.”
His expression didn’t change and neither did his rough-gravel voice. “Is there some reason that you felt you needed to be here? Perhaps you have something to add to this investigation?”
They both knew that dead bodies don’t emote and Liz’s ability was centred on people and not things or places. Unless the killer was standing in the room with them, she couldn’t do a thing.
Oh crap! She could feel the ice forming in the air. “No, sir, I have nothing to add. I just…erm…followed you in.”
“Really? That’s odd considering that Harry informed me that you were busy on another mission and so unavailable at this time.”
Harry opened his mouth to speak and Cabrera shot him a quelling look. Locking his jaw, Harry lifted his eyes ceiling-wards and rocked back on his heels. Liz wondered if he was praying.
Without warning, Cabrera strode past her, saying, “Since you’re here, come with me.”
Cabrera could move fast and Liz had to trot to keep up with him. A harassed looking, tight-lipped Harry strode beside her. She would have liked to ask where they were going but decided that the less she said the better. They went up one level and then entered an empty conference room. The room had an octagonal table and six chairs. At the far end of the table was a high-end, built-in computer with a touch sensitive screen and slide out keyboard and digital data ports. Cabrera inserted a data stick, pressed his thumb to the screen for an ID scan and then keyed in a password when prompted. Left standing off to the side, Liz still didn’t have a clue why she was there and Harry was refusing to meet her gaze.
After a moment, Cabrera straightened and swivelled the screen towards Liz. “I want your opinion on this footage, Ms Grant.”
Doing as bidden, Liz watched the short segment. As she did a tight band spread over her chest. The grainy recording had obviously been made by a low-grade surveillance camera. Even so, she recognised the man half supporting an obviously inebriated woman. Michael Thane.
“Who’s the woman?” she asked, dreading the answer.
“The likely preceding victim to the woman you just saw being examined in the mortuary. Her name was Vanessa De Bois and she was found dead in her own apartment two days ago. What about the man, Ms Grant, do you recognise him?”
Liz took a deep breath and lifted her chin to look at the director of the DCD squarely. “You know I do. It’s Michael Thane.”
Cabrera nodded and kept his piercing gaze on her. “The facial recognition programme back at the DCD agrees with you, and you happen to be the only person within my department that has had personal contact with the main suspect.”
Liz was beginning to despise the feeling of being at sea, as in, out of control and non-comprehending. “I don’t understand.”
“Congratulations,” said Cabrera, enlightening her. “You just volunteered yourself and your empathic abilities to help locate a feral, extremely dangerous vampire. Hopefully before he tortures and kills any more women. I suggest you go home and get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
~o~
“I tried to keep you out of it,” Harry told her as he escorted her out of the lab. Liz was too preoccupied to reply to that aggrieved statement. He continued regardless. “But no, you had to follow your usual practice of being precisely where you shouldn’t.”
He led her to his car, neither of them earning enough to purchase a flight-capable vehicle. When he opened the passenger door for her, she ducked inside and sat down with a sigh of relief. She waited for Harry to get in before speaking. “Harry, stop harping on at me. You heard Cabrera, he would have roped me in soon enough anyway. What were you planning to do, send me on a trumped up mission on the other side of the city and keep me there?”
At that time of night the car park was empty. “Well, no, not exactly,” he conceded ungraciously, starting the engine. “But I was at least hoping to warn you properly in advance.”
Liz felt some of her tension leave her at that gruff admission. Harry was more than just a supervisor, he was her friend. There were rumours about them at work. Mostly due to the fact that he was an attractive man and she had good looks enough to ensure that she had a fleet of admirers to worry about and ward off. Not that there was anything between them. He was just a decent, noble man behind the outward stuffiness. Affection squeezed her insides and to appease it she reached over and squeezed his free hand. “Of course you did and I appreciate the thought. I don’t know what I’d do without you looking out for me.”
Discomforted by the display of affection, Harry shifted in his seat, the picture of male embarrassment. “Yes, well, I do what I can. I consider you a friend too, you know that.”
Knowing he’d jibber on for several more fractured sentences, Liz let him off the hook by interrupting, “I do know it, which is why I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m okay about this, honestly.”
Taking his eyes off the empty roads, he shot her a searching glance. “Honestly, honestly?”
She knew what he was asking. A sense of shame washed over her and brought a headache along for the ride. “I know. God. I know. It’s truly idiotic of me to have carried this stupid, stupid ‘thing’ about Thane for the last year.” Wryly, she shook her head at herself and threw up her hands in aggravation. “I met the man once, for heavens sake! I honestly don’t know why I’ve not been able to get him out of my head. At least this horrible mess should help me exorcise him.” She tried a smile and prayed it wouldn’t wobble and give her away, then quipped, “Yay! Silver lining.”
A few minutes later, Harry pulled up outside of her apartment building. By this time it was raining hard enough to bounce off the pavement. Waving a brief goodbye, Liz dashed to the entrance. She was soaked through by the time she reached the stone archway into the foyer. Shivers racked her as the elevator climbed towards the nineteenth floor. To make matters worse, she had to press her door code in twice because she mis-keyed the first time. Cold, aggravated and with a head that was now pounding, she entered her apartment muttering under her breath about wishing that she’d never heard the name Michael Thane. The sodden over-tunic landed with a splat on the tiny, tiled hallway floor, leaving Liz in a comfortable vest-top and linen trousers.
She was headed for her bedroom when a hard hand snagged her elbow and swung her around. Her wide-eyed gaze collided with darkly amused obsidian. “What’s the matter, Ms Grant? Not so grateful that I saved your life anymore?”
TBC
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Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Your thoughts, including concrit, are most welcome!
Link to chapter three