Nighthawks - Part 3
Title: Nighthawks
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Spoilers: Up through Season 5, with some Season 6 for some background info.
Characters/Pairing(s): David Rossi/Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Jennifer “J.J.” Jareau
Rating: R
Warning: Blood, sex, violence
Word Count: 19,258
Notes: I’ve fudged the timeline slightly so Rossi joined the team before Prentiss. This was written for the au_bigbang. Much thanks to murf1307 for betaing and weaselett for art!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters and I don't make a dime off them.
Summary: Everyone on Emily Prentiss' BAU team was a little unusual; herself being a vampire and Morgan being a werewolf were only part of it. David Rossi being her chosen blood donor was another large part of it. But despite years of keeping things on the level of friendship, a long-term case brings a few important things to light, not the least of which is that life can be too short for those who aren't prepared to pay dearly for it. And for some the price is too high.
“Garcia ran the names,” Rossi said, spreading out the files on the vampires and donors they’d gotten from Marie Deveroux. “We’re not seeing any matches on our attack sites so far, but this is only a single location. Once we’re able to get more data, I think we’re going to see a pattern emerge.”
“It’s possible to extrapolate part of the pattern now,” Reid said, spreading out the folders with the potential ghoul attacks across the table. “We can at least work up the geographic profile of the ghoul and see if anything turns up as we get new information.” Prentiss knew Hotchner had said the geographic profile was impossible, but then again, this was Spencer Reid. If anyone could find a connection, he could.
“All right, let’s arrange these by date,” Hotchner said. “We need to be able to anticipate the next area he’ll be targeting.”
J.J. spread out the map and began placing push-pins as Reid sorted through the files.
“This is more serious than I thought,” Prentiss said at length, taking the files from Reid as he finished with them. “The attacks go back almost a year. If someone is maintaining a vampiric effect for almost a year, they have to have control of a vampire. That takes a hell of a lot of effort.”
She glanced up at Hotchner, feeling uneasy that he’d withheld the full picture from her and Rossi. He caught her glance, nodded once in acknowledgement, and looked at Marie’s list in her hand. Prentiss sighed slightly. He was right; if Marie had known right off the bat that they were looking for a long-term ghoul, she could have conceivably clammed up. Like the officers and neighbors of Edward Renard in Atlanta, no one wanted to think they’d been host to a monster for so long. And Marie might have been able to read the truth if Emily had tried to be evasive, like she had pierced Emily’s cover story.
Hotchner was too good an agent not to cover that contingency. It was his job as unit chief to keep that larger picture in mind. She nodded back in forgiveness.
“Why would he have to have control of a vampire? Isn’t it possible for a vampire to be working with the ghoul?” Reid asked. Prentiss shook her head sharply.
“Do you realize how careful the companies are about who they inject? When I signed up for vampirism when I was eighteen, I went through two days of physical and psychological testing. I went to a psychologist every week I was able until I died. When I was injected, they kept me for a week of testing and training, and I saw a psychologist and doctor every day for two years. Then every week. Now I’m down to once every two. They have to know where I’m living and who I’m feeding from. They need to know who I’m working for and what I’m doing with my life. They know my financial situation, my living conditions, my friends and hobbies…” Emily finally stopped herself and took a cleansing breath.
Not all of the team had known the full extent of her price for life, though they’d known something; it wasn’t something vampires like to talk about. Rossi had known the full story, because he was the other expert on vampire culture. Morgan knew most of it. Hotchner knew full well, because he would have had to access her files to vet her. He more than knew the consequences of her choice. If the rest of the team hadn’t seen the new medic alert bracelet he’d gotten after Foyet’s attack, it was only a matter of time before they’d notice. Emily had worn one like that herself, from age eighteen to thirty-six.
Hotchner needed to live for his son; he couldn’t let him be alone in this world. He knew more than most the kind of monsters that lurked outside closed doors. That though brought a bitter smile to Emily’s face when she thought about it. She’d destroyed any possibility of having children when she’d been injected.
But the rest of them team needed to know everything she knew now. Controlling a vampire had dire consequences for the profile.
“Wow,” J.J. said softly. “I had no idea.”
“Do they do that for werewolves too, Morgan?” Reid asked.
“Not so much. We don’t need blood and it’s easier to get infected, so it’s harder to know who has what. When you find out you are infected, you’re supposed to get registered, chipped, and follow the law, but there’s too many of us to follow everyone as closely as vampires.”
“Chipped? Like a-.” J.J. shut her mouth, embarrassed.
“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Like a pet dog, yeah,” Morgan said. “It’s not as bad now. The labs have gotten the strain toned down so much it’s almost doing what it’s supposed to.”
“But you’re-.”
“Second generation. They’re on sixth now. Hell, those people just get cranky around a full moon.”
“What about first?”
Morgan’s expression clouded. “Those that didn’t get hunted down and killed when they went insane are hiding out in the woods somewhere, reverted back to nature. You don’t need the FBI for a first generation werewolf. You need a few guys with sniper rifles.”
“Getting back to the original question, it’s not just the fact that vampires are so closely monitored, though that’s a big reason why a vampire wouldn’t be working with a ghoul willingly. Yes, it would be simpler for the ghoul if the vampire just showed up periodically so the authorities wouldn’t get suspicious about why he wasn’t logging his feeding habits. But since the ghoul would have to have the vampire in close proximity to him, that would leave a close trail to the attacks. So far, we haven’t found that,” Rossi said.
“If the ghoul has control of the vampire, he would be able to set up a false trail. He’d have to, to avoid discovery for this long. And frankly, I can’t imagine a vampire doing this willingly. If he or she is, the courts will convict, and the penalty for that is staking in sunlight,” Prentiss said with resignation.
“Why are the penalties for misconduct so much harsher for vampires?” J.J. asked. “I know they’re the harshest laws on the books, but why?”
There was an awkward pause while Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other.
“Several reasons,” Prentiss said finally. “I know we end up seeing a lot more werewolf unsubs, but there’s solid reasons for the disparity.”
“Like?”
“Political. The drug companies promised a ‘dilute strain’ of lycanthropy would be a wonder drug. They used it as a growth hormone, and then it found a black market as a performance enhancer before the side effects manifested. They lost control of the drug and couldn’t get their money’s worth before all hell rained down on them. Once bitten, twice shy,” Morgan said. Emily rolled her eyes at his word choice.
“Right, and? Werewolves are stronger, and apparently more of a threat.” No argument there. The BAU handled dozens of werewolf or werewolf-related cases every year. Vampire-related cases were a lot rarer; they were more likely to see a case involving donors than actual vampires.
“Definitely,” Morgan said. “If Prentiss was a werewolf and I was a vampire, she could beat me at any strength contest you care to name, every time.”
“But vampires are faster,” Prentiss said. “Hard to catch. They’ve clocked vampires going over thirty miles an hour.”
“All right…” J.J. said, still looking skeptical.
“Also werewolves don’t need human blood to survive,” Morgan said.
“I can see-.”
Prentiss cut J.J. off, her expression going neutral. “The vampire virus was developed for one reason: survival. Vampires heal much faster. You could shoot me a dozen times, and not only could it not slow me down, I’d barely feel it. You can slow down a werewolf if you have to. Animal tranquilizers, wolfsbane darts, silver bullets, but if you have a problem with a vampire, your choices of stopping them are pretty much all lethal. Decapitation, fire, staking, or sunlight. That’s why they’re so careful before they inject anyone.”
“…Oh.”
“Next question?”
“Do we have any more attacks to put up?” J.J. asked.
Hotchner leaned over the piles of folders as Reid called out the last few attack dates.
-----
The string of attacks had no clear epicenter, no particular geographical affinity, and with little data in the way of displaced vampires or donors, no clear pattern. Until the profilers could get more information, or more attacks occurred, they had a dozen more cases to occupy their time.
Prentiss and Rossi sent out discreet messages to the owners of other blood bars while Garcia kept running tabs on more official files. Vampires had to register where they moved, but the blood bar owners could help narrow down possibilities by telling them if the move was something other than, say, a need for a change of scenery. Knowing someone’s attitude towards a move was oftentimes more valuable than the move itself.
More cases crossed their team’s desk: rogue werewolves, werewolf hunters, sociopaths and psychopaths, sadists, rapists, and cruel abusers of the purely human variety. Those who hated the strangeness that had invaded “normal” life often took out their anger on those who could not fight back. Next to late-generation werewolves, donors were the most likely to be victimized in alter-human hate crimes.
-----
“Wait, hang on, say that again?” Emily needed to be certain she had heard Reid correctly.
“Would you be willing to feed on me? I’m having trouble getting into the mind of this unsub.”
Emily wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was pure Reid, wanting to try an experiment where simple reading wouldn’t suffice. “This really isn’t something you do on a whim, Reid.”
“I understand. It’s just the donor mindset has been a component of ten cases in the past six months, and I feel it’s very important to understand the process.”
She really couldn’t fault Reid’s logic. Dave had done the same thing. And speaking of Dave… Emily hit her first speed dial number.
“Rossi.”
“Dave, Reid wants me to feed on him.”
There was a quick pause, and then a burst of laughter. “An experiment, right?”
“Yes. He thinks it’s important to ‘understand the process.’”
“I hope he understand what he’s asking for.”
“It’s Reid,” she pointed out.
“I stand corrected.”
“I’ll see you later tonight.”
Dave sounded puzzled when he said, “You sure?”
“Yes. Bye.”
Reid was giving her a disconcertingly penetrating gaze as she snapped her phone shut, and Emily wondered why she’d called Rossi. It wasn’t as if he had any right to tell her who not to feed on, nor did she have any obligation to tell him who else she was feeding upon. Perhaps she’d just wanted a second opinion…
Emily shook her head to clear it. “Ok Reid, there’s a form-.” He held up a copy of the donor form, already filled out. “All right. Sit down.”
Reid sat gingerly in one of the chairs and turned his neck to the side. Emily caught her breath as the long expanse of smooth, pale skin, and took Reid’s hand instead.
“I never bite the neck on the first date,” she said lightly, pulling back his shirt cuff.
“I have thin wrists,” he protested.
“And prominent veins. Don’t worry, I’ve been doing this almost every day for over twenty years.”
“How do you avoid severing tendons or nerve with your fangs?” he asked suddenly, as Emily extended her fangs to bite. Disconcerted, she paused, and brought Reid’s hand up to her teeth so he could see for himself. He quickly discovered that while the tips of her fangs were sharp and hollow, the sides were not. “Ah, so unless you come down right on top of a vital structure, your fangs just push them aside.”
Emily nodded, the factoid seeming to calm Reid enough that he stopped subconsciously resisting. She was careful as she pierced his skin, going slowly, drawing a hiss of discomfort out of Reid, but not real sounds of pain. She sipped slowly, letting Reid feel what kept donors coming back, a feeling of a slow, sensual caress, light as a feather, from the inside out. It disturbed some people, even if they liked it. Others became nearly addicted to the feeling, but they rarely lasted long as donors. Vampires couldn’t afford a donor with a death wish.
Reid seemed transfixed by the sensation, trying to analyze it and feel it at the same time. “I-. It, it-.”
Emily brushed Reid’s arm soothingly, needing to keep him calm. His blood was cooler than Dave’s with a metallic undertone, more nickel than iron. It was all right, rather curious, but not what she really wanted. She pulled away, licking the wounds clean, to Reid’s surprise.
“You did read about this before you asked me, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, but…” he trailed off, staring at his wrist in fascination.
“It’s different having someone lick your wounds clean.”
“Yes, that,” Reid said shortly, looking at his arm as if he expected it to fall off. “It’s very sexual.”
“It can be,” she said. She swallowed as she placed a gauze pad over wrist, the taste fading from her mouth. She’d barely tasted him; he’d be fine in an hour.
“The physical response of the donor, is that universal?”
“It’s very similar. I’ve fed on dozens of people, mostly repeat donors, but once or twice on first-timers,” Emily explained. “They usually react the same way.”
“Does the response differ between vampires?”
“Only slightly.” Emily cracked a faint smile, trying to be reassuring. She was feeling jittery, nervous, like her mind was moving too fast. Reid’s blood was having its effect on her, unwanted as it was. “Stay here and drink fluids for an hour, and you should be all right. Was that everything?” She stood up, swallowing convulsively, one hand slipping into her pocket to drum on her phone.
“Ah, yes. Um… Thank you,” Reid said quietly, taking off the gauze to look at the marks on his wrist.
By the time he was done speaking, Emily was already in the elevator.
-----
“You know I can talk to him, if you want,” Dave said in greeting, opening his door under Emily’s knock.
“He won’t ask again. He’s a fast learner,” she said, shutting and locking the door behind her. Emily breathed deep, savoring the scent of Dave’s home. He had exquisite taste, not to mention a fine appreciation for her sensitive nose. There were no harsh cleaning products or aggressive air fresheners here, just Dave’s own scent, permeating every room. Unlike some folks with large houses, he didn’t live in just one or two rooms, the others being just for show. He used everything, and was comfortable anywhere.
“What happened?” Dave asked, as Emily tapped her hand against her thigh, her fingers unable to be still.
“He’s… nervous. I’m not used to him,” she said in a rush, her eyes darting up to Dave’s face and back again. “I haven’t fed from anyone but you in four years.”
Dave’s expression went oddly still, brief shock playing across his face.
“Go ahead, before you vibrate out of your skin,” Dave said immediately, reaching out to catch her twitching hand. He tugged slightly until they were both on a butter-soft leather sofa, his head tipped back and relaxed, neck exposed. Emily reached up to touch the expanse of skin, swallowing convulsively when Dave relaxed under her hand. Lips and teeth following in the next moment, seeking his vein with practiced ease. The heat of his blood filled her, his taste thick on her tongue, and she felt her hands steadying herself, one on the back of the sofa, the other splayed on his chest.
He breathed easily under her, not tense like Spencer had been, fitting against her body easily. Emily pulled back slowly as she felt her tension ease, and slowly lapped away the stray blood from the wound. Dave didn’t move as she prolonged the caress, the slow swipes of her tongue fading into a soft, almost weightless kiss against his neck. Then he shifted, his mouth catching hers in a swift, soft kiss.
Dave waited, breathing quietly against her, and Emily kissed him again, harder, feeling the heat of his breath in her lungs. He matched her easily, lips capturing and releasing her over and over again, tongue slipping in to entwine with her, taking a care for her fangs. There was a breath that was almost a word of assent, and Emily reached to take Dave’s hand and place it firmly in forbidden territory.
He didn’t hesitate; his skilled hands divesting them both of clothing, Emily’s paleness making him look swarthy as she covered him. Her mouth didn’t leave his as their hands explored each other, hers finding places that made him gasp, his tracing her faint old scars from a lifetime ago. When they joined, Dave was pure heat inside her, and Emily was strong enough to make him cry out in shocked pleasure when her body broke and peaked around him. He sagged into the embrace of the couch as she held herself to him, and sobbed beautifully when he put his hand between them and brought her forever-younger body to a surfeit of ecstasy, drowning her in satiation.
She wanted to bite something to muffle her noises, but didn’t dare. Dave held her as she relaxed into him, her eyes fixed on the fading bite marks on his throat, an almost-noiseless sigh passing her lips. He knew her. Dave knew her too well to expect her to say what she didn’t dare. He didn’t say anything either, just let one hand slide through her hair.
Dave was over sixty, too old for the vampire virus to work on him even if he’d been signed up for it. Eventually, she would lose him, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. It didn’t matter that he suited her, that he knew her, that he trusted her, and that she trusted him. It didn’t matter how much they cared. Eventually, there would be a break, a breach in what they had.
And if neither of them said it out loud, maybe they wouldn’t have to acknowledge it just yet. Just for a little while longer.
Wordlessly, they lay tangled together in the leather-scented dimness.
-----
Emily returned home, her daywalker suit feeling very unwelcome from the long night in Dave’s arms. Feeling almost (loved, her mind whispered, and she shunted that aside for now) normal for a few hours was a hard contrast to her having to strap herself back into the damn restrictive fabric so she wouldn’t catch on fire. Though Dave helping her adjust the straps, his hands lightly lingering on the curves of her body, made everything seem a little more… not normal, but commonplace, perhaps.
And all of that faint feeling of happiness vanished when she saw the letter lying on her floor. It didn’t have a stamp, postmark, or return address, but the handwriting and lavender perfume identified the sender immediately. Marie had sent it, and she never would have had a letter delivered unless she thought she wouldn’t be able to tell Emily the news in person.
The only reason why she’d do that was if she had something to say that was too explosive for the phone, but too urgent to wait. It had to be about the case. Emily had been keeping Marie updated about it, in a vague kind of way, to alert her to the danger of the ghoul. The letter suddenly felt inexplicably heavy in her hands. Emily sliced the envelope open with her thumbnail and unfolded the letter.
Dearest Emily,
I give this to you at your home, because I dare not trust this to any eyes but yours. Every word I speak is true. I have asked around about the ghoul, and you have given us what we are to look for. His desire to fit in, his lust for life, his frustration at not being able to be what he wants, you describe him well, though I know you have not found him yet. You will, I know this. But you also say that he is controlling one of us to give him his unnatural power, that he is forcing a vampire through fear or some kind of blackmail.
This may be true, but Emily, I must tell you a thing, and I pray you forgive me for telling you so late. Perhaps this ghoul did not start of his own accord. Twenty years ago, my youngest son Laurent was driving me into the countryside to a friend’s home. It began to rain, and though he was a good driver, the road was small and slick. He lost control, and the car slammed into a tree. I was well, for how could I not be? But Laurent… My baby, he was dying, his chest broken. It was too far from a hospital, and even if Laurent had been signed up for vampirism, which he was not, we were still too far to save him.
I did something unforgiveable. I held open my veins and I put my blood into him. I watched his wounds close, and as soon as he was out of danger, I ran with him to the hospital. My God, Emily, I never wished to see my son in such pain, and for my weakness, I forced my decision on my own child. Laurent is distant from me now. I could have killed him, or he could have been weak in spirit and wanted more from me. Instead he drew apart from me, unwilling to condemn me to the stake, but not to love me for doing what I did.
I pray you will forgive me, and that you find this desperate child and parent before another life is lost.
Marie
Emily read the letter three times, and then burned it to ash. Marie knew they had just gotten the rest of the data from the other blood bars; she’d supplied the last bits of information herself. This was the last piece of the puzzle, a way to find someone who was stealing power he wasn’t ready to use, and bringing death in his wake. At a stroke, the knowledge of a year-old ghoul could set back public perception of vampires by ten years or more.
Dave would suffer scorn and ridicule, maybe even official action about acting publically as a Source, if the team was unable to catch this unsub. Emily closed her eyes against Marie’s words from a few months ago ringing in her ears contrasting with the sobbing silence of last night.
The team needed to know about this possibility. Now.
-----
Master Post
Part 4
Part 2
Author: jaune_chat
Fandom: Criminal Minds
Spoilers: Up through Season 5, with some Season 6 for some background info.
Characters/Pairing(s): David Rossi/Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Dr. Spencer Reid, Jennifer “J.J.” Jareau
Rating: R
Warning: Blood, sex, violence
Word Count: 19,258
Notes: I’ve fudged the timeline slightly so Rossi joined the team before Prentiss. This was written for the au_bigbang. Much thanks to murf1307 for betaing and weaselett for art!
Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters and I don't make a dime off them.
Summary: Everyone on Emily Prentiss' BAU team was a little unusual; herself being a vampire and Morgan being a werewolf were only part of it. David Rossi being her chosen blood donor was another large part of it. But despite years of keeping things on the level of friendship, a long-term case brings a few important things to light, not the least of which is that life can be too short for those who aren't prepared to pay dearly for it. And for some the price is too high.
“Garcia ran the names,” Rossi said, spreading out the files on the vampires and donors they’d gotten from Marie Deveroux. “We’re not seeing any matches on our attack sites so far, but this is only a single location. Once we’re able to get more data, I think we’re going to see a pattern emerge.”
“It’s possible to extrapolate part of the pattern now,” Reid said, spreading out the folders with the potential ghoul attacks across the table. “We can at least work up the geographic profile of the ghoul and see if anything turns up as we get new information.” Prentiss knew Hotchner had said the geographic profile was impossible, but then again, this was Spencer Reid. If anyone could find a connection, he could.
“All right, let’s arrange these by date,” Hotchner said. “We need to be able to anticipate the next area he’ll be targeting.”
J.J. spread out the map and began placing push-pins as Reid sorted through the files.
“This is more serious than I thought,” Prentiss said at length, taking the files from Reid as he finished with them. “The attacks go back almost a year. If someone is maintaining a vampiric effect for almost a year, they have to have control of a vampire. That takes a hell of a lot of effort.”
She glanced up at Hotchner, feeling uneasy that he’d withheld the full picture from her and Rossi. He caught her glance, nodded once in acknowledgement, and looked at Marie’s list in her hand. Prentiss sighed slightly. He was right; if Marie had known right off the bat that they were looking for a long-term ghoul, she could have conceivably clammed up. Like the officers and neighbors of Edward Renard in Atlanta, no one wanted to think they’d been host to a monster for so long. And Marie might have been able to read the truth if Emily had tried to be evasive, like she had pierced Emily’s cover story.
Hotchner was too good an agent not to cover that contingency. It was his job as unit chief to keep that larger picture in mind. She nodded back in forgiveness.
“Why would he have to have control of a vampire? Isn’t it possible for a vampire to be working with the ghoul?” Reid asked. Prentiss shook her head sharply.
“Do you realize how careful the companies are about who they inject? When I signed up for vampirism when I was eighteen, I went through two days of physical and psychological testing. I went to a psychologist every week I was able until I died. When I was injected, they kept me for a week of testing and training, and I saw a psychologist and doctor every day for two years. Then every week. Now I’m down to once every two. They have to know where I’m living and who I’m feeding from. They need to know who I’m working for and what I’m doing with my life. They know my financial situation, my living conditions, my friends and hobbies…” Emily finally stopped herself and took a cleansing breath.
Not all of the team had known the full extent of her price for life, though they’d known something; it wasn’t something vampires like to talk about. Rossi had known the full story, because he was the other expert on vampire culture. Morgan knew most of it. Hotchner knew full well, because he would have had to access her files to vet her. He more than knew the consequences of her choice. If the rest of the team hadn’t seen the new medic alert bracelet he’d gotten after Foyet’s attack, it was only a matter of time before they’d notice. Emily had worn one like that herself, from age eighteen to thirty-six.
Hotchner needed to live for his son; he couldn’t let him be alone in this world. He knew more than most the kind of monsters that lurked outside closed doors. That though brought a bitter smile to Emily’s face when she thought about it. She’d destroyed any possibility of having children when she’d been injected.
But the rest of them team needed to know everything she knew now. Controlling a vampire had dire consequences for the profile.
“Wow,” J.J. said softly. “I had no idea.”
“Do they do that for werewolves too, Morgan?” Reid asked.
“Not so much. We don’t need blood and it’s easier to get infected, so it’s harder to know who has what. When you find out you are infected, you’re supposed to get registered, chipped, and follow the law, but there’s too many of us to follow everyone as closely as vampires.”
“Chipped? Like a-.” J.J. shut her mouth, embarrassed.
“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Like a pet dog, yeah,” Morgan said. “It’s not as bad now. The labs have gotten the strain toned down so much it’s almost doing what it’s supposed to.”
“But you’re-.”
“Second generation. They’re on sixth now. Hell, those people just get cranky around a full moon.”
“What about first?”
Morgan’s expression clouded. “Those that didn’t get hunted down and killed when they went insane are hiding out in the woods somewhere, reverted back to nature. You don’t need the FBI for a first generation werewolf. You need a few guys with sniper rifles.”
“Getting back to the original question, it’s not just the fact that vampires are so closely monitored, though that’s a big reason why a vampire wouldn’t be working with a ghoul willingly. Yes, it would be simpler for the ghoul if the vampire just showed up periodically so the authorities wouldn’t get suspicious about why he wasn’t logging his feeding habits. But since the ghoul would have to have the vampire in close proximity to him, that would leave a close trail to the attacks. So far, we haven’t found that,” Rossi said.
“If the ghoul has control of the vampire, he would be able to set up a false trail. He’d have to, to avoid discovery for this long. And frankly, I can’t imagine a vampire doing this willingly. If he or she is, the courts will convict, and the penalty for that is staking in sunlight,” Prentiss said with resignation.
“Why are the penalties for misconduct so much harsher for vampires?” J.J. asked. “I know they’re the harshest laws on the books, but why?”
There was an awkward pause while Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other.
“Several reasons,” Prentiss said finally. “I know we end up seeing a lot more werewolf unsubs, but there’s solid reasons for the disparity.”
“Like?”
“Political. The drug companies promised a ‘dilute strain’ of lycanthropy would be a wonder drug. They used it as a growth hormone, and then it found a black market as a performance enhancer before the side effects manifested. They lost control of the drug and couldn’t get their money’s worth before all hell rained down on them. Once bitten, twice shy,” Morgan said. Emily rolled her eyes at his word choice.
“Right, and? Werewolves are stronger, and apparently more of a threat.” No argument there. The BAU handled dozens of werewolf or werewolf-related cases every year. Vampire-related cases were a lot rarer; they were more likely to see a case involving donors than actual vampires.
“Definitely,” Morgan said. “If Prentiss was a werewolf and I was a vampire, she could beat me at any strength contest you care to name, every time.”
“But vampires are faster,” Prentiss said. “Hard to catch. They’ve clocked vampires going over thirty miles an hour.”
“All right…” J.J. said, still looking skeptical.
“Also werewolves don’t need human blood to survive,” Morgan said.
“I can see-.”
Prentiss cut J.J. off, her expression going neutral. “The vampire virus was developed for one reason: survival. Vampires heal much faster. You could shoot me a dozen times, and not only could it not slow me down, I’d barely feel it. You can slow down a werewolf if you have to. Animal tranquilizers, wolfsbane darts, silver bullets, but if you have a problem with a vampire, your choices of stopping them are pretty much all lethal. Decapitation, fire, staking, or sunlight. That’s why they’re so careful before they inject anyone.”
“…Oh.”
“Next question?”
“Do we have any more attacks to put up?” J.J. asked.
Hotchner leaned over the piles of folders as Reid called out the last few attack dates.
-----
The string of attacks had no clear epicenter, no particular geographical affinity, and with little data in the way of displaced vampires or donors, no clear pattern. Until the profilers could get more information, or more attacks occurred, they had a dozen more cases to occupy their time.
Prentiss and Rossi sent out discreet messages to the owners of other blood bars while Garcia kept running tabs on more official files. Vampires had to register where they moved, but the blood bar owners could help narrow down possibilities by telling them if the move was something other than, say, a need for a change of scenery. Knowing someone’s attitude towards a move was oftentimes more valuable than the move itself.
More cases crossed their team’s desk: rogue werewolves, werewolf hunters, sociopaths and psychopaths, sadists, rapists, and cruel abusers of the purely human variety. Those who hated the strangeness that had invaded “normal” life often took out their anger on those who could not fight back. Next to late-generation werewolves, donors were the most likely to be victimized in alter-human hate crimes.
-----
“Wait, hang on, say that again?” Emily needed to be certain she had heard Reid correctly.
“Would you be willing to feed on me? I’m having trouble getting into the mind of this unsub.”
Emily wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was pure Reid, wanting to try an experiment where simple reading wouldn’t suffice. “This really isn’t something you do on a whim, Reid.”
“I understand. It’s just the donor mindset has been a component of ten cases in the past six months, and I feel it’s very important to understand the process.”
She really couldn’t fault Reid’s logic. Dave had done the same thing. And speaking of Dave… Emily hit her first speed dial number.
“Rossi.”
“Dave, Reid wants me to feed on him.”
There was a quick pause, and then a burst of laughter. “An experiment, right?”
“Yes. He thinks it’s important to ‘understand the process.’”
“I hope he understand what he’s asking for.”
“It’s Reid,” she pointed out.
“I stand corrected.”
“I’ll see you later tonight.”
Dave sounded puzzled when he said, “You sure?”
“Yes. Bye.”
Reid was giving her a disconcertingly penetrating gaze as she snapped her phone shut, and Emily wondered why she’d called Rossi. It wasn’t as if he had any right to tell her who not to feed on, nor did she have any obligation to tell him who else she was feeding upon. Perhaps she’d just wanted a second opinion…
Emily shook her head to clear it. “Ok Reid, there’s a form-.” He held up a copy of the donor form, already filled out. “All right. Sit down.”
Reid sat gingerly in one of the chairs and turned his neck to the side. Emily caught her breath as the long expanse of smooth, pale skin, and took Reid’s hand instead.
“I never bite the neck on the first date,” she said lightly, pulling back his shirt cuff.
“I have thin wrists,” he protested.
“And prominent veins. Don’t worry, I’ve been doing this almost every day for over twenty years.”
“How do you avoid severing tendons or nerve with your fangs?” he asked suddenly, as Emily extended her fangs to bite. Disconcerted, she paused, and brought Reid’s hand up to her teeth so he could see for himself. He quickly discovered that while the tips of her fangs were sharp and hollow, the sides were not. “Ah, so unless you come down right on top of a vital structure, your fangs just push them aside.”
Emily nodded, the factoid seeming to calm Reid enough that he stopped subconsciously resisting. She was careful as she pierced his skin, going slowly, drawing a hiss of discomfort out of Reid, but not real sounds of pain. She sipped slowly, letting Reid feel what kept donors coming back, a feeling of a slow, sensual caress, light as a feather, from the inside out. It disturbed some people, even if they liked it. Others became nearly addicted to the feeling, but they rarely lasted long as donors. Vampires couldn’t afford a donor with a death wish.
Reid seemed transfixed by the sensation, trying to analyze it and feel it at the same time. “I-. It, it-.”
Emily brushed Reid’s arm soothingly, needing to keep him calm. His blood was cooler than Dave’s with a metallic undertone, more nickel than iron. It was all right, rather curious, but not what she really wanted. She pulled away, licking the wounds clean, to Reid’s surprise.
“You did read about this before you asked me, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, but…” he trailed off, staring at his wrist in fascination.
“It’s different having someone lick your wounds clean.”
“Yes, that,” Reid said shortly, looking at his arm as if he expected it to fall off. “It’s very sexual.”
“It can be,” she said. She swallowed as she placed a gauze pad over wrist, the taste fading from her mouth. She’d barely tasted him; he’d be fine in an hour.
“The physical response of the donor, is that universal?”
“It’s very similar. I’ve fed on dozens of people, mostly repeat donors, but once or twice on first-timers,” Emily explained. “They usually react the same way.”
“Does the response differ between vampires?”
“Only slightly.” Emily cracked a faint smile, trying to be reassuring. She was feeling jittery, nervous, like her mind was moving too fast. Reid’s blood was having its effect on her, unwanted as it was. “Stay here and drink fluids for an hour, and you should be all right. Was that everything?” She stood up, swallowing convulsively, one hand slipping into her pocket to drum on her phone.
“Ah, yes. Um… Thank you,” Reid said quietly, taking off the gauze to look at the marks on his wrist.
By the time he was done speaking, Emily was already in the elevator.
-----
“You know I can talk to him, if you want,” Dave said in greeting, opening his door under Emily’s knock.
“He won’t ask again. He’s a fast learner,” she said, shutting and locking the door behind her. Emily breathed deep, savoring the scent of Dave’s home. He had exquisite taste, not to mention a fine appreciation for her sensitive nose. There were no harsh cleaning products or aggressive air fresheners here, just Dave’s own scent, permeating every room. Unlike some folks with large houses, he didn’t live in just one or two rooms, the others being just for show. He used everything, and was comfortable anywhere.
“What happened?” Dave asked, as Emily tapped her hand against her thigh, her fingers unable to be still.
“He’s… nervous. I’m not used to him,” she said in a rush, her eyes darting up to Dave’s face and back again. “I haven’t fed from anyone but you in four years.”
Dave’s expression went oddly still, brief shock playing across his face.
“Go ahead, before you vibrate out of your skin,” Dave said immediately, reaching out to catch her twitching hand. He tugged slightly until they were both on a butter-soft leather sofa, his head tipped back and relaxed, neck exposed. Emily reached up to touch the expanse of skin, swallowing convulsively when Dave relaxed under her hand. Lips and teeth following in the next moment, seeking his vein with practiced ease. The heat of his blood filled her, his taste thick on her tongue, and she felt her hands steadying herself, one on the back of the sofa, the other splayed on his chest.
He breathed easily under her, not tense like Spencer had been, fitting against her body easily. Emily pulled back slowly as she felt her tension ease, and slowly lapped away the stray blood from the wound. Dave didn’t move as she prolonged the caress, the slow swipes of her tongue fading into a soft, almost weightless kiss against his neck. Then he shifted, his mouth catching hers in a swift, soft kiss.
Dave waited, breathing quietly against her, and Emily kissed him again, harder, feeling the heat of his breath in her lungs. He matched her easily, lips capturing and releasing her over and over again, tongue slipping in to entwine with her, taking a care for her fangs. There was a breath that was almost a word of assent, and Emily reached to take Dave’s hand and place it firmly in forbidden territory.
He didn’t hesitate; his skilled hands divesting them both of clothing, Emily’s paleness making him look swarthy as she covered him. Her mouth didn’t leave his as their hands explored each other, hers finding places that made him gasp, his tracing her faint old scars from a lifetime ago. When they joined, Dave was pure heat inside her, and Emily was strong enough to make him cry out in shocked pleasure when her body broke and peaked around him. He sagged into the embrace of the couch as she held herself to him, and sobbed beautifully when he put his hand between them and brought her forever-younger body to a surfeit of ecstasy, drowning her in satiation.
She wanted to bite something to muffle her noises, but didn’t dare. Dave held her as she relaxed into him, her eyes fixed on the fading bite marks on his throat, an almost-noiseless sigh passing her lips. He knew her. Dave knew her too well to expect her to say what she didn’t dare. He didn’t say anything either, just let one hand slide through her hair.
Dave was over sixty, too old for the vampire virus to work on him even if he’d been signed up for it. Eventually, she would lose him, and there was not a damn thing she could do about it. It didn’t matter that he suited her, that he knew her, that he trusted her, and that she trusted him. It didn’t matter how much they cared. Eventually, there would be a break, a breach in what they had.
And if neither of them said it out loud, maybe they wouldn’t have to acknowledge it just yet. Just for a little while longer.
Wordlessly, they lay tangled together in the leather-scented dimness.
-----
Emily returned home, her daywalker suit feeling very unwelcome from the long night in Dave’s arms. Feeling almost (loved, her mind whispered, and she shunted that aside for now) normal for a few hours was a hard contrast to her having to strap herself back into the damn restrictive fabric so she wouldn’t catch on fire. Though Dave helping her adjust the straps, his hands lightly lingering on the curves of her body, made everything seem a little more… not normal, but commonplace, perhaps.
And all of that faint feeling of happiness vanished when she saw the letter lying on her floor. It didn’t have a stamp, postmark, or return address, but the handwriting and lavender perfume identified the sender immediately. Marie had sent it, and she never would have had a letter delivered unless she thought she wouldn’t be able to tell Emily the news in person.
The only reason why she’d do that was if she had something to say that was too explosive for the phone, but too urgent to wait. It had to be about the case. Emily had been keeping Marie updated about it, in a vague kind of way, to alert her to the danger of the ghoul. The letter suddenly felt inexplicably heavy in her hands. Emily sliced the envelope open with her thumbnail and unfolded the letter.
Dearest Emily,
I give this to you at your home, because I dare not trust this to any eyes but yours. Every word I speak is true. I have asked around about the ghoul, and you have given us what we are to look for. His desire to fit in, his lust for life, his frustration at not being able to be what he wants, you describe him well, though I know you have not found him yet. You will, I know this. But you also say that he is controlling one of us to give him his unnatural power, that he is forcing a vampire through fear or some kind of blackmail.
This may be true, but Emily, I must tell you a thing, and I pray you forgive me for telling you so late. Perhaps this ghoul did not start of his own accord. Twenty years ago, my youngest son Laurent was driving me into the countryside to a friend’s home. It began to rain, and though he was a good driver, the road was small and slick. He lost control, and the car slammed into a tree. I was well, for how could I not be? But Laurent… My baby, he was dying, his chest broken. It was too far from a hospital, and even if Laurent had been signed up for vampirism, which he was not, we were still too far to save him.
I did something unforgiveable. I held open my veins and I put my blood into him. I watched his wounds close, and as soon as he was out of danger, I ran with him to the hospital. My God, Emily, I never wished to see my son in such pain, and for my weakness, I forced my decision on my own child. Laurent is distant from me now. I could have killed him, or he could have been weak in spirit and wanted more from me. Instead he drew apart from me, unwilling to condemn me to the stake, but not to love me for doing what I did.
I pray you will forgive me, and that you find this desperate child and parent before another life is lost.
Marie
Emily read the letter three times, and then burned it to ash. Marie knew they had just gotten the rest of the data from the other blood bars; she’d supplied the last bits of information herself. This was the last piece of the puzzle, a way to find someone who was stealing power he wasn’t ready to use, and bringing death in his wake. At a stroke, the knowledge of a year-old ghoul could set back public perception of vampires by ten years or more.
Dave would suffer scorn and ridicule, maybe even official action about acting publically as a Source, if the team was unable to catch this unsub. Emily closed her eyes against Marie’s words from a few months ago ringing in her ears contrasting with the sobbing silence of last night.
The team needed to know about this possibility. Now.
-----
Master Post
Part 4
Part 2