Dead-tective (Book 1): Vampire Dead-tective (5 page)

"Not too scared," the voice replied. I screamed when a form melted out of the shadows of the building right beside me. That fright nearly gave me the energy to scale the brick wall behind me, but I didn't try when I realized it was Vincent at my side. "Too indifferent."

"Don't scare me like that!" I scolded him as I clutched onto my chest. My heart was playing drums for a heavy metal band, and it was on a solo part.

Fortunately, the leader was also frightened by Vincent's appearance, and stumbled back a few yards. "What the hell? Where did you come from?"

"Your nightmare," Vincent replied before he dove at the gang leader. Vincent latched onto the man's neck, and the leader changed from a bold, giant brute to a scared little girl in one high-pitched scream. His scream was cut off when he was struck with the lethargy of the vampire bite. The men behind him made a chorus of tenors as they turned tail and ran. Vincent flung the man backward and the gang leader sailed past me and hit the brick wall. The vampire shot off after the retreating gang members and I was glad when they all rounded the corners and I could only hear their terror rather than see what Vincent was doing to them.

I also didn't want to stick around to see what plans Vincent had for me. I swung around and saw my way out in the form of the would-be rapist. The man was aware enough to raise himself on his hands and knees, and that gave me just the boost I needed. I ran at him, jumped onto his solid back, and used him as a springboard to grasp the top of the brick wall. The gang leader crumbled beneath my shoes, but I had my hold and pulled myself over. I dropped down the other side and high-tailed it down the other side of the alley. I didn't get far before a moving shadow swooped out of the unmoving shadows and stood in my way.

"I'm not going back with you," I refused.

His voice was flat-line and bored. "That isn't why I followed you," he replied.

I raised an eyebrow and narrowed my eyes. "Then why did you follow me? Feeling a bit peckish?"

"I'm fond of my existence, and my existence is bound to yours. If you die, I die," he reminded me.

"So you were just saving your own neck by biting theirs?" I quipped.

"Exactly. I was also thirsty. You drained me of most of my energy."

"You mean with that glowy light thing?" I guessed, and he nodded. "What was that, anyway?"

"Your body reacted to danger and your wound by stealing my life-force to rejuvenate your own."

"I like to think of it as permanent borrowing."

"I don't care."

I frowned and crossed my arms. "Obviously, but mind getting out of my way so we can go our separate ways?"

"Without a guide you will destroy us both," he argued.

"Are you trying to tell me that I can't take care of myself?" I asked him.

"Wouldn't think of it," he blandly replied.

"Good, because otherwise I'd have to kill you, or destroy you, or whatever I need to do to make you into something a vacuum can take care of."

"That would kill you," he pointed out.

I waved away his comment. "Details, details, now are you going to be my guide or do I have to go off and practice my damsel-in-distress routine again?" Vincent's mouth straightened into a perfect line, and before I could stop him he'd lifted me in his arms and sped out of the alley and down the street.

Chapter 6

The wind whipped past us, and my hair whipped me. "I can walk!" I protested as I pulled my hair out of my mouth and eyes.

"Your ability is not in question, it is the speed that is up for debate," he replied.

"My speed is just fine for a human!"

"Your speed is pathetic for what you have become."

I rolled my eyes. "Don't give me the same b.s. that Bat was saying, or I'll slug you with a cross."

"That is mere fiction," he retorted.

"Bat smothered in garlic?" I suggested.

"That is fact."

"Then I'll beat you with a bat if you don't let me-"

"We're there." Vincent jerked to a stop and unceremoniously dropped me to the hard ground. I yelped and glared up at him as I rubbed my wounded posterior.

"Could you give a warning when you put on the brakes? Something like a light on your nose blinking?"

"Look around."

I growled, but my eyes heeded his command and glanced around us. That's when I realized we stood in front of my apartment building. We'd covered a lot of miles over one bantering session. "Wow," I murmured in awe.

"If you can take care of yourself than surely you have no more need of me. Goodnight." He whipped away down the street, but managed to whip my hair into my eyes one last time.

I pulled the loose strands aside and growled. "That vampire is more than a pain in the neck," I grumbled. I stood and hurried inside to escape the dark and the stupid creatures it held. My apartment was safely reached, but then I realized I'd lost my key during all the 'fun' of the evening.

Unfortunately, that was just fine because my door was ajar. Well, it was still a door, but an open one, and glancing inside I could see someone had redecorated. Every piece of furniture was upside down and the stuffings ripped out of it. Tables lay on their sides and every piece of china was broken. I stumbled inside and gaped at the mess. "What the hell-?" I whispered.

I stumbled over the ruins of my belongings and my life. Nothing was untouched by the destructive hands. I reached the television and my foot crunched down on glass. I glanced down and saw I'd stepped on a wooden frame. It's glass covering was broken, and when I picked it up I saw the image was torn. It was a picture of Tim and me smiling. We'd convinced Vincent to take it a few years ago because he didn't want to be in it. I imagined a lack of reflection had something to do with it.

Tears sprang into my eyes and I stumbled back to sit on the overturned front end of the couch. I wasn't sure who'd done this, but I had a feeling it was those two cops. My free hand balled into a fist and I smashed it against the bottom of the couch. I regretted it when the hard wood frame beat out my soft, squishy hand, and to make matters worse I was still mad. I took the picture out of the frame and tucked it safely inside my jeans pocket.

As for the rest of the place, I opted to leave it until I was sure what I wanted to do. Calling the cops would probably bring Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, and they'd make the same mess of me as they had of my apartment. I did right the living room chair and an end table to make the crime scene a little more homey. I'd just plopped down for a really long nap when my stomach growled. I hadn't had anything to eat in a few terrifying, adrenaline-draining hours.

At my stomach's bidding I walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I glanced inside and my stomach churned at the various states of decomposing vegetables and spoiled milk. Unfortunately, or fortunately, I wasn't peckish for any of that and shut the door. A scouring of the cupboards succeeded in making me hungrier, but I still didn't find something I wanted to munch on.

I growled and turned away from the cupboards just in time to see a shadow flash by the fire escape that stood outside one of the living room windows. My eyes widened and I waited for something epic and terrifying to happen. A minute ticked by and I decided waiting for something epic was boring, so I slunk over to the side of the window. I peeked my head around the edge of the frame.

A large shadow loomed on the metal grate, and our eyes met. My bright blue ones widened and its yellow-orange ones narrowed. The thing jumped at the window, and I ducked as shards of glass rained down on me. I heard a growl and whipped my head up. Standing in my living room was another one of those wolf beasts, and this time I was close enough to catch a whiff of its breath. It smelled like it'd just ate somebody for dinner, and I was the dessert. The creature's orange eyes were on me and I scrambled back on my hands and butt. The thing quickly followed, and reached out one of its clawed hands to grab me.

My savior shadow swooped in through the broken window and knocked into it. The werewolf slammed to the floor, and Vincent jumped off its back and landed beside me. He grabbed my shirt collar and yanked me to my feet. "You are doing an admirable job of staying alive," he quipped.

I scowled at him and poked a finger into his chest. "Don't you dare tell me I can't-ah!" I yelped when Vincent grabbed my head and shoved it down to avoid a wide swipe of the creature's claws.

"Your survival skills are impressive," he quipped. I tried to reply, but he shoved me out of the way as the werewolf lunged at us, and he himself dove to the left. The beast hit air and dug his claws into the carpet. I never liked that color, anyway.

I rolled over the floor and hit the side of my chair. I was quick to recover, and glared at Vincent who stood across the room. "All right, so I can't take care of myself! You want me to give you a bone for being right?" The werewolf swung its head around and snarled at me. I held up my hands in front of me and nervously smiled. "No, doggy. I don't really have any bones."

The beast leapt at me, and I screamed and rolled out of the way. Its claws tore into the side of my chair and tore most of its stuffing from the arm. I tried to stand, but it grabbed my foot and yanked me toward it. My hands clawed at the carpet, but the werewolf dragged me back. Vincent flew by me and knocked into the werewolf. He slammed the beast into the wall, and I heard the screams of my frightened neighbors on the other side. I could just imagine them dialing 911, and that meant we only had a few hours until the police arrived, too late and undermanned.

Apparently Vincent thought the same because he jumped back from the wolf thing and picked up a large shard of glass from the window. The beast pulled itself from its crater in the wall and roared. It was mad with anger and lunged at Vincent without seeing what he was holding. Unfortunately, I saw everything, including when Vincent coolly sliced the air with the shard of glass. The sharp, homemade blade cut clear through the beast's head, and its blood splattered the entire room. I wasn't spared from the blood shower, and my filthy clothes were further filthed by the disgusting red dye of life fluid.

Vincent tossed aside the glass and strode over to me. He knelt in front of me and looked me over. "Are you all right?" he asked me.

I replied in the only sensible way a girl could. I fainted.

Chapter 8

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up I wasn't in Kansas, anymore, or at least not in my apartment. My eyes fluttered open and I found myself staring at a white ceiling with a simple light fixture. I turned my head and noticed it was a whole room of blandness, but I lay on a couch that looked like one of those ones used for mental patients. For one wild moment I considered the whole thing a dream and me a psycho ward patient, but Bat sat close by in a chair. Behind him sat a dresser and to the right of that was the door out of the room. The couch I lay on was against the opposite wall.

I wasn't sure whether to be glad or depressed to see him. I'd been saved from the nightmare of my apartment and shoved back into the weirdness that was him. I sat up and winced when my head complained of the movement. That knock against the chair gave me a delicious ostrich egg complete with scrambled brains.

"Is there a doctor in the house?" I muttered.

Bat chuckled. "I have several PhD's, but none that quickens the healing process," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

I sat up and rubbed my sore head. "Like I was run over by the Werewolf Express."

"Yes, an experience with a werewolf leaves one with a few knocks and bruises," he agreed.

"And stains," I added as I looked down at myself. "Any way I can get a spare shirt?"

Bat stood and walked over to a closet. He opened it and revealed a long line of spare white shirts like what he wore. "If you don't mind wearing my size," he teased.

"I think I can handle it." He tossed me a shirt and turned to give me some privacy. I slipped off the blood rag and slipped on the clean shirt.

"What do you think about my proposition?" Bat spoke up.

I tossed my shirt off the end of the couch and looked back to him. "What proposition?" I asked him.

"About changing your life. Vincent and I swore we would let you return to your old life, but your enemies weren't as lenient."

"That would have been nice to know before I nearly got myself killed," I snapped. I paused and furrowed my brow. "Wait a sec, my enemies? I didn't do anything to them, unless they hate me for existing."

"Existing with Tim's ring," he added. "That ring grants immortality to any mortal, and they prefer to keep their mortals mortal. Makes humans easier to handle."

"Who is they, anyway? I feel like we're talking about Voldemort here."

"The Syndicate," Bat replied.

"The Syndicate?" I'd entered a really bad horror novel.

"A Sanguine Syndicate, to be exact, for there are many in the world, though none as dangerous as the one in this city. We often shorten it to ASS in conversations." I choked on my spittle and he smiled. "It's a pleasure to hear you laugh at my jokes. I was afraid Tim had been replaced with a person who held the same sense of humor as Vincent."

I scowled at him. "I'm nothing like that-that-"

"-vampire?" he finished for me.

"Among other things."

"From what little I have learned of your temperament I would say you two are of opposite dispositions."

"Huh?"

"Your personalities don't get along."

"Um, thanks. I think." I swung my legs over the side of the couch and sighed. "So what do I do now that my apartment's been redecorated with red paint and couch stuffing?"

"You continue living, but as a different person."

"After being the same person for-well, for a lot of years that's not easy to do," I pointed out.

"Nonsense. No one remains the same person they were when they were born, or even who they were a year ago. Everyone changes, but how many people can say they have the opportunity to completely change their lives?"

"Serial killers with alternate lives and people suffering from a split-personality disorder," I quipped.