Dead-tective (Book 1): Vampire Dead-tective (7 page)

"No."

"There's that bad diplomacy habit again. You need to learn to give a little."

"I gave you my energy."

"That was unwilling. I'm talking about a deal."

"My demand is the vacuum."

"No deal."

"Then we are at an impasse."

"No, were are at a dingy apartment building in a slightly less dingy apartment. I'm trying to remedy that, but you're not helping."

"It doesn't need remedying."

"I thought you'd say something like that."

"Let go of the vacuum."

"How about I not vacuum until sunset? Deal?"

Vincent's eyes narrowed and he perused my face with a careful glance. "On what do you swear?"

"An American flag?" I offered. The thin lines of his lips grew thinner, and I rolled my eyes. "Fine, fine, I swear on-um, on my life?" I paused and furrowed my face. "Which I guess is kind of your life since we're bonded. This is kind of like marriage, but without the fun honeymoon. Or maybe this is the fun honeymoon-"

"I will accept that." He set the vacuum down on the floor and me with it.

"All right, I guess I'll just set this back in the closet and you can get back to sleep," I replied. I expected him to climb back into his box, but after I put the vacuum in the closet and turned around I found he still stood there. "Need a bedtime story?" I wondered.

"Have you felt different?"

"Sure, every time I walk into a black or Asian neighborhood," I replied.

If he could have killed me he would have done it right then. "Within the last hour," he added.

"Nope. Kind of tired, but nothing weird." I expected him to ask some more questions. That was my first mistake. Vincent slipped over to his bed and sat back in the box. "Wait a sec, why were you wanting to know?" I asked him. My second mistake was again thinking he was going to reply. He lay down and shut the lid over himself. I scowled and stomped over to the coffee table bed. I tried to dramatically tear off the lid, but all I got for my trouble were some dramatically deep cuts from the unfinished wood. The throbbing in my fingers wouldn't deter me, so I knocked on the lid. "Why were you asking me that question?" I called to him. No answer. I knocked again and still nothing happened, but I noticed the box had a nice ring to it.

That gave me an idea. I wasn't very musically inclined, but I knew the Lone Ranger theme song. It played well on the lid until it was flung aside and I came face-to-face with a very irritated Vincent. "Go away," he demanded.

"Not until you tell me why you were asking that question," I insisted.

"Merely to find out if you had come into your abilities," he replied.

"What abilities?"

"The vampiric ones given through the ring."

"Oh, right. Do those just pop out of nowhere or do they come on gradually?"

"Yes."

"I hate you."

"I don't care."

"Is there a manual for these abilities when they do pop up?"

"No."

"Not even an Idiot's Guide?"

"As much as that would suit you, no."

"You're an ass."

"I don't care."

"And not very talkative."

"I don't care."

I threw up my hands. "Come on! There's got to be some way you can help me with these abilities! Can you even tell me what I'm going to get?"

"Flight."

My eyes widened and my mouth split open in a excited smile. "Seriously?"

"No."

I don't know what made me snap. Actually, that's a lie. Vincent made me do it, it was all his fault my hand shot out and smacked him across the face. He didn't see it coming, and to be honest neither did I, but there was the red mark on his pale cheek. There was also the angry glint in his eyes, and I nervously backed up. "I'm so, so sorry about that. I don't usually hit people, but I guess you're not a person," I defended myself. Vincent slowly climbed out of his box and inched toward me. I stumbled back into the wall beside the door. "Y-you can't kill me, remember? The ring binding us and all that."

Vincent reached me and his hand whipped out. He grabbed my throat and lifted me off the floor. My feet flailed in the air and my hands grasped his to try to pull him off. Didn't work, but at least I tried. He stuck his face close to mine, and one whiff of his breath made me dizzy. "Never strike me in anger," he commanded.

I hated to be ordered about, especially by an undead ass. "Then stop being such an ass and answer my questions!" I snapped back. "It's not like I asked for this! I wish Tim was here so you could bite his head off with your orders, but he's not! We're stuck here together and we may as well at least get along until I figure out a way of getting this damn ring off my finger!" Vincent pursed his lips together, but he let go of me and I dropped to the ground like a bag of potatoes. I stood and rubbed my sore neck while I glared at him. "Does this mean you're going to help me with these abilities I'm supposed to get?"

"Yes." I breathed a sigh of relief until it caught in my throat at his next words. "But I am not an easy teacher." He was one teacher I didn't think I could live through.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm probably only going to need a few pointers," I hurriedly told him. "You know, just tell me how to, um, what am I supposed to be able to do again? And be serious this time."

"Your speed has been improved," he replied.

I furrowed my brow and gave him a disbelieving side-glance. "I said be serious."

"If your speed hadn't improved you would not have been able to hit me," he pointed out.

I raised an eyebrow. "What would you have done if I hadn't been able to hit you?"

"Caught your hand and broken it."

"That's a little extreme."

"But effective."

"You have a twisted way of thinking," I commented. Vincent suddenly turned back to the box and strode toward it. "Hey, wait! You said you'd help me with this stuff! What am I supposed to do with all this speed? How do I control it?" I lunged at him to stop him, and I overestimated my new ability. I flew across the room and would have smacked into him if he hadn't stepped to the side. I sailed by him and landed in a tangled mess of my own limbs on the couch on the other side of the box. The whole world was upside down, or I was, and I watched the upside down Vincent walk up to me. There was a evil grin on his face. "You think this is funny, don't you?" I asked him.

"Hilarious," he replied in a dead-pan voice.

I righted myself and glared at him. "You could have caught me," I scolded him.

"Yes, I could have."

"You don't regret not catching me at all, do you?"

"No."

"I hate you."

"You have already said that."

"Yeah, and you keep reminding me why I hate you."

"Your focus is very poor."

"I'm pretty focused on trying not to kill you right now," I quipped.

"Do you wish for me to train you or not?" he countered.

"I don't know, you're doing a bang up job already," I replied as I rubbed my twisted limbs.

"You lack focus for training. Tim was much the same way."

My ears and head perked up at his comment. "So he wasn't very good when he started out?"

"He had natural talent that you completely lack," Vincent told me.

My face drooped along with my shoulders. "Thanks," I grumbled.

"Don't mention it."

"I won't, but could we start this training and see how well I actually do? Flying across the room doesn't really count as a start, though the smacking you is a great one," I pointed out.

"We will start when the sun sets. During the day my powers are weaker than yours, and if you were to create trouble I wouldn't be able to stop you," he replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of trouble can a little bit of speed get us into?"

He nodded behind me. "Look behind you."

I glanced over my shoulder and saw the dirty windows. My face paled when I realized the only thing that had kept me from practicing my aviation skills had been the couch. "Oh," was my reply.

"With the sun in the sky I couldn't have saved you," he added.

"Um, maybe we will wait until night."

Chapter 9

Vincent went back to bed and I went back to work, but in a quieter way. The place was scrubbed and dusted, and when he crawled out of the box after sunset he was amazed at the drastic change, or that's what I hoped for. He actually just stared around the place for all of three seconds and strode over to the door. "We have someone we need to meet," he told me.

That made me doubly disappointed. I waited all day for the chance to learn and test my abilities. "But you haven't taught me anything," I protested.

"You'll learn on the way."

The only thing I learned was he was an ass, but that was something I already knew. Vincent led me out of the decrepit apartment building and into the alley beside the structure. It was cleaner than the apartment building, and with fewer rats. I followed him to a pile of boxes beside a rotting wooden fence that divided the alley in half. Vincent knelt down and pushed aside the boxes to reveal a manhole. He pulled the cover off and slipped inside. I expected to hear his feet splash down in polluted water, but there was just the clack of his heels.

"Quit wasting time," he ordered me.

His voice echoed down a long metallic pipe, and I cringed. "I'm not going down there," I refused.

Vincent burst from the hole and grabbed my leg. He whipped my foot out from under me and dragged me, kicking and screaming, down into the depths of-a clean sewer pipe? I was thoroughly confused about the wide, dry culvert in which we stood. It led off in two directions, and there wasn't any light to see by. I screamed when I was swooped into someone's arms. "God damn it, Vincent, knock it off!"

"That isn't me." I froze and glanced up into the darkness where the person's head should be. Thanks to a faint, unearthly glow from the thing's eyes, I could see it had a head. Unfortunately, looking up at those eyes was like looking into the pits of Hell, and me without a stick and marshmallows. The flesh was rotten and fell off in patches, and the thing's suit was ragged and also falling off in patches.

"Vincent?" I squeaked.

"Yes?" his voice came from behind the creature.

"What is this?"

"A zombie," he replied.

"We prefer the term living-challenged, but zombie will do," the creature spoke in a voice so cultured I had a craving for tea.

"Vincent!" I yelped.

"Yes?"

"The thing talks!"

"I am not a thing. My name is Officer Edward Romero of the Parasquad," the creature corrected me.

"Oh, hehe, sorry. Mind putting me down-er, Officer Romero?" I pleaded.

"Certainly, but not until one of you tells me what you're doing down here," Officer Romero insisted.

"Vincent, what are we doing down here?" I asked my guide.

"Merely traveling to the Boo Bar," he replied.

My mouth incredulously dropped open. "Boo Bar?" I repeated. I yelped when Officer Romero set me down, and another pair of hands settled on my shoulders. They were Vincent's thin, strong ones.

"She new here?" the officer asked Vincent.

"Very new."

"You told her the rules yet?"

I heard Vincent scoff behind me. "I am not her keeper."

"Technically, you are," I pointed out.

"Then you should tell her the rules," Officer Romero insisted.

"I intend to at a later date."

"Liar," I bit back. He squeezed my shoulders as a warning.

"It seems Vincent won't tell you, so I'll bring you up to speed. Don't kill, murder, bump off, destroy, or poof anyone out of existence," the officer warned me.

"Poof someone out of existence?" I repeated.

"It's for the witches. They're always trying to get around the rules, so we designated a phrase specifically for them," he explained.

I blinked. "Witches?"

Officer Romero's bright eyes glanced behind me with a worried look. "You sure you should take her to the Boo Bar? She's a little green."

"She will manage," Vincent assured him.

"I-I don't think I will. This is getting a little complicated," I piped up. Vincent didn't give me any further chance to argue when he swept me up into his arms. "I can still walk!" I yelled at him.

"That is what I'm trying to avoid," Vincent strangely replied. He nodded his head at the officer, who nodded back. "Good evening, officer."

Vincent took off down the pipe into the impenetrable darkness. "Couldn't we at least go back for a flashlight?" I pleaded.

"No."

I slumped down in his hold and crossed my arms over my chest. "You're impossible."

"I try."

"You succeed." I glanced over his shoulder at the retreating lights of the zombie's eyes. "Mind explaining what a zombie's doing as an officer?"

"They are nearly impossible to destroy, and they feel no pain when they lose an arm," he explained.

I cringed. "The retirement package must be pretty nice for them to take up that job."

"They are impressed into the service."

"How are they impressed with the service?"

Vincent sighed. "They are forced into being officers, or they will be destroyed."

"What kind of life is that?"

"Sometimes living is worth it."

I was struck by how sentimental that comment sounded. "Even if it means being a vampire?" I guessed.

He didn't deign to reply, and we made the rest of the journey in silence. It was a zig-zag route that ran us through wider and taller culverts until I felt we were in caverns. The angle of the floor led us down, and sometimes Vincent ran through water, but the caverns were relatively dry. Torches appeared on the walls and we were joined by other people and creatures. There were a few other zombies dressed like Officer Romero, but most of the people were normal in their clothes and physical appearances. The other occupants appeared out of other tunnels that met at crossroads, and those crossroads met at other crossroads. It was a crossroads-topia that ended at a large terminal.

The terminal looked like one of those old-fashioned subway stations with the painted walls and high ceilings, but there was no natural light from above. We were still below ground, and large chandeliers lit up the space. Shops lined all the walls that weren't accesses to tunnels, and at the center was a towering business with several double-door entrances and a glass window atop them that reached forty feet above the ground floor.