"It was the same vampire. Teeth marks match up. It makes sense now, that it's a child. I hadn't even considered it. I was looking into conditions that cause small stature. Where did you get the idea that there might be a child vampire out there? I hadn't even heard that it was possible."
Dr Calder's head was tilted quizzically. Her long blonde hair moved with the motion of the fan that was keeping the air moving, but doing nothing for the unbearable atmosphere.
"Call it a hunch," the sheriff said flatly. The buzzing in her head was almost intolerable. She squeezed the bridge of her nose again.
"Is everything okay, Sheriff? You seem to be having a lot of these headaches. I have a colleague at the University who's a specialist in neurological…"
The Sheriff held her hand up.
"It's nothing, doc. I get them all the time. Nothing to worry about. Let's worry about getting as much information as we can so we can catch this vampire and keep our town safe."
The doctor eyed her doubtfully.
"Are you sure?" she asked, in a quieter voice. She reached out but didn't quite touch the Sheriff's shoulder.
The Sheriff smiled, but it looked like more of a grimace.
"I'm fine, doc."
The doctor watched her leave and shook her head. There was something strange about that woman. She went back behind her desk, turned on her tape recorder and carried on dictating her findings from the poor girl's autopsy.
"Hey, Sheriff," the young redhead said, bouncing on her heels. "Any news on our latest victim?"
The Sheriff turned and smiled. The youngest recruit to her station always made her smile.
"Claudia. Hey. The doctor thinks the vampire might be a child." It was only a white lie. And Jinks was out on patrol – he couldn't snitch on her.
"A child vampire? Seriously? Like, when did that start happening?"
"Honestly? I don't know. I only heard about them recently myself. I understand that children who are changed become deranged. If we don't catch this one she will kill again. So everyone needs to start carrying their silver restraints until this is resolved. Okay?"
"Sure thing, boss. I'll get everyone equipped."
"Thanks, Claudia."
The Sheriff made her way to her office wearily. As usual, Leena had left a steaming cup of coffee on the desk. How the woman always knew when she was going to arrive was beyond her.
"Sheriff Bering."
Shit.
"Mrs Frederic," she acknowledged the woman calmly, taking a sip of her coffee. She was proud that her hand didn't shake. The first time the woman had appeared she had spilled scalding coffee all over her pants. Her legs had smarted for a week.
"I understand there has been another death. And I understand from Dr Calder that you have made a small amount of progress in identifying the culprit."
"I have. It's not much to go on, but I believe the vampire involved is a child."
She took another mouthful of the coffee. It made the buzzing louder sometimes, but on days like this, she needed it.
"And how did you come to this conclusion?" Mrs Frederic's eyes bored into hers.
"I was given some information from an…unexpected source."
Mrs Frederic eyed her. She was a formidable woman, the Mayor. The reflection of the light on her glasses made her eyes almost invisible. She was a terrifying vision in green tweed.
"I see. And did this…source of yours offer any other information?"
"Not much, Ma'am."
Dammit, they had her doing it now too.
"She said that the vampire has been doing this for a long time. We didn't exactly get to finish the conversation."
"Hmm." Mrs Frederic tapped her lip contemplatively. "Interesting."
She stood up abruptly.
"I trust you will let me know of any further developments?"
"Of course, Ma'am."
"And Myka?"
"Yes?"
"Dr Calder is concerned about these 'headaches' of yours. I believe we should deal with your…problem sooner rather than later."
And with that, she was gone. Myka stared after her in confusion. What the hell did she mean by that?
There was a business card on the table. Myka hadn't left it there. That meant…
Arthur Nielsen
Attorney at Law
Member of the Cataliades Group
Curious, Myka searched her memory. The name was familiar. Not Nielsen – Cataliades. She seemed to remember someone of that name calling her father's store once. She'd picked up the phone, she was little. It was a Thursday and she was helping out in the store after school. The voice was strange, deep. She'd called her dad to the phone, and that was the last she'd heard of it.
After a moment's thought, she decided to give in to her curiosity. She picked up the phone on her desk, dialling the number on the business card.
"NielsenAttorneyatLawHowmayIdirectyourcall?" The voice was bored and breathy. Myka had a distinct mental image of a blonde doing her nails while answering the phone.
"Uh, sorry, is this Mr Nielsen's office?" she said, hesitantly.
"Yah. That's what I said."
"Could I speak to Mr Nielsen, please?" Myka said, politely.
"Who may I say is calling?"
If anything, she sounded even more bored. Possibly chewing gum and rolling her eyes.
"Sheriff Bering."
The line went quiet. After a moment there was a loud cough in Myka's ear.
"Hello? Sheriff?"
"Yes, Mr Nielsen. I was given your card."
"Yes. You're Mrs Frederic's case. Come by around five. We'll talk then."
The line went dead. Myka looked at the receiver for a moment incredulously, but when it didn't offer her any insight, she sighed and hung up. Could this day get any weirder?
A few hours later, she had her answer.
"Ma'am?"
She looked up. Steve Jinks was at her office door, grinning widely.
"Yes, Officer Jinks?"
"We got another call. About the panther in the woods?"
She sighed.
"Again? Is it the damn full moon or something? What is with this town?"
He shrugged, grinning even wider.
She stood up. The buzzing in her head was a heavy, thick drone. She couldn't concentrate anyway; she might as well get out of here for a while.
"I'll go. Send the address to my cell."
"Sure thing, Ma'am."
"Steve. Call me Ma'am one more time and you're going to be on permanent patrol with Walter."
He blanched.
"Yes, Sheriff."
She got in her cruiser and drove to the edge of town, close to where the body had been found. There were strange sightings all the time around here. Panthers, tigers, bears. She made a half-hearted effort to look around, but didn't see anything obvious, not even any scat. They would be hearing from the neighbours, she knew, demanding to know what they were going to do about the sightings. But she was tired. 5 am calls could do that to a person.
When she returned to the office, it was almost time for her to go to see Arthur Nielsen. She handed over to a tired Pete Lattimer and drove carefully to find the lawyer's office. She was curious, she had to admit. Mrs Frederic was an oddity in her own right. It was several months after Sam's death when the stately black woman had first appeared in Myka's life, telling her there was an opportunity for her in the South, if she was interested. Myka had politely declined, but the woman had appeared several more times and Myka finally gave in. She had nothing left in Colorado Springs, not after Sam. His death was her fault. She couldn't go back to working with her former colleagues, not knowing that. So she gave in. And now she was going to see a lawyer who had a possible link with someone her dad may have spoken to once, approximately twenty five years ago.
The office was small and grubby, much like the man himself. He shook Myka's hand gruffly and nodded, not quite meeting her gaze. He gestured for her to sit and asked his assistant (who was, Myka noted with some amusement, blonde, popping gum, and rolling her eyes) to get them some coffee. Myka waited until Sally, the blonde, left their drinks behind and closed the door. She took a sip of the surprisingly good coffee and looked at Mr Nielsen, who was muttering to himself and avoiding her gaze.
"So, Mr Nielsen. What am I doing here?"
"I would have thought you could tell me that, Sheriff Bering. We both know I don't need to tell you anything."
Her world screeched to a halt. Did he…
"What do you mean by that, Mr Nielsen?"
He flapped his hand in the air impatiently.
"Call me Artie. And you know exactly what I mean. Without control? The noise must be intolerable – how do you stand it?"
She stared at him.
"Mr Cataliades is my employer. We are…relatives of a sort. You, Sheriff Bering, are a telepath. And it appears that you have somehow managed to block your gift from functioning in any useful manner. I don't know why, and I don't care. But Mrs Frederic sent you to me, so if you want my help, you have it. I can train you to make it easier to focus, to hone and develop your skill so that it is useful and not an intolerable buzz that will one day send you entirely insane. But I cannot do anything unless you want to help yourself."
She stared at him, open mouthed. How did he…?
He looked at her sympathetically, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown.
"You have a distant cousin in Louisiana. She is well known to our…family. She has your gift, and Mr Cataliades is rather heavily involved in her life. He does not have time to assist you, too, or else he would be here. So you are left with me."
He looked at her for another long moment, measuring her, somehow.
"I don't know you, Sheriff Bering. But I do know one thing. Running away very rarely solves anything. And the one thing you can't run away from is yourself."
She walked out without a word.
She was drunk. Not buzzed, not quietly, sadly drunk in a corner – she was rip-roaring drunk. Talking to her dog drunk. Talking to her beer drunk.
"You understand, don't you boy? I can't listen. I can't be a freak. My dad...he told me, he said people would hate me. They'd think I was weird. I tried to block it out. Didn't work, did it? Damn voices still kept talking…"
Her voice was slurred, her eyes bleary. The dog – a stray, who came by every so often to beg for food – looked back at her understandingly. He licked her hand as she reached down unsteadily to pet him.
"Damn Mrs Frederic. What the hell has it got to do with her anyway? S'my head. She doesn't get to say what goes on in my head. I do my job. She hasn't got the right."
The dog whined uncertainly, brown eyes meeting hers.
"It's okay, boy," she said wearily.
"It doesn't look that way from where I'm standing," came a voice from the darkness of the yard. An English accent. The dog stood, growling.
"What do you want?" Myka said, without looking up.
"That's not very nice of you, Sheriff. I believe my information was useful to you. There's no need to be rude."
"Sorry," she said sullenly, sounding not at all sorry.
She picked up the shot glass and poured another measure unsteadily.
"Do you really think that's a good idea? It seems to me that you've had enough."
"What the hell does it have to do with you anyway?" Myka asked, trying to focus through the beer and whiskey haze at the blurry figure of the vampire.
"Very little, I'd imagine. But humans don't usually drink this much unless they're trying to forget something. What are you trying to forget, Sheriff?"
Her voice was silky and cool and suddenly she was a foot away. There wasn't any perceptible movement, she was just there and now…here.
The dog was growling and baring his teeth.
"It's okay, boy. She won't hurt me."
He looked at her uncertainly and whined.
"Lie down, boy."
He turned in a circle and lay down, putting his head on his paws with a sigh.
"Are you sure about that, Sheriff?"
"About what?" she said, confused.
"You told your friend here that I won't hurt you. Why?"
"I assume that if you were going to hurt me, vampire, I'd be dead already."
Myka took a long pull from her beer, looking up at the stars.
"Helena."
"What?" she asked, peering at the white figure in the darkness.
"My name is Helena. Not vampire."
"Fine. Helena."
Through the alcohol haze, Myka found that she liked the way it sounded.
"May I?" the vampire asked, gesturing towards the seat next to Myka. Myka nodded.
They sat in silence. It was real silence, with no buzzing – except for the soft noise coming from the dog. But she could handle that. The silence was beautiful. To sit by someone and not hear their mind buzzing against hers, demanding her attention? Beautiful. She sighed and put her head back against the seat cushion.
The vampire – Helena – said nothing. She was still. There was no noise, not even breathing. It was divine. Myka sighed again and took another long pull from her beer.
After a long silence, two more shots and another beer, she began to speak. She was talking to herself, the vampire could tell.
"I couldn't listen. I couldn't. They left me. I had to stop, so they wouldn't leave me again."
She looked at her arms, where multiple scars marked a pattern on her flesh. Defensive wounds.
"I said I wouldn't do it. Never listen. Never tell. I never did. Never. But if I'd listened? Sam would have lived. I would have known what they were planning. He never…I didn't ever know, if he loved me. I didn't know. It was my fault."
She began to cry – tearing, pained sobs. The bottle fell from her fingers and the beer spilled on the deck. The dog whined and turned away from the liquid seeping into the boards next to him.
Cold arms wrapped around her, held her. There was no noise. She was safe.
"Can I come inside?" the voice murmured.
She nodded into the safety of those arms.
"You have to say it, darling."
"Yes."
Strong, thin arms lifted her up like she weighed nothing, carried her inside. Undressed her, redressed her in soft cotton pyjamas, held her while she cried. She slept in those arms, soft, soothing nonsense words in that cold voice lulling her to sleep.
The next morning she woke with a splitting headache. The light through the shutters was blinding. There was a glass on the nightstand with a note.
Sheriff Bering
I hope you are feeling a little better this morning. Please take the pills. I imagine your headache will be rather impressive. Should you ever require my assistance, please call.
Helena Wells
There was a telephone number underneath, and two aspirin. Myka took them gratefully and drank the full glass of water. How much did she drink last night? And how - why was the vampire in her house?
She lay still for a few minutes until the light was more tolerable, then got out of bed. She didn't remember changing into her pyjamas. She shucked them, left them where they fell, and dragged herself into the shower.
After ten minutes under almost scalding hot water, she felt a little better. She grabbed some coffee and made her way to the office, waving lazily at neighbours as she drove by. When she entered the building she was greeted by her least favourite deputy.
"Good morning, Sheriff."
"Walter," she acknowledged, nodding.
The older man was a pain in her ass. Every workplace, she had found, had a Walter. That one person who complained about everything, never did a thing they didn't absolutely have to, and when they did something wrong, it was always someone else's fault. Walter Sykes was smug, useless and pretty much a waste of space. And he was always that little bit too close.
"Sheriff?"
"Yes, Steve?"
"There's been another one. By the creek."
She shook her head. That was four this month. And this month only started ten days ago.
"Come on, Steve. You're with me."
"But…" Walter protested.
Her eyebrow lifted.
"Is there something I can help you with, Officer Sykes?"
He glared at her sullenly.
"No, Ma'am," he spat.
He was always following her, always too close. She'd made the mistake, early on, of allowing him to accompany her in her cruiser to a crime scene. She'd been honestly impressed with the amount of accidental touches he'd managed to contrive - of her breasts, her thighs, her ass. Her own 'accidental' elbow to his face had resulted in a broken nose and four stitches. She'd apologised profusely but all the while had watched him, her eyes flinty. He knew, and she knew, and he hadn't laid a finger on her since, accidentally or otherwise. She'd made sure to assign him a male partner at all times, and had told Pete and Steve to watch and ensure that he was never to be left alone with Leena or Claudia.
Steve followed her and they drove swiftly to the crime scene.
"Who called this one in?" she asked.
"One of the families from the trailer park. They said they'd leave a stick with some cloth on it so it'd be easy to find."
She looked around, eyes narrowed, and saw the white material billowing softly in the thankfully soft breeze.
It was another kid – a boy this time. Same MO, eyes removed, evisceration, exsanguination. Limbs – in the trees, this time. She studied the scene carefully, but saw nothing of note that might lead them to the killer. She turned to ask Steve to set up a perimeter, call the ME, and saw that he was already back at the cruiser, on the radio.
She pulled her cell from her pocket and dialled the number the vampire gave her. She got a messaging service, as expected, since it was daylight and all.
"Helena. This is Sheriff Bering. We found another body. I would appreciate your input. You can call me back on this number."
She hung up and helped Steve to put tape around the area. Mrs Frederic called her a few minutes later, having heard the news in her mysterious way. Myka filled her in and confirmed that she was following up with her source. Mrs Frederic thanked her, and told her to be at Arthur Nielsen's office at 5pm before hanging up.
Damn. The woman had no right. Myka squeezed the bridge of her nose, hard, and then went to greet the ME.