Chapter Eight (Vancouver after Dark)
Dark. He revered the dark; familiar and enveloping, the return of life, the warm dark.
The first time that he had awakened to feel truly comforted by the cloaking darkness was the first time he had acknowledged deep within him what he had truly become. He drew in a second, calmer breath and opened his eyes.
To a human the room would be utterly dark. To the vampire the objects in, and the parameters of the space were clearly defined. He did not require the reflection of light for his perception of the world around him.
Henry turned over onto his side on the bed, sensuously stretching out his back and then his limbs, the whispered sigh of silken sheets across his skin a pleasant undertone to the symphony of reawakening nerve endings.
I should rise, the night is short, he thought, but overcome by a moment of lassitude, he flipped over to his back again on the bed and for a moment simply allowed himself the luxury of extending his senses untrammeled.
The air was heavy with scents, most notable, the bank of orchids that covered the console; virtually scentless to humans, for Henry they possessed an alluring and mysterious perfume. Neither animal nor vegetative he thought but rather ethereal, like their beauty. Since taking up residence on the West Coast of Canada he had become enamored of these strange and exotic beauties.
He smiled to himself, if I had a therapist, he thought, I am sure she would make a great deal of my attachment to such a symbiotic plant. Underlying the fragrance of the orchids were the more mundane scents of the room around him, wood and wool, polish and cleaner. The tang of the stainless steel of the metal shutters covering the windows, his own scent and the faintest trace of the blood scent from the jacket which he had left lay over the arm of the low slung chair.
If the individual scents in the air were jumbled and blended together like the melody of a piece of familiar music, then the underlying thread of the bass line was the salty, living scent of the sea. Its quickening scent was always around him now, a vast and dissolute living force, powerful and all encompassing. The vampire was both attracted and repulsed by the magnitude of that life.
Even as its verdant scent encompassed the environment so did its endless voice pervade the night. The consistent rumbling of the ocean's breath colored every other sound that rode over it. The sounds of the city night muffled through the shades, the sound of the wind as it whined around his tower, the slow measured beat of his own heart —all underscored by the breath of the sea.
He smiled and extended his tongue to moisten his lower lip. He could taste it, the salt of life, borne on the very air.
He rolled suddenly and silkily to his feet, padding across the hardwood to pick up the remote from the chair where he had tossed it along with his coat in the early morning hours. He swiveled his head as he moved past, savoring the residual blood scent from his assignation of the previous evening. As the interior and exterior shutters withdrew he was greeted by a panoramic floor to ceiling view of the ocean and the downtown streets of English Bay off to his left. In the distance traffic flowed in a steady stream of lights across first the Burrard Street and then the Granville Street bridges. Were he to cross through to his living room-studio, he would be greeted by the same ocean view except on the right where the shadowed bulk of Stanley Park loomed dark on the water.
Augustus had truly outdone himself in finding and altering this penthouse to Henry's needs. His old friend had been rightfully proud as he had shown the apartment to Henry that first night.
Henry crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the wall looking out over Vancouver, his city.
He shook his head slightly as he remembered his arrival in Vancouver was it really almost six months ago? Augustus could see that the vampire was "in a bad way," as he put it, and had brought him to see the place before the necessary renovations were complete. Surrounded by the drywall and plastic drop sheets and ladders, Henry had stared sadly through the glass, wishing only to be in a different city, far from the sound of the sea. Yet even in his pain the location had in some way soothed him. He found his thoughts returning to it again and again in something akin to anticipation, through the long month he had stayed at one of Augustus's safe houses in the West End. Now it was his new home and from it he ruled his new territory. And if he kept himself separate from the close human companionship that he had come to crave, well, new places required new habits after all.
Crossing to the closet he quickly slipped on a soft and faded pair of jeans and then opened the double doors to his living room/studio. He collected the remote on his way past the desk and pushed the button as he moved through to his kitchen. He opened a cupboard and withdrew a liter bottle of spring water. Removing the seal, he lifted it to his lips and drained down half the bottle in a few swift swallows. It always amused her, he thought, that I prefer my water room temperature, or to use her words,' body temperature.' Carrying the bottle with him he moved back into his living room.
He had no eyes for the sky and ocean horizon revealed as the shades retracted, his attention was solely focused on the laptop closed on his desk. He flipped open the top and was momentarily blinded by the blue light of the screen. I really do have to get back in the habit of turning a lamp on here and there, he thought. I'll speak to Augustus; the last time he was bothering me about it he said there was some sort of a timer?
As he checked his incoming e-mail, he was disappointed, nothing from . He was slightly annoyed with himself for having returned so quickly to eagerly awaiting her attention.
Where is your vaunted, princely pride Fitzroy? He thought. I tried; I really tried to forget her. She spurned me for God's sake…forgive me Father…Six months without a word, and then out of the blue, unbelievably, one evening...How is Vancouver?...Miss you ...V. Those few simple words and his heart so long denied had stirred to life once more.
You are a fool Fitzroy, a four hundred and eighty year old fool...he shook his head.
Last night...last night he had called her, without thought or consideration of the ramifications. The sudden desire to hear her voice had been overwhelming. He had wanted to apologize, to tell her, to tell her that he...and that was when he had heard Celluci's voice. He had almost rung off, almost...not once had he been able in all their written correspondence to ask her if she was with the "human" and she had never indicated...
When he had heard Celluci's voice he thought that his heart would shatter and even then, even then he had waited, had hoped... She said that she and Celluci were nothing more than friends. That once they had found comfort in each other's arms, but that was in the past, and once again he had allowed himself to believe...
The ringing of his cell started him from his reverie. In a blur he was standing by his bedside table looking down on the small cell phone screen. It was Vicki; with the time difference it had to be at least 12:30 am in Toronto. He let it ring once more and then picked it up. "Henry speaking," he said.
Her voice responded as his sensitive hearing picked up her heart's distinctive beating, and memory provided her scent and image. "Hey Hank...you still at home or are you, "on the prowl?"
I hate it when she brings up our differences at the beginning of every conversation, he thought, yet his tone was carefully schooled as he said calmly, "I fed yesterday evening Vicki. I don't need to feed tonight," he put a heavy emphasis on the word need, "so no, I am not, as you so quaintly put it, on the prowl. I am working on the outline for the new novel this month so I had thought I might do some sketching this evening." By the time he had reached the end of the sentence his tone had normalized. "Are you working that new case?" he asked as much to change the subject as from interest.
"Yup, the missing person case, I told you about yesterday, that Mike and I were discussing over dinner," she said.
Henry's retracted fangs ached at the idea, but he managed to respond civilly enough. "And did the good detective manage to provide you with any particularly useful information?"
"Actually yes, seems that my missing person case is related to two homicides that are currently under investigation."
Henry felt the slightest stirrings of sympathy for Celluci; he knew what it was like to be trying to keep something confidential that Victoria wanted to know...
"And Henry," she said pausing for effect, "you will never guess what."
Henry sighed gustily. "Fine Vicki, I surrender, what is it that I will never guess?"
"Mike just landed at the Vancouver International Airport about an hour ago," she said
There was a long silence into which Vicki finally said, "Henry, are you there?"
***
It was a slow and pinched gait that Mike was forced to adopt as he shuffled along with the crowd of arriving passengers through the gate. He paused to look at the overhead signage searching for directions to the appropriate luggage carousel and the crowd sluggishly parted and flowed around him.
"Celluci!!" He heard a voice shout his name, and following the sound looked to his left. He saw a dark haired man of medium height holding up his police id in one hand and waving Mike over with the other.
Mike worked his way over and took the man's hand in a firm handshake. "Detective Mike Celluci, Toronto PD," he said as he looked into the startling deep blue eyes under the shock of black hair.
"Detective Liam Kavanaugh, Greater Vancouver Major Crimes, welcome to Vancouver, Detective Celluci," he said smiling.
"Call me Mike."
"Mike, the squad calls me Lee," Liam said with a shrug. "Let's grab your bag and get out of here. I have your rental out in the parking lot."
***
Mike laid his arm along the seat and regarded the red sunset that painted the striated clouds of the evening sky, the mountains of the North Shore standing as purple shadowed masses beneath. By the time they had retrieved his bags, gotten out of the airport, and headed into town it was after eight p.m. and the sun was settled below the horizon.
No wonder I'm tired, he thought. When I went to work this morning, I had no idea I would be in Vancouver tonight. He looked out at the blood red sky reflected in the passing windows of the high rise buildings as they crossed the Burrard Street Bridge.
Lee waved his arm off to his left, "Stanley Park is off that way. If you're a runner, the seawall is great and there are also some challenging trails. There are lots of restaurants and clubs on Robson and Denman, fair bit of night life if you are into that scene, not that you'll probably have much time for that kind of thing."
Mike felt a little more at home as the tall buildings and cityscape of downtown Vancouver surrounded them; enclosed in the concrete canyons of the business center he could have been back in downtown Toronto. The steady stream of traffic and the multitude of pedestrians on the streets as they waited to make the left from Burrard onto Robson were part of a familiar and comfortable landscape. The looming mountains he could view through the open ends of the intersections were not.
"The Stanley Hotel isn't the poshest place in the city," Lee said as they headed along Robson towards the park, "but it is centrally located and is very close to the park and tall enough that the rooms have some decent views. There's underground parking and the rooms are larger than most so you'll be able to spread out a bit. The department has an arrangement with the management; we put up most of our visitors there, so if you need anything at all the front desk should be able to help you."
Mike nodded, his eyes on the dark silhouette of the forest of Stanley Park, black against the deep blue twilit sky.
"The hotel restaurant, well…it's not exactly the best," Lee said with a grimace, "but the breakfast buffet is passable. There are plenty of good places to eat along Denman as you head over to English Bay."
"And you said the Aquarium is in Stanley Park proper?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, after the briefing tomorrow, I'll take you around to the crime scenes, and to the Aquarium…though just like your cases, the security tapes really don't show anything, but at least you have only the one source of saltwater close by, which narrows it in a bit," Lee said.
Mike jerked his chin in the direction of the back seat as they pulled into the parking lot of the 'Stanley.' "Thanks for the copies of the files, I want a chance to look them over with a fresh eye before the briefing tomorrow. You never know what will pop out."
Lee smiled, "I think we're going to work well together Mike."
***
Half an hour later Mike stood with one hand in his pocket on the small balcony of his room. He sipped his scotch on the rocks, the ice clinking gently in the glass as the smooth chilled liquid slipped over his tongue. He looked broodingly out over the dark treed expanse of the park towards the brightly lit towers of English Bay.
He could smell the salt tang of the ocean in the air and the sounds of the street fifteen floors down were a pleasantly muted reminder of the nightlife that continued below him. His eyes watched the glowing line of headlights and tail lights on the Georgia Street entrance to the Stanley Park Viaduct. They all disappeared around that first turn into the velvet dark of the silent trees.
He had discarded his jacket and tie as soon as he was alone in the room. Now he ran a hand through his hair and then tiredly scrubbed at his face. His cheeks and chin were stubbled with a long day's growth. Get your shaving kit out of your duffle bag, he reminded himself.
He leaned one hand on the railing and stared out into the night.
Are you out there? he thought, Are you out prowling the streets of your new city? Are you standing in the shadows watching and learning, studying the humans of Vancouver? Are you hunting them…right now?
Another sip of the smooth chilled liquid. He had pumped Kavanaugh pretty mercilessly about crime statistics in Vancouver, and without being too obvious had inquired about any "strange" cases in the city. It had become clear that Lee had no idea that there was a resident vampire in his jurisdiction or that such a thing as vampires even existed.
Mike smiled grimly, thinking it would be almost worthwhile to let Kavanaugh know that the Prince of Darkness was draining the citizenry of Vancouver right under his nose…it would probably cause all kinds of problems for fang boy…but really what had Kavanaugh ever done to him to deserve that kind of a headache…
Well, ignorance is bliss, he thought. I remember when my world was a whole fucking lot simpler, before I found out what really walks the night. Are you out there bloodsucker?
***
The wind was brisk, on the roof garden, even in the latter portion of the summer night. Its insistent fingers ruffled his hair out behind him and pushed at the blue silk of his shirt until it was molded flat to the planes of his chest and flapping gently at his back. Surrounded by the night blooming clematis, columbine and evening primroses of his garden, this was the highest point of his sanctuary. He could stand at the railing and gaze out over his territory, high above the bustling humans below.
The wind was too brisk tonight for even his senses to catch the sweetness of the nicotiana on the air as its white trumpets waved and bobbed in the wind.
He had left his sketches spread out across his work table below in his studio. The work was progressing well but he had been strangely restless throughout the night and finally he had climbed to his roof garden and now pondered the source of his unease. According to Vicki; Celluci, his rival, was in his new territory. The human to whom he had surrendered the field, who posed a threat to his fondest desire, now slept somewhere in proximity. He knew that Celluci would keep his secret, of that he had no doubt, but he could still cause an untoward amount of trouble for Henry, should he be so inclined.
The heated argument he had with Vicki had left him feeling worn and overwrought. I should have hunted, if for nothing other than the distraction, he thought. The vampire felt exposed and at risk, but in the end he had promised no revise that, had been forced to promise Vicki, that he would do nothing to discomfort Celluci. Well, that did not mean that he could not find him and observe.
Henry turned and paced out the perimeter of his moonlit garden, and eventually the voice of the sea and the heady beauty of the night blooming plants eased the restlessness of his spirit. He could feel the earliest warnings of the sun's return in perhaps an hour. He still had more drawing he needed to accomplish.
Tomorrow evening, after I feed, I will seek out Celluci.