Blood Ties (21 page)

He concentrated on the forces and levitated a few feet off the floor, until his head was just below the ceiling and his face was even with a tiny, grated air vent.

The bat clambered up into this corner. With amazing dexterity, it reached out and peeled the grating away from the hole. “Thanks,” said Oliver.

He reached into the bag and removed a gorged Malaysian mosquito. It was enormous by mosquito standards, about an inch across. Holding it carefully by one of its delicate legs, Oliver held it through the hole. “Fed on wild pigs, like you like,” he added quietly.

The vampire bat sniffed at it, then grabbed the blood-filled insect and loped away along the rope. Now, a second bat arrived, swinging along the ropes by its feet. A third followed not far behind.

A feeling of calm spread through Oliver. He liked to watch the bats cradle the fat insects in their fingers, their noses inspecting the prize, and then carefully eat. They were as complicated a creature as any, and Oliver wondered if these three worried about their futures, or pondered their existence. Did they even know they were in a cage? If they did, did it bother them? Or did they think that this cage was their entire world, and if so, what did they think of it? Maybe they thought it was just fine, because it was all they knew. Oliver wondered if that was really so bad.

He fed the second bat and was pulling the last insect from the bag—when every light in the exhibit turned on.

The bats shrieked.

Oliver's vision exploded into static white. He lost track of the forces and tumbled to the floor. What was going on? The lights weren't supposed to come on for another—

The double doors crashed open.

“Jennings and Blake securing the night room, sir!” a voice barked.

Oliver rolled onto his back, blinking madly, but the lights had made the world around him little more than faint gray lines drawn in white.

Booted feet clomped up the ramp. He could smell the humans. They would reach him in moments. The bats shrieked urgently, advising Oliver to flee. He was still confused—yet now there was a new, familiar scent.

Just past the vampire bat exhibit, the exit door slammed open.

Oliver rolled until he hit the side wall of the catwalk, then shut his eyes tight and tried to concentrate. He had to spectralize now!

More footsteps. A human approached, his breathing thin, his heart rate high.

Oliver finally reconnected with the forces and began to sink back from the world. Would it be soon enough? He tried opening his eyes again. They'd adjusted enough that he could make out some colors and shapes in the overwhelming brightness. There was the human, in a brown jacket, a gun raised in one hand, a radio in the other.

“Anything, sir?” a voice crackled from it.

“Nothing yet,” replied Detective Nick Pederson as he moved slowly along the catwalk.

He was practically beside Oliver when there was a loud thud that made the detective jump. One of the bats had lunged against the glass right beside him. It hissed wickedly. Detective Pederson swore to himself.

In that instant of distraction, Oliver got to his knees and, keeping himself spectralized, scrambled to the ceiling, then down the hall until he reached the exit door. He glanced back, saw that the detective was continuing into the exhibit, and slipped around the corner.

He hung down to push open the door when it was yanked open. A head appeared right in front of him.

“Whoa!”

“Tsss!”
Oliver darted back, lost his traction, and fell to the floor. He looked up to see Dean and Emalie peering in. Dean was in his usual long coat, his matted hair sticking this way and that. Emalie's hair was in braids, and she wore a denim jacket.

Dean couldn't resist chuckling at Oliver's sprawled position. “Nice.”

Emalie elbowed Dean. “Oliver,” she whispered. “Come on.”

Oliver scrambled to his feet and ducked out the door, following Emalie and Dean down a narrow walkway to a larger path. Red lights flashed in the trees. “What's going on?” Oliver asked.

“Lots of police,” reported Dean, “but we're not sure why yet. We were just about to come in and meet you when they showed up.”

They crept along the path until they reached a wide intersection and saw a commotion up ahead. There were police cars and an ambulance, their engines off but their red and white lights still flashing. A news truck was backing into position, a large floodlight raised high above it, its beam falling on a female newscaster. She stood by the glass wall surrounding the penguin habitat. Most of the action seemed to be focused there.

Oliver caught a scent on the wind. He turned to Dean, who met his gaze with a knowing raise of the eyebrows.

They got as close as the shadows would let them, then ducked and rushed to the side of one of the police cars. Peering over its hood, the three could see into the penguin habitat, to the little rock island surrounded by a moat of water.

That was where the body was.

Emalie's breath caught in her throat. It lay on the very top of the island, sprawled face up, arms and legs dangling down. Penguins stood motionlessly about, some staring at the corpse like mourners, some at the activity around them, as if they were appalled by the humans' lack of respect.

Oliver sniffed at the air, and from the molecules of scent spreading on the breeze, he knew the death was recent.

“Looks like a boy,” whispered Dean. “A little older than us?”

Oliver nodded. “Lots of blood around his neck … And …” His nose reported another disturbing fact, and he turned to Dean again. “You smell that?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “An animal …”

“An animal did this?” Emalie asked incredulously.

“We are in a zoo,” said Oliver. “And …” He realized that he knew the scent from moments before: the jaguar.

“Heads up,” said Dean. “There's good ol' Detective Pederson.”

The detective was emerging from the doors to the reptile room, flanked by officers. He approached the penguin enclosure and was greeted by two women, one younger with a badge and gun on her belt, the other older and stocky. As the three converged, Oliver and Dean trained their sensitive ears, and Emalie reached out with her mind to listen.

“Hey, Sarah,” Pederson said to the other officer.

“Hey, Nick,” Sarah replied. “This is Marion Burke, the zoo director.”

“Are you in charge?” Marion asked worriedly.

Nick glanced at Sarah before he replied. “For the moment, but—”

“Okay, you've
got
to get your people back to this location and let my staff lead the search. Sasha is not going to be easy to find and care needs to be taken—”

“Sasha is the least of my concerns,” muttered Nick ominously.

“Nick—” Sarah interrupted.

Nick frowned. “All right.” He pulled out his radio. “I need all units back at the penguin enclosure immediately.” He turned to Marion. “You have your team meet me over by that squad car in two minutes.”

“Okay.” Marion turned and flipped open her phone.

Nick strode ahead, Sarah falling into step beside him.

“That's the guy who was working with the Brotherhood in the winter?” Emalie whispered.

“The one and only,” said Dean.

Detective Pederson reached the penguin enclosure and gazed in at the body. Oliver listened intently as Sarah leaned in.

“Care to tell me how you happened to get here so quickly?” she asked seriously.

“It's better if you don't know,” Nick replied grimly.

“But what if I can guess, Nick? This is about your vampires, isn't it? So what am I going to tell the lieutenant when he arrives?”

Nick glanced at her, looking hurt. “
My
vampires?” He shook his head. “Look, I don't know, tell him I was just driving by.”

“Oh come on,” Sarah said. “If I have to cover for you again, then you could at least tell me what we're dealing with.”

“I'm not sure yet, but it's not your average animal attack.”

“You don't think the jaguar did this?” Sarah asked.

“Not
just
the jaguar.”

“Detective!”

Nick and Sarah both glanced back to see the TV reporter striding toward them, microphone held out eagerly, her hair blond and perfect. Oliver recognized her. She was actually a vampire named Karma Kayne.

“Great,” Nick grumbled.

There was a commotion beyond the cars, and Oliver saw a team arriving with tranquilizer rifles.

More sirens echoed in the distance.

Dean nudged Oliver. “We should get out of here before we get caught, or shot.”

They ducked back to the shadowed safety of the nearest path.

“What was all that about vampires?” Dean asked.

“The detective thinks the jaguar was Occupied when it killed that kid,” Oliver explained.

“Why would a vampire kill a human like that?” Emalie wondered aloud.

Oliver shrugged. “Well, it's not considered the worst thing to kill humans,” he said. “But it is frowned upon, especially doing it in such a public way. It calls too much attention to the vampires.”

“What happens to a vampire who does something like this?” asked Emalie.

“I don't know. They'd maybe get fixed with a binding enchantment, like house arrest, for a couple years, or something.”

“That's it?” Emalie exclaimed. “For killing someone?”

“Well, yeah. That's just how vampires see things,” Oliver replied defensively. “It's not like
I'd
be out there killing humans.”

“I know,” Emalie said.

“But there's a bigger problem,” said Oliver. “I saw Bane earlier tonight, and he was Occupying the jaguar.”

“Whoa,” said Dean. “You think Bane did this?”

“I don't know. No, but … maybe? He was in a pretty bad mood last time I saw him. Not to mention all summer.” Oliver actually felt a sliver of worry for Bane. He was already in enough trouble. He wouldn't go and do this, would he? Then again, who could ever tell what was going on in Bane's head? Still, it seemed irresponsible, even for him. And there had been a lot of vampires in the zoo tonight. It could've easily been someone else. “He might have just been stupid and forgot to close the cage, or left the jaguar out somewhere. And there's no way the detective could know for sure that the jaguar was even Occupied. He'd have to test the blood for force signatures. And there's no way he knows how to do that.”

“Unless he does,” said Emalie. “He seems to know a lot about vampires.”

Dean started up the path. “We should leave from the north entrance, away from those hunters.”

“Nnn …”

Dean and Oliver turned to find Emalie standing stiffly, her eyes shut tight, wincing. “What?” Oliver asked.

“His name was Dante …” said Emalie, her voice shaking. “Band … he was in the band … drums … snuck into the zoo with his friends, stopped to tie his shoe …” Her voice was hitched with fear. “Orange eyes. It dragged him, scraping on the ground, then … His mom didn't know he was here.” Emalie's last words dissolved into a long exhale. Her eyes opened. She looked at her hands. “White now, quiet.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Oliver had seen this happen to Emalie before, back in Italy when she'd connected with the spirit of a murdered security guard. A person's spirit apparently stayed around its fallen body for a little while, before slowly drifting off and finding a gateway out of the world.

Oliver wondered about the apparition he'd seen earlier. Had it been someone's spirit? Maybe those two ideas were connected somehow.

Emalie let out a quavering sigh. “I'm fine,” she said, and caught up with Oliver and Dean. The three headed up the path toward the exit.

Oliver glanced at Emalie. She looked pale, shaken. He reached over and attempted to rub her shoulder supportively, except that his body immediately tensed with nerves, and he was overrun with ridiculous thoughts:
Don't rub too hard! Or too long! Wait, on the shoulder or arm? Yes, shoulder! No, on her back! No not the back! Wait but—

He ended up patting her shoulder twice and then retrieving his hand. She looked over and almost smiled.

“That kill was consistent with what jaguars do,” Dean said randomly. “Bite to the neck, dragging the kill to a high, secluded spot to eat later …” He looked up and found both Oliver and Emalie staring at him. “What?” he said. “I like that predator/prey stuff.”

They were winding through a heavily wooded section of the path when Oliver paused. “Wait,” he whispered. Emalie and Dean stopped.

Oliver sniffed the air and found the faintest trace of that noxious smell: Bane's coyote musk and aniseed cologne. He listened carefully, but there was only the rustling of trees in the breeze. Besides, the scent was very faint.

He glanced around to be sure—and spied something on the ground. On the edge of the path, among the leaves and dirt at the base of the bushes, was a small object: a pendant on a leather strap. One end of the leather had a little hook. The other end was missing, only frayed leather remaining, as if it had been torn free.

Oliver picked up the necklace. It reeked of Bane's cologne.

“What is that?” Emalie asked.

“Weird. I think it's Bane's,” said Oliver. “Maybe it fell off when he was playing jaguar.”

Oliver studied the pendant. It was a square of magnetite, with a Skrit symbol carved in the middle and painted white: