Dead Spots (5 page)

“Okay,” I finally said, “what do you want to know?”

“That guy was a...a...”

“Werewolf,” I supplied. I couldn’t blame him for the hesitation. Pop culture has built this whole supernatural thing up to the point where it’s practically a cliché. Even the werewolves think it sounds silly to say
werewolves
. “Yes. I haven’t met him, I don’t think, but he must be part of the local pack.”

“There’s a
pack
?” He was already beginning to sound dazed.

“Yes. Our pack is small in proportion to the city’s population, but this isn’t the most werewolf-friendly town, as you might imagine. Better than New York, though.”

“Okay...I’m assuming if werewolves are real, there’s other stuff, too.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“How does it all work?”

“Dude, I don’t know. It just does.”

His voice was skeptical. “Please don’t make me threaten you again. It’s just kind of tacky.”

I sighed. How had Olivia first explained this to me? “Fine. Back up a second. The first thing you need to know is that there’s magic in the world. Not bunnies-being-pulled-out-of-top-hats magic—I mean like this completely wild, powerful force. The second thing is that Darwin got a lot of stuff right. Thanks to evolution, every species in the world is part of an enormous family tree, the fossil record. It would take up, like, the side of a mountain, but in theory, you could map it all out. Are you still with me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. At certain points on that enormous family tree, when a species branched into two, it was actually branching into three. So, there would be the first branch, the second branch, and the magical branch.”

“You’re talking about speciation,” Jesse said.

I pointed at him. “Yeah, that’s the word I can never remember. Anyway, it didn’t happen all the time, and nobody really knows why it chose certain species to branch out, but that’s magic for you.” Even the smartest people in the Old World barely understand the surface of it. “At the beginning of the world, there was an imbalance—the energy of the world contained too much magic, not enough non-magic. Then those creatures who were built entirely of magical energy—spirits, mostly—began to die away, and magic started to settle down.”

I was half expecting him to fight me on it, but he just looked at me patiently, so I went on. “Okay. At some point, evolution led to man, but there was a whatchamacallit, a magical speciation. There were humans, and then there were also humans who had the ability to manipulate the magic itself. Conduits.”

“Like what? Wizards?” His voice was skeptical.

“Don’t give me the face. I’m just telling you what was told to me. Those conduits were powerful—almost too powerful. Some of them decided the power was too much, and they made a point to use as little of it as they could. Eventually, their magic...diminished and changed. Those people eventually were called witches. Wait, shit, that’s my exit.” I jerked the van onto the Pasadena Highway.

“And the other conduits?” he prompted.

“I’m getting to it. You have to understand that these were spectacularly powerful beings. Magic was part of their blood itself. And the remaining conduits divided into factions. There was a group of them who kept craving more and more power, and they eventually discovered that they could use magic to steal power by stealing one
another’s blood. Something to do with blood symbolizing life force in spells. Then they all got afraid of getting killed by each other, so they started to experiment with the line between life and death.”

His eyes narrowed. “Bernard, please tell me you’re not talking about vampires.”

“I wish I could,” I said, sighing. “But you’re right—that group eventually evolved into your basic modern vampire.” He looked stricken and a tiny bit exhilarated, as though I’d just confirmed the existence of Batman. “But there was a second group of conduits, and they rejected the greedy ones and took to the wilderness, using their magic to transform into eagles and bears and wolves, predators who loved to run and fly and hunt...Look, we’re gonna be there in like ten minutes; how much magical history do you really want here?”

“I want all of it,” he said stubbornly.

“Argh. Fine. The shape-shifters, the ones who loved the wild, found that the more things they shifted into, the more magic they had to use, and the harder it became to return to humanity. Pretty soon, it started to hurt them to be men and women again. They tried rejecting the magic, living just as humans, but that was even worse. So they cast a great spell, restricting themselves to a dual nature. They picked wolves.”

“Why wolves?”

I shrugged. I had some personal theories about pack bonding and loneliness, but hell, he could make his own guesses. “I don’t know why; I’m sure there was a reason. The point is, afterward, both groups—the wolves and the vampires—they adapted to what they needed, like any other species, but both reproduced through blood contact. If any werewolf blood touches a human, infection. If any human swallows vampire blood, infection. Then there’s this whole history of tension between everyone, which I’m skipping for time”—he started to protest, but I waved him off—“and because you still haven’t gotten to the big question.”

“Huh?” I felt his eyes on my face. “What big question?”

I glanced across at Cruz and smiled. Okay, so I was enjoying this a little. Sue me. “What am
I
?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. I mean, you’re not, like, a vampire? God, that feels like such a stupid thing to say.”

“No, I’m not a vampire. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

“What’s the opposite of a vampire?”

“I’m a null.”

“You’re annulled? What?” he asked, confusion in his voice.

“No, no, two words. A. Null.” I spelled it. “It’s what people like me are called, although there are only a handful of us. I’m sort of a blank space, I guess. A dead spot in the supernatural world. There’s something around me—an energy or field of some kind—and when someone from the supernatural community enters it, they lose whatever was supernatural about them. Think of it like a bubble that I live in. I’m the center, and the bubble moves as I move.”

After the vampires and werewolves refused to help the witches in their time of need, after the witches discovered that magic hadn’t just adhered itself to humans but also to silver and a whole class of plants, after the many battles that resulted, evolution took another step and came up with nulls. Theoretically, I think we were supposed to restore balance. It sort of worked. Nulls are the wrecking ball of the supernatural world: we swing in and out of situations, creating damage and chaos. But sometimes in a really useful way.

Cruz was silent, and I looked over at him again. He was staring straight ahead, different reactions flying across his face. I almost felt sorry for him—when this had all been explained to me, my parents had just died and I was half in shock anyway. The concept of magic actually made about as much sense as living in a world without my mom and dad.

“But you’re...human, right?” he finally asked.

I shrugged. “For the most part.”

“How big is the bubble?”

“I’ve never gotten out a tape measure. Maybe ten feet? If I get really, really upset, it expands. And whatever was magical in that range is lost until it leaves the bubble again. A vampire, who was originally descended from humans, becomes a human again, with all the vulnerabilities. A werewolf becomes a human again, too. The magical part of speciation just disappears. Get it?”

“Yeah, I guess. So that animal in the clearing last night—”

“The werewolf,” I supplied.

“Yeah, okay. It was a wolf, and then it got too close to you, and that’s why it changed back?”

I nodded. “Yes.” The wolves actually love changing because of me rather than by themselves, because with me, it’s instantaneous. When they change back and forth naturally, it’s very painful and takes a few minutes. “And I bet after I left, it became a wolf again and ran off. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” A thought occurred to him. “Wait, it could have hurt me! How could you leave me alone with it?”

I shrugged. That hadn’t really occurred to me. “I was trying to get out of there. Besides, you had a gun. Shooting the wolf wouldn’t kill it, but it’d definitely back off. Probably. You were fine.” He still looked indignant, but he’d get over it. I pulled off the freeway. “We’re almost there, Cruz. You gonna stand by your word?”

“Sure I am. I’ll wait in the car. I want to think about all this and maybe ask some more questions.” He set his jaw stubbornly. “But then you and I are going to make a new deal. You’re going to help me solve this murder. Be my guide.”

My turn to be shocked. “Who am I, Jiminy Cricket? You don’t even know for sure that those killings were related to the Old World.”

“Maybe not. But you do. After all, you were there.” I felt his gaze on me without looking over. “Why
were
you there?”

I changed the subject. “What do I get out of this?”

He smiled smugly. “I won’t arrest you, and I won’t tell a soul about you or your world. When the case is solved, you just go back to your life.”

I thought this over. I could point out that telling anyone about the Old World would end up getting him killed, but I didn’t think it’d be such a good idea to threaten him. At the same time, though, I don’t work for free, and running around town playing detective sounded like a lot of work. It could even interfere with my TV schedule.

On the other hand, if he really set his heart on it, Officer Cruz could really put the big suck on my life. Having a cop follow me around forever would pretty much guarantee that I’d lose all my freelancing gigs, not to mention my retainer.

This is what I get for saving his goddamned life. “Fine. Deal.”

It was nearly midnight when I finally pulled into Dash’s driveway. Dashiell and his wife, Beatrice, owned a gorgeous Spanish-style mansion in the richest part of Old Pasadena. I know that movies and TV shows always depict vampires as these suave, debonair seducers, and Dashiell is probably the vampire I know who is closest to that persona—rich, kind of mysterious, definitely suavish. He’s got the sophisticated killer thing down pat, which I suppose you’d need to run a big city, even a dumpy (supernaturally speaking) city like LA. In my experience, though, most of the vampires are more like Molly—frozen in time, trying to cling to the person they were while alive. If they can even remember that person.

But if any of them give me hope, it’s Beatrice. She’s one of my favorite vampires—both a gracious hostess and the only vamp I’ve ever met who seems sympathetic to my strange situation. Once, at the lavish Midsummer’s Eve party that Dash throws for the supernatural community, she found me sitting by myself in the backyard, playing with the fringe on my dress and wondering what had possessed me to come. “Oh dear, you don’t really fit in anywhere, do you?” she’d said, getting close enough to pat my shoulder. She’d taken my hand, pulled me up, and said, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to some fascinating vampires who will be
thrilled
to be in your presence.” Even then, I’d liked that she didn’t treat me as either
something scary or a hired-help cockroach, which are the two vibes I usually get from the undead.

I got buzzed through the gate—yes, most of the things that would actually attack Dashiell could get past the gate easily, but maybe it had come with the house—and drove up to the circular parking area, while Cruz let out a whistle at the sight of the house. I had to admit, it was a view worth admiring. The house is pure Spanish elegance, with long, regal columns and flower boxes at every window. Beatrice loves geraniums and tends to favor the bloodred color for some reason. I parked the van on the imported Spanish tiles, next to three or four other cars. I frowned. Dashiell always has underlings around, but it seemed excessive even for him.

I turned in my seat to look at Cruz. “Look, I know this probably seems really...whatever...but you need to stay in the car, okay?” I said again, searching his face. “It’s important.”

“Why?”

“Because when you’re with me, you’re safe from all things Old World. But when you’re away from me, they can...do things.”

“Like what? Fly?” he asked, eyes big.

I couldn’t help but grin. “No, not that I’ve ever heard of. Or change into bats or mist, that’s all nonsense. They evolved like any other species; it’s just that they evolved ways of controlling their prey—like they can mess around with your head. Make you do things, or forget that they just fed on you. It’s hard for them to get humans to do anything truly against their nature, like going on a killing spree or falling permanently in love, but they can still do tons of damage.”

“You’re serious,” he said skeptically, but there was real fear in his voice. Finally.

“Yes. You should be fine if you stay here and keep quiet,” I said. I had my hand on the door handle, but he was still giving me that distrustful look. I refrained from smacking him. “Cruz, look at it this way: if you were a bloodthirsty creature of the night, don’t
you think you would enjoy stumbling across a police officer to be your very own puppet?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’ If for some reason you get confronted, be polite and submissive, and do not make eye contact under any circumstances. Just ask for me. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said, suddenly meek.

“Okay.” I took a deep breath and stepped outside the car, leaning back in to hand the keys to Cruz. “Lock the doors when I’m gone, and don’t open them for anyone, okay?”

He nodded soberly, and I closed the car door.

It’s my habit, when calling on vampires, to do an abbreviated version of “ding-dong-ditch.” I walked up to Dashiell’s front door, rang the bell, and then turned and dashed into the middle of the yard, moving so the door was well outside my radius. It was undignified as hell, but I’ve learned that it’s a good idea to give vampires the option of staying away from me if I can swing it. Better to look silly for a minute than to piss someone off by forcing them to age. Beatrice opened the front door, looked around, and spotted me in the shadows. “Scarlett,” she called pleasantly, smiling at me, “you may come closer. It is all right.”