High Stakes (8 page)

I think of Brinkish and his gleaming molar. There can’t be many dentists these days who provide that kind of service. It’s not the link between Kimchi’s owner and the perverted perp that makes me pause, however. ‘Gold’s a fairly soft metal,’ I say. ‘Compared to most others it’s malleable and allows for a lot of give.’

Corinne’s brow creases until she winces when the action tugs on the edges of a deep wound higher up on her forehead. ‘So?’ she asks. Her tone is steely but I reckon I detect nervousness lurking there too.

Foxworthy straightens. He nods with dawning comprehension.

‘It’s still a solid,’ I continue. ‘So it’s basic chemistry, really.’ Corinne doesn’t understand what I’m getting at. Despite her allegations, my heart goes out to her. ‘Vampires don’t have teeth like humans. Sometimes we have fangs,’ I open my mouth and allow my own ones to lengthen, ‘and sometimes we don’t.’ I retract them again. ‘Our tooth enamel is constantly shifting. I can’t explain the biology behind it, but I do know that it would be impossible for a bloodguzzler to have a gold tooth. Even if it was a back tooth, it wouldn’t last more than a week or two before the repeated loosening and tightening of the gums made it fall out. Which means either your attacker was faking his vampirism, Corinne, or you’re lying.’

She presses her lips together. The silence grows, becoming more and more uncomfortable with each passing second. Foxworthy steps forward but I give him a warning glare. He’s annoyed but he blinks in agreement, thrusting his hands in his suit pockets to wait Corinne out. Voices at the far end of the corridor drift down and I’m painfully aware of the loud ticking of the clock in the corner of the room.

Eventually, she takes a deep breath. ‘I didn’t do this to myself.’

‘We know that.’

She points at the photofit in my hands. ‘And he did look like that.’ She stares glassily upwards. ‘He just wasn’t a vampire.’

‘Was he human, Corinne?’

‘Yes,’ she whispers.

‘Why did you lie? You must know we’d have found out sooner or later. There aren’t enough bloodguzzlers in the country for a rapist to hide. The police can’t catch this prick if they’re looking in the wrong places.’

‘I’m a whore.’

I’m taken aback by her vehemence. ‘Corinne, I don’t think…’

‘I sell myself for sex and the occasional hungry guzzler. Women like me get raped all the time.’ She looks at Foxworthy. ‘You know that.’

He doesn’t respond. But, then again, he doesn’t need to.

‘The only way I’d be taken seriously,’ she says bitterly, ‘is if you thought a bloodguzzler did this. Otherwise I’m just another tramp who got what she deserved. I know the way the world works. There wouldn’t be reporters outside here screaming for justice if they knew the truth.’ Her bandaged hands paw uselessly at the white sheet that covers her frail body. ‘It was going to come out sooner or later. I ain’t a fucking dimwit. I just thought…’

‘…that if they started to care, they wouldn’t suddenly stop.’

She nods. I regard her with empathy. Her lies are causing the vampires a lot of problems at a time when we can least afford them but I understand why she chose this path.

‘He was going to kill me,’ Corinne says. ‘His eyes were so cold. He’s evil.’ She shakes her head. ‘I ain’t lying about that. That man is pure evil.’

*

Foxworthy escorts me back outside. Despite his hardened exterior, I think he’s as shaken by what happened to Corinne as I am.

‘How did you know?’ I ask him, when he finally releases me from the cuffs. ‘How did you know she was lying?’

‘I didn’t,’ he answers, ‘not for sure. But actually there was a witness when she got into his car. It’s an old lady with bottle tops for glasses and she was on the other side of the street. She swore that Corinne got into the car voluntarily.’

‘That’s why he thought he could get away with picking her up so easily,’ I muse, ‘and why she spoke to him. She thought he was a john.’

‘It was a small detail,’ he agrees. ‘And it didn’t mean I thought he wasn’t a bloodguzzler. But…’ his voice trails off. He’s a better copper than I gave him credit for. And a better human being. ‘If your records were open to us, we’d have discounted vampires much more quickly.’

‘We’re working on that. And I can still get access to most of the Families if you want to double-check what I’ve told you.’

Foxworthy runs a hand through his hair. ‘If it’s not from
every
Family, then there’s no point, is there?’ He pockets the handcuffs. ‘Time was, we’d never have got to the truth. She could have said “vampire” from every rooftop in town and you lot wouldn’t have bothered to comment.’

‘Many things are different these days,’ I say.

He grunts. ‘It would be a good idea if you kept this to yourself for the time being.’

I stiffen. ‘We’re in a bad spot right now, Inspector. If people continue to think a vampire was responsible for this, then the antagonism will escalate.’

‘You misunderstand me. I know how dangerous it could be if things get even more stirred up with the Families.’ He looks at me darkly. ‘I’m fully aware of how much strength bloodguzzlers have at their disposal. No, we’ll release the information that the perp is a human as soon as I’ve cleared it with those higher up. It’ll be out by morning at the latest. I just mean that it’ll go better for Corinne if you keep quiet about her day job.’

I’m filled with distaste. ‘You really believe I’d run to the tabloids to tell them she’s a prostitute?’

‘Quite frankly, Ms Blackman, these days I’m prepared to believe almost anything.’

*

Although I feel like the good inspector and I had a moment together, he is still lukewarm towards me. He leaves me in the hospital car park with some vague remark about me being able to collect my impounded bike within the next few days. I suppose it’s better than his previous hostility but I could really have done with a lift back to Covent Garden.

I decide to stretch my legs and test my burgeoning vampiric skills so I stride over the road and use a nearby fire escape to pull myself up to the roof. Once there, I crick my neck from side to side and make a few unnecessary stretches, as if to warm up. It makes me feel more human. Then I brace my right leg backwards and focus on a tall, illuminated building in the distance. I glance down at my watch, making a careful note of the time. If I were human, it’d take me at least fifteen minutes to reach the building via the pavements below, even if I ran at full pelt. I reckon I can halve that time.

I suck air deep into my lungs then I’m off. My toes pivot off the edge of the first building and I sail over the gap. I pick up speed as soon as I land, scaring off a nesting pigeon. The next leap is harder because I have to spring upwards as well as over. I grab the edge of the rooftop with my fingers and pull myself up. This building has a sloping roof so I have to balance along the top. My foot slips on a patch of slimy moss and I start to slide down towards the gutter. I jump up in the air, twisting my body sideways so that when I land I can use the edge of my boot to dig in and halt my momentum. Then I force myself back up to the top of the slope.

The crescent moon, obscured until now by a bank of clouds, appears momentarily, although it seems dim against the twinkling lights of the city. I remind myself to breathe then sprint forward, trying out some new moves to avoid any more mossy obstacles. I use an old chimney top from which to perform a handstand flip, and the vertical wall of a rooftop emergency exit to run along and push myself even faster. I even execute a perfect somersault landing. Better late than never.

When I finally reach my self-imposed destination, I stop and check my time. I raise my eyebrows and give myself a mental pat on the back. Just over five minutes; I’m improving. Much as I loathe being a vampire, the exhilaration provided by the changes to my strength and speed delight me.

As I force my heart rate to slow, I spot a shadow of movement far below. I tiptoe to the building’s edge and peer down. It’s a fox. It pauses for a moment, nose quivering as it catches my scent. Then the wind changes and it relaxes, nosing towards a collection of rubbish bins. Unfortunately, a group of late-night partygoers lurch past, causing the animal to run for cover. It’s quickly swallowed up by the darkness. I feel an odd, painful kinship with the fox; we’re both scavengers – though it is seeking food and I’m looking for information.

I jar my knees slightly as I drop back down to street level. I pad over to a parked car and use its wing mirror to check my appearance. I do my best to smooth down my unruly curls and wipe away a smudge of dirt from my cheek before straightening up and heading to a door nearby that is marked in the corner with a red design. I’m taking a risk coming here but this will be my fourth visit and, so far, nothing untoward – or even remotely exciting – has happened. After the trouble it took me to find this place, I’m not about to act like a frightened rabbit and simply hang back to observe.

I make a series of elaborate knocks and wait patiently until the small shutter set in the centre slides back and a fanged face appears. There’s a smear of blood at the corner of his lips which is frankly repellent, but I keep my expression blank.

‘Let me in.’

The vampire blinks at me. ‘We told Lord Medici you’d been hanging around here.’

I shrug. I’d expected as much. ‘So?’

He doesn’t respond, merely moves back and opens the door. I duck inside, allowing my fangs to grow as I pass the bouncer. It might be a dick move to make but I want him to know that I’m not intimidated by him or his boss. For his part, he’s totally disinterested.

I walk into the darkened, smoky room. There aren’t many places in London now where you can have a cigarette. Getting cancer is not a problem for vampires and after the smoking ban some of them flaunted that fact across the city. I think the smokers finally realised that such actions were petty and pointless, so now any bloodguzzlers who do suck on nicotine tend to stick to the human laws and avoid public places. This joint, however, doesn’t count. I had heard a rumour that applications to join the Families and turn vampire increased considerably in recent years as there were a lot of smokers unwilling to give up the habit. It strikes me as one of the more stupid reasons to want to be a bloodguzzler; however, I realised on my last visit here that I could use the smokers’ addiction to my advantage. It worked when I was human, anyway. So far, I’ve avoided approaching any of the patrons here as the only way this will work is if they come to me first.

I walk up to the bar and perch on a stool. As unpleasant as this place is, at least it’s not providing television aerobics as entertainment. The bartender, with a flicker of recognition in her eyes, wanders over.

‘Bloody Mary?’ she asks.

I nod my head.

‘Sure I can’t tempt you with the real thing?’ She points to a comfortable looking cubicle that houses several bored looking humans. I wonder which one is Mary.

‘No, thanks.’

She shrugs, busying herself with creating my cocktail. It’s nothing more than vodka, blood, Worcestershire sauce and a celery stalk. Although the blood is fresh – rarely more than a day or two old – to really satisfy a vampire’s hunger it should be drunk directly from the vein. Despite Dr Love’s instructions to me to venture out and make myself drink from humans other than Connor, while I’m here I’m going to stick to my principles. Even decanted blood can provide enough nourishment to see me through until I catch up with Connor again.

I stare into space, trying to appear as if I’m ignoring the other customers. I’ve already clocked the trio by the door, none of whom I recognise. They’re rather loud and raucous but I’ve received several covert looks from them; they’re not as drunk as they’re pretending to be. There’s a solitary drinker in the far corner who’s been here every time I have come in and who seems to have a penchant for rum. A couple are playing footsie in a nearby booth – although the girl was here last time with a different guy. A tall thin is man playing on the bandit machine next to the toilets. I purse my lips. Slim pickings tonight, then. It might be worth playing my frustrated smoker’s card another night.

The bartender places my drink in front of me and I toy absently with the celery, swirling it around the thick, gloopy blood. Steeling myself, I take a gulp, then lick my lips as if in delight. It’s not an easy expression to pull off. Next, I pull out a battered pack of cigarettes from my pocket. If nothing else, the taste of nicotine will mask that of the cocktail, although I also need the regular patrons to believe I smoke regularly if my plan is going to work. Checking the room again, I make a decision. Tonight’s not the night. Besides, I’ve been coming here for less than a fortnight. If I want to gain the trust of a Medici minion, I need to be more patient. For credibility’s sake, I rummage around in my other pocket and find my lighter. Then I lean back, taking my time and doing what I can to appear relaxed.

Chapter Seven: Turning Point

When I get back home after stopping via the office and checking in with Matt, who has little to report, and Connor, who remains willing to open his veins for me, I head straight for the refrigerator and carefully remove X’s little vial of blood.

I hold it in the palm of my hand and stare at it then, taking a deep breath, unscrew the top and inhale. Just like on the other occasions when I’ve done this, my nostrils are assailed by both salt and spice. Kakos daemon blood isn’t like any other kind. In fact, rather than being repulsed by it, my stomach rumbles. Red blood cells only last for forty-two days, so I’m running out of time.

I still have no reason to trust X’s word that drinking it will allow me to revert back to human but, even if there’s only a slim chance it’ll work, I’m still filled with burning desire to take it. It would be a wholly selfish decision, with vast repercussions for every vampire – not only in London, but across the world. Given the current climate, it would be a reckless move. That’s not to mention the fact that it would stymie any chance I have to bring down Medici and would slam a huge rusty, tetanus-inducing nail into the coffin of the relationship between me and Michael.