One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) (17 page)

“I’m taking you to my mother’s house.”

Garin rolled down the window and flashed his phone at the little electronic security reader. The clink of a heavy bolt dropped back followed by the whir of an electric motor pulling on a chain. The slack in the chain tightened and the motor ground the gate aside. Garin drove us forward along the driveway. It curved around and up over a little hill then through a scattered clump of black walnut trees. We couldn’t see the house from here.

“What’s the light flashing against those trees?”

“Looks like police lights.”

“That’s what I thought, but no sirens …”

Garin clutched into a lower gear and we rocketed up the driveway to the top of the hill. As we crested the hill we saw the cause. Garin pressed into the brake and swung us hard off the driveway to avoid hitting the first of many police cars packing the driveway. The truck skidded on the grass between a pair of old walnut trees.

Every light inside and outside the house burned bright. The old mansion looked yanked from the English countryside. Seamless fit gray-green stone with a lot of black iron scroll-work and coachman’s lights. Wide steps led through a neatly manicured boxwood hedge flanked with bright petunias that set off large deep set mahogany-red doors. Both doors dangled open in a silent scream crawling with maggots of police and detectives and other specialists moving around inside and out. Technicians inspected minute features of the property with tweezers and plastic bags.

My heart hung heavy reliving the last scene with yellow tape stretched everywhere.

Garin mumbled to me, “These are the regular police.” We exited the truck.

“Who are you?” the officer at the front of the yellow tapeline asked us.

“I’m Garin,” his head darted back and forth, “And this is my mother’s house.”

The officer clicked the radio headset on his shoulder, “I have the son here.”

“shquirpted … shquirpted … rugtgtl rupplweet quellteiniss … shuirpted.” the radio at his hip blared back.

“Stay here. The detective will be over in a minute.” He looked Garin up and down, “Cute outfit by the way.” He looked at me, “Sleepover?”

“Hello, Garin. I’m sorry to tell you but your mother was murdered. I’ll need you to go with these nice gentlemen to the station for questioning. It’s the worst situation I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, your prints are likely all over this place and it will be difficult to sort out.”

“Can I see her?” Garin asked.

“No. We’ll be specifically asking you about this murder scene and that knowledge could corrupt the investigation.”

“Am I being arrested?”

“Not yet. I could read you your Miranda rights, if you’d like?”

“I’ll go.” he said.

I saw how agitated Garin became. Not sure what I should do. I gripped my hands on my arms probably appearing to hold myself from shivering. It might seem the coolness of the morning exerted itself.

He tossed the truck keys to me. “Keep safe, honey.”

The detective reached out his hand with a rubber medical glove stretched tight across it, “I’ll need those keys. We’ll probably have to search the truck, eventually.” I gave him the key ring.

“Miss, you’ll be ok here. There are enough police and staff about that it’s safer than the station. We’ve got everyone out here today.”

The tapeline officer joked, “Did someone put out the doughnut tray?”

“That’s enough, Sam.” The detective said to me, “Don’t wander far as we will need to correlate your alibi with Garin’s.”

Garin walked to the police car that drove him away. More police cars arrived. Serious and long faces. The look of a lot of work ahead for them. A few stared at me like they recognized me from somewhere. But only for a moment. Then a black Dodge rolled down the little hill and parked next to the Ford truck. Mr. Branoc got out and peered around Garin’s pickup. Shining a flashlight through a side window to see across the floor inside the cabin. He walked toward me.

Tapeline Sam said, “Hi Mr. Branoc. We’ve been busy already.”

“What happened?”

“The gardener found Thyia Ramsburgh this morning staked out on the back lawn and beheaded. Her head rests nearby with her mouth propped open and stuffed with pink peonies showing both her canine teeth had been removed.”

“Really?” Branoc put a hand on my shoulder, “That sounds like the MO of this project I’ve been following. Peonies are usually well past blooming by now.” He looked up at Tapeline Sam, “Where’s the Detective?”

“He’s in the back yard. He arranged for the son to go to the station.”

“Then I guess I’ll look for him there,” he nudged my shoulder forward, “I’ll keep her with me.”

“Sure Mr. Branoc.”

When he had me between other groups of police at the scene, Branoc said in a low voice, “You seem to keep showing up in the middle of these projects. I wonder why?” He took a few more steps, “Stay with me until we get this worked out. The gardener didn’t know about vampires. It will take us longer to clean up here. But we’ll get it sorted out.”

We came to the yard behind the house. The murder scene lay on a flat spot of the neatly cut and vacuumed lawn. A deeply gouged trench followed a nearly perfect circle. Thick steel stakes pushed into the ground at the perimeter of the circle pinned heavy chains to the ground. The chains went under a bed sheet draped over the body. One hand partly uncovered. The wrist revealed a thick strap clamped tightly to the body and riveted to the chain. Lace and the long sleeve of an ornate yet prudish Victorian dress fell in a tatter of blood and torn flesh behind the clamp. I saw another corner of the sheet lifted by a slight breeze showing the same dress and the edges of heavily laced petticoats. Blood soaked the sheet where the head of the body should be. I saw the head easily enough. It rested on a nearby patio bench with another sheet covering it. Like a little child’s ghost costume it fluttered in the breeze next to the tightly trimmed bright green boxwoods. Shears lay dropped in the dirt by the gardener.

“Stay here.” Branoc said. He stepped carefully over the chains to the body and lifted a corner of the sheet with a ballpoint pen. He did the same at the bench with the head on it. His body blocked my ability to see the grisly sight.

Branoc came back to me, “I probably shouldn’t tell you. They staked her out in a ritual vampire execution, old style. I don’t think she normally wore Victorian clothes but she did when killed. That could be because she continued wearing the clothes after getting them out for the Festival. Some vampires get nostalgic and linger in the Victorian lifestyle for a time longing for the simple times back then. A traditional Katana long sword had been used to behead her. The rest is taking fangs for trophies. And shock effect.”

“Hey, Branoc!”

He turned to face the Detective in charge of the scene, “This isn’t one of your project events is it? Sam mentioned it on the radio to me.”

“Yes. It looks like it’s one of mine.”

“I wish you’d get your thing figured out. Half the murders you take over I never hear what happened. Hard for us to do any trend analysis.”

“Detective, you don’t want to know the trends I know.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true. Hey, we found the son Garin’s car burned Up North. The local sheriff got a plate off and connected flags in the system with this event.”

“Good thing we have those systems tied together.”

The Detective looked at the covered head, “I really hate finding heads with missing teeth.”

“You find them often?”

“Luckily no but it’s always much worse when I do.” The Detective turned to leave, snapping off his rubber gloves, “Since I see your people are here I’ll round up my guys. You’re saving me a pile of paperwork. Hope you can fill us in on the details when you get it worked out.”

“I think I’ll be years at this particular one. It’s like an octopus. Suckers everywhere.”

The Detective laughed, “That’s a good one Branoc. I’ll see you at the next gig I guess.”

I sat on a stone bench at the edge of the cobbled patio under the shade of a little pear tree near the breezeway. One of the long faced police officers on Mr. Branoc’s project came by me while Mr. Branoc looked at the house.

“You’re dangerous.”

Startled, I asked, “Dangerous for what?”

“It should be forbidden – a vampire consorting with a human. A sign of weakness. Vampires chasing after a human for anything other than food. It always ends badly. And someone has to clean it up. Branoc is more understanding of it and I don’t know why. But you’re dangerous to yourself and to us.” Then he vanished.

Later when Mr. Branoc returned and we stood more or less alone I told him what the other officer had said. “What purpose?”

“Garin probably hasn’t told you too many details. He’s young like you and probably didn’t realize what to actually tell. Once you have seen behind the curtain of Oz or down the rabbit hole of Wonderland you know too much truth. Vampire society is skillful and secretive. Think how a small group of little girls can be cruel when they are five or ten years old. Then compare those same girls as teenagers. And then again what can happen as college students. Now add scores of decades and centuries on top of what games they learn to play. Mix a little boredom with other motives and things get nasty.”

“I guess I didn’t think like that.”

“It could be a simple problem of jealousy or common rage that might occur anywhere in the country between vampires or humans. The human foibles that merge into the vampire body destroys many. While vampires can live forever, many do not because they fall to human emotions. These particular vampires you’re mixing with own part suppliers to defense manufacturing companies. So the ramifications of this murder can quickly spiral. As for the officer’s comment to you, knowing yet another human has seen behind the curtain, how the magic show is made, makes some vampires nervous.”

I didn’t know what to say, “I hadn’t thought it through like that.”

He looked at me closely, “Be careful. I see you’re doing well after this morning’s attack at your apartment.”

“So you went to my apartment too?”

“My reason for being late getting here. But I finished.” He walked around the house with me, “Have you seen Garin’s Uncle Tremper?”

“No. We used his red truck after the attack Up North destroyed Garin’s car.”

“Uncle Tremper is missing, like Bethany’s father.”

“Bethany’s dad is missing?”

“Yes, another facet of this project I’m still looking into.” He opened his car door, “Let me drive you to the station. Garin is being released. And you’re not safe.”

“I don’t really know you –”

“Good you are wary of strange vampires. Too bad that didn’t hold for getting involved with vampires at the beginning.” he motioned with his open palm for me to get in. “You’ll be safe. At least safer with me than any of the others here.” He slammed the door and walked around, falling into his seat, “I won’t bite.”

We drove to the police station in downtown Livix, an excursion that took less than three minutes to cross the vast metropolis.

“Now stay in the car. I’ll be right back. You can play with the radio if you want – keep the volume reasonable.”

Branoc returned with Garin in tow and handcuffed. Branoc quietly unlocked the cuffs as he put Garin in the back seat. Then Branoc backed his car into the street and after a few stop signs we drove on the main road.

We pulled up to the front of Garin’s house.

“Now.” Branoc said, “I need you two to stay low for a while. I’ve got a lot of work to quiet this down with the regular police. But we’ll figure out what’s going on. Keep your eyes out and let me know if anything odd happens.” he gave us both his business cards.

“It’s all odd,” I said, “Will it stop being odd?”

“It won’t stop,” Branoc said, “But don’t get discouraged or give up. These events are frightening even to me and I have a lot of years and have seen plenty of weird dastardly plans including wars. Whatever is going on is threatening both humans and vampires. Bad stuff.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” said Garin.

We got out of the car and plodded to the door. Branoc and his car disappeared on the main road.

Garin flopped on the couch. He stared out the window. I went around the house and locked all the doors and windows. Not that doing so would help us against a vampire attack. But I felt better doing it.

“You expect as a vampire … ” Garin continued after I sat next to him, “you expect that everyone will live forever. Unchanging. Other than adapting to new technology and the external world that you can keep the people close to you alive and together and the same.”

“I’m not sure I want to live forever,” I revealed, even to myself.

“You’ve been thinking about that a lot lately?”

“Yes,” I put my hands against my face. My hair ribbons brushed my wrist.

“What about growing old?” he asked.

“That’s what people do if they are lucky.”

“Have you looked at being old? Really looked?” Garin edged closer.

“Yes. I remember being ten and thinking how old twenty year old people seemed. Then again at twenty I think those at forty are pretty old.”

“What do you think the people in their eighties think of you at twenty?”

“I don’t know.”

“My Uncle showed me once. He pointed to an eighty year old friend of his confined to a bed at home. He went from a crawling child exploring his crib in the living room to running around the fenced back yard. As a teen he learned to drive a car and drove everywhere. He went away to war and observed the world from the deck of a Navy battleship. He came home and supervised a manufacturing plant. Later he retired –”

“An active mostly normal life, I guess.”

“Yes. A normal life.” Garin leaned toward me. “This retired friend of his took up gardening. The yard he’d played in when five became filled with exotic plants and produce that he either sold at the local market or gave away to his neighbors. But as the years wore on, arthritis crippled his joints, his skin became thinner and tore on the raspberry bushes too easily. His garden became more lawn and less produce. Then one year his whole garden extended only as far as six pots of tomatoes and a dwarf apple tree. The decline became more rapid and he couldn’t move so well. His garden became a few bean plants on the window sill that a friend’s grandson gave him, leftover from a school project. He hired the neighbor kids to run their mower around the yard. Then no plants grew on the window sill next to his now confining medical bed set up in his living room. In the end, the world of his friend had come full circle. From the confines of a crib to lands far away and then back to the confines of another crib in that same room.”