Shrouds of Darkness (16 page)

“I got a call. Thought I would look around and see if this is my guy.”

“Yeah well, you can go fuck off somewhere else. We got this and we don’t need any help from some wash out PI,” Quinn sneers, obviously goading me for a fight.

It takes some significant willpower and calming techniques my shrink gave me but I manage to keep my cool. It wasn’t that long ago that I would have made paste out of this kid, but since I got thrown out of the Sheriffs and started paying for my own therapy, I decided to do my best to make my time and money count for something.

“Vincent wants me to take a look and last time I saw, he was your boss so shut your trap and get out of my way before I tear off one of your arms and bitch slap you all the way back to Manhattan with it.”

Nailed it. Textbook anger management. I can tell by the look on his face he is ready to throw down but once again, Wyatt ruins what could have been the highlight of my day.

“Quinn! Go help them clean that mess up,” Wyatt orders his minion.

Quinn smiles at me and sneers, “He might be today, Malone, but things change.”

“Quinn!” Wyatt shouts again and Quinn stomps over to where the others are tossing body parts into thick, waterproof bags.

I walk over to where Wyatt is poking around and assumedly gathering clues. “Any idea who this was?”

 Wyatt shakes his head. “We found a wallet and ID. Looks like some guy going home after his shift at the shipyard. Nothing more than that right now.”

“Wolf attack?”

“Looks like it, given the scattering and wound marks.”

This is good for me but it really sucks for Martin. I pull out my small but bright flashlight and begin scanning the area. I take some pictures of some of the body parts and surrounding area with my phone. It takes almost half an hour but I finally find what I am really looking for. I pull a small plastic bag out of my pocket and drop the tufts of rough hairs into it.

I will have to wait until I get home to really compare them to the photos I got from Raj, but I am certain they match. It is not looking good for Katherine’s father.

I spend another hour looking for any clues that will tell me the direction the attack came from or where he went afterwards but I come up empty. The cleanup crew departed with a one-fingered wave from Quinn nearly an hour ago.

It is getting late, or early depending on your perspective, and I figure there is little if anything else I will find here, so I hightail it back to my place for a closer look at the evidence.

The first thing I do is pull out the close-ups of the hair samples Raj supplied. I don’t need the lighted magnifying glass on my desk to tell they are a perfect match, but I will run them by Raj anyway just to be certain.

I’m looking over the photos and about to toss them all back into the envelope when something catches my eye. I stick the picture of the first crime scene under my magnifying glass and take a closer look. Next to one of the body parts from the three thugs in the alley is a small, silver object. If I wasn’t familiar with it I never would have been able to pick out what it was and more importantly, to whom it belonged.

The object is a tiny silver blade designed to slip over the finger like a ring and it serves two purposes: chopping up cocaine and making a small cut to drink blood. Knowing the owner and the time of night, I am almost certain where I can find its previous wearer.

Much to my displeasure, I enter a club that is so shitty and decadent it makes the Perestroika look like the Vatican without as many pedophiles. Looking around at the general clientele, I amend my opinion and call it a draw.

My target, Nicky, will be in whatever passes as a VIP section in this shit hole. Nicky is what we call a bloodling and the closest thing to a half-vampire as you can get. Bloodlings are exceedingly rare as they are almost always created by accident and considered a fluke of nature.

Bloodlings are usually created by being an unkilled victim but somehow gets a bit of vampire DNA into their system. Maybe the feeder had gingivitis and his gums were bleeding or something, I don’t know. That little bit of infection is not enough to turn the victim into a vampire but it does imbue them with some pretty nice abilities.

They are stronger and faster than most humans but not quite as strong as a half-were. Freak and Tiny would both make a good fight but the smart money is on either of those hulking brutes. They do not need to feed on human blood and never need to kill to survive but consuming small amounts of blood does keep them strong and healthy.

Unfortunately, Nicky is an outright piece of garbage and he uses his accidental abilities to be a tough guy and push around the humans. He likes to be the big fish in this cesspool of a pond, but he’s really only a big fish amongst the lowest of the bottom feeders.

I find him in the back surrounded by a group of whores and toadies all doing blow and drinking what they think is quality booze. Nicky is loudly proclaiming his greatness and generally mocking anyone that catches his eye in hopes of provoking a fight. People know him here and they don’t take the bait.

I approach him for the side and tap him on the shoulder. “Nicky, I need to talk to you.”

“Fuck off, I’m busy,” Nicky replies and flips me the bird over his shoulder without bothering to look at who it is.

I grab the raised digit and expertly snap it like a breadstick in two places. Nicky cries out, jumps to his feet, and cocks back a fist, ready to destroy whoever was foolish enough to attack him

His coked-out eyes take in my face and he goes so white he practically glows under the clubs black lights.

“Oh fuck me, Leo, I didn’t know it was you!”

I grab him by the ear like mother scolding a child and drag him through the club in the most humiliating way I can think of. Guys like him need an occasional reality check.

“Ow, come on, Leo, I’m sorry!” Nicky cries as I lead him to a back entrance by his ear.

We step out into the dank alley and I casually toss him into the wall of the neighboring building.

Nicky stands in a half crouch with hands held defensively and pleadingly over his head. “What’d I do, Leo? I ain’t done nothin’ I swear! I been straight, I know the rules!”

I know he knows the rules; I made it very clear to him what they were shortly after he changed and began acting stupid. Well, stupider, which given his general level of intelligence was quite a remarkable feat.

“Where’s your little razor ring, Nicky?”

Nicky makes a show of patting his pockets. “I don’t know, I guess I lost it.”

“Where do you think you lost it?”

“I don’t know, if I knew that it wouldn’t be lost would it?”

I raise a hand and Nicky ducks and covers himself again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know!”

“Then let me refresh your memory. How about an alley near 123
^rd
, that sound familiar?”

Nicky stands back up straight and extends his arms towards me. “Whoa, I did not do those guys! No way I could have done that if I wanted to, you know that.”

“But I know you like to skulk around that area and I bet you saw something.”

Nicky starts looking a whole lot more nervous. “You’re testing me aren’t you? This is a test to see if I’ll spill! I know the rules; I don’t say nothin’, you ain’t gotta worry about me.”

Now this is very curious. “What rules, Nicky? What rules apply that makes you think you can’t tell me what you saw?”

“The rules, man! You know, like Vegas! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. What you guys do stays with you. I’m no snitch, Leo.”

I grab Nicky by his ear once again and twist it painfully. “New rules, Nicky; what Leo wants, Leo gets and if you think leaving that club was embarrassing, think about how it will feel going back in with one fucking ear. Now you tell me what you saw or I’m going to start pulling off parts of your body, starting at the top and working my way down. I suggest you spill before your new name becomes Nicholas the dickless.”

“Ow! It was you guys! I saw you guys!”

“What do you mean, ‘you guys’?” I ask, my gut churning with the words I know are coming next.

“You guys, with the black coats and big black van!”

I let go of Nicky’s ear. “Are you telling me you saw Sheriffs at the scene? What were they doing, not cleaning up apparently?”

Nicky shakes his head. “No, man, they took down that werewolf. They shot him full of tasers and tranq darts and then they loaded him up in the van and drove off. I climbed down from the roof I was on to check it out. I didn’t find nothin’ but a hundred bucks and a couple knives. I kept the money; the knives were shit.”

“How do you know they were Sheriffs, did you recognize any of them? Would you be able to recognize them if you saw them again?”

“Naw, man, they had the hoods of their jackets up like they didn’t want to be seen.”

I need to go home and process all this. Nicky isn’t the most reliable of witnesses but he believes what he saw. The question is do I believe what he believes he saw?

“All right, Nicky, go back inside,” I tell him and start walking out of the alley.

“How can I go back in there after you disrespected me like that in front of my crew?” Nicky whines at my back.

“The way nature intended,” I call over my shoulder, “with humility and a profound sense of shame.”

“You’re a real asshole, Malone, you know that?”

“That’s what everyone tells me.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

I am back to the rooftops the next night, looking and listening for anything out of the ordinary. Showing up to slaughter scenes after the fact is getting me no closer to finding Martin and it is really starting to piss me off.

Nicky says he saw what he thought were Sheriff’s taking Martin away but if it was them, why doesn’t Vincent know about it? If Wyatt and his crew did take Martin, why didn’t he tell me and why are people still being torn up by a werewolf that I have to assume is the same one?

Then there are the reports of unlawful vampire predation. Maybe it’s more than one. Maybe it’s a gang of younglings stupid enough to think they can make their own little enclave and they took Martin as a way to keep attention on a werewolf instead of themselves?

A bunch of younglings taking on a full werewolf? Highly unlikely even if they somehow got enough information on how to do it and who to pick off with the highest degree of success. No, there are too many factors, too much inside information needed for that to be plausible.

Ok, a group of mature vamps carving out their own little niche. Same agenda, same motives, but with more strength and knowledge. That at least is possible if still improbable, but at the moment I have nothing else to go on.

It is a little after two in the morning and I decide that I have wasted enough time for one night. I drop down to street level and start walking briskly towards home. I am on Hawthorne near Prospect Park when I hear the scream.

My ears instantly pick out the direction and I am off at a dead run. Most likely it’s just a home invasion robbery but just maybe it’s my guy, or guys. A second cry let’s me lock onto a single family house and I pull my hood up over my head.

The first thing I notice as I bound up the front steps is the splintered door frame that used to hold the door that is now in two pieces and lying on the floor halfway down the entry hall. I know immediately this is no robbery. This is good for me but bad for whoever lives here.