Darkness Descending (28 page)

F
or her first serious hunt, Jesse was paired with Sam. Though Reyen wasn’t exactly happy, he’d begrudgingly agreed she should join the team. Having a fourth person working the beat would be an immense help. Even though she’d had a little help the first time, she’d proven she could handle the kill.

Tonight’s visit would be to St. Louis Cemetery Number Three. Established in 1848, the cemetery was located a few miles from its counterparts on Esplanade Avenue near Bayou St. John. Built on an old leper colony, it was known as “Leper’s Land.” Despite its age, the cemetery was in good condition, mostly because of its waiting list of people desiring plots here. There was a constant flow of bodies coming into the cemetery, most of them legitimately dead.

Tonight they’d be looking for the undead.

Now that she had a better grasp on the Telave, Jesse could understand why hunting vampires wasn’t so easy after all. The undead appeared to have all the advantages, hands down. Finding Lucien hadn’t just involved good timing; it was a stroke of luck to catch a Consanguine at the height of his power off guard.

Fledglings were easier to take, though keeping their numbers to a minimum was a full-time job in itself. At least she was properly armed this time. Sam had outfitted her with a shoulder holster for the Beretta. She’d spent the last few days familiarizing herself with the weapon, drawing, aiming, and firing until she was sure her arm would fall off.

Maddox was right when he’d said she needed to build her strength. Sometimes it wasn’t about the fight, but the getting away that mattered. It was true they were hunting supernatural beings, but they had to be careful not to injure any innocent bystanders who might stumble into the way. And then there was the law. None of them wanted to get caught packing. Maddox, Sam, and Reyen had the advantage of stealth and speed, able to move faster than the human eye could comprehend. She didn’t.

I’d have that if I’d let the demon have its way
. The idea had crept into her mind more than once. All she had to do was feed it and it would reward her well.

She blanched. It was too bad the idea of drinking blood repulsed her. She would have liked to have leveled the playing field. As it stood, she’d just have to make do with her human abilities and hope she could keep her hide intact. So what if all she’d ever get a shot at was fledglings? It cheered her considerably to think she’d be sending a few more demons back to hell.

Although she’d already had the idea to search the papers for kidnappings and murders that matched what she’d experienced herself, she had no idea that she should also be investigating other unexplained deaths.

“They don’t just always snatch and dump victims,” Sam was saying as they made the long drive to the cemetery. “Sometimes people are found dead, at home in their own bed.”

Jesse looked at him. “I thought vampires couldn’t cross thresholds unless they were invited.”

“They can’t cross thresholds guarded by a consecrated object,” he corrected. “Again, it’s a common mistake amateurs make, but until you’ve gone through the trial and error yourself, there’s no way to determine what’s real and what’s part of the mythology.”

She flinched.
Just like me showing up with a stake
, she thought.

Sam looked at her as if he could read her mind. “The good thing about fledglings is when they first awaken, they’re kind of confused and disoriented. All they want is blood. It’s like a newborn baby. It has to learn its way around.”

Jesse nodded. Though the one she’d gone after had been strong, its movements were clumsy and jerky. And it spoke in a monotone, its few utterances brief and hard to understand. “Is that why they send the—”

“Kindred,” Sam filled in. “Sometimes called the Renfields. Someone is usually there to feed them, to help control them so they don’t go on a mad killing spree.”

“Renfield? As in
Dracula
?” It was one of the many novels Jesse had read while researching vampires. Yes, she knew it was fiction, but sometimes fiction had a grain or two of actual truth.

“Right. The only good thing about the Kindred is that they’re still human, and easier to take out.”

Her pulse spiked. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of murdering people who were alive. Killing the undead was one thing. But people who still had a heartbeat and a pulse in their veins? “And you don’t mind killing them, even though they’re just people?”

Sam took his eyes off the street long enough to shoot her a sober look. By the glow of the fading sunlight outside, his skin looked pale, his features taut. “As far as I’m concerned, if they serve the Telave, they’ve already sold their souls and are as good as undead, anyway. They are just as vicious, and the competition among them to be the next to cross over is fierce.”

Jesse couldn’t help thinking of Maddox. Did he long to cross that threshold, too?

The rest of the ride continued in silence. The minutes ticked by with excruciating finality. When they reached their destination, Sam parked across the street from the cemetery. “Are you sure you’re able to handle this?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Drawing back her shoulders, she opened the car door and stepped out onto the curb. “Let’s go kick some vampire ass.”

 

“I can kill her,” Reyen said as they strolled through the Metairie Cemetery. “You won’t even have to know what happened. She’ll just be gone.” The big Indian snapped his fingers. “Like that.”

Hardly able to believe his ears, Maddox stopped dead in his tracks. “You’re really a sick son of a bitch, you know that? By the Enlightened One’s grace, she still has a soul.”

Reyen shrugged. “So do the Kindred, and I don’t see you hesitating to put a knife through their ribs when you catch them out alone.” He picked up his pace and walked away before the conversation could continue.

Maddox shook his head. Reyen should know this wasn’t a fair comparison. But he didn’t have the time or inclination to try to convince Reyen to come over to Jesse’s side. For now, he’d just have to deal with the pain in the ass.

Cursing under his breath, Maddox set off in Reyen’s wake. The sun was beginning to dim as it sank behind the western horizon. Recent rains had ratcheted up the humidity, making the days almost too hot to tolerate. People welcomed the night and the cooler, more moderate temperature.

The Metairie Cemetery was one he knew as well as the back of his hand. He quickly passed the grave of the former Candace Ackerman, giving the site only a cursory glance as he walked on by. Recent rains had cleared the remains of the tarry ash the demon had left behind. Grass was beginning to sprout over the newly turned earth. There was no sign of the terrible struggle that had taken place after the fledgling had emerged from its grave.

Like most New Orleans cemeteries, Metairie was composed of an assortment of above- and belowground burial options. One common misconception about the city was that people had to be entombed above the ground because of the high water level and flooding that often plagued the area. But that was only part of the reason for the switch to aboveground entombment. As New Orleans was primarily composed of a French and Spanish population during its early settlement, the newcomers naturally followed the styles and fashion of their mother countries, even in death. New Orleans cemeteries resembled many cemeteries in France to the present day, which was part of the reason why the city had always felt like home to Maddox.

To that end, the tradition of aboveground burial was still a common practice. Even the newer cemeteries had a majority of aboveground tombs. Many of them resembled settlements of the dead, as the tombs were laid out much like a city neighborhood, with named streets and intersections. As tombs were opened on a regular basis to admit more recent deaths, they were fairly easy to break into.

Catching up with Reyen, he quickly scanned the area for the grave they sought.

Reyen pointed. “There.”

Maddox confirmed the name. “Kristine McClain.”

The body in question was just the sort Maddox hated to see disinterred. In this case the victim was a twenty-five-year-old woman. According to the paper, she’d disappeared on her way home from her younger brother’s basketball game at the local high school. A few days later, she’d been located mere blocks away from her own home, stuffed into a trash bin. From the bruising and wounds on her body, police suspected she’d been assaulted and strangled.

Maddox shook his head. It wasn’t right or fair that the innocent should be victimized in such a way.

Girls like Kristine were just the kind the Telave liked to go after—young, bright, and beautiful. Evil, it appeared, had aesthetic tastes. It was rare for them to take anyone over the age of thirty.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

Reyen shot him a glance. “Me, too,” he said in a low voice. “It’s why you can’t be weak and cut these things any slack. We have to take out as many as we can.”

Maddox felt the heat behind his friend’s stare. In the back of his mind he knew why Reyen had insisted on coming with him for what should be a relatively simple hunt.
He doesn’t trust me
, he thought.

“I know,” he said. “I won’t fall again.”

Reyen grunted. “Good. Now let’s get to work.” A muttered curse followed. “Damn, I hate box tombs. They’re such a pain in the ass to open.”

 

Sam reached for his backpack, which was stuffed with the items they’d need for the night’s work. “It’s show-time, babe.”

Around the cemetery, the faces of chubby cupids and serene angels looked down from their eternal domain on high stone pedestals, their sunken eyes gazing sightlessly, mindlessly. Sam led the way. They were looking for the grave of Patrick Newland, age twenty-nine.

Jesse rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. Everywhere she looked, stone eyes watched her—cold eyes, envious of the living? “Shit, this is creepy.”

Sam paused midstep. “You going to get through this?”

Forcing herself to swallow her fear, she nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

Since joining the crew, she’d gotten a crash course in how Maddox and the others determined who might be a potential victim of the Telave, and who was just a regular victim of foul play.

It was safe to discount people who died from the obvious causes—gunshot, stabbing, traffic accident. Also passed over were the elderly or those known to have suffered a longtime illness. The victims they took a closer look at were people who’d briefly disappeared before turning up with signs of rabieslike symptoms, or those found dead for no apparent reason, with very few signs of physical trauma. Some suicides were also suspect unless a violent and disfiguring method had been chosen.

Tonight there were four potential victims to check out who’d recently been laid to rest.

A shiver crawled up Jesse’s spine as she mentally reviewed the list of victims. Reyen and Maddox had taken Kristine McClain, mostly because Jesse doubted she could crack the lid on the coffin of a girl who’d been her same exact age when she was taken. The similarities between the two abductions were too close for comfort.

She and Sam had taken the males, among whom was Patrick, who was celebrating a recent promotion at work. He’d gotten a little too drunk and had taken off with a woman his friends didn’t know. He was later found slumped over the wheel of his car, dead to the world. He had torn fingernails, bruises on his face and throat, and several small ragged puncture wounds on his arms and chest.

“He’s a definite,” Sam told her as they approached the Newland family tomb. He smiled when he saw the man’s final resting place. “And this is going to be an easy slam dunk for us. I love tombs like these.”

Jesse squinted through the fading light at the massive behemoth that was Patrick’s final destination. It was impressive, to say the least. Surrounded by a short stubby fence, perhaps two feet tall, the great gray stone gothic structure looked more like a church than a tomb, with a high steeple rising imperiously into the air and a door composed of stained glass and black steel. Gallic-style crosses flanked the walkway through the fence, while two angels, standing with swords at the ready, guarded the entrance. The tomb was as much a work of art as it was a place to house the deceased.

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “It looks as big as a freaking house.”

“Some of these mausoleums hold entire generations,” Sam told her.

“Talk about together forever.” Jesse wiped a hand across her face. “That’s way too heavy for me.”

The final rays of the sun disappeared, plunging the cemetery into absolute darkness. All at once, the place wasn’t so peaceful or calm. The temperature dropped significantly as a wind snaked through the yard, whistling among the grave sites and rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding the area.

Jesse knew her fears were producing the sounds of harsh whisperings, but it didn’t help to quiet her burgeoning hysteria. The demon was alert. It recognized that one of its own was nearby.

A whimper escaped her, and she glanced furtively about. “Do you hear that?” she asked Sam.

He cocked his head, listening. “Just the wind.” He glanced toward the sky. “Maybe a storm’s moving in.”

Jesse shook her head. “It’s more than that—” she started to say. A flicker of light caught her attention. She squinted to better gauge the distance to their destination. A sliver of illumination was visible beneath the massive door—a light from within.

She gulped to keep the contents of her stomach from rising into her throat. “I don’t think we’re alone, Sam,” she warned.

Sam Chen’s face broke into a wide smile. “Kindred,” he said, speaking in a low tone. “Apparently the Telave are onto us, and they’re moving in early to get the fledglings. They can’t raise them until after the sun’s gone down and they start to awaken. Looks like we’re going to have a double kill here tonight.”

Sam’s voice sounded strangely disconnected from her ears, as if the wind were attempting to keep his words from being heard.