Dead Rising (16 page)

Dario tapped me on the arm with his fist. “I want to hear these fantasies. Do they involve me sharing your blood? Biting you in all sorts of sensitive spots?”

I laughed. “More like me having sex with you while wearing one of those whiplash collars so you can gnaw away at my neck without actually biting me. I could even duct tape a pint of bagged blood from the hospital to it so you can pretend you’re drinking from me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkled up his face. “I tried that stuff once. It’s horrible. Even if you warm it up, it’s flavorless and doesn’t do anything to fill you. Maybe you can have me bite on a piece of wood like they used to do when they amputated someone’s limb. Chain me up to the bed with gold-plated handcuffs so I can’t take it out.”

I recoiled in mock horror. “Dario! What sort of porn have you been watching? Nice Templars like me don’t do things like that. Besides, I like a man to have his hands free, otherwise why bother?”

He smiled at me. Even in the dim light I could see his eyes crinkled up, the white of his teeth, the faint dimple on his left cheek. “If you ever grow tired of this life, Aria, if you ever desire immortality such as mine, or if you want to lose yourself in the life of a blood slave, let me know. I’ll not say no.”

He wouldn’t say “no”. Which is the reason I could never say “yes”.

J
ANICE OSWALD WAS
a tall woman with a runner’s build and a thoroughbred’s face. I’m very fond of horses, so I took to her immediately, especially after she offered to pay for lunch. Gas to and from Middleburg had taken the last of my cash, and I didn’t get paid until Friday.

She was just as eager to see me as I was to see her. Folder after folder came out of her briefcase until there was barely room on the table for our soups and salads.

“I was originally researching changes in crime statistics in the different parts of Baltimore, but this case caught my attention. A family of five murdered in their home, and no one was ever charged.” She shook her head and made a
tsk
noise.

“And one daughter who died only a few months before that,” I added. “Were you able to find out what happened to Shay Robertson? I read the missing person’s reports, and the records show the case remained open, but the family obituary said she predeceased her parents.”

Janice tapped one of the folders. “That’s one of the other odd things about this family. Shay was never seen again, and there was never a body found. In spite of that, the family was absolutely convinced of her death.”

“A few months and they’re assuming she’s dead? I thought most families held on hope for years.”

“Every family member I interviewed was convinced she was dead. I got the impression that they’d received some sort of proof.”

I winced, thinking of a finger in a box, or an ear. Although neither of those would necessarily mean Shay’s death. “Did they know who killed her?”

“Yes, and none of them would say. A cousin finally admitted the family believed it was her boyfriend.”

“The older guy? The one she was supposed to have run away with?”

Janice nodded. “Bit of a mysterious character. She’d sneak out at night to see him. None of her friends ever met the man, but they said she was infatuated with him. He was all she could think about, all she could talk about. Teenage love is so obsessive.”

My breath caught, wondering if there was more behind the obsession than just teenage hormones. “Were there any descriptions of this boyfriend?”

“No. The detective on the case thought he might have been into organized crime and when Shay’s parents started figuring out what happened to their daughter they were killed.”

Was I seeing vampires where there were none? From what Dario had said it seemed unlikely that the
Balaj
would have killed a local family and covered it up. Women certainly turned into fools over human men often enough. But still, I remembered the look in Dario’s eyes as he pressed himself against me…

A vampire bites a young girl, a fourteen-year-old girl, and can’t stay away. Eventually he takes her, and inevitably kills her. If the family discovered who—and what—he was… The
Balaj
couldn’t risk exposure. They’d need to ensure the family never revealed their secrets. An entire family killed, either with the consent of the Mistress, or without her knowledge, by a creepy, pedophile vampire Lothario.

“Here are the victim photos you wanted to see.” Janice pushed a stack of eight by ten glossies toward me.

I stared at them closely. If vampires had done this, they’d been handy enough with a knife to destroy any evidence of bites.

“There wasn’t enough blood and there was no sign of struggle.” Janice’s laugh was short and bitter. “It’s almost like they were horribly anemic and too weak to do more than sit there as they were killed.”

I wondered about the connection between the symbol and all this. A family long dead, possibly killed by vampires. Was Leonora afraid of what their ghosts might say? Was that why she wanted to know about the symbol? How far would she go to silence the necromancer who dared attempt to air their dirty laundry?

“If only the dead could talk,” I mused. “I wonder who they would accuse.”

“Probably the same person that did this.” Janice tossed a newspaper on top of the folders.

The circled front page article detailed what police were calling a possible gang related murder.

“I’ve got a source with the Baltimore City P.D.,” Janice continued. “He says the four gang members had their throats slit nearly ear to ear, but the blood at the scene is far less than it should have been. And there was no sign of struggle. Four armed men—suspicious armed gang members—brutally murdered without lifting a finger.”

I felt like time stopped around me. Dario had led me to believe that vampires wouldn’t kill like this, that they’d either dispose of the bodies or send their fang-punctured corpses to others as a warning. With this newspaper article in front of me, I found myself having a hard time believing Dario. The details were eerily similar to the Robertson case, except the family forty years ago hadn’t been involved in any kind of illegal activity. “Why now, after forty years, would the same person strike again?”

“I’m not saying it’s the same person.” Janice nudged the paper. “Could be a gang M.O. Could be they always take out their enemies this way and nobody ever connected the dots before. I’ve got more research to do, but I seriously think we have a connection here.”

Gang. As in gang of vampires. I couldn’t completely rule out death magic but that seemed like an increasingly remote possibility. No practitioner of the dark arts would subdue and drain four gang members when there were far easier victims to choose from. Vampires. Growing up I’d read about their brutalities in history, our justification for what had been genocide. With the truce, I’d come to believe they’d changed, that they had become a kinder, gentler predator. Clearly I’d been a fool.

Even more a fool for trusting Dario.

“I’d love to know what the connection was.” Janice gathered her folders up. “The crime status study on the Robertsons was pretty dry, but if I can link it to other murders in the last forty years… well, breaking open a case like this would make my day. Heck, it would make my year.”

I’ll bet it would. I had every intention of looking on this in more detail myself, as well as holding the vampires accountable for mass murder. Feeding on humans was one thing, intentional killing was another. First things first, though. I needed to discover as much as I could about this symbol and fulfill my contract with the vampires. Then I’d deal with their more recent activities.

I gestured toward the folders. “A whole family murdered. Well, except for Russell Robertson.”

“Russell Findal now. His aunt and uncle took him in after the murders and adopted him.”

That was odd. The boy had been eight. I would have thought he would have wanted to keep his family name, to honor the parents who’d died so violently. Unless he was afraid the killers might track him down. He was only eight. Perhaps his aunt had the same fear. Perhaps I was being a weird paranoid woman after my close call with Dario.

“Did you interview Russell Findal? Can you share his contact information with me?”

“Sure.” Janice jotted down a name and phone number on a slip of paper and passed it to me. “He’s a bit odd, I’ll warn you. Not that I blame him, losing his family so young.”

“Odd how?” I didn’t have a gun, but maybe I should bring my sword. If only it weren’t so huge, and… obvious.

“He’s one of those intense sort of guys. You know, the ones where you wonder if they don’t wear a tin foil hat when no one’s looking. He moved back to Baltimore a few months ago. Unmarried. Works warehousing jobs—forklift operation and that sort of thing. When I spoke to him last he was between jobs.”

“Are any of his family still in Baltimore?” It seemed kind of odd to move back here otherwise.

“No. The aunt and uncle that took him in are down in Florida. Everyone else is spread out across the U.S. He was the only family member I was able to interview in person.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate your meeting me and sharing your research like this.” I was. She’d been really forthcoming, and even bought me lunch.

Janice grinned. “I have an ulterior motive. It isn’t every day that a part-time coffee-shop employee takes an interest in a forty-year-old murder of people she didn’t know, so I did a little bit of digging of my own.”

No biggie. We weren’t a secret society or anything. The whole idea of Templars was that you should be able to find one when you needed one. Of course few, including us, knew what our purpose was in this modern day beyond safeguarding the contents of the Temple and acting as an archaic Wikipedia of the supernatural.

“Templars, huh?” She stuffed the folders into her briefcase and finished her iced tea in a quick gulp. “Sword and armor and horses and all that?”

“Yeah. Although I can’t exactly go trotting my steed around the city wearing full plate and sporting a claymore. The police frown on that sort of thing, and I’d probably get shot by a paranoid drug dealer.”

She laughed. “Still, if there’s something that comes up, say with that coffee-shop job of yours that might be worth investigating, or if you find out the connection between the Robertson murders and the gang ones, you’ll let me know?”

It took me a second to realize that she thought we were some kind of vigilante group and my coffee-shop job was a cover for my superhero activities. Templar Batman. That would be funny. “Sure. Just to get you caught up to speed, there’s someone raising the dead on the Northside, and the vampires are probably involved.”

She stood, her grin so wide I swear I could see every one of her teeth. “Thanks for the tip. And given the amount of illegal Viagra sales in the Northside, I’m not surprised the dead are getting it up.”

I watched her leave, her long legs taking her to the curb in four strides. Janice was a good contact to have. A savvy reporter would make an awesome resource if I ever needed to do this sort of thing again. And all I had to do was keep her in the loop, even if she didn’t believe me about the necromancer or the vampires. Yet.

I
’D SNUCK INTO
the back room during my shift and tried to see if I could reach Russell Robertson/Findal. Time was running out and I didn’t have much more to tell Leonora than I had yesterday. If I couldn’t glean anything from this guy, I’d need to either try summoning an information demon again or lie. Lying to the vampires didn’t seem like a wise thing to do, but I might not have a choice.

Russell’s phone was no longer in service. I searched both his names and couldn’t come up with a Baltimore address for either. Reverse tracing the phone revealed nothing. It was a dead end—for the investigation, and probably for me.

I had one more day before my deadline ran out, but there was no doubt in my mind that Dario would be banging down my door tonight, pressuring me to wrap this up. I got the feeling he didn’t want to see me dead either, at least not unless it was his sort of dead. I didn’t need any more pressure and there wasn’t anything he could do to help me. Plus I wasn’t sure I wanted his help. If this crazy idea bouncing around in my head turned out to be the truth, then the vampires had a lot to answer for, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give them information that might lead them to Russell.

There was one last place I wanted to try. One hunch to follow up on, but it would have to be later tonight, because I had to meet with my new friends about the upcoming LARP right after my shift finished.

I probably could have walked to Brandi’s apartment from work, but I needed to go home first and stuff my armor and a sword into my car. Thankfully, none of the people walking by or the other building tenants batted an eye over a woman juggling a Santa-sized bag, a sword, and a peanut butter sandwich in her hands.

Turns out Brandi lived in a nicer neighborhood than I did. Passersby and other tenants here
did
stare as I hauled my stash through the front door and into the elevator.

“Nice evening, huh?” I commented to the elderly man next to me who’s eyes kept straying from the lighted numbers above the door to my sword. He made a noncommittal noise, and practically ran once the elevator opened to his floor. Maybe I should have left all of this at home until the actual LARP event.

Brandi’s apartment wasn’t much bigger than mine, although it seemed smaller with all the furniture and knickknacks scattered around. The six other people plopped on sofas, chairs, and the floor left little room for my bag of armor, so I stashed it against the closet next to the front door.

“What the heck is in that?” Brandi pointed to the bag, then proceeded to make ooo noises over my sword. That got everyone moving and suddenly I was surrounded by seven people eyeing my weapon. At least they were respectful enough not to touch it.

“A real bastard sword,” one large man announced. “Looks like it’s been used, too.”

Well, yeah. Why would I have something like this and not use it? “Others in my Order use rapiers or two-handed swords, but our family favors a hand-and-a-half. I’ve had Trusty since I was nine.”