High Stakes (27 page)

Connor holds out his wrist. I look at it then at his face. ‘Would you mind if I tried your neck?’ I ask.

There’s a flash of obvious delight. ‘Really? You think you can manage it?’

‘Sure,’ I say, mustering as much confidence as I can. Until now, I’ve had the promise of a cure to hang onto. I may not have been sure I was going to take it but its potential supported everything I did. I knew that there was a way out from vampirism and I could go back to being normal. But I’ve given that exit strategy away to Rogu3 and I’m not going to feel regret about it. What’s done is done. I need to work harder on self-acceptance.

Connor stretches his head to one side to provide me with easier access to his jugular. By now, I know that drinking blood is more a case of mind over matter. When I drank from Rogu3 I didn’t hesitate because he would have died if I’d been squeamish. So I let my fangs grow, move over and do what needs to be done. I wipe my mouth when I’m finished.

‘Same time tomorrow?’ Connor asks.

‘Actually,’ I demur, ‘I’m going to try someone different.’ Even with the hatred towards vampires that’s swirling around the country at the moment, there are still plenty of willing vampettes around.

An expression of hurt crosses his face. ‘You don’t need me any more?’

‘Connor, I’ll always need you,’ I reassure him. ‘But you need your strength. I’m told the phone has been ringing off the hook at New Order.’

He grins. ‘Have you seen the internet and what they’re saying about you?’

I shake my head, puzzled. He gestures at the computer in the corner. ‘Look.’

THE RED ANGEL OF MERCY

The country watched aghast last night as shocking events unfolded at the Agathos Court. Terrorists stormed the building because, it’s been reported by sources close to the scene, they were attempting to retrieve a severed ear belonging to Tobias Renfrew, the eccentric billionaire who has been missing for over fifty years.

What the daemon terrorists hadn’t counted on was Bo Blackman, a vampire who bravely abandoned the Montserrat Family to strike out on her own. Video footage has emerged of Blackman saving one woman before plunging back into the fiery depths to help others.

Her heroic actions weren’t confined to the Agathos Court. She hightailed it next to Banbury School, where she confronted the daemons again, dispatching two of the killers.

Not only is Blackman brave enough to abandon the might of a Family, but she is also a true heroine for saving the lives of innocent victims. ‘She’s an angel,’ stated Margaret Morrison, the receptionist at the Agathos Court.

I feel faintly nauseous – and it’s not from Connor’s blood. There’s even a picture to go with the article: I’m silhouetted against the glow of the fire and the red lights of the emergency vehicles. Most of my face is in shadow but there’s a grim set to my mouth. I look less like an angel and more like a rampaging idiot.

‘I didn’t kill those daemons,’ I protest. ‘Michael did. And I have serious doubts that Meg called me a sodding angel.’ I shake my head. ‘They’ve got it all wrong.’

‘The phone’s been ringing because people want to talk to you,’ Connor says. ‘We wanted to make vampires look better and you’ve done that. The video of you coming out of the courthouse with that woman is everywhere.’

‘But,’ I point out, ‘they’re making too much of the fact that I left the Montserrat Family. Like I don’t agree with other vampires.’ I screw up my face. ‘No, I don’t think this is good at all.’

‘I am pleased you spotted that,’ my grandfather says, appearing in the doorway. ‘We need to be very careful how we handle this. The last thing we need is for you to become the poster child for vampires striking out on their own because the Families are evil.’

‘I don’t want to be any kind of bloody poster child,’ I grimace.

‘You’ll need to agree to a few interviews,’ my grandfather continues, as if he hasn’t heard me. ‘I’m thinking breakfast television. Maybe one of the better broadsheets as well.’

‘I’m not doing that!’ I protest.

‘You have to, my dear. Good press can turn on a penny. We need to make this as positive as we possibly can, especially when it comes to the Families.’ I grit my teeth. This is ridiculous. Sensing my thoughts, my grandfather looks at me sternly. ‘New Order is all about better PR. This is the perfect opportunity. Besides, if nothing else, the statement from that despicable man Miller has been completely buried. It may emerge at a later date so we need to be on guard but, if we handle this correctly, we might just turn the tide of public opinion.’

I pull out the sheet of crumpled paper which O’Shea gave to me and wave it around. ‘These daemons are still on the loose! Michael might have killed a few of them but we still don’t know who’s behind this or if they’re going to strike again.’

‘The police are convinced that the perpetrators have fled the country. Negotiations are under way with the Venezuelan government but I don’t hold out much hope.’

I shake my head. ‘They have too many resources at their disposal. I find it hard to believe the ringleaders have simply gone.’

‘They attacked the heart of the Agathos justice system. And they failed. They won’t want to be anywhere near here for a very long time. Terrorists are not taken lightly.’

‘But I don’t think they are terrorists. Why would terrorists be so interested in some fake ear? And who the hell does the ear belong to, if not Tobias Renfrew?’

‘Not every mystery can be solved, Bo.’

I ball my fists in frustration. ‘I promised Nicholls I’d meet her to make a statement and answer her questions. I’ve got a few sodding questions of my own. Maybe she can answer them.’

‘You’re going to be chasing your tail.’

I sniff. ‘At least I’ll be chasing something.’

*

I march into the police station. I don’t care where in the world they are, I’m not ready to let the people who almost killed Rogu3 get away with it. I’ve barely given my name to the desk sergeant when Foxworthy appears. If anything, he looks worse than the last time I saw him. Given his case with Miller should have been wrapped up, I’m surprised at his pallor.

‘Hey,’ I say. ‘I’m here to see Nicholls. Are you looking for the daemons too?’

‘No. They’ve gone to Venezuela; there’s nothing we can do. It’s up to the government to sort it out.’

I stare at him. ‘After what they did? Foxworthy, we can’t just let crooks get on a plane! We need to go after them!’

‘It’s not my call. Not everything is conducted at our level, Blackman. Sometimes you need to let the experts take charge.’

‘It’s been less than twenty-four hours. I’m not dropping this. Where’s Nicholls anyway?’

‘She said you can come in another time. There’s no rush for the statement now we know for sure that they’ve absconded.’

‘That’s sodding ridiculous! I came all this way to talk to her.’ My eyes narrow. ‘I thought we were getting along better now. Instead you have me running around the city pointlessly.’

He looks at me. There’s something dark behind his eyes that makes me pause. ‘The dog’s going to be okay,’ he says. ‘The vet called earlier.’

‘Kimchi?’ Finally there’s some good news. ‘That’s fantastic!’

‘Once he’s well enough, he’ll be transferred to Battersea Dogs’ Home.’

I frown. I may have something to say about that. I realise the darkness is still there in Foxworthy’s eyes. ‘It’s not Kimchi that’s bothering you, is it?’

Foxworthy raises his eyes to the ceiling and presses his lips together. ‘Nicholls has agreed to question you later because I thought you’d want to come with me.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I’m starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘Come with you where?’ He sighs. ‘Foxworthy, what is it?’

‘We’ve found another body,’ he says.

I scan his face. ‘What do you mean?’

‘A woman aged twenty-one. She’s been identified as Fiona Lane, a magic arts student at St. Martin’s. She’s been raped and killed. Her body is at a disused quarry on the edge of the city.’

Blood drains from my face. ‘No. It can’t be…’

Foxworthy’s eyes are haunted. ‘Two wooden stakes were driven through the palms of her hands.’

*

We stand several feet away from the spread-eagled corpse. Eventually I tear my eyes away, turning so I don’t have to look at her any more. ‘The bodies were in Miller’s garden. Plus, Miller fit Corinne’s description. This has to be a copycat.’

‘That would make sense,’ Foxworthy agrees in a defeated tone, ‘except we didn’t release the part about the stakes.’

I search around desperately for an answer. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of people who know about that detail. Lots of people were involved in the initial investigation.’

‘I hope you’re not suggesting a law enforcement officer is responsible for this.’

My shoulders slump. ‘Was Miller the wrong man? Did he have a friend who borrowed his garden? Was he innocent after all?’ It sounds beyond implausible. At this stage, however, confronted with the horror of what was once Fiona Lane, I’m prepared to believe anything.

‘I don’t think that can be true.’ The inspector looks at me patiently.

I realise he’s waiting for me to connect the dots. I glance around, trying to clear my mind and focus my thoughts. ‘Corinne said that when she first regained consciousness her attacker was wearing a balaclava. Later he wasn’t. Maybe that’s because there were two of them and one – obviously not Miller – was concerned about not revealing his identity. Plus, we’re now in a quarry in the middle of sodding nowhere. All the other victims, even the early ones, were abducted or attacked in busy public places.’

Foxworthy nods. ‘We’ve established that Fiona Lane was visiting her boyfriend. He lives in a house not far from here. She was supposed to arrive this morning on the early bus. It’s a fifteen-minute walk from the bus stop to his house, I’ll show you the route later. It’s pretty much deserted; there are some houses scattered around but very few people passing. When she didn’t show, he assumed she got caught up with friends or slept in. It’s only because the foreman made a routine visit to check the safety barriers around the quarry that she was discovered at all.’

‘It’s a complete departure from his previous killings.’ I take another look at the body. ‘She’s not as bruised and battered as Corinne was either.’

‘No,’ Foxworthy agrees.

‘It never made sense that Miller could do what he did when he was only a few metres away from so many passersby. But if he had an accomplice…’

‘…it would make it a hell of a lot easier.’

I press the base of my hands into my eyes until it hurts. ‘There are two of them. Miller had a fucking companion.’

‘Yeah. And he’s obviously not ready to stop killing.’

‘It’s not over,’ I whisper. I cast my eyes around the high, craggy walls of the quarry. It feels like I’m stuck in some hell pit, surrounded by suffocating darkness. High above, the moving light of a plane crosses the sky. My eyes track it until it disappears. ‘We need to go back to Corinne.’

Foxworthy squeezes my arm. ‘We’ll catch him, Bo.’

I look at him balefully. ‘Promise?’

He doesn’t answer. We start to walk away, the hard dirt crunching under our feet. Up above, at the lip of the quarry, I see the silhouette of a man struggling with two others.

‘I want to see her!’ he yells. ‘I want see Fiona!’

‘Her boyfriend?’ I ask quietly. Foxworthy nods. ‘Why don’t you let him down?’

‘Because then the last thing he’ll remember is his girlfriend smeared in blood and pinned to the ground. He won’t remember the times they laughed or made love or what she looked like when the sun caught her hair. He’ll just remember her sightless eyes and her broken body.’

Fiona’s boyfriend starts sobbing and the sound echoes around the quarry. I might be able to close my eyes but I can’t close my ears. His grief and anguish pierce my chest.

‘We jumped to conclusions,’ I mutter. ‘If we’d thought about it more, we might have realised there were two of them. Fiona Lane could still be alive.’

Foxworthy is more pragmatic. ‘There wasn’t any evidence to suggest that. And it’s incredibly rare for killers to work in pairs.’

I nod slowly. ‘How would they meet? We already know Miller was a loner.’

‘We’re going back through his life. There has to be some kind of clue.’

I mull it over. It’s not as if you’d get chatting to someone and casually reveal that you’re on your way to do a spot of rape and murder. Even using the internet to find a serial-killer buddy seems unlikely.

‘They had to know each other very well, and probably from a very young age. It’s the only thing that makes sense.’ My foot slips on a section of scree and I pause to regain my balance. ‘Did anything come from looking at the first victim?’

‘There was little to go on. Her family cleared out all her belongings last year. We tracked down some friends but,’ he shrugs, ‘they had little to say.’

‘Can you give me her details?’

Foxworthy doesn’t seem too happy. ‘We checked her out. You may not have a very high opinion of the police but we know what we’re doing. Your buddy Arzo came along too. He agreed with us.’

‘I think the police do a great job. I just want to get a feel for her myself.’

‘The family may not want to talk to a bloodguzzler,’ he warns.

‘Nothing new there.’

‘I’ll email you with what we have when I get back to the station. Maybe the Red Angel can shed some new light on the situation.’

‘Piss off.’

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Tree

It’s nice to be trusted. This time Foxworthy lets me walk unfettered into Corinne Matheson’s room. The guard is no longer in attendance outside, no doubt because it seemed pointless after we apparently got our man. That’s not the case any more.

‘Shouldn’t there be someone on the door?’

Foxworthy frowns. ‘There should be.’ He pulls out his phone, jabs in a number and  mutters angrily before hanging up and looking at me. ‘They’ll be here soon.’