It was the type of night only the dead could enjoy—as dark
as hell, and as warm as the Antarctic. Add to that the
bonus of rain that bucketed down, and it was no wonder the
streets were deserted.
Well, almost deserted, Sam amended, glancing at the
alleyway across the street. An old man in a threadbare
coat rummaged through the garbage bins that were lined up
behind the Chinese restaurant, filling a plastic bag with
God-knows what. And not five minutes ago, two prostitutes
had come knocking on her car’s window, their faces almost
blue with cold as they’d tried to convince her to take
them for a ride. Their expressions, when she’d flashed her
badge, were almost relieved. But then, a warm cell block
was certainly more enticing than trying to ply their trade
on a night like this. Had she not been waiting for her
partner to turn up, she might have taken them downtown and
charged them with soliciting, just to get them off the
street and warm again. Prostitution might be legal these
days but it was restricted to certain areas, and this
particular street in old Footscray wasn’t one of them.
But she’d had no choice but let them go with a warning. To
say they weren’t happy with this stroke of fortune was an
understatement. Obviously, they’d been looking forward to
being locked up in a warm cell and cuddling up with a
blanket or two. And right now, she knew exactly how they
felt. Even a cup of the shocking coffee they served at the
station house would be heaven right now.
She glanced down at the onboard computer and noted it was
already after three. If her goddamn partner didn’t turn up
soon, she was heading home. Why the hell he’d insisted on
meeting in this ratty section of the city in the first
place was beyond her. It wasn’t even close to their patrol
zone.
Sighing, she crossed her arms, and glanced out the car’s
side window again. A plastic bag tumbled down the road,
ghostlike in the darkness. Unease pricked across her skin,
though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just nerves.
After all, it wasn’t every night she got an urgent call
from a man who’d been missing for weeks. And it certainly
wasn’t every night she went against department policy and
agreed to a secret meeting.
She glanced back to the alley. The old man had
disappeared. While she knew he’d probably just moved
beyond her line of sight, that vague sense of unease
increased. She stared through the rain-washed darkness,
watching for some form of movement that would indicate the
old man was still there.
Nothing.
And instinct was insisting something was very wrong in
that alley.
She rubbed a hand across her eyes and silently cursed her
partner’s tardiness. She didn’t need this, not after a
fifteen-hour shift, and especially not in a patrol zone
that wasn’t hers. Just thinking about the extra paperwork
made her head ache.
Still . . .
She leaned forward and pressed the locater switch. The
onboard computer hummed to life, producing a map of the
immediate vicinity. The only way out of the alley, besides
the entrance she could see, was via a fire escape on the
building that hosted the Chinese restaurant. She stabbed a
finger at the screen, and the computer immediately listed
other occupants. The top two floors were empty, but the
second floor was rented to an R.C.Clarke.
She frowned again. The name rang a bell, though she didn’t
know why. She pressed the screen a second time, but the
computer had no additional information. For several
seconds, she blindly watched the rain race down the glass.
It was very wet out there. But the sooner she got out and
investigated, the sooner she could get back to the
relative warmth of this icebox they had the cheek to call
a squad car.
With a slight grimace, she opened the glove compartment
and retrieved her wristcom. In reality, it wasn’t just a
communications unit, more a two-inch wide mini-computer
capable of doing just about everything but make coffee.
She wasn’t supposed to be using it after hours, but there
was no way she going into that alley without it. Not when
unease sat like a lead weight in her belly. If things went
wrong, she wanted an electronic record of everything that
happened.
After fastening the unit onto her wrist, she flicked the
record button, checked that it was working, then collected
her gun and climbed out of the car. As the door
automatically locked behind her, she zipped up her jacket
and eyed the dark alley. It was quite possible that this
was some sort of set-up. In the last few weeks, five
detectives had disappeared, one of them Jack, her partner.
And while he’d finally contacted her earlier this evening,
it was extremely odd that he’d called neither headquarters
nor Suzy, his wife. She knew, because she’d checked.
It worried her.
And it was what held her still, even as the drenching rain
sluiced off her coat and soaked through her boots. Jack
loved Suzy more than life itself, and there was no way
he’d contact her before he contacted his wife.
The wind lifted her hair and wrapped icy fingers round her
neck. She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the
cold. Suddenly, the night felt very wrong.
Which was crazy. It was probably just the cold, the rain,
and the severe need for sleep. If Jack hadn’t made an
appearance by the time she checked the alley, she was
going home. She didn’t need to be involved in another of
his stupid games, in the dead of the night, after a very
long shift. If he wanted to talk to her, he could do so in
the heat of day. He knew were she lived—knew he was
welcome there anytime. She clipped the gun to her belt.
Its familiar weight offered a sense of comfort to the
uneasiness that still stirred through her as she walked
across the road.
The rain eased a little as she entered the alley, but the
wind danced through the darkness, a forlorn moan that made
the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She
hesitated, her gaze skating across the shadows. The old
man’s possessions were strewn across the ground near the
garbage bins. They amounted to little more than a few old
books, a couple of credit cards and the scraps of food
he’d ferreted out of the bin.
She bent and picked up the cards. The names on them were
all different—Joseph Ryan, Tom King, Jake George.
Obviously, the old guy had not been above a little credit
fraud. She dropped the cards, then stepped across the
books and cautiously walked deeper into the alley. The
darkness was blanket heavy, but her eyes slowly adjusted.
Shapes loomed through the ink of night. On the right hand
side of the alley, a dozen or so large boxes were stacked
haphazardly against a graffiti decorated wall, and to her
left was the fire escape that zigzagged up the restaurant
wall.
She walked past the rusted metal ladder, then stopped.
With the full force of the wind blocked by the buildings
on either side, the smells that haunted the alley came
into their own. Rotting rubbish, puddles of stale water,
and the faintest hint of human excrement all combined into
one stomach-churning stench. She shuddered and tried
breathing through her mouth rather than her nose. It
didn’t help much.
Twenty feet away the alley came to a dead end, blocked by
a wall at least fifteen feet tall. Unless the old guy had
springs for legs, or wings hidden under his threadbare
coat—both of which were certainly possible in this day and
age—there was no way on Earth he could have gotten over
it. She glanced across to the boxes. It didn’t make any
sense for him to be hiding there, either, especially when
he’d abandoned his belongings to do so. Most street people
clung to their few possessions with a ferocity only death
could shatter. Besides, the rain had made the boxes a
sodden mass that would have collapsed with the slightest
touch.
Which left only the fire escape.
She glanced up. Moisture dripped from above, splattering
across her face. She wiped it away with her palm, then
frowned and glanced down. Why did the rain suddenly feel
warm?
In her heart, she knew the answer to that question even as
it crossed her mind. Grimly, she pressed a small switch on
her wristcom. Light flared from the unit, a pale yellow
glow that jostled uneasily against the darkness. She
raised her arm and shined the light on the metal walkway
above her.
As she thought, it wasn’t rain dripping down from the fire
escape, but blood. But there wasn’t a body—or, at least,
not one that she could see from where she stood.
For a moment, she considered contacting headquarters about
a possible homicide. But Jack had asked her to come here
alone. Had specifically asked her not to contact them. She
didn’t understand why and, in the end, didn’t really care.
He’d been her partner for close to five years, and she
trusted him more than she trusted the boneheads and
politicians back at headquarters.
Wiping her palm down her thigh, she reached back for her
gun. Then slowly, cautiously, she began to climb.
Three flights up she found the old man. He’d been thrown
against the far edge of the landing, his body a broken and
bloody mass that barely resembled anything human. She
closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Death was never
an easy find. In her ten years on the force, she’d come
across many of its masks, yet it still had the power to
shock her.
Especially when it was as gruesome as this.
The old man’s eyes were wide with fear, his mouth locked
in a scream that would never be heard. His flesh had been
stripped from his face, leaving a bloody mass of raw veins
and muscle. No vampire had done this. In fact, none of the
nonhuman species currently on record were capable of an
act like this.
She took another deep breath, knelt by the old man’s side
and felt his neck. No pulse, as expected, but his skin was
still very warm. The murderer had to be close.
Real close.
Metal creaked above her. Her pulse rate zooming, she
grabbed her gun and twisted around, sights aimed at the
landing above her. Nothing moved. No one came down the
stairs. The wind moaned loudly, but nothing else could be
heard beyond the harsh note of her breathing.
Cautiously, she rose and walked back to the ladder. One
more flight and she’d reach the roof. Whoever, or
whatever, had done that to the old man might still be up
there.
She had to call for backup. There was no other choice, not
in a situation like this. Pressing the communication
switch, she waited for a response and quickly asked for
help. The closest unit was seven minutes away.
Her gaze went back to the landing above her, and she bit
her lip. Was there anyone up there? Was Jack up there? Or
was this all some sort of weird set up that somehow
involved Jack? No, she thought. He wouldn’t do that to
her. And it had been him on the comlink. Her security
system had identified his voice. That the old man was
murdered at the same time she was supposed to have met her
partner had to be random chance.
So where was Jack?
She glanced down at her wristcom. Twenty-nine minutes past
three. It wasn’t unusual for him to be late. In the five
years she’d known him, he’d only managed to be on time for
his wedding.
Maybe he was here. Maybe he was a victim of the creature
who’d destroyed the old man.
Panic surged at the thought. God, she couldn’t risk the
wait for backup. Not when Jack’s life might be at stake.
She had to go on. Had to try and find him. If the
department decided to discipline her for leaving a crime
scene, then so be it. As long as she found her partner
safe and sound, she didn’t really give a damn.
As she reached the top landing, the full force of the wind
hit her, thrusting her back a step before she regained her
balance. Shivering, she dragged her coat zipper all the
way up her neck, but it didn’t stop the rain from getting
past the collar and trickling down her back.
"This is great, just great," she muttered, wiping the
water from her eyes—a totally useless gesture, given the
conditions.
Visibility was practically zero. If there was someone up
here with her, all they had to do was remain still, and
she’d never even see them. With a final, regretful glance
back to the fire escape, she moved forward. After a dozen
steps, a dark, boxlike shape loomed out of the grayness.
Stairs to the rooms below, presumably.
She found a door, and tested it cautiously. The handle
turned. With her back to the wall, gun raised, she pushed
the door open and listened for any sign of movement. Still
nothing.
Yet instinct told her the murderer had to be inside. There
was nowhere else he could be, nowhere else he really could
have come from. Unless, of course, he could fly. But if he
could fly, why would he have used the fire escape? Why
wouldn’t he have just dragged the old man’s body down to
the end of the alley rather than up the stairs, then flown
away?
He was here, down those stairs, somewhere.
She switched the com-unit’s light back on, and then
crossed her wrists, holding the gun and light to one side
of her body as she edged forward.
The light gleamed off the metal stairs and puddled against
the deeper darkness of the room. Three steps down, she
halted again, listening. The silence was so intense it
felt as if she could reach out and touch it. Unease
growing like a weight in her stomach, she frowned and
edged down the remaining steps.
In the small circle of light she could see several stacks
of chairs lined up against the wall. Beyond that, the
vague shapes of upturned tables. Obviously, someone was
using the empty floor as a storage facility. She moved
across to the first stack of chairs and stopped again.
Something hit her, an invisible force that came out of the
darkness to slam her back against the wall. Her breath
left in a whoosh of air, and for several heartbeats, she
saw stars. Then her senses seemed to explode outwards.
Just for an instant, the darkness became something that
was real, something that had flavours and taste and body.
And then she realized it did have bodies, that she was
sensing its inhabitants through every pore and fiber of
her being. As if, in that one moment, she inhabited the
skins of the beings out there in the shadows, learning
their secrets, feeling their thoughts.
One of those who hid in the shadows was a vampire.
The other wasn’t human, wasn’t vampire, wasn’t anything
she actually recognized. But it was filled with an evil so
complete it seemed to seep into her very bones and made
her soul shake.
The sensation disappeared with a snap that left her weak
and shaking. She collapsed onto her knees and took a deep,
shuddering breath. What the hell had happened? Never in
her life had she experienced anything so weird . . . or so
frightening. For a brief moment, she’d become one with
those others. Had felt the uneven pounding of their
hearts, the rush of blood through their veins. Had felt
their desire to kill seep through her being and become her
own.
She wiped a trembling hand across her brow. The sooner
backup got here, the better. A vampire intent on grievous
bodily harm she could handle. That other thing, whatever
it was, tipped the odds way too far in favor of the bad
guys.
She forced herself upright, pressing her back against the
wall as she listened to the silence. Still no sound or
movement. Warily, she took a step towards the stairs, and
then stopped. A light prickling sensation ran across her
skin, a faint wave that again tasted of the secrets of the
night.
Someone approached.
Not understanding what was happening she nevertheless
clicked the safety off her gun and held it at the
ready. "Police! Come out with your hands up."
Laughter ran across the stillness, soft and warm. Laughter
she’d heard before. Laughter she knew.
"I never could sneak up on you, Ryan."
Jack stepped into the small circle of light, and then
stopped. She lowered her weapon, but she didn’t relax or
reapply the safety. Not until she knew what the hell her
partner was up to. Not until she knew whether he was with
those other two she’d sensed. Trust was one thing.
Complete stupidity another. "What the hell is going on?
And why haven’t you phoned Suzy or the department?"
He smiled, and there was something decidedly odd about
it. "I didn’t come here to talk about Suzy. Or the
department."
There was a chill in his green eyes she’d never noticed
before, an edge to his voice that spoke of violence. This
was the Jack she knew—and yet, in many ways, it
wasn’t. "Why not? What are you up to?"
He smiled and lowered his gaze, silently studying the
floor. She had an odd notion that time was running out,
that this man, her partner, had come here to kill her. It
was a ridiculous thought, it really was, but it was one
she just couldn’t shake. Licking dry lips, she raised her
gun a little.
Just in case.
"There’s a war about to begin, Ryan."
The abrupt sound of his voice made her jump slightly. She
met his gaze squarely, and saw in the green depths only
death and determination. And felt no safer about his
intentions.
"What sort of war?"
He shrugged. "A war in which man will play no part, and
yet ultimately be the loser. The wise will choose sides."
She frowned. Since when had Jack begun speaking in weird
riddles? "And that’s what you’ve done? Chosen a side?" She
shifted her feet a little, strengthening her stance. If
Jack came one step closer, she'd fire, partner or not.
So much for trusting this man beyond all others.
He smiled his strange smile. "Yes. And now it’s your turn."
She stared at him, wondering what was really going on.
Surely he hadn’t called her down here just to pick a side
in some upcoming mythical war. "We’re cops, Jack. We’re
supposed to be impartial and all that."
He snorted heavily. "Yeah, right. Tell that to someone who
doesn’t know the truth."
The cynical edge to his voice made her feel no easier. If
there was one thing Jack had always been proud of, it had
been his badge. "So why do I have to choose?"
"Because for you, there can be no standing in the middle.
It’s one side or the other."
She wondered if pinching herself would wake her from this
weird dream, or make sense of what Jack was saying. "That
doesn’t actually answer the question of why me. I mean,
why not the thousands of others who work for the
department?"
"Most of them haven’t your intuitive nature, or your
determination to act on a hunch." He shrugged. "And we
need more people who can move around in the daylight."
Right now, her so-called intuitive nature was telling her
he was lying through his back teeth—at least when it came
to the reasons for wanting her to join them. "Who are you
actually working for, if not the department?"
She might not have spoken, for all the notice he took. "We
could continue as partners," he added softly.
God, how deep did he think their partnership had
become? "Sorry. Still doesn’t appeal to me."
"That’s unfortunate. Already, too many good men and women
have gone missing."
A chill ran down her spine. He knew about the
disappearances. Had somehow been involved in them. "I
really think you should come back to headquarters with me-—
"
She hesitated. The odd, prickling sensation ran across her
skin again, whispering dark secrets to her mind. She
stared at Jack, her gaze widening. Her partner, and friend
of five years, was the vampire she’d sensed earlier.
And that thing out there in the darkness, the creature she
could not name, was with him.
He studied her for a moment, and then he sighed, almost
sadly. "So, you know."
Her finger curled around the trigger, and it took every
ounce of strength she had to resist the urge to shoot him.
Not all vampires were evil—how often had he told her that?
Certainly she had no evidence that Jack himself had
crossed the line between good and evil, when he’d taken
the step from life to death.
Only instinct, and the oddly ferocious look in his eyes,
said that he had.
"But I don’t know why."
"Why does one normally undertake the ceremony?" Amusement
touched his green eyes. "I have no wish to die, Ryan. With
the eve of the war at hand, I had no option but to cross
over. Humans have no place in what is coming."
The sensation of danger was becoming so strong her muscles
were twitching under the force of it. She took a deep
breath, trying to calm down. Yet if Jack were a vampire,
he would know her fear, her uncertainty. Would hear it in
the thunderous pounding of her heart. "So why call me
here?"
"Because, as I said earlier, it’s your time to choose."
"I made my choice long ago." And her badge was all she
really had. She wasn’t about to walk away from it, even
for her best friend. "I intend to stick to that choice."
Sadness briefly touched his eyes. "I’m asking you, as a
friend, to join me."
Her finger tightened reflexively on the trigger, and it
was all she could do not to press it a tiny bit more and
actually fire the weapon. "No."
"One last chance." He took a slight step forward. The
touch of sadness in his eyes was quickly giving way to the
certainty of death.
"One more step, and I’ll shoot."
He smiled. "I don’t think so."
Sweat trickled down the side of her face. "I mean it. Stay
where you are."
He took another step forward. "We’re friends, Ryan.
Partners. You can’t shoot me."
There was no humanity in his eyes now, only the certainty
of death. She’d seen that look in vampires before and knew
it precluded an attack. "Please, Jack. Don’t make me shoot
you."
He raised an eyebrow. "You won’t. You can’t," he said, and
took another step.
She aimed low and pulled the trigger.
Through the booming retort of the gun, she heard his
curse, heard him stagger away. She lowered her weapon, hit
the panic button on her wristcom and ran for the stairs.
Heat flowed over her, whispering secrets. The thing with
Jack was after her, running swiftly and silently through
the darkness. If it caught her, she would die, as the old
man had died. Quickly, but horribly.
She grabbed the railing with her free hand and took the
stairs two at a time. At the top she hesitated and glanced
down. A shadow flowed across the bottom step, then stopped
and looked up. For just a second she found herself staring
into eyes that were milky white and as bright as the
stars. In them was a hunger unlike any she’d ever seen
before.
Get out, she thought. Just get the hell out of here.
She scrambled through the door and slammed it shut behind
her. An inhuman roar followed her into the wildness of the
night. She ran for the fire escape stairs, but the wind
hit her with the force of a gale, thrusting her sideways.
Somehow, she managed to stay on her feet and keep running.
Behind her, the door slammed open, the sound like a
gunshot ricocheting across the force of the storm.
Swearing, she leapt onto the fire escape and scrambled
down the slick metal stairs.
One flight gone. The old man stared up at her, a grim
reminder of her fate if she wasn’t fast enough. Onto the
second flight. Was that a footfall? She didn’t dare look
up, just kept on running.
She hit the lower landing, then grabbed the rail and leapt
over it. She landed awkwardly, and pain curled like fire
up her leg. She ignored it and ran for her car.
A sighing sound carried across the howl of the wind. She
caught a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye,
but before she could react, something hit her hard and
flung her sideways.
She struck the ground with a grunt of pain, her weapon
flying from her hand. She twisted, throwing punches at the
heavy weight that had landed on top of her. His curses
stung the night, and then he caught her hands, his grip
like iron as he held her still. She found herself staring
into eyes that were an odd, green-flecked hazel, and not
entirely human.
Not Jack or the creature. Someone else entirely. Someone
she hadn’t sensed.
"If you want to live, remain still and be quiet," he
ordered, his gaze burning into hers for a second before
flicking away.
"Get the hell off me and I may consider it," she muttered,
twisting left and right in an effort to dislodge his
weight.
"That creature hunts by sound and movement alone. Remain
still, and we might escape with our lives."
A soft snarl ran across the wind. She stopped fighting and
turned her gaze to the fire escape. A kite-like shape
leapt off the second flight of stairs and landed awkwardly
near the boxes. It made several odd snuffling noises
before turning blind eyes in their direction. Her fingers
twitched, pressing the trigger of a weapon she no longer
held. The stranger glanced down at her, his odd-colored
eyes holding a warning.
It went against her every instinct to remain still, to not
fight, and her muscles quivered as she fought the desire
to do both. The creature took a lumbering step in their
direction. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat and
refused to move. At the other end of the alley, the
howling wind tugged at the garbage bins. One fell and
rattled toward the road, spewing paper and food scraps
across the pavement before rolling away. The creature
roared, then swung around and ran out of the alley.
The stranger released her and scrambled to his feet. She
lurched forward and grabbed his wrist.
"Oh, no you don’t. You’re not leaving until you tell me
what the hell that thing is."
A slight smile creased the corners of his lush mouth. "And
what gives you the right to detain me?"
"I’m a cop, mister. You’re under arrest."
"For what? Saving your life?" He pried her fingers away
from his wrist, his fingers warm and slightly rough
against hers. "Sorry, but I have a creature to stop.
Arrests will have to wait."
He moved so swiftly that he almost seemed to blur. One
blink and he was gone.
The night didn’t appear to be getting any saner, she
thought sourly. First her partner becomes a vampire, and
then she’s hunted by a kite-like monster, only to be
rescued by a man who could blur his form and move like the
wind. What next?
Knowing she probably didn’t want an answer to that
question, she slowly climbed to her feet. Pain fired up
her right leg and her ankle suddenly felt encased in iron.
Great, just great. The night from hell and a busted ankle.
Maybe the best idea was to just sit here and wait for the
cavalry to arrive. The thought made her frown, and she
glanced at her wristcom. Four minutes had passed since
she’d pressed the emergency beacon, nine since she’d first
requested help. Why wasn’t anyone here?
She glanced around for her weapon and saw it sitting in a
puddle ten feet away. She hobbled to it, doing her best to
ignore the protests from her ankle. As she bent down, that
weird sliver of heat prickled a warning across her skin.
Jack was behind her.
Slowly, warily, she picked up her weapon and turned
around. He stood ten feet away. Blood ran from the wound
in his thigh, the flow gleaming darkly against his rain
soaked jeans. Fear swept her again. On a night like this
she shouldn’t be able to even see the blood.
She flicked off the auto safety catch and pointed the gun
at him. "I have to take you back. You know I have to."
He smiled. "I’m not going back. I can’t. Pull that trigger
if you want to."
She didn’t pull the trigger. Nor did she lower her
weapon. "Why did you really call me here tonight?"
"I’ve already told you—to ask you to join us."
"And that thing you were with—did it kill the old man?"
He lowered his gaze, but not before she’d seen a brief
flash of amusement. A chill ran down her spine. Jack had
watched that thing strip the old man of his humanity. Had
enjoyed it.
"We all have to feed, Ryan, and society has no use for the
dregs." His gaze flashed up again, cold and hungry. If
there was any humanity left in her partner, it quickly
fled as the vampire rose fully to the surface.
"I’m sorry you won’t join us," he continued. "We were a
good team."
Were. Not are. She swallowed. It didn’t ease the aching
dryness in her throat. "Don’t move, Jack. This time I’ll
shoot to kill."
His laugh was a low, almost inhuman, sound. "Perhaps you
want me to wait until the reinforcements arrive."
Sweat trickled down her back, and her palms felt slick
against the cool metal of the gun. "That’s my plan, yes."
"Ever the optimist." He flashed a familiar smile, all
confidence and teeth.
Too much teeth, in fact.
The vampire was getting ready to feed.
‘Don’t make me kill you," she warned softly. Please don’t.
The sudden ferocity in his eyes made her take a step back.
Even as she did so, he leapt.
Jack had once told her the best way to kill a vampire was
to blow its fucking head off.
And that’s exactly what she did.