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“Well, that’s a relief,” I say. If he killed a vampire in a veil, I’m off the hook in any and every conceivable way. Tension leaves me in a rush, and I lean heavily against the wall to spare myself the indignity of buckling knees. The smell of blood slaps back into me with force, now that my senses aren’t tunnel-visioning anymore. The smell coats my throat with a horrible taste that makes me swallow convulsively. Somehow, I manage not to throw up. Barely.
I push myself off the wall and take a step towards the remains, then shake my head and look to Cor. I’m not touching that stuff, no way. Can’t leave it in the middle of the living room either. “Can you please get that and put it in the trash?”
Cor grunts and prowls past me, unperturbed by me and my gun, now that it’s tucked away. He grabs the ribs, prowls into the kitchen, and stuffs it into the trashcan next to the fridge. Bones splinter and crack as if he is crushing small twigs.
I make it into the toilet before I throw up.
CHAPTER TEN
I AM WOKEN up by the incessant beeping of my tablet. An incoming call. I scramble out of bed in a daze, dodging furniture and my boots. The tablet is lying on the sideboard next to the bathroom door, but after what looks like four hours of sleep at the most, it could just as well be on the other end of the house. I slap the ‘Accept’-button in the nick of time before the maximum call time is reached, gasping a sleep-rough, “Yeah?” without looking at the display.
“Morning, cupcake. Welfare check,” Colton’s voice drawls through the way too high quality display speakers.
I grimace and rub my eyes, then pick up the tablet so he can see my face. Good thing I don’t sleep in the nude. “Morning to you too, sir. Everything’s in the green.” Or as green as I can imagine, given the circumstances.
Colton sits at his cluttered desk, a painting of a sailboat with red sails in high seas in the back. It’s his favorite picture, even though he doesn’t know the artist. It’s an original too, painted by some obscure painter who had the good fortune of capturing waves almost lifelike. I understand why Colt likes it. It’s pretty. Colton himself doesn’t look pretty, but he doesn’t have to. He wears his usual olive-green t-shirt and a darker beige button-up shirt over it, grey-streaked hair combed loosely, face weathered and grumpy by default. He looks like he should be hunting deer. Or stuff his bunker with canned food, mumbling about the government breaking down.
“Good, good. How come I read your location in the Border District?” There is a faintly suspicious tone in his voice, even though his face remains utterly unperturbed. I wonder how he even got the idea to check my location.
“Uhm,” I start, squinting at the screen as I try to come up with an excuse. I’m way too tired to think quick on my feet, but I’m not stupid. “The motel in the Ghetto was compromised, some cultist saw Asha and me checking in there. I got a bad feeling and changed locations.” That sounds reasonable enough, and Asha could corroborate that story.
“New address doesn’t look like a hotel.” More suspicion, and not a hint of a smile.
“AirBnB,” I rasp, coughing to clear my throat. If I could just come clean, I would, no matter the consequences. But right now, in this situation, the truth could end up being genuinely bad for my health. And Cor’s. And it would make finding the answers I need almost impossible. So sticking to the lies it is.
Colton doesn’t look like he believes me, but he grunts and shrugs. “Modern bullshit, if you ask me. How’s things going on your investigation? Asha seems unusually worried about your safety.”
At least now I know why Colton did a location ping and a welfare check at all. And I don’t have to fake the disbelief on my face. “Why? I’m just running around, collecting clues and doing interviews. I’m not actively hunting anything.”
“That’s what I was wondering as well. You sure you’re okay?”
With Asha, I wouldn’t believe the worry for my safety. Colton though, he is a good man. He means it. His people are the most important thing to him. But I can’t ask him not to tell Asha what I am doing or what I tell him, because he would ask why. And he wouldn’t believe my reasons. It’s just too ludicrous to think a hunter would endanger another hunter like this. Or be in cahoots with a cultist. Crazy talk, that.
More lies, then. “I’m a little beat up and bruised, a little paranoid maybe, but I’m okay. No sign of the vampire that got away yet, but I’m not giving up. I don’t think anyone is actively after me, and so far I haven’t been threatened, which is a good sign I guess. Best case, the vamp doesn’t know where I am. I’m expecting the next day or two to be pretty boring, but if something comes up, I will let you know immediately.”
Or as soon as I have proof of wrongdoing. Can’t say that either, though.
He gives me a very solid, flat stare. “Any leads on your actual vamp fugitive target then?”
Whatever Colton tries to see on my face, I do my best to give him nothing but youthful cluelessness. “I have a lead that might lead me to some rogue vampires a district over, but I’m still in the process of finding an actual address. No other sightings of any rotting vampires yet, either. Very boring research stuff, which, as you know, I do enjoy a lot.”
Colt grunts again, shakes his head minutely, and sighs. “I’m not sure I believe you, but you look unharmed enough. Don’t do stupid shit, okay? And keep me up to date. Every time you think ‘oh that isn’t interesting enough to report it,’ you report it anyway. Clear?”
“Crystal.” I nod empathetically.
Colton grumbles and hangs up. I nod some more at the black screen. Man, now I feel dirty.
HOW DOES ONE transport a vampire in broad daylight, you ask? It both easier and harder than it sounds. Vampires don’t catch fire the second they touch sunlight, but they do start to sizzle after prolonged exposure. How long that is depends on the vampire, the blood type, for lack of a better word, and their age. Usually, older vampires burn easier, as if the curse takes some time to take over a body. Very young vampires can eat, drink, and spend some time in the sun without catching fire.
Very, very old vampires can become a living torch if you point a terrarium basking light at them. In theory. Nobody ever got to test it, because where would you find an ancient vampire? There are almost none left. Mostly because the old wives’ tale of ancients being more powerful than newly turned vampires is a hoax. They plateau out at around two-hundred, and that’s where they stay. Which means, they have to have a lot of dumb luck to survive for five-hundred or more years. Not even mentioning a thousand. That’s older than the Contract.
By this set of rules, Cor should become a brisket the moment he steps close to a window. I almost faint when I walk down into the living room and see Cor stand there, toes almost touching the slice of bright afternoon daylight crawling over the floor towards him. Even with the UV-blocking screen on the window, there is enough light in the room that an old vampire like him should already start to smoke slightly; Cor doesn’t. His skin looks more tanned than before, as if he found time to sun-bathe a little, but that’s it.
Still, not gonna risk anything. I grab his arm and pull him away from the window, hissing, “Do you have a death wish or what?”
It only dawns on me when I touch his arm that he didn’t take off while I was sleeping. And that I didn’t even think about that being a possibility. As if I already knew he would be there. As if I felt his presence without realizing it. I frown and listen into myself for a moment, but I don’t feel anything. Not that I would know what to, ahem, feel for, but I don’t feel more weird than yesterday.
Cor lets himself be dragged, humoring me with a glint of amusement in his shapeless eyes. When we stop, he raises his arm and turns a little, forcing me to either get pulled closer to him or let go, weirdly playful. I play chicken until our chests touch. The brief contact sends lightning through my loins and heat into my belly, a shot of desire way too intense to deal with at this early hour.
