E J Stevens - [Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective 01] Page 16

  “Thank you,” I said. “Here’s my card, in case you want to check in regarding our progress with your pest problem.”

  “I’ll call you next week,” she said.

  I closed the taxi door and watched her go. I liked Mrs. Hastings and hoped I could locate her ring. Pookas stash stolen loot in their nests. I was willing to bet that her ring was tucked beneath a pile of shredded newspaper in her attic. I would come back equipped to explore the attic, clean out the pookas, and search for the ring.

  Smiling, I turned to walk south toward the Old Port. With the money in my pocket, I could stop at the grocery store on my way home. My appointment with the city vampires wasn’t for a few more hours. I had time for shopping.

  With an empty fridge, and nearly bare medicine cabinet after Jinx had a nasty fall last month, we were not prepared for an assault on the city. I headed to the grocery store to buy food and emergency supplies for the office and apartment. Jinx would definitely think I was an alien clone when I arrived home with groceries, bottled water, hammer, iron nails, flashlight, batteries, and a new first aid kit.

  Up until now, I had been narrowly focused on how to stop the attack on our city. After spending time helping Mrs. Hastings pack and lock up her house, I realized just how foolish that was. Bad things happen in our city every day. I wasn’t giving up, but it was time to face the possibility that things could go terribly wrong.

  It was time to prepare for the each uisge invasion.

  Chapter 16

  The only thing worse than wondering if a walking salamander wants to eat your liver, is waiting for an audience with a vampire. In the case of the vampire, there’s nothing to wonder about, you know he wants to eat you. He wants to drain all of your blood like a giant, big gulp slurpee.

  I was nobody’s dinner, damn it. I crossed my legs, for the tenth time. Leather creaked as I clenched my fists in my lap. What was taking so long?

  I was sitting in the world’s most uncomfortable chair set in an alcove outside two heavy wood doors. The doors were reinforced with large iron bands and protected, if the buzzing sensation was any indicator, by a powerful magic ward.

  I wanted to get up from the hard chair and stretch my legs, but couldn’t risk triggering the door wards or angering my host. Vamps tended toward archaic, overly formal social rituals and I didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot. I had been told by the creepy servant ghoul to sit in the chair and wait, so I stayed fidgeting in my chair.

  I was inside one of Harborsmouth’s oldest mansions. Most local historians and antiquarians would probably kill to get a glimpse inside this dusty old mausoleum. Personally, I thought it was overdone. Vampires, no matter which century they are originally from, tend to embrace the dramatic medieval Gothic Revival aesthetic of the Victorian era. The walls were cold, damp stone and the alcove was lined in heavy burgundy damask that was stained and mildewed from moisture seeping through the fabric.

  At least I hoped those dark red stains were from weeping condensation. Inside a vampire’s lair, blood splatter on the walls wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. If walls could talk, these would probably scream in terror. Thankfully, Jinx had convinced me to wear a long-sleeve turtleneck over my tank and jeans. She had worried about a vamp wanting to munch on my neck, but right now I was glad for the extra material between me and a multitude of horrifying visions. I checked that the wrist straps on my gloves were secure and shimmied forward, inching away from the wall to perch on the edge of the chair.

  The alcove, and its pointy chair, was a small annex off the main hallway—a long, gradually descending, rib-vault monstrosity that gave the impression of walking through the belly of the beast before being vomited out onto the vamp’s inner doorstep. The floor of the hallway had been at a noticeable incline, and I had walked behind the ghoul for over fifteen minutes. That meant this alcove, and the chamber beyond, lay deep beneath the earth of Joysen Hill.

  I sucked in a ragged breath and tried not to think about the immense weight of the city streets, people, buildings, and stone above me. Bright, glowing spots were forming at the edge of my vision and I struggled to slow my racing pulse. If I passed out now, there wouldn’t be a turtleneck thick enough to keep a vamp’s fangs from my neck.

  Something dropped onto my shoulder and I squeaked, brushing it away. A small black spider righted itself and scuttled into a dark corner. Great, now I was jumping at shadows and harmless insects.

  I settled again, but this time didn’t have to wait long. A door slammed in the distance and the reverberating echo was joined by a shuffling sound and the clank of keys, or chains. The noises grew closer and a figure emerged from the gloom.

  A second ghoul came limping toward the doors, dragging a gangrenous foot and carrying a large ring of keys.

  Ghouls are disgusting creatures. They are a type of revenant created when a vampire turns a person who is dead, rather than alive. Unlike a living person turned vampire, the animated corpse doesn’t retain the memories of its former life. These walking dead have no ability for higher thought (It’s all “feed me” when your brain has decomposed to wormy pudding), but they obey basic commands, without complaint. No asking for a raise or needing a sick day. Ghouls do whatever their creator demands. This makes them favored servants for any vampire old and powerful enough to create one.

  My host obviously had at least two ghouls under his control. The newbie vamps must all be green with envy. As for me, I knew to use extra caution. I was now the guest of a vampire old enough to create more than one ghoul, and he didn’t mind flaunting that fact in my face. That made him both arrogant and dangerous. Judging by the state this ghoul was in, he also had no sense of smell.

  The butler ghoul, who met me at the front door and guided me to the alcove, had been well preserved, but the one approaching stank of sickness and rotting flesh. The downside of using ghoul servants was that they required regular feeding to keep them in tip top shape. Since they eat human flesh, some vamps will feed a pet ghoul their table scraps, but many don’t bother. An unfed ghoul will continue to obey orders until it completely rots away. This one obviously hadn’t fed recently. I held my nose, fighting the gorge rising in my throat.

  Stinky unlocked the heavy doors and pushed them inward on creaky hinges. No surprise there. I was just surprised there wasn’t organ music or the endless flutter of bat wings—vamps were all about the drama.

  Stinky waved me forward, dead eyes not quite meeting my own. Was he embarrassed by his state of decay? Were ghouls capable of emotions? Probably best not to think about it.

  I rose from the chair, wiped creases from my salt-stiff jeans, and stepped onto the red carpet runner. It was time to make friends with the city vampires.

  After the darkness of the alcove, the light coming from the adjoining room was blinding. I blinked rapidly, trying to bring my eyes back into focus. As my pupils adjusted to the bright illumination, a large banquet hall was revealed just beyond the doors.

  The source of the light was a series of tall lancet windows on the left and right hand walls of the room. Sunshine seemed to stream in from panes of clear and multi-colored glass. That, of course, was impossible since this room was deep beneath the ground. Sunlight was also highly impractical for a room designed to house the undead. Legend and folklore may not have all of the details right, but vampires definitely did have a sun allergy.

  Although the lighting was illusory, the stained glass was beautiful—if you didn’t let your mind linger on the unspeakable acts depicted in those panes. Though I suspected the glass pictures to be pure fantasy, bodies just did not bend that way, the disturbing images promised to return in my dreams, or nightmares. I was going to need some serious brain bleach when this case was finally over.

  I dragged my eyes from the vamp idea of art and checked out the rest of the hall. The entire room was impressive. The walls rose at least three stories to meet an ornate fan vault ceiling. It looked as if huge, fossilized gingko leaves held the ceiling aloft.
With regret, I turned my curiosity from the incredible room and focused on its inhabitants.

  I had seen the figures as soon as I entered the room, but it took a moment to realize that they were my hosts. Vampires don’t look like the pop culture idols found in books and on television. Sure, they like to dress like dandies in lace-cuffed and lace-collared shirts, fancy cravats, and heaps of velvet, but vampires are not handsome rogues who will sweep you off your feet. Vamps do not have beautiful alabaster skin, nor do they glitter. They don’t have dark, soulful eyes and they are never sexy.

  Oh, Mab’s bloody bones, they are so not sexy.

  The vampires seated at the table in the center of the room were a perfect example. Yellowed skin the texture of dried parchment lay over skeletal bodies, like scarecrows filled with sticks and straw. Skin pulled tight across cheekbones gave them a sinister, fanged rictus grin below a gaping sinus cavity and empty eye sockets.

  Handsome? Sexy? Hell no.

  Of course, most people couldn’t see what vampires truly look like. Similar to the fae, vamps have a magic glamour that shields humans from their grotesque visage. My second sight cuts through the glamour. Aren’t I the lucky one?

  There is a way for regular humans to see past their glamour without a psychic gift. You just need a mirror. The rumor about vampires not having a reflection was probably created by the vamps themselves to create an excuse to avoid mirrors. If you look at a vamp’s reflection, you’ll see past the ethereal beauty to the dried husk that lies beneath.

  That dried husk of a body is the reason why fire is so dangerous for vamps. They’re essentially kindling with fangs. They may have supernatural strength, speed, and immortality, but a single spark could turn each one into a ghastly torch. I checked my pocket and was comforted by the cool plastic of a disposable lighter. I wasn’t planning on a fight, I had come for a favor after all, but it didn’t hurt to bring an insurance policy.

  Fire would incapacitate any vamp, but a wooden stake through the heart would put it down for good. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust—in seconds. I didn’t think my host would take kindly to a tool belt filled with a mallet and stakes, or a flamethrower for that matter, but the pencils nestled in my back pocket were made of wood and needle sharp. In a pinch, they would work just fine.

  Good thing I had sharpened the entire package. My host had invited friends.

  Three vamps sat at the long banquet table. The Boss sat at the head of the table farthest from me. To his left sat a short vamp who was either a child when he died or from a time period when men didn’t reach over five feet tall. Either that or the dead furry thing draped over his shoulders was really, really heavy. Across from Shorty sat a vamp with an elaborate wig.

  They were so still, I nearly screamed when the one to my left, the boss man’s right, lifted his hand to dust his face with powder from a compact. Oberon’s eyes! I would do well to remember that a vamp can go from zero to a gazillion in under sixty seconds. But why would something that made even king tut look bloated need face powder? The bewigged figure was nearly made of powder, why would he want to apply more? Forget it, I didn’t want to know. It was probably filled with something freaky like rat poison or grave dust.

  Dusty continued to powder his face while Shorty waved a boney hand in disgust. I got the impression that the two did not get along.

  “Corpse candle,” The Boss said.

  Okay, that was definitely creepy. The head vampire’s voice clattered up through his ribcage and past his fangs like the dying breath of a rattlesnake. And what did he mean by, “corpse candle?”

  “Um, hi,” I said.

  “Why have you come to us?” The Boss asked.

  Dusty put away his compact and fussed with his wig. It was distracting. I took a deep breath and tried to think.

  “The city of Harborsmouth is about to go to war,” I said.

  “Why should we care?” Shorty asked.

  “Of course we should care, it will make a terrible mess,” Dusty said. “It always does, you know. Best to be prepared, forewarned is forearmed and all that. Perhaps we should take a holiday to the country.”

  Go away on holiday and let the humans die? That would be typical of the undead, though they may want to keep an eye on their real estate investments, and their food supply. I was counting on that.

  “Going to war with whom?” The Boss asked.

  “The each uisge,” I said.

  Well that shut them up. Dusty closed his mouth so fast that a puff of face powder formed a mini cloud around his head.

  “How did you come to be involved with this matter?” The Boss asked. “Whom do you represent?”

  I had debated my reply to that question while sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable chair. I could go with shock value and answer that I represented a demon. I did, in fact, work for Forneus who, in turn, worked for the kelpies. After twenty butt numbing minutes, I’d decided that it would be best not to mention demons or other powerful allies such as the merrow. I needed an ace up my sleeve and I didn’t trust vampires.

  Vampires are the worst sort of monsters. They possess all three personality traits of the Dark Triad: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy. What was there to trust?

  No, I had decided that my best option was to keep things simple and hold my cards close to the chest. But the vamps were long-time inhabitants of Harborsmouth. There were some details, such as my friendship with Madam Kaye and my work at the psychic detective agency, that would not have escaped their notice. I figured a salting of easily known facts would give my story the spice of truth, without making it obvious that I wasn’t revealing everything I knew about the case.

  “I have the gift of psychometry and use this talent in my private investigations business,” I said.

  “Yes, yes,” Dusty said. “We know all about ‘Private Eye’ and it’s horribly tacky sign.”

  The Boss gave him a look which made the fop shut up and slouch lower in his high-backed chair. Dusty’s wig, of course, still won the ribbon for highest item at the table.

  “Pardon the interruption,” The Boss said. He pulled his face into a wider grin that revealed another inch of fang. “Please continue.”

  Thank Mab, my pockets were filled with sharp pencils. Those fangs had to be over three inches long. I scratched at my side, keeping my hand within easy reach of my improvised stakes. My other hand nestled in my pocket, gripping the lighter like it was the Holy Grail.

  “I was hired by a local clan of kelpies to help them retrieve an item using my special skills,” I said. “I discovered that a pack of each uisge had stolen the item in question. During my investigation, I also became aware of the intent of the each uisge to invade Harborsmouth.”

  “And what would you have us do?” The Boss asked.

  “I am here, as a potential friend and ally, to warn you that the each uisge army will be invading soon,” I said. “They have already hunted and killed over fifty humans in our area and will probably begin their attack at the docks within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. My hope is that you will want to protect your real estate investments and your, um, blood supply by standing with us to defend the city.”

  The vamps were so quiet that I figured they were planning how best to serve me, and my blood, for dinner. Maybe, if I was particularly unlucky, they’d feed me to one of their pet ghouls. Wouldn’t Stinky be a happy boy.

  I waited, thumb on the strike of the lighter, ready to serve up these vamps extra crispy. I’d start with Dusty. That wig was bound to go up like napalm.

  “Your heart is racing,” The Boss said. “There is no need to worry. We immortals do not come to decisions as rashly as humans. Give us a moment to converse.”

  Vamps could communicate telepathically? That was news to me. Having Dusty rattle on inside your brain with his inane chatter, for all eternity, would be torture. It was no wonder that Shorty despised him.

  I took a slow breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, trying to cal
m my racing heart. My pounding pulse probably sounded like I was ringing a dinner bell. I so didn’t need that kind of trouble.

  I focused my gaze on the top of Dusty’s wig and waited for the vamps to so much as twitch. When they came out of their telepathic huddle, Shorty nodded and Dusty shrugged.

  “Our servants will keep close watch at the docks,” The Boss said. “When the battle begins, we will assist the kelpies in an effort to defend our own interests. However, we make no promises of allegiance. Also, keep in mind that our kind will go no further than the storefronts on the land side of the waterfront.”

  Right, I knew that vampires couldn’t cross moving water. It made sense that they would stay clear of the actual docks and pier. The ocean would make them vulnerable if they got too close. They may be motivated to protect their own selfish interests, but wouldn’t go out of their way risk their own safety. Vamps weren’t altruistic—far from it.

  But I tried to sound gracious. Hanging out with Kaye was finally rubbing off. The old woman could be gruff when she wanted too, but was always polite when making a deal. In fact, it was when she was most frightening.

  “That’s generous of you,” I said. “Now, I need to return to The Emporium and make preparations.”

  “You may take your leave of us, this time,” The Boss said. “My servant will see you out.”

  Shorty started chuckling an evil, raspy laugh and Dusty tittered.

  Whatever. It was time to go and I didn’t have patience for vamp theatrics.

  “Later,” I said.

  I stood and strode to the heavy doors which swooshed open as I approached. Stinky held the door for me as I left the brilliance of the banquet hall. The doors shut on my heels, thrusting me into the dark and near blindness. Not bothering to wait for my eyes to adjust to the gloom, I followed the bump-drag sound, and stench, of the ghoul servant as he led the way to the exit.

  Chapter 17