Blood & Spirits (9 page)

Jacobi‘s tone changes and he smiles at me. “It is no secret that I favor you, but there are those here who do not share my thoughts and feelings when it comes to you. Do not forget that what binds us as a council is more than what we are, but who we are. This is why you are not afforded a voice. You are an orphan in a room of three families. While we all respect the one who made you, you are not his family, only his blood. That will only carry you so far on our good graces. Tread lightly, child, the ice is thin.”

***

The business of pleasure is in full force, and proving to be quite lucrative this evening. Julie has gone through all the wine she had prepped for the night, and now she’s heading down the stairs to the basement to get a few more bottles.

Looking over her list she hits the bottom step and turns right, fumbles with her keys, finds the right one, and opens the door to the climate controlled wine storage closet.

She thought it was funny that the thirty by thirty pressurized room, with its stainless steel skin, was called a closet. She knows the contents of this closet, as well or better than the contents of her clothes closet, so it takes only a few scant moments for her to load an empty wooden box with the eight bottles on her list.

A smile breaks across her face as she thinks about what she’s doing, the responsibilities she has. It’s a long way from the high school dropout, country girl turning tricks at truck stops she’d been, not all that long ago. Fine wine and designer clothes trump beer from the discount bin and motel towels every time. This place, her work, and V. Smiling seemed like the natural thing to do.

She closes the door behind her, ready to head back up, and starts looking for the key to lock back up behind her, when she feels a tingle up her spine. Her breath puffs out in front of her, as the temperature takes a sudden dip.

She has a feeling of eyes on her, and the hair on her arms stands straight up. She stands motionless and listens.

There’s a ripping sound behind her, making her whip around and freak out a little at the ghostly form standing before her.

Waving her hands, she tries to fight off a panic attack. “Lucy, why do you sneak up on people like that?”

Lucy tilts her head slightly, considering the question before ignoring it, saying that she was here to talk to Veronica. Julie explains to her that V had a ‘family meeting’ to attend tonight because she thinks a new bloodsucker may be in town. This news only seems to add to Lucy’s terse mood.

“I need you to deliver a message to Veronica.” She says it with such sternness that Julie feels compelled, to her core, to do what is being asked of her. “I now have reason to believe that Rachel actually is being hunted by a veritable army of unquiet spirits. I have confirmed through sources in the Baron’s service that these spirits are definitely the ones who killed Rachel, and I now know that they have also been looking for her, ruthlessly.”

The room starts to fade for Julie, lost completely in the glow Lucy is radiating, her face becoming the only focus of vision, her words overpowering the ability to think.

“I believe that this Paco creature has Rachel.” Lucy’s contempt at even the sound of his name is palpable. ”Perhaps to help hide her, perhaps to give to the spirits to buy himself protection. It’s of no concern to me why he might have her, only that he not be allowed to continue to hold her, if he has her. Veronica needs to know he’s a player in this.”

“I think I understand all that.” Julie has a lot of respect for Lucy, even if she isn’t as in tune with dead things as V is. “I’ll tell her when she gets back. We’ve all been really worried about Rachel.”

“Tell her that I am going to try to acquire Rachel, if he has her. There are forces on many sides that may try to stop me. If I am not successful, she has to make sure Rachel is located and protected.”

“I understand.” Julie barely utters the somber words before she’s gone. Standing alone in the basement, she’s now aware of how much darker it is in the wake of Lucy’s disappearance. She’s sure she’ll never completely adjust to some parts of her life working for V.

Something brushes against her leg. Looking down, she sees a black cat, tail flicking, rubbing around her feet. She picks it up and scratches its head. “Aren’t you precious?”

The cat begins to purr as she carries it back up the stairs with her, talking to it in baby talk. “You look like the cat out by V’s other house. Yes you do. Must be your sister, huh? Yeah. You want some milk?”

THE RUNDOWN HOUSES ON MLK
sit close enough together that a person almost has to turn sideways to walk between them. It’s obvious if you look at them closely that they all once looked fairly similar, but years of rot, patchwork repairs, and odd colors of paint bought at discount prices have made them each their own individual train wreck.

Frank stands on the front porch of the widow Moran’s house and tries to help her restrain her pit bull as it attempts to flee into the night. Once the dog is contained behind the storm door, he wishes her goodnight and walks the eight feet to his car, checking to make sure no one molested it while he was inside.

He still drives the unmarked sedan he’d bought and used when he was on the force. Most people in a neighborhood like this would be less likely to go after a car they thought a cop was driving. They didn’t need the attention.

Jennifer Moran had very little in the way of helpful information, but she did say one thing that Frank had a hard time not rolling over and over in his mind. ‘Mikey was finally making good money since he went to work driving for that Hocker guy.’ He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore, at least not the kind that lined bad people up together. She had to have been talking about Calvin.

He puts the car in gear and heads in the direction of fast food. His stomach demanded that he eat, no matter how hard he was working.

Sitting in the drive thru, his phone lit up. It was Lewis. This was perfect; he could ask him about the Hocker connection and honestly try to pull him back off of V.

Flipping open the phone, he dives in. “I was just thinking about you, Dave. And before you ask, you were fully dressed in all my thoughts. Well, all of them this time.”

“And just what put me on your mind?”

“Well, I just came from the Moran house. And Jenny said the strangest thing. I’m sure you have it in your note from when you or your people talked to her, but it struck me as odd that she’s says Mikey was working with Hocker. You don’t think she meant Calvin, do you?” He was being a smartass, and Lewis could hear his smile through the phone.

“You got me. I didn’t know about that connection. I’ll have to drop by and ask her about that tomorrow. That’s a good lead, man, thanks.”

Now he was ready to pick the fight. “So now you can ease up off Ms. Fischer, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I guess if this pans out then I won’t have to talk to her after all.”

Frank knew this wasn’t right. He had something else on his mind. Normally he’d bark loud and long at the mention of V’s name and now he was just going along with the tip, with no question of the motive for it.

“Now that I’ve given you the news tip of the year, why don’t you tell me why you were calling? Lonely?” Being bubbly and jovial might draw more out than just pointing out how obvious he’s being.

“I just wanted to touch base with you, that’s all.”And now there was a nervous tone in his voice. Either he was calling for a date, or he needed a favor.

“We both know that’s a lie, now don’t we? Did you need something?” Pushing a little harder, but trying not to start a fight.

“Well, there is this one thing. I wouldn’t bring it up, but I’ve got next to nothing on it, and you usually work magic with cases like this.”

And there it was. Frank was swelling with a smug feeling of importance. His old partner had come to him for help, was starting to count on his assistance again.

“Tell me what about it. What’s the case?”

Lewis answers with a clear hesitation in his voice. “It’s vandalism at St. Joseph’s cemetery. Someone thought it would be a good idea to dig up a grave and run off with a body. To make matters worse, it was a child’s body.”

“Why is it so urgent for you?”

“Because it’s gonna be in the paper in the morning that a little girl’s body was dug up stolen from the cemetery. C’mon, Frank, you remember what this is like. I have to wrap this up and put it to bed fast. People are already up my ass to have this solved.”

“Is she from a good family or recently deceased; what’s the angle on it?”

“No, she’s not connected to anyone, the church paid for her plot. Name was Rachel Gregory. Died a little over a year back. No family.” I can tell he’s looking at his notes. “She was living with her aunt, who died in a trailer fire. She was found about a week later badly beaten and half eaten, in a field. She didn’t even make the paper then, but now that she got dug up, now she’s news.”

All Frank can think now is how badly V’s going to take this, and hope she wouldn’t blow up on him. He had to tell her before she saw it in the news though.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll look around and ask some questions, see what I can find.”

Lewis sighs. “Thanks. Anything you can do is appreciated.”

“Yeah. No problem. I gotta go.” His reply is somewhat vacant, but Lewis doesn’t even notice. He hangs up and stares at the phone for a second and then at his tacos getting cold. He didn’t want to call her, but he knew it had to be done.

He hits the green button, and says a little prayer in his head.

***

I don’t remember falling asleep. Stress has become a constant mountain climb. Tired isn’t an option, and as long as I don’t know where Rachel is and people are out to tear me down or annihilate me outright, neither is real rest.

I got home near dawn and locked myself in my room with the do not disturb sign on the door. The last time I looked at the clock it was two in the afternoon, and now it’s seven at night. How the time flies. I’m on my bed, still covered in the musty books Gus let me borrow, a haphazard record of all of our kind he’s encountered over the last century. Jacobi would shit diamonds if he even knew these books existed, let alone that I had them here.

Going over all these names, the active dead and those who are no more, I can find no mention of anyone outside myself that has the ability to completely remove memories from people’s minds. Others can alter memories, even Jacobi can do that, but remove someone’s mind entirely, their essence? No one. At least none Gus knows of, firsthand or in rumor.

Wandering into the bathroom I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The next morning is never as glamorous, but damn. My hair looks like I’ve been in a hurricane.

I turn on the water as hot as I can stand it and start the shower. I need this so very bad, to look vaguely like myself again, and to feel at least a little more relaxed.

Slipping out of my clothes, I’m already experiencing something I haven’t in a long time: shower anticipation. I really can’t wait to get in the hot water, and just let it pour over me for at least an hour.

I almost can’t stand it but I know I need to take the time to get the room ready. Avoiding the mirror I get scented candles, incense, and turn on some soft music to help ease my tension.

Setting up my scrubs, fragrance mist, thick soft robe, and towels for proper pampering once I’m out, I catch a look at myself again. I have to hurry and get in so I don’t do that again.

Pulling back the curtain the steam hits me like a wall, a warm wall of heavenly goodness, enfolding me as I step onto the stone floor of the shower.

I take a deep breath, in through the nose, and then slowly out through the mouth, trying to let the stress flow out with it. Trying to clear my mind of everything, I put a generous amount of my lavender and chamomile scented body wash on my loofah. This is how life should be.

Then there’s a fracture, a break in my calming little bubble. I hear my phone ringing. I do my best to ignore it, and it stops. They’ll leave a voice mail and I’ll check it later.

It starts ringing again. I can barely contain myself, saying aloud, “I’m in the shower. Really?”

I unwillingly force my body out of the cascading paradise to pick up the phone as it starts ringing the third time. It’s Frank. This must be important or he wouldn’t keep blowing up my phone. It slips out of my hand and pops open on the tile floor.

As I bend down to pick it up it occurs to me I might not want water inside my phone, so I grab a towel and dry my hands. This is becoming too much effort.

I put the battery back in, and click the phone together. Waiting while it powers up and comes on, I dry off the rest of me. I should turn off the shower but I just can’t bring myself to give up on it yet.

As soon as the screen tells me the phone is ready for use it rings again. This time I open it and answer. “I assume Armageddon is at hand, the way you’re calling me.”

Frank’s voice is steady and calm. “V, we need to talk.”

There’s immediately a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. No good conversation in the history of human speech has ever started that way. Apparently there will be no shower or relaxation.

“Just talk.”

Frank chooses his words carefully, speaking softly and slowly. ”I was doing some leg work tonight on the Moran murder situation, and I found out that Mikey had been working with Calvin Hocker.”

I can hear in his voice that there is more that he’s trying to figure out how to say. “Continue.”

“I called Lewis, and you’re off the hook there. He’s following up the Hocker lead. But while I was on the phone with him he asked if I’d do him a favor.” He pauses, and that’s enough for me to know that the favor is the problem.

“What? Does he want you to spy on me or something?” The thought disgusted me; what could be worse?

“It’s gonna be in the paper tomorrow, and likely on the news tonight. They’re calling it vandalism right now, but someone dug up and stole a body from St. Joe’s. The police have no leads, and Lewis asked if I’d help him out.”

 Another long pause. I don’t know where this is going, but I’m already sure I don’t like it.