Past Due (3 page)

Next she went into the sitting room and sat in what looked like Sylvia’s chair. The memories from such a frequently used chair overwhelmed her for a moment and Frankie clutched the arms of the chair as she fought a wave of vertigo. She swallowed down the bile in her throat and tried to sift through the memories.

Sylvia fought with her mother a lot over the phone. The last thing she’d watched had been BBC News 24, just before heading to bed; she was looking forward to Sunday with her boyfriend, she was going to cook for him. They’d made love on, in and over this chair a few times.

When she could take no more, Frankie literally fell out of the chair onto the floor. This psychic business was exhausting. She could feel her hands trembling and rummaged in her bag for a chocolate bar. Sugar always helped when she felt like this.

A few minutes later she felt better. The thought that she still had to do this again at the first crime scene wasn’t very comforting.

Trying to put off the inevitable, Frankie wandered around the apartment, touching various surfaces and ornaments. She opened the wardrobe and touched the clothes, the cosmetics on her dressing table, her bedding. She didn’t get much more information than she already had and finally called it a day.

As she drove to the first crime scene, she went over everything she'd learned to cement it in her memory.

The apartment was just as she remembered it from last night. First she tried touching the symbols on the walls again and got the very faint, indistinct impression again. Nothing useful in those impressions and it frightened her that who or whatever was doing this was very different from anything she had encountered before. Soulless.

She knelt down by the blood stains on the floor and touched them again. Just like she remembered from last night, Kerry had not seen her attacker. She hadn't looked back even once, almost as though she didn’t want to.

Kerry didn’t have a message board but she did have a fridge. There were a few photographs taken in a dark nightclub, (she’d worked there when she was a student) a half complete shopping list (she liked Sainsbury’s) and a recipe torn from a magazine (to impress her mother when she came to visit).

Kerry didn’t have a junk drawer but Frankie found a box in the living room that held similar things. Bills, takeout menus, an address book, a few instruction manuals, some business cards, more photos. She went through each item again and paused at the photographs. Everyone was wearing black and dark makeup. Gothic. Like the impression she’d got from a pack of matches from Sylvia’s flat.

Frankie concentrated on each photo, hoping one of them held the memory of a name. One did - Dante’s.

She had her first link between the victims. It could be a coincidence, she was sure a lot of people had gone to that club, and Sylvia wasn’t a regular visitor whereas Kerry had worked there and still went regularly.

Frankie still had to check it out though and made up her mind to visit the club tonight.

She checked the rest of the apartment. She didn’t discover much more about Kerry, but she did realise from Kerry’s wardrobe that her own wardrobe was sadly lacking if she wanted to blend into the Goth scene.

Will ran a hand through his dishevelled blonde hair.

“
You’ll need to do more than that before the press conference,” DS Mike Wilson told him.

“
Yeah,” he agreed. He was tired and worried. Frankie was as sharp as a tack; always had been. He hadn't been surprised when MI5 had suggested she apply for a job but he hadn't liked the idea either. Cops and spies didn’t mix well. If he was honest, he was a little jealous of their ability to circumvent the law while he was stuck within its limits, but mostly he hated their superior attitude.

It was something the whole force understood, you almost picked it up by osmosis even if you’d never encountered them before. And whenever investigations did intersect, MI5 didn’t disappoint.

He trusted Frankie, though they had only been together for 6 months. She’d been secretive and he was sure she lied to him about her problems. She hadn't told him she’d accepted a job with MI5 and he was fairly sure she hadn't intended to tell him she was leaving.

Well, he had never said trusting her was rational.

He also had a feeling that rather than helping him, he had just made his life much harder when he accepted her offer.

Unwilling to buy a new gothic outfit, Frankie donned her usual black jeans and a dark shirt. She considered wearing dark makeup but she didn’t have any black and figured trying to be someone she wasn’t would only make her stand out more.

She considered telling Will where she was going but if she found the killer, she didn’t want the police getting in the way; they’d only get hurt.

She emailed her boss in London giving him an update and telling him her plans for tonight. Now if she went missing, at least someone would know where she’d gone.

Alex was pacing his office. He had a lot to do tonight and wasn’t sure where to start.

His first instinct was to stay at the club and watch over its patrons but he couldn’t watch them all every night. If he wanted to keep his patrons safe his best bet was to find the killer. He needed to see the crime scenes, see what he could find there. Perhaps it was an ex-lover they shared, or a friend. If he could find some proof of a connection he would at least have a lead.

First however, he needed to show his face at the club. He was always there and if he began acting differently now, people would notice.

When Dante’s had been renovated, Alex had had half the first floor taken out, meaning from the other half, where his office sat above the storeroom he could look down over his club. It was packed tonight.

He stood on the landing and surveyed his domain. He knew it was cheesy to feel that way about a club but he liked it. He didn’t need to explain himself to anyone.

Even though the club was dark his eyesight was good enough to see into every corner. He concentrated on hearing individual conversations. No one seemed to have realised both murdered girls had come here. Yet.

He spotted her the moment she entered and knew immediately she wasn’t just another patron. First of all he hadn't seen her before, secondly, she didn’t look like a Goth, Emo or freak and finally, she had a mission. He could tell from her demeanour that she wasn’t just bar hopping.

He reached out with his mind and touched her life force, smiling when he realised she wasn’t quite human. He wondered what had brought her here, checking up on a boyfriend, perhaps? If so, he pitied the girl he was found with.

Ordinarily he would enjoy getting to know her, discovering her secrets, coaxing her into his bed. As it was, he only had time to make sure she wasn’t a threat.

He descended into the bar and began his usual round of meet and greet; one of the less appealing aspects of his job, unless he was hungry.

The club wasn’t as loud or as dark as she’d thought it would be. In her experience of clubs the volume levels were deafening but here, while the music was loud, a conversation could be had without shouting. The lighting was provided using uplighters and diffused light sources but the result was subdued lighting rather than darkness. There were also no strobe lights or glitter balls - always a good thing in Frankie’s book.

She liked it

She decided to start with the bar staff. Just like the impression she had gotten from the victims' belongings, it seemed Kerry was a regular but Sylvia had only been in a few times. Some didn’t even recognise Sylvia. For a large tip they told her who both girls had been seen with. The list for Kerry was much longer than for Sylvia but none had any matching names. Kerry knew a lot of people since she’d worked here, but she tended to stay with the same group these days.

When she handed the money over, Frankie was careful to touch them, to make sure they were telling her the truth.

She stood at the bar, wondering who to question next when the hair on the back of her neck stood up as someone came up behind her.

A side effect of her gift was that she could sense what she described as auras - peoples' energy. She couldn’t actually see their memories without touching them but she’d learned early on that some people had different auras. As she had grown up she’d discovered why, getting herself into a few tight spots as a result.

She had sensed a few supernatural creatures when she’d walked in but there were so many people here it had been hard to determine how many or what they were.

But now that he was standing right behind her, there was no mistaking that this supernatural creature was a vampire.

Chapter Two

While Frankie knew vampires existed, she had never actually spoken to one, surprising given her line of work. She wasn’t foolish enough to think it was because they were sweet and cuddly law abiding citizens - rather that they had learned to cover up their crimes. MI5’s policy was that if it didn’t come to the public’s attention, it wasn’t their business to investigate. Besides it was hard to investigate a crime when you didn’t have any evidence.

All this flashed through her mind as she wondered what to do next. She could tell he was right behind her, waiting for her to turn around. Well, Frankie wasn’t one to run from a challenge.

Nor did she like doing what was expected of her. “Can I help you?” she called back over her shoulder as she sipped on her water.

“
I hear you’ve been asking questions.” Alex could tell she sensed danger because her heartbeat began to race when he came up behind her but how could she tell and how much did she know? He found himself looking forward to meeting her, to the challenge. His staff had already told him she was asking questions, she was a definite threat to him and being a fellow supernatural being, possibly a big threat.

“
What’s it to you?” she asked, still not turning to face him, letting him see she wasn’t afraid. You only turn your back on things you aren’t afraid of, right?

Alex smiled. “I’m the owner of this establishment. Perhaps I can help you.”

A vampire owned a bar? Frankie had never given any thought to how they earned a living before.

As owner he could certainly help her investigation, as a vampire he was definitely dangerous. She began to feel overwhelmed by being so close to that many auras at once and having psychically read everyone she’d spoken to. She needed sugar, plus she had the added fear of having a vampire at her back. She was beginning to hate the loud music thumping through the club, making it even harder for her to think straight.

She turned and headed to a vacant table, calling “You coming?” over her shoulder.

Frankie watched him closely as he sat opposite her. He was just shy of 6 feet tall, long wavy brown hair that sat on his collar. He was handsome, she supposed, surprised that she even made such observations any more, and he was charismatic. She felt drawn to him without really knowing why.

With a little dismay she realised he was dressed almost identically to her, in black jeans and a dark shirt.

Until now Alex hadn't been able to get a clear look at the stranger's face. But when he sat across from the table and he finally got to see her eyes he was momentarily stunned. She hid it well, but he could see all the pain she carried and he had a sudden overwhelming need to protect her. He pushed that thought aside. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.

She met his gaze, challenging it almost, and even in this poor light she could see his irises change from light blue to dark. She could feel the calm that washed over her and relaxed her. It felt nice, comforting.

“
What are you?” he asked. His voice was rich but his accent completely neutral, without any regional or class inflections she could discern.

Frankie wanted to answer him but part of her knew she shouldn’t, remembered that he was a threat to her. She blinked a few times. “Oh no! You do not pull that Jedi mind shit with me!” she snarled, waving a finger at him, her anger covering her fear that she had almost succumbed to it.

Contrary to what she expected, he laughed as though she’d told him a joke.

“
Jedi mind shit?” he asked. When Frankie didn’t reply he continued. “I’ve never heard it called that before. I think I like it.”

“
I’m so pleased.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“
Are you always this charming?” he asked, raising an amused eyebrow. He should be angry that she could defy him, instead he felt thrilled. She was different, and when you’d been around as long as Alex had, different was good.

“
Yes.”

He sighed. “I will never understand modern women.”

“
Did you understand old fashioned women then?”

“
I suppose not.” He grinned. “Why don’t we take this somewhere more private, where we can speak freely?”

To anyone else, Alex noted, she would appear perfectly calm, but his eyes could pick up the tension in her jaw, the twitch in her fingers as she stopped herself balling them into fists. He could also see her desire in her eyes. She was interested in him, but cautious. Very cautious. He would have to handle her with kid gloves.

“
I’ve heard that one before.”

He shook his head. “So cynical,” he mused sadly, hailing a passing waitress. “Sarah, we’re going up to my office, if we aren’t back in thirty minutes please call 999 and tell them a young woman is being attacked in my office.”