Blood Work (30 page)

The girl
tumbled to the ground, limp and trying hard to get up. Martin
kicked her in the stomach, legs or chest whenever she got close to
standing.

Erin could
barely breathe for the severe pounding of her heart. She’d never
witnessed anything so ruthlessly violent. Even the image of Hawkins
punching into Jessica Harrington had nothing on the sheer psychotic
malevolence on display here. Flashes of being in Martin’s arms, of
surrendering her body to this man, made Erin’s stomach churn.

Hawkins
shifted slightly. He reached for his dropped weapons blindly, but
the moment his hands hit them, his fingers closed around them and
he was on his feet. Lips peeling back from his teeth, he vented a
wild, blood chilling growl and launched himself at Martin’s back.
He wasn’t as fast as either Martin or the girl, but he was a
whirlwind of action, tearing into the larger man with bloody single
mindedness.

“Damn,”
Roberts snapped and pelted toward the fight.

Erin
hesitated, then followed. She had no clear idea why, but she did it
all the same. Roberts stopped a dozen yards back and dropped to one
knee, gun lifted as he sighted down its barrel. Erin reached him
just as he pulled the trigger. It made a faint pop and pffft sound
and a moment later, paint splattered over the wall behind Martin
and Hawkins. Roberts fired again, missed again. Erin looked from
the gun to the obviously one sided fight. Hawkins wasn’t going to
last much longer. His left leg was nearly giving out on him with
each lunge even if he didn’t seem to realise it.

“Give it
here,” she snapped and jerked the gun from Roberts.

Before he
could protest, she lifted the gun, aimed and put a paint splot on
Martin’s chest. He howled and steam began to rise from his sizzling
clothes. Erin’s chest burst into fire. She gasped and doubled over,
dropping the gun to clutch at her breasts. It felt like acid eating
into her skin. White hot pain lanced through her head, blinded her.
She hit the ground hard.

Breathing was
torture. Better that she stop, but her body was ruthless. It
demanded more air and be damned the pain. Her lungs were shrivelled
lumps of coal, her heart seared beyond use. She was going to die in
agony. She didn’t want to die like this.

“Erin! Erin,
listen to me. You’re not dying. You’re not in pain. Come on, hear
me.”

Hands touched
her. She felt them as vague, faint sensations. They stroked her
cheeks, down her neck and over her shoulders. Then they shamelessly
explored her chest, the curve of her breasts, the valley between,
down her ribs to her abdomen.

“You’re fine,
Erin. It’s an illusion only. Your mind is still linked to his. It’s
his pain you’re feeling. You don’t need to feel it. Look at me,
Erin. Open your eyes, sweetheart. Look at me.”

She did.
Hawkins’ face swirled into uneasy focus. He smiled at her.

“That’s it.
You’re okay.”

But his lips
didn’t move. She heard him, but he didn’t speak. His hands cradled
her face, fingertips moving slowly, soothingly over her temples.
Eyes narrowing, he stared into her again and as had happened
earlier, it seemed as if he reached out and touched her.

The pain
vanished as if it had never been. She jerked with the sudden
release, gasping for air. Hawkins caught her before she could roll
away from him. He lifted her into a sitting position, leaning
against his chest.

“Long, deep
breaths,” he said and this time his voice came into her head
through her ears. “Don’t hyperventilate. You’ve had a shock, that’s
all. You’ll be fine.”

“How is she?”
Roberts knelt beside them.

“She’ll be
fine. Martínez had laid a serious whammy on her. I broke it.”

Roberts
whistled, low and impressed. “That’s new. When did you discover you
could do that?”

“Just
now.”

With a
frustrated groan, Roberts stood again. “The kid’s fine. A bit
woozy, but I think she’s just drunk on Martínez. She got a stomach
full. Any idea what that’s going to do to her?”

Erin, pulling
in long, deep breaths, looked between them. Got a stomach full of
what? Drunk on Martínez?

“Ixnay on the
shop talk,” Hawkins muttered to Roberts, slanting a sidelong glance
at Erin that she caught in the corner of her eye.

“Right. Sorry.
I’ll get the kid and head back to the car.”

Hawkins sighed
as Roberts walked away. He shifted behind Erin and stretched his
left leg out. “How you feeling now?” he asked softly.

Erin swallowed
several times, trying to find her voice. “Really confused.”

“I bet. It’ll
all look better in the morning, trust me. The night can do weird
things to your perception. I think Martínez dropped something in
your drink.”

“I didn’t
drink anything he gave me.”

“More than one
way to drug a person. You got someone to take you home?”

She slumped
back. “I left home. I’m sleeping at the office.”

“Well then,
got someone to take you back to the office?”

Roberts and
the girl walked past. Roberts had one hand on her arm, but the girl
slowed down and watched Erin from narrowed eyes. The girl’s clothes
were very much the worse for wear, she limped severely, there were
cuts and abrasions all over her bared skin and blood dribbled from
the corner of her mouth. It was a bad sight, but considering the
pounding she’d taken, not nearly as bad as it should have been. She
had enough energy to snarl at Erin.

“Go to the
car,” Hawkins snapped.

The girl
flinched and went with Roberts silently, but looking over her
shoulder the entire way until they vanished around the corner.

“Who is she?”
Erin asked.

“Do you think
you can stand now?”

“Still
avoiding answering questions.”

“It’s a
talent. Come on. We should move before Martínez comes back.”

There seemed
little choice. Erin and Hawkins helped each other to stand and then
staggered toward the brighter lights of Ann Street together.

“I want you to
stop your investigation,” Hawkins said as they turned onto the busy
street.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Erin stopped
and leaned against a light pole. “Professional integrity. I
promised my client I’d find you. And look, here you are.”

“Who’s your
client?”

Gone was the
flirty, happy man of lunch time. Here was a bruised and cut man,
deadly serious.

“That’s
confidential.”

A faint shadow
of that smile she’d fallen for before flashed across his face, but
it was cold, bitter. “Of all people, I should be allowed to know
that.”

“Her name’s
Heather Veilchen. She says you stole something from her.”

Hawkins
frowned. “Don’t know the name. What does she look like?”

Erin described
her. He shook his head. “No bells ringing. Drop the case. It’s too
much for you.”

His words
sparked heat in her aching chest. “Too much for me? I found
you.”

“By dangling
yourself as bait in a trap laid for me by someone who makes Jack
the Ripper look like a freaking saint. You nearly died tonight. You
nearly died yesterday. You’re in too deep, Erin. Let it go.”

He began to
turn away. She grabbed his arm and pulled on it as hard as she
could. He was tired and hurt and it nearly toppled him over.

“Damn it,
woman. Let it go. Let me go.” He caught the light pole over her
head and steadied himself. “I’m too dangerous for you. Quit the
case.”

“Fuck you,”
she snapped. If he was going to be an arsehole, then she could be a
bitch. “The case is over. I’ve found you. Just come to my office
and meet Veilchen. It’s all I ask. Then I’ll walk out of your life
forever.”

That gave him
pause. He studied her face, thankfully not meeting her eyes for
more than a second at any one time. After a long moment, he
nodded.

“Okay. I’ll
meet with her. If it’ll get you out of my hair.”

Something
eased inside of her. She was happy to see this case coming to an
end. It had been different from her usual load of following
cheating spouses or hunting lost relatives named in wills, but
different didn’t mean good. Wearily, she pulled a battered card
from a pocket and held it out.

“I’ll set it
up for tomorrow. Any particular time?”

His lips
twitched into that bitter reflection of his great smile as he took
the card. “High noon. I like the sunlight.”

“Can you give
me a number to contact you on in case I can’t get Veilchen
there?”

He patted down
his many pockets in pants and camouflage jacket. “Sorry, all outa
business cards. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.” Then he did
give her that smile again, wide and sparkling. She almost slapped
it off his face.

Hawkins spun
and walked away.

“Erin!”

Ivan barrelled
right into her. They both would have gone sprawling if she hadn’t
still had hold of the light pole. Brad appeared a moment behind
Ivan, smiling in relief.

“What happened
to you?” Ivan demanded. “Where did you go? Was that him? He showed
up? My God, and he’s just walking away? What’s going on?”

Erin put a
hand over Ivan’s mouth. “It was him, and yes, he’s walking away. We
have a meeting tomorrow at twelve. He’s agreed to meet
Veilchen.”

“You look like
you’ve just come out of the wrong end of a train tunnel,” Brad
said, looking her over. “What happened?”

Sighing, Erin
slipped in between them, using them for support. “I’ll tell you on
the way home.” And she would, but it would be severely edited. She
didn’t think they’d believe half of what she’d seen. Or thought
she’d seen. Even now, the details were slipping from her mind.

“Oh, guess
what?” Ivan didn’t wait for her reply. “We saw Mercy Belique. She
walked right past us. No one’s seen her around in so long, we
almost didn’t think it was her.”

More to
distract her reeling thoughts than out of any real interest, Erin
asked, “Who’s this Mercy person?”

“She used to
be really famous around the local clubs and pubs. Lead singer of
this all girl band called Nasty Kitten. They did mostly covers. She
had this voice that could bring down brick walls it was that
powerful.”

“Maybe she’s
planning a comeback,” Brad mused. “She had a bodyguard with her, so
maybe she thinks she might need one soon.”

Things began
shifting in Erin’s tired mind. “Bodyguard?”

“Yeah, guy in
a dark suit with a rifle shaped bulge under his jacket. Kept a hand
on her arm and made sure no one got too close to her. Hightailed it
up Ann Street like he didn’t want anyone recognising them.”

Because he
probably didn’t. Erin had to ask. “What was she wearing?”

Ivan snorted.
“Not a lot. Little skirt, torn stockings, great big boots.”

“Shit,” Erin
muttered. “Somehow, I don’t this case is as finished as I thought
it was.”

Mercy sulked on the way home.
Either that or she really was spaced out on a Martínez high. I left
her to it and tallied up the new wounds. The total was starting to
get depressing.

“So, that was
her, huh?” Roberts said as we hurtled north on the Gateway.

“Her who?” Of
course I knew who he meant. But a little bit of intentional
cluelessness was always good at steering nosey friends away from
thinking that you liked someone. At least it had been when I went
to school.

“Idiot. She’s
got guts. Tore the gun right out of my hands and hit him first
try.”

“Ex-cop and
you’re a useless shot. You need to get to the range if you want to
keep coming along on these excursions.”

Roberts almost
choked. “Can you pronounce senility? Cause, you’re getting it.
Check my phone logs. You’re the one who called me, remember?”

“You’re the
one who offered to stick around in town and help out.”

“I meant I
would hold your coat while you did manly battle. Not save your
cranky arse from a well-deserved whooping. Which brings me to my
next point of contention. What was with all the strutting at the
start there? Why did he let us get your girl out of the way before
going all Jackie Chan on you?”

I eased down
in the seat, trying to adjust my legs so my knee wouldn’t cramp.
“If you remember correctly, it was Mercy who made the first move.
He doesn’t actually want me or Mercy dead. Terrified and liable to
make mistakes, yes, but dead, not so much. I think he wants us so
he can study why Mercy is the way she is. If he can make more
vampires as strong as she is as quickly, then he’s got an advantage
over the rest of them. That’s my working hypothesis, anyway. Aurum
seemed to think we’d reached saturation point with the damage we
could incur on the local clans before they took serious note of us,
but I’m not sure. If that were the case, Big Red woulda painted
that street with us, not just played around.” Cutting him a glare,
I added, “And she’s not my girl.”

Roberts
snorted, but he shut up for a while. I twisted around to look at
Mercy. My nasty kitten slouched against the door and stared out
into the night. She looked sad and a little lost. What was she
thinking? Was she thinking? Or had she just shut down because I
hadn’t given her command? Damn Aurum and his meddling. I thought I
had her all sorted out before he showed up.

“How you
doing, Merce?” I asked gently.

Mercy ignored
me, just kept staring out the window.

The look she’d
given Erin hadn’t cheered me up at all. It was a look previously
reserved for the nastier things in life; ghouls, enemy vampires,
clotted blood. I can’t say it was a welcome revelation. Having a
relationship outside of work, something personal and separate,
hadn’t really occurred to me before. Guess I’d just relegated it
into the pile of things I would never do again since Mercy crashed
head long into my life. Like go to the Caribbean for a sunny summer
holiday. Not that I had done that previously, but the chance had
always been there. Now, it would probably be cold showers all the
way.