Vampire State of Mind (10 page)

The next day should have been my day off, as near as I could calculate with our weird shift patterns. I'd been looking forward to a lie-in and some therapeutic window-shopping, but after the events of the previous couple of days, and given the number of Otherworlders still wafting around our streets like unwanted relatives at a wedding, we'd decided it was better to keep the office staffed. But, because we were
never
, in any possible version of the universe, going to get overtime, we worked pretty much in spirit, rather than body.

At one o'clock I left Liam reading his latest
Doctor Who
magazine and headed out of the office in search of lunch. Almost immediately Malfaire was beside me. I might have suspected him of lying in wait, if I hadn't had the world's tiniest ego, and most of that had seeped out after the last few years of romantic disappointment.

‘May I take you to lunch, Jessica?'

Okay, he was strange, okay, I didn't fancy him, but he was polite, he didn't seem to be dangerous and he was offering me free food. We went to a bistro in the shadow of the Minster, where we looked at each other over long glasses of ice and a drink called virgin's blood that I really hoped was nothing more than tomato juice and vodka. He was wearing sunglasses pushed high against his face so that no trace of his eyes showed and his hair was carefully dishevelled. The overall effect was that of a designer hangover.

‘So,' he began when the waiter had taken our order. ‘Tell me about yourself, Jessica. Are you from York?'

It was an unexpected question. I'd been expecting something more sexually pointed and I'd been bracing myself to beat him off with the cutlery. ‘I was born in Devon, but my parents moved to York when I was only a few weeks old. Apparently things were really bad in the South during the Troubles.'

‘They were indeed. Whereabouts in Devon? I knew the area quite well, once upon a time.'

‘Exeter.'

‘Ah. Lovely city.'

I took a sip of my drink and my eyes watered. ‘Back then you could only get Residency Rights in York if you were local, what with it being a Safe Area. We were lucky, my dad is from here originally and he managed to wangle it so that we could move to the city, then he and my mum got jobs teaching at local schools. My sister was at a Protected boarding school in the Midlands, and they reckoned they could visit her just as well from here as from Devon, so, here I am.'

Malfaire looked amused. ‘You have a sister? What's she like?'

‘Oh, Abbie? She's nothing like me for a start. She's very sensible.'

He raised his eyebrows above the rims of his sunglasses. ‘Does that mean that you aren't sensible, Jessica?' His arms came forward across the table, and he leaned on them.

‘No, I'm sensible, too. Very sensible. Positively prudent.' I moved myself and my glass further back.

The waiter brought our plates of seafood and buttered pasta and Malfaire watched me the whole time it was being fussily arranged on the table. I found myself finishing my drink, to give my fingers something to do. ‘Now, tell me more about yourself, about growing up. What sort of a child were you? Because I have to say,' he lowered his voice a little bit, but not enough, and the waiter smirked, ‘that I find you a most
fascinating
adult.'

In my back pocket my mobile vibrated. ‘Hi, Liam, what's up?'

‘Wow, is that relief in your voice? What are you up to … please tell me it doesn't involve the words “bail” “breaking” and “injunction”? Anyway, look, this is important … Daim's dead.'

‘
What?
' I swivelled around in my chair so that I no longer faced Malfaire, but he craned forward as though trying to listen in to my call.

There was a furtive rummaging around at the other end of the phone, from which I surmised that Liam had been fiddling with the new electric pencil sharpener. ‘He was killed, about an hour ago. They've got the guy who did it, but Sil wants you. He's not convinced it's quite as straightforward as it looks.'

I caught Malfaire's eye. He mouthed ‘problem?' at me, around a prawn he was sucking in a most lascivious way. I shook my head. ‘What about Tez? Did he get out?'

‘Daim's demon? I dunno; you'll have to ask Sil. He's down there now, wants you to get over the river ASAP.'

‘But I'm –'

‘Sil, Jessie, not me. You know what he's like, and he sounded a bit uptight when he rang in.'

Tez had warned me about danger, and now Daim was dead? My meal no longer looked delicious; it became pellets of greasy gunk in a slimy sauce, as my appetite retreated. Daim was a kid, a stupid, mixed-up kid without much of a life, and then he'd become a vampire without any notable change of circumstance. I owed him.

‘But what about Enforcement?'

Daim came from over the river to the South, which meant that his Enforcement team should have been led by Laurie Denham, he of the shaky hands and even shakier grasp of concepts. Sil being involved in something that ought to have been an open-and-shut case for the mop-and-bucket brigade was worrying.

‘Laurie's pie-eyed drunk as usual. Natalie Andrews has gone over to fill in, but Sil wants you there, too. Reckon he thinks it's got something to do with the Run business. Probably wants you to investigate.'

‘Oh, great. So now the city vamp has got me down as York's answer to Miss bloody Marple, has he? That's great, I'll be lucky to get an uninterrupted lunch break before Christmas now!'

‘No-one would
ever
mistake you for Miss Marple, Jessie. Poirot possibly, given the incipient moustache … Now, do you want the address or not, only I've got to get on with this filing.'

‘Suppose.' I took down the dictated address and hung up, to see Malfaire still smiling at me.

‘Well, off you go and clear up your mystery. I wouldn't want to be the man responsible for keeping you when your Master has called.' This was said in a slightly derisory tone.

I stood rather awkwardly, not sure how to take my leave. Malfaire sorted it for me by standing and giving me a cool, continental double-kiss. ‘We must do this again,' he said, ‘only without the sudden death element.'

I looked at him across the table doing shabby rock-god for all he was worth, and wondered again at the lack of sex appeal. Given his appearance, I should have been a little puddle of liquid by now … instead, all I could do was criticise his eyes as being a bit too golden and his hair as over-dramatic. Maybe my sex drive had driven off.

Looking over my shoulder as I left, I saw that Malfaire was smiling broadly into his drink, almost laughing. I hadn't been
that
amusing, had I?

I hailed a taxi and managed the cross-city journey in less than half-an-hour, wondering all the while about what could have happened to Daim. ‘They've got the person who did it,' Liam had said, so he'd been killed. Not, as I might have expected, managed to damage himself spectacularly by, say, trying to microwave his head or see if vampires really could fly … Had it been an accident? I knew vampires were hard to kill unless you really,
really
meant it – it was unlikely that someone had slipped whilst holding a sharp knife or anything.

All in all, I was feeling pretty shaken when I hauled myself up the five flights of stairs to the flat in which Daim Willis had had his last brief encounter.

I was surprised to find, on entering the flat, a certain lack of the paraphernalia of a fight. The front door was intact, the fixtures and fittings were still fitted and fixed, and only the presence of a spreading pool of blood gave away the fact that something untoward had happened there.

Daim's body was crumpled on the floor in a kitchen which smelled of old chips and more recent sausages, the plain pine stake jutting from his spine as though he'd been nailed into place. He was cold and there was no sign that his demon had escaped. I felt my heart give a little twitch; he may not have been a friend, but it seemed ridiculous that he had ended in a sticky mess, disregarded.

‘Tez?' I whispered, but there was no reply, no movement.

‘He has gone, Jessie.'

I swivelled and found Zan standing behind me. ‘What happened?'

Zan looked around the flat. It obviously fell way below his standards, but then I think Buckingham Palace lacked that certain something as far as Zan was concerned. ‘I am unsure. That is why we need you.'

‘I don't know what use I can be.' A boy was brought into the kitchen, escorted by Sil, who looked about as pleased to see me as the corpse did. ‘Why did you ask me to come over?'

‘This is the killer. Human.' Sil pushed and, being vampire, he didn't have to push too hard before the boy was physically shunted in front of me.

I glanced him over. ‘Yes.' The lad looked frozen, scared, certainly not as cocky as I would have expected from someone who'd just killed himself a vampire. He wasn't wearing any of the badges which would affiliate him to an anti-vamp organisation and he didn't look hard enough to be a chancy free-agent. In fact he seemed rather baffled as to why he was there at all. ‘And he's terrified of
you
.'

‘So. Maybe he will talk to you.'

Natalie Andrews came in from the living room and greeted me, warmly enough when you consider that this was, technically, her patch. Although not up to her to actually
do
anything, this being an Otherworld matter and therefore under Sil's jurisdiction, it was her job as Enforcement for this bit of York to oversee proceedings.

‘Why can't Nat talk to him?'

‘I already have.' Natalie flicked a look at Sil. ‘He doesn't know anything, or he
says
he doesn't know anything. Yet he was found in here, standing over Daim. That has to put him in the knowing something category.' She shook her long, dark-red hair back over her shoulders, for Sil's benefit.

‘And I cannot read anything from him. I think magic may be involved but …' Sil shrugged. Apart from the ability to control minds, vampires have less magic than the average chat-show host.

‘What's your name?' I turned to the boy, who'd acquired a certain defiance from being talked about in his presence.

‘Mike.' Surly, but at least he'd answered.

‘So, Mike – you're, what? A friend of Daim's from … before?'

‘Yeah.' A trace of uncertainty.

There was something about the boy, something about the flicker in his eyes. They were an unusual pale-hazel colour, the most attractive thing about him, and as I stared deep, deep into them, something stared back. A whiteness passed over the pupils, as though for one second Mike had been struck blind. I turned to Sil. ‘He's been glamoured. Some bastard's put him under an enchantment.'

‘Are you sure?'

I turned back to Mike. That
something
was still there, inside his head. Fading now, melting like a cloud into the air. ‘Yes. And whoever did it is very, very confident that this lad won't remember anything that could give them away.' I looked down at Daim, spread out on the grubby lino floor. ‘Where'd you get the stake?'

Mike blinked at me. ‘Wha'?'

‘The stake. Where did you get it? Did you buy it, or were you given it, or –?'

‘It were here.' The boy gave his head a little shake, as though to dislodge a troublesome memory. ‘It were already here. I found it there, on table.'

Sil's face was momentarily occupied by an expression I couldn't read. ‘You are saying that you came into a vampire's flat, and there
happened
to be a stake on the table?'

Mike nearly wet himself at being directly addressed. ‘Errr, yeah. Sir.'

‘Sil, it's not his fault. One of your lot has glamoured him so thoroughly that he wouldn't have known if he was in Canterbury Cathedral knifing David Beckham. You've got to let him go.'

‘One of
my lot
?'

‘You know what I mean. An Otherworlder.'

Sil walked around Mike, peering into his face like someone looking through the windows of an empty house. He let his fangs show a touch and Mike whimpered. ‘Someone would do this? Glamour a human to kill another vampire? But why? Why not ride in and do the job himself?'

‘That's up to you to find out, isn't it? You're in charge of Otherworld Affairs in this city. But bear in mind this guy's not really a killer, he's been got at by someone … by one of
yours
, Sil. Just like …' I gulped at the
coincidence
, ‘Harry and Eleanor. I'm beginning to think –' I tailed off. Enforcement were still investigating; it was none of Sil's business. ‘It's a bit like blaming a gun for a shooting.'

Sil glanced at Natalie, looked away and then looked back. They made big-time eye-contact and I saw the flare of interest in his eyes. He was a sucker for a flicky-haired girl. It would all end in tears, of course; trouble was, they wouldn't be his. I curled my nails into my palms and wondered why I was so angry about the prospect.

‘But who on
earth
would want Daim Willis dead?' Natalie pulled herself away from Sil's dubious, if undoubted, attractions for a second. ‘Want him dead enough to go to the trouble of glamouring one of his friends into doing it, rather than waiting for him to fall off a bridge or something?'

‘Jessica? You knew him, who would want him dead?'

I looked once more at the body on the floor. In death Daim was even more pathetic than in life; he resembled a bunch of old clothes with a face on. And not even a very prepossessing face, at that. I found that I was shaking. ‘I think it might have been because of me.'

Sil rolled his eyes. ‘Everything still has to be about you, doesn't it, Jessie?'

‘No, listen. Tez warned me about some kind of danger he thought I was in, which does, incidentally, seem to be the case, should anyone actually be
interested
, so,
I
think, Tez had been picking up information he wasn't supposed to have.'