A Rose on the Grave Chapter Two

It was very late or very early, depending on how you looked at it. No matter how you looked at it Jack had gotten no sleep. He had skipped his usual sleeping pill. He hated being dependent on them; he hated being dependent on anything.

He blamed years of working weird hours for permanently screwing up his circadian rhythms. In truth it was probably his own inability to turn off the thoughts that raced through his brain that kept him tossing and turning. Every time he closed his eyes his brain decided to go over every mistake he had ever made. And when he did fall asleep he was haunted by dreams of flashing lights and gunshots.

A buzzing pulled him out of his own head. He turned his head to find his cell phone dancing across his night stand. He grabbed it before it slid over the edge. He had put the phone on vibrate in an attempt to keep it from waking him. Little worry over that.

He glanced at the caller ID. It was work. Nothing good could come from the office calling him this early. In fact it probably meant someone was dead.

He flipped the phone open, “Merrick.”

***

Kate tipped the driver of the car service as they pulled up in front of her building. The service specifically catered to vampires so, the driver hadn’t bated an eye at Kate’s appearance.

Kate lived at Midtown West, not far from Lincoln Center and the Met. She had bought the apartment shortly before the Great Reveal of Vampires and had refused to give it up; even if the board was less than thrilled to have a vampire as one of their tenants.

The night doorman hurried to open the door to the lobby of the building as she got out of the town car.

“Good evening, Ms. Latimer,” he said as held the door for her. He was dressed like a typical doorman, gray pants and jacket with a maroon stripe running down the sides of the pants and down the sleeves. A matching cap rested on his head.

“Hello, Phil,” she said. He smiled but did look her in the eye.

She didn’t take offense to Phil averting his eyes. He, like many humans, believed that vampires could spell you with their eyes. That wasn’t true of course. It was the voice that allowed a vampire to hypnotize a person. Kate felt no need to disabuse Phil of the notion though.

“Is everything alright, ma’am?” he asked. He must have noticed the blood on her pants and her general disheveled appearance. He was just far too polite or far too smart to ask a vampire why she was covered in blood.

“Of course everything is alright,” she said, “why wouldn’t it be?”

Phil shook his head if trying to clear it. “No-No reason, Ms. Latimer.”

Unfortunately Phil was only partially susceptible to the power of Kate’s voice. There were many humans that hypnotism either didn’t affect at all or only partially affected, and Phil was one of them. Kate was fairly sure that her rather large holiday tip made Phil forget whatever her voice could not.

“Have good rest of your night,” she said as she made her way across the lobby towards the elevator.

“Oh, one thing Ms. Latimer,” Phil called out to her.

“Yes,” she turned back.

“There was a man here earlier asking about you,” he said.

Kate frowned, “A man?”

“Yes, he asked if you lived here. I didn’t tell him anything,” he assured her.

“What did he look like,” she asked.

“He was…tall…maybe,” he said. He shook his head again, “It’s funny I can’t really remember now that you ask. I’m usually good with faces,” he said sounding distraught.

“Don’t fret about it,” she said with a smile.

She turned back to the elevator and pushed the up button. She waited the moment for the doors to open and stepped onto the lift. The man Phil had told her about was a vampire, she was sure of it. It was the only explanation for Phil’s memory loss.

Kate couldn’t escape the feeling of dread that crept into the back of her mind as she rode up the lift to the thirty-fourth floor where her penthouse was. The dread turned to fear as the doors opened and she heard music coming from her flat.

She pulled out her gun as padded across the floor to her door. It didn’t much matter how much noise she made. The unknown vampire would have already heard her coming off the elevator.

She tried the door and it was unlocked. She pushed it open and walked into her apartment with her gun drawn. She found the vampire sitting at the baby grand piano in her living room, playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.

He looked up as she entered and stopped playing, “Hello, Kate,” he said with grin. She hadn’t seen that grin in ten years.

“Wulf.”

“You can put the gun away,” he said pointing at the gun Kate still pointed at him.

“Can I,” she asked.

“Oh come on, Kate you’re not going to shoot me,” he said with an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not, am I? I’m not too sure about that, Wulf,” she said, but she put the gun back in its holster.

He grinned and stood up and took step towards her. He was as handsome as she remembered him. He stood near six feet tall. He had cut his dirty blonde hair since the last time she had seen him. It had been to his shoulders then, now it just brushed his collar. It was still far from a conservative cut. It had casualness that matched his devil-may-care attitude.

“You can’t still be mad at me, can you,” he asked and his steely blue eyes sparkled.

“Oh I believe I can,” she said as she pulled off her coat and threw it on the couch to her left.

“Whose blood is on you, love,” he asked. She noticed that he had dropped all pretense of the American accent he usually affected. Most humans would describe the accent he now spoke with as German or Swedish but in actuality it was Anglo-Saxon.

“What are you doing here,” she asked ignoring his question.

“In your flat or in New York?”

“Both.”

“Well actually the answer’s the same for both,” He said with a grin, “I’m here for you.”

“Did you know Jerome and Malcolm were in town,” she asked suspiciously.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, “No but we should all get together and get a drink then.”

“That might be a bit difficult; they walk no more,” she said. She watched his face waiting for him to betray something but he didn’t.

“Malcolm or Jerome,” he asked nodding at her sweater.

“Malcolm,” she replied.

“What were they accused of?”

“Treason.”

“You mean they disagreed with Marcus,” he said coldly.

“No, I mean they were plotting to kill Marcus,” she replied.

He stepped to her left and looked behind her back.

“What the hell are you doing,” she said as she stepped away from him.

“Checking to see if Marcus actually had his hand up your ass, because I see your mouth moving but hear his voice coming out,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh we are not doing this. I am not going to stand here and listen to your, ‘I am vampire hear me whine,’ routine,” she said.

“Kate-“ he started to say but she cut him off.

“Get out. Get out of my apartment. You do not get to disappear and reappear whenever you feel like it without even bothering to even tell me.”

She did not wait for any reply as she turned and made her way up her staircase to the second floor of her apartment where her master bedroom and bath were. She began striping her clothes off before she got to the bedroom. She knew that Wulf was following her. She didn’t much care.

“Kate, you can’t still be mad, it was ten years ago,” he said as he followed her into the bedroom.

She walked into her closet and opened the large gun safe in the corner and placed her gun and knife in it before relocking it. She striped off the rest of her clothes. Wulf stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching her.

“I’m taking a shower and by the time I’m done you will be gone,” She told him. She stalked into the bathroom. He tried to follow her but she slammed the door in his face.

The master bath had been one of the appealing features that convinced her to buy the apartment, along with the terrace. It was well appointed with Italian marble and had a large shower and separate whirlpool tub. It was expensive and elegant without being ostentatious, which was exactly Kate’s taste.

She turned the glass enclosed shower on and waited for it to get hot. Steam quickly filled the room. She stepped under the jet of water. It was hot enough to scald a human but it just right for Kate. Vampires as a general rule liked heat. They craved to be warm or at least be near warmth. Kate was no exception.

Kate scrubbed herself and watched as the last bits of Malcolm went down the drain. She examined her wrist. The wound was completely closed but the skin was shinny and pink like a new scar. It would be back to normal by the next night.

Even after she was clean she stood under the water, enjoying the heat. Finally she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. It was time to face Wulf. He hadn’t left. She had known he wouldn’t.

It had been ten years since she had seen him; since she had awoken at dusk to find him gone. Before that night she could have counted on one hand the number of years they had spent apart over the nearly five hundred she had been a vampire.

She shrugged on a robe and finally opened the door. She found Wulf lying on her bed. He got up when she opened the door.

“In a better mood now,” he asked. She looked up into his face. She had looked at that face countless times. She knew it better than her own. He had a strong jaw and a slightly crooked nose. It had been broken before he had become a vampire. He was wearing a dark purple dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and a dark pair of trousers.

“Why’d you’d go,” she asked her voice nearly cracking, “You told me you weren’t angry with me. I did what I had to -”

He moved across the room and pressed his hand to her mouth, silencing her. “I was not angry with you. And as for why I left, you told me too.”

She gripped his wrist and pushed it away. “I said we should leave New York for a while. I was supposed to go with you.”

He shook his head. “You never would have gone. I made it easier on both of us.”

“You’re a mind reader now? You know what I’m going to do before I do?”

“Of course I do. I know you better than you know yourself,” he said with a smile but it was tinged with sadness. He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “Forgive me yet?”

“No,” she said.

“Yes, you have. You would have shot me if you were really that angry.”

“Because you know everything I’ll do,” she said sarcastically.

“Yes, I do,” he said with a smile. “Would you feel better if you hit me?”

“Maybe.”

He stepped back and held his arms open. “Take your best shot.”

Her punch landed on the right side of his jaw and it snapped his head to the left. When he turned back a thin line of blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He wiped at it with his right hand and then looked his hand, “Not a bad.” He raised his hand to his mouth as if to lick the blood off, then he thought better of it and held his hand a few inches from Kate’s lips.

She looked up at him. She stepped forward and opened her mouth and licked the blood off of Wulf’s outstretched hand. When his hand was clean he cupped her face and leaned in and kissed her. His lips tasted of blood. They tasted of his blood and that tasted like home to Kate. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he lifted her up and carried her to the bed.

“I’ll love you until we walk no more,” he said breaking the kiss.

“Until we walk no more,” she echoed.

***

Jack pulled up outside a brownstone in Brooklyn. The street was blocked off by NYPD cop cars and yellow crime scene tape. Lookie loos stood in clusters across the street from the brownstone. Many were still in their night clothes. It was still early. The sky had lightened to a light purple, the color of a day old bruise but sunrise was still at least an hour away.

He scanned the area and found his partner, Jessica Cohen leaning on a dark SUV.

“How the hell do you look that put together this time of the morning,” she asked as he came up to her.

Jess often teased him about being metrosexual and prissy because he like to look professional. He had quickly showered and dressed in a dark suit before coming to the scene. His dark brown hair was neatly combed away from his face. He looked the stereotypical FBI agent but Jack found that the stereotype sometimes worked in his favor.

Jess on the other hand was dressed in a wrinkled blouse and dress pants. The same clothes she had worn the day before. He’d guess that they had being lying on someone’s floor until recently. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail and she wore no makeup.

“It’s a gift,” he said sarcastically, “What are we doing here anyway?”

“Didn’t get that many details on the phone; just that the NYPD was asking for us to assist,” Jess replied and just then a young uniformed officer ran down the steps of the brownstone and proceeded to vomit an impressive amount all over the sidewalk. “Well, that’s not a good sign,” she said dryly.

Jack couldn’t agree more. When cops puke at a crime scene, even young cops, it meant that whatever was inside was pretty bad. “Come on,” he said and led Jess towards one of the cops standing behind the yellow tape keeping the lookie loos from getting to close. Jack identified himself and Jess to the officer and showed him his badge. Jess did likewise.

The officer informed them that they should ask for a Detective Martinez and held up the tape for them to walk under. They found Detective Martinez outside the building talking to two crime scene techs.

“Detective,” Jack said, “I’m Special Agent Jack Merrick, and this is my partner, Special Agent Jessica Cohen.”

“Glad you guys are here,” Martinez said as he shook their hands. He was a Latino man in his late forties. He had dark hair and eyes and thick mustache. He was thick around the middle. A cheap ill-fitting suit hung on his large frame.

“That begs the question, why are we here, Detective,” Jess asked.

“Because their no way a human killed this girl,” Martinez said.

Jack and Jess weren’t ordinary FBI agents, if there was even such a thing. They worked in the Special Crimes Division. Which was a politically correct way of saying, “crimes committed by vampires.” The division had been formed shortly after the Great Reveal of Vampires.

“What makes you so sure of that,” Jack asked.

“You’ll see,” Martinez said, “Either of you eat breakfast yet?” Both Jack and Jess shook their head, “That’s good,” Martinez added.

They were handed booties to cover their own shoes and after putting them on they followed him up the steps. The foyer was crowded with people; mostly crime scene techs and officers. They made their way through the crowd and entered the living room. Jack could understand why the young officer had lost his breakfast.

The room was tastefully decorated with antiques. The room had been obviously carefully restored; it had all its original molding and hardwood floors. Most of the floor was covered by a Persian rug. An oversized floral printed Victorian sofa was sitting in front of a fireplace. An arm dangled over the arm of the sofa-just the arm. The rest of the body was strewn about the room.

A foot sat on the fireplace mantle next to the other hand. Most of the torso, at least from the waist up, was crumpled in the corner, like someone or something had tossed it there. What appeared to be the lower half was lying on the hearth. The Persian rug was soaked through with blood and squished when they stepped on it. The smell in the room was the most overpowering thing. It was a mix of the coppery sent of blood and sickening smell of ruptured bowels.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck,” Jess said.

“Her name was Dana Hacker,” Martinez said, “She’s twenty two. This is her parent’s place. They’re out of town according to neighbors. We’re going to try to get in touch with them.”

“How do you know who it was,” Jack asked. It was probably the least important question he could have asked, but it was the first one that popped into his head. He regretted asking it as soon as he got the answer.

“We found her,” Martinez paused and let out a deep breath before continuing, “head behind the couch, matched the picture on the driver license we found upstairs.”

“Dear lord,” Jess whispered.

“The ME says that body wasn’t cut up, it was ripped apart. That’s why I called you. Had to be a vamp, right” Martinez said.

Jack was trying not to let the room overwhelm him. If he looked at the whole thing he would wind up like that other cop, puking his guts out. If he concentrated on small areas it was still horrifying but manageably so. He had seen horrifying before but he had never seen something like this.

“Vampire’s drink blood, they don’t do this,” Jess said. She just kept shaking her head. He wasn’t sure if she was shaking it in disbelief in what she was seeing or if she was trying to shake the image out of her head.

“What the hell else could have done this,” Martinez asked.

“I have no idea,” Jack said. He really didn’t have any idea what could have done this and that scared him.

He stared at the girl’s hand lying over the arm of the sofa. The nails had been painted a sunny yellow color. He imagined a twenty-two year old girl giggling as she gossiped with the women giving her a manicure. She had probably picked the color because it made her happy.

Blood dripped off of the tips of the fingers and pooled on the floor. He had been wrong. The scene was still overwhelmingly horrifying even if you only focused on small areas.