Dangerous, Diabolical
10.2

Reciprocating the closeness, I ran a hand up his shirted chest, gripping the tie near his neck. His breath hitched, almost sending my control haywire.

“Oh, Markus,” I murmured. Looping my hand in the material carefully, “You have no idea what dangerous is.” Grasping the knot of his tie with my free hand, I pulled the cotton blade; the noose tightening around his neck with a snick. His eyes grew wide, hesitating as to whether I was teasing, or genuinely about to kill him.

Interestingly, he tried to pry my hands off first. I cocked my head at him unnaturally fast, my fake grin breaking into a real, toothy one as my control finally slipped. It seemed that similar to me, he was unnaturally strong in a humanoid form, packing more of a punch than a regular earthling; but nowhere near his transformed levels where I’d witness him throw a car clear of the parking lot. His attempts to budge me proved useless.

Leaning into his shoulder I placed my lips next to his ear. “It is quite rude to go around talking behind backs.” I chided, pulling the noose steadily tighter. His eyes began to bulge, skin taking on an ashy colour whilst slowly thickening, as his other self reacted to the threat; instinctively attempting to break out. My grin turned into a pout as I realised poor Markus might be close to aspiring before he’d even transformed.

The magic which had coated him was vacuumed under his skin, pulsating inwardly along muscles. From around us, he began pulling magic faster, prompting me to wonder if I’d look similar during a change, and leaving the area devoid of energy from whatever realm he originated.

Knotting the tie around my knuckles, I gave a final tug and tousled him on the head. “Next time, let’s not tell the SPCC anything about your good friend Andy, okay?”

Mutely, he nodded, and I released some of the tension. “You’re lucky I owe you for covering the other day. Consider your continued existence the debt paid.”

With a twirl of the wrist, the material was freed, and he stumbled back gasping. His thickened, desperate fingers, stubbed dramatically at his collar in a panicked attempt to escape from the tie that almost cost his life. He gulped air in greedily, dropping to a knee and throwing the discarded shreds to the floor, before clutching at the damaged skin.

Rolling my eyes at his reaction I tutted, “You’ll live.” You’d think I’d bit his head off. He slowly lifted his eyes to mine, chest heaving in frenzy and eyes growing wide, hands cradling the bruised area around his neck. He flinched as I trailed my hand down to cup his cheek, and it wasn’t until he stilled that I patted it.

Joining him in a crouch, voice a caress, “I like you like this.” I told him. Once we were on the same level I added, “On your knees.”

Panic crossed over his features.

“Now, care to tell me where our nosey little vampire went?” I tilted my head, sharpened my teeth and revealed my true gaze, nails pressing around his face to keep him still.

If he had any colour left, it drained. Markus dragged in a deep breath. “What are you going to do to him?”

“Nothing bad,” I promised. What I didn’t reveal was what I truly meant: nothing that would end badly for me. At the thought of all the possibilities, I tapped my fingers absently against his cheek finger by finger.

Trembling he seemed to search for any information I might want to hear. “All I can remember is he did ask me something about a girl called Joanne too.”

Now that made me pause. “Jo?” The girl from work? Joanne, I mentally tried to commit to memory. Joanne. The girl that was meant to be covering my shift. I let go, leaving him to check the skin for punctures.

“That could be a nickname, yeah.” he rubbed the back of his neck as I rolled my eyes at him. I’d figured that much out.

He trailed me from head to foot, assessing. “You promise you’re not going to hurt the vamp?” Markus asked.

Honestly, I was surprised he cared, so in reply, I winked.

“That’s not an answer,” He argued.

Starting with my head I shook all my features back down into the boring disguised human appearance, offering him no reply. Guess we’d both wait and see. “See you soon, handsome!” I told him, ending further conversation and dismissing his protests. With a final casual wave over my shoulder, it was time to depart.

“Oi! Andy” Markus shouted, before I could leave, as he stood to his feet.

Throwing a glance back it was just in time to see him bite his bottom lip.

“Next time you’re in town, look me up!” His teeth let go slowly, lips returning to their usual plumpness. “We’ll skip the drinks part.” And despite the purpling neck bruise, he tucked his hands into his pockets and looked just as relaxed as when I’d first arrived.

A toothy grin smirked over my face as I realised the air no longer smelt like fear. In fact, Markus seemed pretty upset that I was leaving so soon. Yeah, I confirmed to myself. He could live a little longer.

* * *

Following the smell of old blood was both fun and slightly nauseating at the same time. How often could I say I’d tried to track a vampire? However, bad meat was bad meat. Frustratingly, he seemed to have been moving at high speeds, displacing his scent all over the place and leading me to several red herrings. It grew easier to track him when I happened upon another familiar smell: good old Jo.

It seemed he had found her after all. Her subtle tendrils of seawater were faint, and for some unknown reason, she had recently coated herself in a very bitter perfume. An involuntary sneeze cleared the smell sharpish.

Joanne’s- yes I’d remembered it - pathway trailed around the park and across the dual-carriageway. Letting my nose lead, she’d either walked or cycled and it made for easy following. Grahame’s scent grew stronger, indicating either he’d met her several times along this path, or he’d recently strolled at a normal pace.

It was difficult to interpret how many times Joanne had walked to and from work but that particular commute had cemented her trail, culminating in a small terraced house on a back street. It was one of those old-style houses where the door opened straight into the road and the bins were awkwardly tucked close by in an alley.

The girl didn’t live alone either, several traces of humans mixed outside the front door, and unopened post and flyers were harshly rammed into the envelope slot. Grahame had stood exactly in this spot on her doorstep, and underneath my feet, a rune was burnt into the stone. I crouched down, running a fingertip to trace the shape there. A telltale feeling of rain and pressed blackberries indicated Leo had done this.

Whenever he’d laid the spell was too far gone for me to detect any traces of his being. Why had Joanne needed her house spelled, and numerous visits from the SPCC? Was one of the other inhabitants inside an other? She smelt unmistakably human, so it couldn’t be her. Could it?

Either way, the minute I saw her I was going to make sure she wasn’t missing my shift, and hopefully curb any more questions Grahame had been asking. Channelling my annoyance, I hammered the door.

“Oi, Jo!” I yelled, striking it. Painstakingly it ground open with a heavy creak, revealing a slim hallway, and not a person in sight. Now it was out of its hinges, it was easier to see that the latch was splintered at the frame. A pot was shattered on the runner, its soil scattered across the carpet. An entry off of the side of the hall was hanging awkwardly. The house remained silent.

Bracing a hand against my neck, just in case, I yelled “Grahame!” No response. Hmmm, no one must be home. Well since it was open anyway and there wasn’t anyone around to tell me otherwise, I let myself in, noticing for the first time a kitchen knife wedged in the wall.

The only time I’d experienced a sharp object in the wall like that was when one of my victims wasn’t too happy to see me and unfortunately for them, missed my head. Had someone aimed for Grahame? He’d been inside here in the last day for sure.

A fly buzzed past to make a break for the open door and instinctively received a swat.

“Here Jo, Jo, Jo,” I called. “Time for work!” A clock down the hall continued to count seconds. “Promise I won’t kill you!” I sing-sang under my breath.

Of course, there was no reply. Approaching the broken door the smell of copper permeated the air and a tingle ran through my spine. I licked my lips at the tell-tale signal of fresh blood.

I couldn’t decide if I hope she was dead or not. If she was, free takeout. If she wasn’t, I could drag her to work.

Although if she were dead, that would be seriously annoying if I had to pick up the shift. Maybe Grahame had killed her. Now that would be juicy.

Marching full speed I smacked the door open into the room, expecting to see either one of them and instead almost tripped over the body sprawled over the floor.

“Eek!” Involuntary escaped as I stumbled over my feet before catching my balance. The body remained a dead weight against the carpet, spilling out a fresh squirt of body juices. The woman hadn’t been dead long. A day tops from the onset of rigour-mortis. Across the back of her head was the evidence of some sort of blunt force trauma, and if I could bet on it, most likely her cause of death.

Letting her be I surveyed the room; it contained a couch, a shattered tv, upended bookshelves and a burst bean bag. The beans had spilt across the floor, soaking into a deep bloody puddle created by a second corpse that sat upon it; mouth locked in an endless scream. Its eyes stared lifelessly ahead.

A third body was draped over the back of the couch, twisted awkwardly, the spine bore a singular long cut, the spray across the room. That one hadn’t gone quietly.

The urgent thought of zombies crossed my mind, tensing I nudged the body on the floor with my shoe, just in case. But just as reliable as dead bodies were, it remained completely motionless. When a quick study of the faces revealed none were Joanne or Grahame, I scrunched up my nose in disappointment. That would have made things easier.

A picture on the fireplace showed Joanne standing between the now-deceased humans, arms slung over each other’s shoulders smiling. Treading over the corpse I picked it up, noticing they were standing on a beach, waves caught mid-crash in the background and the sun flaring over their smiles. That’s what I needed, a beach. Just a relaxing vacation. I placed it back on the shelf turning to leave.

The guy on the bean bag was staring straight at me.

Reactively, I stepped back heart skipping a beat, and my elbow knocked the frame to the ground sending glass shattering.

I froze, hands still poised mid-air. The corpse stared, unblinking. We both remained immobile and as the minutes ticked by he didn’t move. Maybe I was imagining it? Stepping to the side, the figure continued to gaze undisturbed, unblinking, looking straight at the fireplace instead. Urgh, weird. All of the stories of reanimated dead were affecting me and now I was seeing things. Time to leave. Just in case, I watched the beanbag guy as I sidestepped towards the doorway.

Where I yet again stumbled over the body sprawled on the floor.

“Argh!” The word splurged out of my mouth as I fixated down. The remains of the woman had been closer to the doorway before. I could’ve sworn on it.

Well, I was almost positive at least.

Were they moving? This was the problem with corpses. They were too darn quiet. Darting a glance back to the beanbag guy, it still sat staring at the fireplace.

Taking a step back towards the doorway I remained focused upon him. Until out of the corner of my eye I noticed the two eyes fixed on me from the sofa.

“Haaaaaaaaa!” I squeezed out in a half laugh. For the first time in my life, that was quite enough dead humans for me. Her head was bent at an odd angle, directed my way.

A movement in the corner drew back my attention in rapid succession. From the beanbag, ever so slowly, the milky eyes slid round in their sockets so that his gaze fixed from the corner of his sight to also right on me. Then his head began to rotate to match.

Nope. Nopenopenope I chanted, backing away quicker.

I was out of there, that was quite enough walking corpses thank you. Joanne and Graham were on their own. Cold, wet fingertips enclosed my ankle, sending goosebumps exploding up my spine. Without a second thought, I stomped down on the wrist, hard. It snapped. The grip didn’t loosen.

“Celandine Doukas.” The voice spoke clearly from atop his beanbag chair. His jaw moved independently from the rest of his stoic face. That gave me pause. Did I know this dead guy? Was he one of mine?

“What’s it to you?” I snarled, the creeping feeling of deja-vu entering my mind. You’re speaking to a dead guy.

His mouth pulled into an emotionless smile, a fly crawled free. The grip on my ankle grew tighter. The body on the sofa twitched. Its voice was a deep grating hiss as it joined the others in reanimation.

“Finally…” its teeth clicked, “we’re alone.” With a jolt it sat, head swinging upright like a nodding dog.