Bloody Bones
Chapter 16

Chapter 16
Detective Freemont sat on one end of the Quinlans' couch and I perched on the other. We were as far away from each other as we could get and share it. Only pride kept me from taking a chair. I wouldn't flinch under her cool cop eyes. So I stayed nailed to my end of the couch, but it was an effort.
Her voice was low and careful, every word enunciated, as if she thought she might yell if she rushed the words. "Why didn't you call and tell me you had a second vampire kill?"
"Sheriff St. John called the state cops. I assumed you'd be told."
"Well, I wasn't."
I stared up into her cool eyes. "You're twenty minutes away with a crime scene unit looking into a possible vampire kill. Why wouldn't they send you over to a second vampire scene?"
Freemont's eyes shifted to one side, then back to me. Her cool cop eyes had melted just a little. It was hard to read for sure, but she looked uneasy. Maybe even scared.
"You haven't told them it was a vampire kill, have you?"
Her eyes flinched.
"Shit, Freemont. I know you don't want the Feds to steal your case, but withholding information from your own people... Bet your superiors aren't happy with you."
"That's my business."
"Fine. Whatever plan you've got, more power to you, but why are you pissed at me?"
She took a deep, shaking breath and blew it out like a runner trying to get that extra kick. "How sure are you the vampire used a sword?"
"You saw the body," I said.
She nodded. "A vampire could have ripped the neck apart."
"I saw a blade, Freemont."
"The ME will either back you up, or not."
"Why don't you want this to be vampires?"
She smiled. "I thought I had this case all solved. Thought I'd make an arrest this morning. I didn't think it was vampires."
I stared at her. I wasn't smiling. "If it wasn't vamps, then what was it?"
"Fairies."
I stared at her for a heartbeat. "What do you mean?"
"Your boss, Sergeant Storr, called me. Told me what you'd found out about Magnus Bouvier. He's got no alibi for the time of the killings, and even you think he could have done it."
"Because he could have done it, doesn't mean he did," I said.
Freemont shrugged. "He ran when we tried to question him. Innocent people don't run."
"What do you mean, he ran? If you were there questioning him, how could he run?"
Freemont settled back into the couch, hands clasped together so tightly her fingers were mottled. "He used magic to cloud our minds, and made his escape."
"What sort of magic?"
Freemont shook her head. "What do you want me to say, Ms. Preternatural Expert? Four of us sat there in his restaurant like idiots while he just walked out. We didn't even see him get up from the table."
She looked at me, no smiles. Her eyes were back to that neutral coolness. You could stare all day at someone with eyes like that and keep all your secrets safe.
"He looked human to me, Blake. He looked like a nice, normal guy. I wouldn't have picked him out of a crowd. How did you know what he was?"
I opened my mouth, and closed it. I wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question. "He tried to use glamor on me, but I knew what was happening."
"What's glamor, and how did you know he was using a spell on you?"
"Glamor isn't exactly a spell," I said. I always hated explaining preternatural things to people who had no skill in the area. It was like having quantum physics explained to me. I could follow the concepts, but I had to take their word for it on the math. The math was beyond me, hated to admit it, but it was. But not understanding quantum physics wouldn't get me killed. Not understanding preternatural creatures might get Freemont killed.
"I'm not stupid, Blake. Explain it to me."
"I don't think you're stupid, Detective Freemont. It's just hard to explain. I was riding with two uniforms in St. Louis. They were transporting me from a crime scene, playing taxi. The driver spotted this guy just walking along. He pulled over, put him up against a car. The guy was carrying a weapon, and was wanted in another state for armed robbery. If I'd been in a room with him, I'd have noticed the gun, but just passing by in a car, no way. I wouldn't have seen it. Even his partner asked him how he spotted him. He couldn't explain so that we could do it, but he knew how to do it."
"So it's practice?" Freemont said.
I sighed. "In part, but hell, Detective, I raise the dead for a living. I have some preternatural abilities. It gives me a leg up."
"How the hell are we supposed to police creatures, Ms. Blake? If Bouvier had pulled a gun, we'd have sat there and let him shoot us. We just sort of woke up and he wasn't there anymore. I've never seen anything like it."
"There are things you can do to protect yourself from fairie glamor," I said.
"What?"
"A four-leaf clover will break glamor, but it won't keep the fey from killing you by hand. There are other plants you can wear, or carry that break glamor: Saint-John's-wort, red verbena, daisies, rowan, and ash. My choice would be an ointment made of either four-leaf clovers or Saint-John's-wort. Spread it on your eyelids, mouth, ears, and hands. It'll make you proof against glamor."
"Where do I get this stuff?"
I thought about that for a second. "Well, in St. Louis I'd know where to go. Here, try health-food stores and occult shops. Any fairie ointment will be hard to find because we don't have any fairies native to this country. Ointment from four-leaf clovers is very expensive, and rare. Try for the Saint-John's-wort."
She sighed. "Will this ointment work on any mind control, like for vamps?"
"Nope," I said. "You could drop a vamp in a whole tub of Saint-John's-wort and it wouldn't give a damn."
"What do you do against vampires, then?"
"Keep your cross, avoid eye contact, pray. They can do things that'll make Magnus look like an amateur."
She rubbed her eyes, smearing eye shadow on the ball of her thumb. She suddenly looked tired. "How do we protect the public against something like that?"
"You don't," I said.
"Yes, we do," she said. "We have to; it's our job."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't try. "So you thought it was Magnus because he ran, and he doesn't have an alibi?"
"Why else would he run?"
"I don't know," I said. "But he didn't do it. I saw the thing in the woods. It wasn't Magnus. Hell, I've only heard about vampires forming from shadows. I'd never seen it before."
She looked at me. "You've never seen it before. That's not comforting."
"It wasn't meant to be. But since it wasn't Magnus, you can call off the warrant."
She shook her head. "He used magic on police officers while committing a crime. That's a class C felony."
"What was his crime?"
"Escaping."
"But he wasn't under arrest."
"I had a warrant for his arrest," she said.
"You didn't have enough for a warrant," I said.
"Helps to know the right judge."
"He didn't kill those kids, or Coltrain."
"You pointed the finger at him," she said.
"Just an alternate possibility. With five people dead, I couldn't afford to be wrong."
She stood. "Well, you got your wish. It was vampires, and I don't know why the hell Magnus Bouvier ran from us. But just using magic on a police officer is a felony."
"Even if he was innocent of the original crime you were trying to bring him in on?" I asked.
"Felonious use of magic is a serious crime, Ms. Blake. There's a warrant for his arrest. You see him, you remember that."
"I know Magnus isn't nice people, Detective Freemont. I don't know why he ran, but if you put out the word that he used magic on cops, someone'll shoot him."
"He's dangerous, Ms. Blake."
"Yeah, but so are a lot of people, Detective. You don't hunt them down and arrest them for it."
She nodded. "We've all got prejudices, Ms. Blake; makes us all wrong once in a while. At least here we know what did it."
"Yeah," I said. "We know what did it."
"Do you know when the girl's body was taken?" she asked. She got a notebook out of her coat pocket. Down to business.
I shook my head. "No. It was just gone when I went up."
"What made you think to check on the body?"
I looked at her. Her eyes were pleasant and unreadable. "They'd gone to a lot of trouble to make her one of them. I thought they might try to get her. They did."
"The father's making noises that he asked you to stake her body before you went out after the vampires. Is that true?" Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact. But she was paying attention to the answers. She didn't take as many notes as Dolph did. The notebook seemed to be more something to do with her hands than anything else. I was finally seeing Freemont doing her job. She seemed good at it. That was reassuring.
"Yeah, that's true."
"Why didn't you stake the girl when the parents requested it?"
"I had a father. A widower. His daughter and only child got bit. He wanted her staked. I did it that night, right away. Next morning he's in my office crying, wanting me to undo it. Wanting me to bring her back as a vampire." I leaned back into the couch, hugging myself. "You put a stake through a new vamp's heart, and it's dead for good."
"I thought you had to take a vampire's head to be sure."
"You do," I said. "If I had staked the Quinlan girl, I would have taken out her heart, cut off her head." I shook my head. "There isn't much left."
She drew something on her note pad. I couldn't see what. I was betting it was a doodle and not a word. "I see why you wanted to wait, but Mr. Quinlan is talking about suing you."
"Yeah, I know."
Freemont raised her eyebrows. "Just thought you'd want to know."
"Thanks."
"We haven't found the boy's body yet."
"I don't think you will," I said.
Her eyes didn't look pleasant anymore. They looked narrow and suspicious. "Why?"
"If they wanted to kill him, they could have done it here, tonight. I think they want to make him one of them."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. But usually when a vampire takes this personal an interest in a family, there's a reason for it."
"You mean a motive?"
I nodded. "You've seen the Quinlans. They're devout Catholics. The church sees vampirism as suicide. Their children will be damned for all eternity if they become vampires."
"Worse than just killing them," she said.
"To the Quinlans, I think so."
"You think the vampires will be back to get the parents?"
I thought about that for a minute. "Hell, I don't know. I mean, before vampires were legal you had some cases where a master vamp would take out entire families. Sometimes befriend them first. Sometimes just for revenge for some slight. But since they've been legal, I don't know why the vamp would do it. I mean, the vampire can take them to court. What could the Quinlans have done that was bad enough for this?"
The doors opened. Freemont turned, a frown already in place. Two men appeared in the doorway. They were both dressed in dark suits, dark ties, white shirts. Standard federal issue. One was short and white, the other tall and black. That alone should have made them look different, but there was a sameness to them, like the same cookie cutter had been used no matter how well cooked the outside was.
The shorter of the two flipped his badge at us. "I'm Special Agent Bradford, this is Agent Elwood. Which one of you is Detective Freemont?"
Freemont walked towards them with her hand out. Showing she was unarmed and friendly. Yeah, right. "I'm Detective Freemont. This is Anita Blake."
I appreciated being included in the introductions. I stood up and joined the foursome.
Agent Bradford looked at me for a long time. Long enough that it got on my nerves. "Is there something wrong, Agent Bradford?"
He shook his head. "I attended Sergeant Storr's lectures at Quantico. The way he talked about you, I thought you'd be bigger." He smiled when he said it, halfway between friendly and condescending.
A lot of scathing comebacks came to mind, but never get in a pissing contest with the Feds. You'll lose. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"We've already talked with Officer Wallace. He makes you sound taller, too."
I shrugged. "Hard to make me sound shorter."
He smiled. "We'd like to speak with Detective Freemont in private, Ms. Blake. But don't go far; we'll want a statement from you and your associate, Mr. Kirkland."
"Sure."
"I took Ms. Blake's statement personally," Freemont said. "I don't think we need her any more tonight."
Bradford looked at her. "I think we'll be the judge of that."
"If Ms. Blake had called me in when there was only one body on the ground, there wouldn't be two dead policemen, and a dead civilian," Freemont said.
I just looked at her. Somebody's ass was going to be in a sling, and Freemont didn't want it to be hers. Fine.
"Don't forget the missing boy," I said. Everyone looked at me. "You want to start pointing fingers, fine; there's enough blame to go around. If you hadn't chased me off earlier, I might have called you in, but I did call the state police. If you'd told your superiors everything I told you, they'd have connected the two cases, and you'd have been here anyway."
"I had enough men with me to cover the house and the civilians," Freemont said. "Not including me cost lives."
I nodded. "Probably. But you'd have come down here and kicked me out again. You'd have taken St. John and his people out in the dark with five vampires, one of them ancient, when all you've seen is pictures of vampire kills. They'd have slaughtered you, but maybe, just maybe, Beth St. John would be alive. Maybe Jeff Quinlan would still be here."
I stared up at her, and watched the anger drain from her eyes. We looked at each other. "It took both of us to fuck this one up, Sergeant." I turned back to the two agents. "I'll wait outside."
"Wait," Bradford said. "Storr said that sometimes the legal vampire community will help on a case like this. Who do I talk to down here?"
"Why would they hunt down one of their own?" Agent Elwood asked.
"This kind of shit is bad for business. Especially right now with Senator Brewster's daughter getting killed. Vampires don't need any more bad publicity. Most of them like being legal. They like the fact that killing them is murder."
"So who do I talk to?" Bradford asked.
I sighed. "In this area, I don't know. I'm not a hometown girl."
"How do I go about finding out who to talk to?"
"I might be able to help you there."
"How?"
I shook my head. "I know someone who might know a name. I'm not trying to give you a hard time here, but a lot of the monsters don't like dealing with cops. It just hasn't been that long ago that the police shot them on sight."
"So you're saying the vampires will talk to you and not to us?" Elwood said.
"Something like that."
"That makes no sense. You're a vampire executioner. Your job is to kill them. Why would they believe you and not us?" he asked.
I didn't know how to explain it, and wasn't sure I wanted to. "I also raise zombies, Agent Elwood. I think they sort of consider me one of the monsters."
"Even though you're their version of an electric chair."
"Even though."
"That's not logical."
I laughed then; I couldn't help it. "God, has anything that happened here tonight been logical?"
Elwood gave a very small smile. I pegged him as the newer of the two. I don't think he'd gotten over the thought that FBI agents don't smile.
"You wouldn't be withholding information from the FBI, would you, Ms. Blake?" Bradford asked.
"If I come up with a vampire in this area that will talk to you, I'll give you the name."
Bradford stared at me. "How about if you come up with any vampires in this area, you give us the names. Let us worry about whether they'll talk to us or not."
I looked at him for a heartbeat and lied. "Sure." If I expected the monsters to help me, I couldn't give them all over to the cops. Only a select few.
He looked like he didn't believe me, but couldn't quite call me a liar to my face. "When we find the vampires responsible, we'll be sure to call you in for the kill."
That was more than Freemont had been willing to do. The night was looking up. "Beep me any time."
"We'll talk to Sergeant Freemont now, Ms. Blake." I was dismissed. Fine with me. He offered his hand. I took it. We shook. Agent Elwood and I shook. Everyone smiled. I left.
Larry was waiting out in the entryway. He got up off the stairs where he'd been sitting. "What now?"
"I need to make a phone call."
"Who to?"
Two more men with "Federal Agent" tattooed on their foreheads walked up the hallway from the direction of the kitchen. I shook my head and went out the door into the cool windy night. The place was swarming with cops. I'd never seen so many federal agents in my life. But hey, the very first vampire serial killer was news. Everyone would want a piece. Watching everyone mill around on the carefully tended lawn, I suddenly wanted to go home. To just pack up and go home. It was still early. Hours and hours left of darkness. It only seemed like it had been an eternity since we left the graveyard. Hell, there'd be time to go back and look at Stirling's boneyard before dawn.
I got in the jeep that Bayard had loaned us. I'd use the nifty portable phone it came with.
Larry got in the passenger side.
"Private call."
"Come on, Anita."
"Out, Larry."
"Out in the dark with the vampires." He blinked his big blue eyes at me.
"The place is lousy with cops. I think you'll be safe. Out."
He got out, grumbling under his breath. He could grumble all he wanted to. Larry wanted to be a vampire hunter, fine; but he didn't have to be as intimately involved with the monsters as I was. I was trying to keep him as out of it as I could. Not easy, but worth the effort.
I'd lied to the nice agents. It wasn't the fact that I raised zombies that got me in good with the vampires. It was the fact that the Master of the City, of St. Louis, had the hots for me. Was maybe in love with me, or at least thought he was.
I knew the number by heart, which was a bad sign all on its own. "Guilty Pleasures, where your darkest fantasies come true. This is Robert. How may I help you?"
Great; Robert, one of my least favorite vampires. "Hi, Robert, this is Anita. I need to speak to Jean-Claude."
He hesitated, then said, "I'll transfer you to his office phone. It's a new system, so if I disconnect you, call back."
The phone clicked before I could answer. A moment of silence, and the voice came on the line. You can criticize a lot about Jean-Claude, but he gives good phone.
"Good evening, ma petite." That was it, all he said, but even over the buzzing phone his voice was like fur inside my skull.
"I'm near Branson. I need to contact the Master of the City down here."
"No 'Good evening, Jean-Claude, how are you doing?'? Just down to business. How terribly rude, ma petite."
"Look, I don't have time for games right now. Some vampires down here are on the rampage. They've kidnapped a young boy. I want to find him before they can make him one of them."
"How young is the boy?"
"Sixteen."
In centuries past, ma petite, that was not considered a child."
"It isn't legal age right this minute."
"Did he go willingly?"
"No."
"You know that for a fact, or were you merely told he was kidnapped?"
"I talked to him before. He didn't go willingly."
Jean-Claude sighed. The sound slithered down my skin like cool fingers. "What do you want of me, ma petite?"
"I want to talk to the Master of the City down here. I need the name. I'm assuming you do know who the Master is down here?"
"Of course, but it is not that simple."
"We only have three nights to save him, and a hell of a lot less if they just want a snack."
"The Master will not talk to you without a guide to take you in."
"Send someone, then."
"Who? Robert? Willie? Neither of them is powerful enough to be your escort."
"If you mean they can't protect me, I can protect myself."
"I know you can take care of yourself, ma petite. You have made that abundantly clear. But you do not look as dangerous as you are. You might have to shoot one or two to teach them their place. If you got out alive, they would not help you."
"I want to get this boy back intact, Jean-Claude. Work with me here."
"Ma petite..."
I had an image of Jeff Quinlan's brown eyes. His room with its cowboy wallpaper. "Help me, Jean-Claude."
He was silent for a moment. "I am the only one powerful enough to be your escort. Do you wish me to drop everything and rush down to you?"
It was my turn to be quiet. Put like that, it didn't sound right. It sounded like a big favor. I didn't want to be indebted to him. But I'd probably live through owing him a favor. Jeff Quinlan might not.
"Fine," I said.
"You want me to come help you?"
I gritted my teeth and said, "Yes."
"I will fly down tomorrow night."
"Tonight."
"Ma petite, ma petite, what am I to do with you?"
"You said you'd help me."
"And I will, but these things take time."
"What things?"
"It might be helpful if you thought of Branson as a foreign country. A potentially hostile foreign country where I am working to get us safe passage. There are customs to be observed. If I barge in, it will be seen as a declaration of war."
"Isn't there any way to start tonight?" I asked. "Short of starting a war?"
"Perhaps, but if you wait one more night, ma petite, we can enter much more safely. "
"We can take care of ourselves. Jeff Quinlan can't."
"That is his name?"
"Yeah."
He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh that made me shiver. I would have told him to stop that, but it would have amused him, so I didn't.
"I will fly down tonight. How do I contact you?"
I gave him the name of my hotel and then, with a sigh, my beeper number.
"I will call you when I arrive."
"How long will it take you to fly this far?"
"Anita, do you think I am going to fly myself down, as a bird would?"
I didn't like the faint amusement in his voice, but I answered truthfully. "It was a thought."
He laughed, and it raised goose-bumps on my arms. "Oh, ma petite, ma petite, you are precious."
Just what I wanted to hear. "So how are you getting here?"
"My private jet."
Of course, he had a private jet. "When can you be here?"
"I will be there as soon as I can, my impatient flower."
"I prefer ma petite to flower."
"As you like, ma petite."
"I want to see the Master of Branson tonight before dawn."
"You have made that abundantly clear, and I will try."
"Do more than try."
"You are feeling guilty about this boy; why?"
"I'm not feeling guilty."
"Responsible, then," he said.
I sat there, not sure what to say. He was right. "I don't suppose you read my mind just then?"
"No, ma petite, just your voice and your impatience."
I hated that he knew me that well. Hated it. "Yeah, I feel responsible."
"Why?"
"I was in charge."
"Did you do all you could to keep him safe?"
"I had hosts put at every entrance."
"Someone let them in, then?"
"They had a doggie door that exited through the garage, into the house wall. They didn't want to cut a hole through any of the outer doors."
"Was there a child vampire among them?"
"No."
"Then how?"
I described the thin, skeletal vampire. "It was almost a form change. He changed back in seconds. Once he changed back, he could have passed for human in dim light. I've never seen anything like it."
"I've only seen the ability once," he said.
"You know who it is, don't you?"
"I will be with you as soon as I am able, ma petite."
"You sound serious all of a sudden; why?"
He gave a small laugh, but this one was bitter, like swallowing broken glass. It hurt just to hear it. "You know me too well, ma petite."
"Just answer the question."
"Did the boy who was taken look younger than his years?"
"Yeah; why?"
Silence thick enough to slice was the only answer.
"Talk to me, Jean-Claude."
"Have there been any other young boys gone missing?"
"Not to my knowledge, but I haven't asked."
"Ask," he said.
"How young?"
"Twelve, fourteen, older if they look young enough."
"Like Jeff Quinlan," I said.
"I fear so."
"Is this vampire into more than just kidnapping?"
"What do you mean, ma petite?"
"Murder, not just biting them, but murder."
"What sort of murder?"
I hesitated. I didn't discuss ongoing police investigations with the monsters.
"I know you do not trust me, ma petite, but it is important. Tell me of these deaths, please."
He didn't say please very often. I told him. Not in great detail, but enough.
"Were they violated?"
"What do you mean, violated?" I asked.
"Violated, ma petite, violated. There are other words for it, but none better for children."
"Oh," I said. "I don't know if they were sexually assaulted. They were still clothed."
"There are things that can be done without removing clothing, ma petite. But the abuse would have happened before the killings. Systematic abuse over a period of weeks or months."
"I'll find out if they were assaulted." An idea occurred to me. "Would this vamp ever do a girl?"
"By 'do,' you mean sex?"
"Yeah."
"If pressed for company, he would take a young girl, prepubescent, but only if he could find nothing else."
I swallowed hard. We were talking about children like they were things, objects. "No, this girl looked like a woman. She didn't look young."
"Then, no, he would not willingly touch her."
"What do you mean, willingly? What other choice would there be?"
"His master could order him to do it, and he might, if he feared the master enough. Though I cannot think of many people that he would fear enough to do something he found repugnant."
"You know this vampire. Who is he? Give me a name."
"When I arrive, ma petite."
"Just give me the name."
"So you can give it to the police?"
"That is their job."
"No, ma petite. If it is who I think it is, it will not be a matter for the police."
"Why not?"
"Put simply, he is too dangerous and too exotic to be revealed to the general public. If mortals found out we could have among us such things, they might turn on us all together. You must be aware of that nasty law floating around the Senate."
"I'm aware."
"Then you must understand my caution."
"Maybe, but if more people die because of your caution, it's going to help Brewster's law get passed. You think about that."
"Oh, I am, ma petite. Trust that I am. Now farewell. I have much to do." He hung up.
I sat there staring at the phone. Damn him. What did he mean by exotic? What could this new vampire do that others couldn't? He could slim himself down enough to fit through a doggie door. Maybe it made Houdini jealous, but it was hardly a crime. But I remembered its face. Not human. Not even just a corpse's face. It had been something else altogether. Something different. And I remembered those few seconds I lost, twice. Me, the great vampire hunter, helpless as any civilian for just a heartbeat. With vampires, a heartbeat was enough.
Visions of such things would get you talking of demons, which Quinlan had done briefly. The police ignored him, and I didn't back up his story. Quinlan had never met a real demon, or he wouldn't have made the mistake. Once you've been in the presence of demons, you never forget it. I'd rather fight a dozen vampires than one demonic presence. They don't give a shit about silver bullets.