Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases) Page 6

  Vampires?

  The worst part in all of this was the painful knot of fear in her stomach that worried they were right.

  God damn it all to hell.

  She stormed out of the morgue, leaving the girls behind. She just needed a minute alone, to let out this aggression that seemed to be getting worse lately. Gerri really wanted an hour to punch the hell out of the heavy bag and sweat off her fury. In fact, the more she thought about it, the better that idea sounded.

  Ten minutes later, stripped down to shorts and a tank, she pounded her way through her rage in the basement of the 9th, alone in the musty, beat up gym as the sun came up, just the way she liked it.

  The harder she punched, the more she kicked, the louder the bag’s old leather groaned under her fierce attention, the better Gerri felt. After a solid fifteen minutes of venting, a few new cracks lacing the dried out surface of the bag, she panted to a stop, grinning.

  Vampires. Holy shit on a stick. Gerri laughed in the quiet of the empty gym. Fucking vampires. They had to be kidding.

  She bounced on her toes, breathing easily, shaking out her red hair, a few more taps hitting the bag as she worked it through. Yes, okay. They’d encountered weird. She’d give the girls that. Things even Gerri’s practiced police mind couldn’t explain. But. She whacked the bag to emphasize that word. Just because she didn’t have an answer now, didn’t mean there wasn’t a perfectly logical reason for the things she’d witnessed. Exactly. And jumping to conclusions when there were avenues to explore only led to shoddy investigations and cold cases. Gerri would not be one of those cops.

  She paused, thinking of Jackson, licking sweat from her lips. He’d love that, if she screwed up. And maybe she should, just to get him off her back. As if. She snorted as she turned from the heavy bag and headed for the locker room. No time for a run today, but she’d fit one in later, to burn off more energy. It wasn’t lost on her she hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. And that she needed less and less rest these days. She chalked it up to being fit, focused. Young enough her body could take it with enough caffeine to keep her going. Sleep was for pussies.

  A hot shower and a change of clothes and Gerri was feeling more herself. She trotted up the steps to the bullpen and her desk, checking for messages. No word from Ray or Kinsey. She fielded a brief pang of guilt over the way she’d acted in the morgue, but knew the girls would forgive her. She’d buy them both a drink when this was over, when she’d proved it wasn’t some damned Hollywood bloodsucker who killed Tasha Pear and put two kids in the hospital. Just your regular, run of the mill asshole who she’d catch and bring to justice.

  With that thought warming her heart, she headed for the door. One good thing about being sleepless, she knew her partner didn’t share her energy. Jackson was probably at home in bed. Let him get his beauty sleep, the bitch. Gerri had a job to do.

  She flipped through her notebook in the driver’s seat of her car, ordering her thoughts. And, while he didn’t cross her mind as a suspect, when Gerri’s eyes settled on Julian Black’s name, her gut twinged. He might not have been her killer, but he knew more than he was telling her about what happened. She would bet the farm he knew Tasha, too, no matter his protests. She had a few avenues to explore, but a chat with Julian hit the top of her list.

  Maybe he’d offer her coffee.

  ***

  EXT. to INT. – JULIAN BLACK’S MANSION – MORNING

  Julian Black’s house wasn’t a surprise, nor was its location on the outskirts of the city in the richest part of town. Sprawling and palatial, the grand entry made Gerri roll her eyes at the not-so-subtle show of wealth, from the perfectly sculptured trees to the artfully placed statues. She’d seen enough of the elite’s way of living to last her a lifetime and convince her she would never, ever fit in.

  Not that she’d want to.

  She had no trouble at the gate, and was greeted on the front steps of the house by a bowing man in a dark suit she assumed was the butler when she parked her sedan in the circular driveway.

  “Please, follow me,” he said in an accent like Ray’s, a British import. How impressive. Gerri bit back a snort and went after the man, almost running him over and forced to pull back her normal long, aggressive stride to keep pace. She glanced down at his shiny, bald head, before stepping inside. The large foyer of vanilla stone was lit from above by giant skylights, filled with towering plants that gave the feel of a courtyard rather than the interior entry of a house. The butler didn’t pause, turning right and passing through an open pair of double doors into a large sitting room, the walls lined with books on one side and floor to ceiling glass doors on the far end.

  The butler bowed to her, gestured at the table in the middle of the room where a tray sat. “Please, help yourself,” he said, polite but cool. “Mr. Black will be with you presently.”

  Gerri waited for the officious little man to leave before crossing to the table, nose twitching at the scent of coffee. Knowing Kinsey would be frowning at her as she did so, the detective dumped a generous portion of sugar and cream into a tall mug before topping it up with steaming java. She took a sniff before sampling the taste, pleasantly surprised by the brew. It was, she grudgingly admitted, the best coffee she’d ever tasted.

  Only the best for Julian Black.

  The sound of a familiar voice coming toward her turned Gerri around. She was shocked to discover Kinsey entering the room beside the butler.

  “—late, please tell Ms. Paris I’m normally on time.” Kinsey stopped in her tracks, eyes wide as she met Gerri’s eyes. “Hey.”

  The butler made no indication he found anything amiss. Instead, he bowed to Kinsey. “Please, help yourself.” Was he on repeat? His gesture toward the coffee was identical to the one he’d used on Gerri. “Ms. Paris will be with you shortly.” And left again, just like that. Robot. Had to be a robot. Gerri sipped her coffee, acutely uncomfortable as Kinsey stood there, staring, hurt.

  Damn it.

  “Coffee’s good.” Gerri turned her back on Kinsey, knowing she had to apologize. Unable to, at least for the moment.

  She heard the blonde cross to her side, the click of a mug being lifted from the glass table. “You ruined it, didn’t you?” Gerri’s sharp glance caught a grin on her friend’s face. “Cream and sugar.” Kinsey pointed with disgust at Gerri’s mug. “How could you? We can’t possibly stay friends, you know.”

  Gerri grinned, relaxed at the humor in Kinsey’s eyes. The understanding and forgiveness. This was why they were friends. “Mmmm,” she said, slurping. “Yummy.”

  Kinsey rolled her eyes with a breathless laugh. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was going to ask you the same question.” Gerri topped up her mug, ignored Kinsey’s nose wrinkle as she added more cream and sugar. It really was awesome coffee.

  “Simone Paris hired me to have a look at some artifacts,” she said. “She’s a patron of the college, so…” her slim shoulders shrugged.

  Right. Gerri remembered Kinsey saying something to that effect last night at the club. Before all hell broke loose. “You do know this is Julian Black’s house, right?” Gerri noted Kinsey’s surprise. “No idea?”

  The blonde shook her head, frowning. “Weird.”

  Gerri hated that word.

  “How’s your student?” Time to change the subject. Though, the moment Gerri did, she inwardly winced. She did not want to renew their vampire conversation. But Kinsey just shook her head, eyes full of concern.

  “I’m heading over to the hospital after I talk to Simone,” she said. “Mitchell’s a great kid, Gerri.”

  “I hope he’s okay.”

  “Detective.”

  Gerri spun, hackles raised, to find Julian Black standing at a door on the other side of the room. She hadn’t heard him come in, his sudden appearance triggering her gut reaction.

  Something is wrong with him.

  Kinsey stepped around her, giving her the moment she needed to get it together. Only th
en did Gerri realize Julian wasn’t alone.

  “Ms. Paris.” She set her coffee down and crossed to the couple, their slim perfection framed in the doorway. The dark haired woman in the clinging red dress shook Kinsey’s hand before smiling at Gerri with her ruby lips.

  “Please, Simone.” Her black eyes examined Gerri, gave her the willies. “I didn’t realize you knew Detective Meyers?”

  Liar. Gerri’s hand clenched on her coffee cup. Now, why would Simone say that?

  Kinsey turned, body language telling Gerri she was totally at ease, had no idea something was off here, with these two people.

  “Gerri and I are old friends. From college.” She returned her attention to Simone while Gerri carefully set her mug down on the table, afraid the pressure of her fingers might break it. Tension wove a snake of anxiety through her insides.

  “I see.” Simone looked away, smiled at Kinsey, easing the pressure on Gerri enough she didn’t immediately lunge forward and pull her friend out of harm’s way. Imaginary harm. Gerri shook herself inwardly. What the hell was wrong with her? “Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get you started. I’m sure the detective and Julian have a lot to talk about.” Simone’s hand settled on Kinsey’s shoulder as she met Gerri’s gaze again.

  Danger.

  And then, the two were gone, Kinsey waving a little at Gerri who could do nothing about it. Forced to stand there and let the anthropologist go. Because, honestly, there was zero reason for Gerri to think the anthropologist was in any kind of trouble. Except for the gnawing, insistent feeling in her gut.

  “Detective.” Julian Black crossed to her, distracting her, breaking the spell Simone seemed to have cast over her. Gerri felt the thread of threat snap, wondering what was wrong with her all of a sudden. He fixed her with a bored and irritated expression. “I take it you have more useless questions for me? Or do you intend to torment me and ruin my business another night?”

  His attitude was just the kick in the ass she needed. Gerri smiled at him, pulled out her notebook. “Your cooperation is appreciated, Mr. Black.”

  He sighed heavily, pouring himself some coffee, sunlight washing over his back, casting his face in shadow. “Just ask, detective. I have business to attend to this morning.”

  Gerri pulled her phone from her pocket, showed him a picture of Tasha again. “You said you’ve never seen the victim before?”

  Julian actually took the phone from her, to his credit, looking at her face carefully. “I haven’t,” he said. “But those marks on her neck? I’m familiar with them.” He handed the phone back. “Was that the cause of death?”

  Such a casual question. But why did she feel like he was waiting with bated breath for her answer?

  “You’ve seen wounds like these?” Gerri’s skin tightened, hackles rising again.

  “Of course.” He shrugged inside his expensive dark suit. “Every club owner has. But as hard as I try, detective, I have little control over the contraband my patrons manage to sneak into my establishment.”

  “Contraband?” Gerri caught herself frowning. What was he talking about?

  “Drugs, detective.” Now Julian’s boredom sounded real. “Perhaps you should be more versed in current affairs, considering your job. These marks are part of a new drug being passed around local clubs.”

  Ray said the tox screen was negative for narcotics. “What drug?”

  His eyes sparked with something she hated already. Contempt, maybe. “And do your job for you, Detective?”

  Jerkwad. But if it was a new drug, Ray might not have known what to look for.

  Julian’s small, lazy smile pissed her off, partly because she felt like an idiot. “You’re welcome,” he said. “If there’s nothing else?” He gestured and Gerri turned to find the creepy old butler waiting for her. “Martin will show you out.”

  It wasn’t until she was in her car, fuming over being escorted out, Gerri remembered she’d again left Kinsey to fend for herself.

  ***

  INT. – JULIAN BLACK’S MANSION – MORNING

  Kinsey’s pulse picked up as she followed Simone through doorway and into the long, tall ceilinged hallway. More skylights bathed the passage in heat and illumination, reflecting from Simone’s shiny, black hair, catching the diamonds in her ears. Kinsey might not have wanted Gerri to see it, but there was something about this woman that equally attracted her and freaked her out.

  Not attraction in the sexual sense. Kinsey was 100% hetero, despite dabbling out of curiosity during a summer spent at a dig in Peru. More of a charismatic pull, as though Simone was drawing Kinsey to her with will alone. It had to be a coincidence she recognized that feeling. She had finally sensed it in her grandmother and used it herself from time to time to make things go her way.

  But it was impossible. She argued with herself on that seemingly endless walk to the other end of the house. How could the weird talent Kinsey had to lean on people, to influence them with just her mind, also be something Simone was capable of? Despite what Gerri might think, Kinsey wasn’t all gung-ho about fully accepting the paranormal. She was as much a logical thinker as the detective and Ray. Sure, she had more exposure to the weird, as Gerri called it, thanks to her specialty in the occult. But it wasn’t like she was ready to fling logic aside and assume every bad thing or odd thing that happened to her and around her was the fault of some unexplainable phenomenon.

  She’d spent her whole life wondering if there was something wrong with her. If she was just imagining she had this subtle power over people. Kinsey still wasn’t positive her dominating grandmother, Margot, even had it or if she’d just made that up in her own head the night she finally challenged the old woman. Out of fear she really was just weak and Margot was right to control her.

  Kinsey shook off her unease. One way to find out. On impulse, before she could think better of it, she pushed back.

  Simone’s head turned, black eyes flashing with something Kinsey didn’t recognize as the woman came to a sudden halt. Fear she’d triggered a reaction she wasn’t prepared for stopped Kinsey’s heart a moment and she had the wild inspiration to shout for Gerri.

  Only to have her host gesture at a doorway, closed and waiting. “Through here,” Simone said.

  Kinsey unfroze after an awkward moment, grinned in grateful response. She was such an idiot. Why did anyone ever let her out in public? She reached for the handle, turned it, relief washing through her. And caught a twitch of motion, a flash of vision so foreign her brain could barely process the sparks for eyes, the bright white skin, the glow tinged with darkness. All leaching through from the corner of her eye.

  Simone wasn’t… human.

  Kinsey stumbled through the doorway, unsure of herself all over again. What had she just seen? Nothing, imagination, the barest glimpse out of her peripheral vision. Still, it took a long moment before Kinsey could force herself to turn around. But when she faced the woman who led her here, Simone looked normal, if beautiful, soft smile on her red lips.

  “I do appreciate you coming out here, Kinsey.” Simone drifted past her, heels tapping softly on the tile floor. Kinsey followed her into the room, eyes adjusting to the darker space. A row of glass cases sat in the middle of the mostly empty area, all with pieces showcased inside. “Your expertise is most welcome.”

  Kinsey forgot all about Simone, the brief imagined glimpse of something lurking where a woman should be. Forgot Gerri and the case and everything in the moment she stepped up to the first glass display and looked in at the tall, slim decanter. Etched with markings she’d never seen before.

  No, not true. She had. But only six of them.

  “Where did you get these?” She didn’t care she sounded breathless, fingers tracing over the glass. Simone’s approach she ignored, even as the woman touched a small button on the surface of the display. With a soft hiss, the glass retracted, a blinking red light within flashing once before shutting off. Kinsey’s hands dipped into her pockets, pulled free a pair of gloves. She
had the good sense to slip them on before carefully, reverently, lifting the decanter into her hands.

  She ran trembling fingers over the writing, the stone of the vessel surprisingly dense in her grip, as Simone spoke.

  “Can you translate?” Her voice was sufficiently intense it broke Kinsey’s concentration on the object and turned her head. When she met Simone’s eyes, she shivered, involuntary. There was something dark and frightening in the woman’s gaze. But Kinsey simply couldn’t resist the pull of the artifact.

  “I don’t know.” She stroked it with loving fingers before setting it back on its pedestal. “I’ve seen some of these symbols before. But the majority… I’ll have to do some research.”

  “Exactly why I asked you here.” Simone pressed the button again, and Kinsey almost sighed with regret as the glass rose once more, cutting her off from the decanter. The red light, an alarm Kinsey guessed, blinked on again. She studied the shape of the odd pitcher, not recognizing the origin of the shape, as Simone continued speaking. “Would you be willing to attempt the job?”

  Kinsey nodded absently as she stepped past her host and to the next glass case. The long, narrow platter balanced on a shining metal stand, the stonework not any ceramic or mud based creation she recognized. Usually pottery this ancient had recognizable tool marks. But the platter seemed shaped and polished as though from pure stone. Simone didn’t offer to open this one, as Kinsey’s curiosity followed the circle of small symbols from the outer edge of the plate into a spiral ending in the center. Hundreds of them, all unique. A large chunk of vocabulary, right there, waiting for her.