* * *
The house where she’d been found had long been abandoned. Birds, raccoons and worse made their homes in the structure, and it smelled of mildew and soot. More than half of the house was in disrepair, including the kitchen which had been gutted by fire. The bedrooms at the rear of the house were still intact, though empty. Bishop paused just inside the front door, extending his senses. Other than a family of squirrels they were alone on the property.
“How do we know we’re alone?” Anja whispered, laying a fearful hand on his arm that brought a faint smile to his lips.
“Can’t you tell?” At her shake of the head, he placed both hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Close your eyes, block out all distractions but the sound of my voice. Can you do that?” This time she nodded and he lowered his voice, watching her expressive face as she listened. “Listen with your whole body, in ever widening circles. Can you hear the drip of water from the rain gutter by the front door? Now set it aside and find the next layer of sound. Hear the scratch of the squirrels in the next room…”
“I hear them,” she breathed, her eyes still closed. “There are two… no, three of them.”
“Good. What else do you hear?” he prompted gently.
“I hear the crickets outside.”
“What else?”
“I hear… wings… there are birds flying overhead. That way…” she pointed, her face expectant, craving his confirmation.
This must be what it was like to have a fledgling… something he’d vowed never to experience. Overall it seemed like a pain in the ass, but some moments, it didn’t seem so bad. “Very good.” Bishop felt the reward of her smile and forced himself to remember they had a job to do. He wasn’t there to play blind man’s bluff. “See, we’re completely alone. Come on, let’s get moving.”
Bishop led Anja through the house to the room he knew she’d been held in from the police report on file. A crudely stuffed mattress lay in the center of the room, one corner of it liberally stained with blood.
“This isn’t what I expected at all,” Anja murmured, staring at the dark stain.
“No? This isn’t jogging your memory I take it?” It had been a long shot anyway.
“No, not at all. I just thought, with all the preparations he took with the costume and the jewelry… I don’t know, I thought we’d see something more elaborate than an old mattress on the floor.”
“Take a closer look.” Bishop squatted down next to the makeshift bed. “The mattress isn’t old, the fabric and stitches are coarse, but new.” He reached out to touch the end of the mattress, releasing a waft of fragrant herbs. Fennel, thyme, and apples - sparking something from his memory.
“What are these?” Anja knelt down beside him, fingers tracing over deep scratches embedded in the hardwood floor surrounding the mattress.
“They’re runes, Norse writing.” Standing up again, he circled the bed, studying the old script with growing apprehension. Coupled with the garb she’d been found in, Bishop started to have serious concerns about who her Sire might be.
It was crazy. If an Ellri roamed the streets of his city, Bishop was confident he would have known it. Sure, anyone could carve a bunch of runes, but the way he’d laid her out and the ring… Bishop couldn’t shake the feeling they were dealing with a very old and powerful vampire.
“So you think there’s an ancient Viking after me?” Anja drew him out of his reverie, her mind starting down the same path, but without the information he had about what that meant. “Why would he want to turn me into a vampire if I’ve never even met him?”
“I think I might know. Your lineage could very well factor into it. There’s a possibility you’re a descendent of his.”
“Then my sister Hanna could just as easily have been chosen?”
“If that’s his only criteria, then yes, she could have been a target. But likely there are other factors. Physically you’re… well, you’re very…” he gestured to her, unable to find the right words to describe her delicate beauty coupled with the intangible quality that drew him in. Carys had evoked the same feeling in him, making him want to protect her from the moment he’d first met her.
“Very what?”
Bishop cleared his throat. Since when did he have trouble talking to women? “Let’s just say with your coloring, you’re the ideal for someone of his tastes.”
“Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed by his reply and he couldn’t help but add a simple compliment.
“Besides which, beauty is often a tempting lure for our kind.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” Anja gave him a crooked smile, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe such a thing.
There was no way he was going to walk into that one, he’d already let himself get far too invested in her circumstances. “We should, ah, keep looking for clues, anything to take back to my team.”
Anja nodded, eyes returning to the evidence before them. “That’s my blood, isn’t it?”
“Most likely. Only one way to find out for sure though.” Already familiar with the scent of her blood from the clothes she’d given him the night before, he leaned down very close to the mattress, methodically working his way across the sprawling stain, searching for signs of any other blood mingled with hers. Her Sire had to have given her some of his blood, there could have been some spilled in the process. But they didn’t end up lucky enough for that to happen.
“Just your blood, A positive,” he reported, straightening.
“How did you know that?”
“Eh, it’s a knack I picked up over the years.” He gave a half shrug. “Most vampires can tell by taste, I’ve gotten very good at tracking.” The trouble was, the scene had been thoroughly scrubbed down by the human’s CSU, so there was precious little to discover. He was surprised they hadn’t brought the mattress in with them, but they probably took the samples they needed instead.
“There’s nothing else then? Nothing to lead us to him?”
Bishop didn’t miss the tremor that went through her limbs and he hated being the cause for it. But what else could he do? He couldn’t let her go, it went against everything he believed in. “Come on, let’s get going.” There was no sense in putting off the inevitable. Anja nodded, hanging her head in acceptance, and he was glad he wouldn’t have to chase her down again.
“Where is it? This vampire jail you’re taking me to?” she asked after they were in the car.
“It’s not a jail exactly, we don’t house criminals the way humans do. I’m taking you to the holding facilities at the local headquarters. We rarely keep anyone there longer than a day or two.”
“There aren’t many vampire criminals?”
Hardly. “We have very strict penalties.” He gave her a mirthless smile, leaving her to draw her own conclusions from that. Bishop turned onto 42nd Avenue. Within the space of a few minutes he’d take her in, process her and then wash his hands of the situation for a few days.
Strict penalties… If her Sire showed up to claim her, he’d be called in to interrogate him. If no one claimed her… the laws were clear. No unlicensed breeding. No exceptions, unless you were one of the Ellri, which almost never happened anymore. The Ellri weren’t subject to laws of any kind, they came and went as they pleased. But none had been spotted in decades as far as he knew, and none in the new world.
Strict penalties…
Bishop banished all such thoughts from his mind as he guided the dark SUV through the deserted city streets. In fact, he pushed any thoughts aside, his body working on autopilot until he stopped the car in the rear parking lot of a hardware store.
“This is where your headquarters is?” she said dubiously, head leaning against the window to peer up at the building.
“No,” he answered shortly, gripping the steering wheel tightly. There was still time to turn the car around and head back to H
Q, he hadn’t done anything illegal yet.
“But I thought…”
Bishop shoved the keys in his pocket with short, angry movements, mentally cursing himself in five languages. “Just come with me before I change my mind.”