Pray for Dawn

ELEVEN

On Bay Street, Mira pulled into an open parking spot just a few blocks from Bull Street and City Hall while I called James to tell him where to meet us. As she shut off the car, Mira reached down and pulled a lever that popped the trunk. I slid out of the car at the same time as she and walked to the back of the vehicle. Knowing Mira had an old-fashioned distaste for guns, I expected to see a variety of knives, daggers, and swords gleaming in the light from the overhead streetlamp. Yet, when Mira opened the black leather bag hidden in the back of the trunk, all I saw were clothes.

I threw her a puzzled look then reached down and lifted up a pile of clothes only to find more clothes. The nightwalker smiled as she lightly smacked my hand away then returned to tucking in her shirt into her jeans.

“We can’t all walk around looking like hired thugs for the Mafia,” Mira teased. Rolling up her sleeves, Mira pulled a pair of wrist sheaths out of one pocket of the bag and strapped them on before pulling her sleeves back down. She also snapped a knife sheath to her belt, placing it down the back of her pants at her spine. All of her knives were small and lightweight, good for throwing or close fighting. With her clothes resettled, she pulled on a black suit jacket, but left it unbuttoned.

“A person will more willingly believe a thought you put in their head if it matches what they see,” Mira explained. “And right now, I want them to believe we’re detectives for the local police.”

While Mira’s clothes probably cost more than what most detectives made in a month, she did have a more professional air about her than usual. I, on the other hand, was dressed in my usual black cotton pants and turtleneck with worn black boots.

James appeared as she was shutting the trunk of her car, his cheeks flushed as he was slightly winded from the jog over from the nearby hotel. “Everything go okay?” he inquired as he brushed some hair out of his eyes.

“Fine,” I replied sharply, at which Mira lightly chuckled. If I were lucky, what occurred at that house would never be spoken of. The implications were something I wasn’t ready to contemplate while we were in the middle of a murder investigation, if ever.

With everything settled, we followed Mira down a dark set of stone stairs to the lower level, called Factors Walk. River Street was the next block over and was at the level of the river, while Bay Street was at least one story above River Street. This was where I had briefly encountered the young girl earlier in the day. A quick glance over the area revealed that she was currently nowhere to be found.

The wide alley was cloaked in darkness, as the main streetlamps on Bay Street didn’t reach down into Factors Walk. A couple of the buildings had doorways on Factors Walk, but their dim lamps did little to cut into the thick darkness. Our footsteps echoed off the ballast stone street and along the surrounding walls and building fronts.

A man stood in one doorway, his back pressed to a wall, a position that allowed him to watch our approach. He pensively puffed on a cigarette, his dark eyes narrowed, deepening the crisscross of wrinkles that dug deep furrows in his face. His gray pants and white shirt were rumpled and half hidden beneath a dark brown trench coat. He reached up and twisted what appeared to be a blown-out lightbulb in a lamp by the doorway until it flickered on, blanketing the region in dirty yellow light.

“You’re late,” he announced, flicking away the cigarette. I sank back into the shadows, out of the reach of the light that hung outside the front door of the six-story redbrick building. My life had been spent perfecting the art of invisibility, slinking along the fringe of a person’s memory. James, on the other hand, stood directly beside the nightwalker, blinking at the light as he stepped into it.

“Something came up,” Mira replied, standing at the foot of the three stairs that led up to the building. She hovered along the edge of the light, her pale skin glowing like a grounded star. From her left jacket pocket, she withdrew a pair of sunglasses with blue-tinted lenses and settled them on the bridge of her nose.

The man shoved his right hand into his pocket and pulled out a creased pack of cigarettes. “I’ve been waiting for almost an hour, damn it. People are gonna start asking questions.”

“You really should stop smoking,” Mira calmly said, looking up at him.

“Smoking ain’t gonna kill me. It’s dealing with your kind that’ll do me in,” he grumbled, pulling out a cigarette. “You know of any city where your kind hasn’t settled?”

“There’s very few of us in the Dakotas,” Mira supplied cheerfully, earning a derisive snort from the man as he flicked his lighter. Cupping his hands around the cigarette, the brief flash of light further illuminated his features and picked up the flecks of gray in his dark brown hair. He was older than I had initially thought, worn to an angry nub by his years.

“That’s okay.” His sarcastic sneer twisted his lips around his cigarette as he took a long drag. “This is enough of a hole.”

“Then move,” Mira suggested.

“Can’t,” he sighed. “Annie’s family is here and the girls are settled.” For a brief moment, his expression softened and he exhaled deeply. With a shake of his head, he reached in his pocket. “Keys for the front door and apartment. Top floor. Can’t miss it.” Mira caught the pair of keys on a ring in one hand as he tossed them to her.

“The report?” She bounced the keys in her hand so that they jangled softly.

“I’m working on it. Probably won’t have it all until morning,” he said with another shake of his head.

“Leave it at the town house. He can look at it during the day,” Mira directed, motioning with her head toward me. The man looked me over for a breath, his eyes sweeping over my features as if trying to memorize my appearance. I froze, my eyes locking with his, like I was a wolf sizing up an opponent.

“He’s not one of yours?” he asked at last, his eyes still moving over my face as if he was internally weighing some thought that didn’t match up with my appearance. There was something in his tone. I couldn’t decide whether he was surprised that I wasn’t a vampire, or surprised that I wasn’t a vampire yet.

“No, just an associate,” Mira replied.

“And this one?” he asked, nodding his head toward James.

James took a step forward and extended his hand toward the smoking man. “James Parker. I work as a researcher and I’m here to assist Mira in this matter.”

Before the stranger could say anything, Mira took one step closer, and the man came down the stairs, careful not to brush against her. He gave a small grunt, ignoring James’s extended hand as he took another puff off his cigarette. He paused a couple of feet away from me, looking up at Mira as she stood at the top of the stairs. “You’ve got to be quick about this one,” he warned, his fingers nervously fiddling with his cigarette. “Too many people are watching.” He then turned and quickly walked down the alley, a thin trail of smoke lifting into the air behind him as he turned a corner and headed down to River Street. I watched him for a brief moment then followed Mira and James up the three stairs and into the redbrick building.

Closing the door behind me, I blinked against the bright light that flooded the empty hallway. The walls were painted white and the doors and woodwork were all dark mahogany. The building was old, but very clean and well maintained. The floor was covered in tiny white and blue ceramic tiles arranged in an intricate design of flourishes and flowers. Someone had put a great deal of money into restoring this building.

Mira paused at the foot of the main staircase, sending her powers out around her. The cool brush lasted only a second and I found myself reaching out with her. It had become a habit now when she was near to search for the naturi.

“Anything?” she murmured, her left hand resting lightly on the banister.

“Only humans,” I replied.

The nightwalker nodded and started up the stairs, her left hand sliding along the rail. I followed behind her, my footsteps loud and heavy in the silent apartment building. During my two previous trips to Savannah, I had spent very little time in this part of town. Here resided the young professionals that still liked to be close to all of the trendy clubs and bars in the city. The vampires were more than happy to hunt in this section of town, but it was dangerous for me to hunt them among so many humans. I would wait until they slunk back to the fringe of the city for their daytime slumber before I would attack.

And now one vampire had gone too far and killed a woman with connections. A careless or heartless moment had put everyone in danger of being outed. With the naturi lurking in the shadows, we were all walking along the edge of the knife, praying that the secret would last for just a few more years.

Of course, the coven would do what it had done for years and cover up this little mess. The vampires had their resources. Even Mira was not without her connections within the city.

“Who was the man out front?” I inquired, trying to keep my voice low as we reached the second-floor landing.

“Daniel Crowley,” Mira replied, continuing up the stairs. “Homicide detective.”

“And he helps you?”

“Sometimes. He gives me a call when something looks funny. He slows up the paperwork and gives me a look at what the police are seeing. He gives me a chance to take care of things before too many people start asking questions.”

“Do you pay him for this inside information?”

Mira sharply turned on the stair to face me, her eyes narrowed. “Daniel isn’t a dirty cop, if that’s what you’re implying. He’s no different than you. He wants to protect the people of this city. Yes, I pay him a small consulting fee. He’s got five daughters in private schools. That doesn’t come cheap.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, breaking eye contact first. For a vampire that reveled in her independence, Mira was showing a surprising amount of protectiveness for a collection of creatures. But I had a feeling that Daniel had earned her respect. He was sticking his neck out to protect mankind and help Mira. What did I care if Mira compensated him for his troubles?

“Thanks,” Mira said gruffly, then turned and continued up the stairs.

It wasn’t until we had reached the third floor that James finally spoke up. “How did he find out…about everything?”

“His sister-in-law is a member of the local pack,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. There was a somewhat wry smile teasing at her lips as she spoke. “Only Daniel and his brother know, but it opened his eyes to the rest of us.”

That way was better than what I had been expecting. It probably hadn’t been a comfortable moment for Daniel Crowley, but I doubted it caused him to wake up in a cold sweat with a scream lodged in his throat. Those few humans who knew that vampires, lycans, and all the other creatures existed were generally survivors with gruesome tales of blood and pain, and poorly healed scars.

I stopped at the top of the stairs on the top floor next to Mira. There were only two apartments on the sixth floor. The apartment on the left had its door close to the stairs. A woven mat with WELCOME in wide black letters beckoned all visitors. A fake potted palm also stood next to the dark wood door, adding to the warm atmosphere. The door to the apartment on the right was at the other end of the hall. Yellow police tape was stretched across the entrance, warning away the curious.

“What are the odds the neighbor heard or saw anything?” Mira said blandly, jerking her head toward the door on the left.

“We’re not that lucky,” I said with a frown. If the neighbor had seen the attacker, he or she wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. That, of course, is assuming the attacker didn’t have the power to wipe a human’s memory.

I walked ahead of Mira down the hall to the other apartment. I reached up to tear down the yellow tape, but my hand halted in midair as my eyes snagged on the streak of blood across the door. It wasn’t drawn in any kind of symbol, but looked like someone had wiped the blood off his or her finger, smearing it across the lacquer surface.

Mira reached around me and tore down the yellow tape, making a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. Using the key Daniel had given her, she unlocked the door and shoved it open. I moved to follow her into the apartment, but she pressed her hand to my chest, stopping me.

“What?” I demanded, barely resisting the urge to take a step backward away from her touch. After what happened at the little vampire gathering, I thought it better if I maintained some physical distance from her. One of us was having restraint issues, and right now, distance could only be a good thing.

“Wait.” Mira drew in a slow, deep breath through her nose and held it, her eyes closed. She didn’t breathe, but vampirism did heighten her senses. Mira was smelling the air.

I quickly snapped my eyes from the way her breasts rose as her lungs expanded and stared blindly into the room, vainly attempting to concentrate on why we were at the apartment in the first place. “Anything?”

Mira shook her head, frowning. She exhaled and drew in another breath, holding it longer. “There’s definitely something, but it’s…hard to pick out. Lots of humans were through here, mucking everything up. There’s something else, just a hint, but it’s not anything I’ve ever encountered.”

“So you’re saying it can’t be vampire,” I said thickly.

“No,” she growled, glaring at me over her shoulder. “But I can say that none of the nightwalkers we saw tonight have been in this apartment in the past few days. They would not be able to hide from me.”

Leaning my left elbow against the doorjamb, I shoved my fingers through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” I muttered. I wasn’t sure what Mira hoped to find that the police hadn’t already found. On the other hand, our minds were open to the idea that the woman’s attacker was not human.

The narrow hallway led into a large living room. The walls were made of the same redbrick and decorated with a collection of framed black-and-white photographs. One wall was filled with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto River Street and the Savannah River. The scent of apple-cinnamon potpourri hung in the warm apartment air.

However, the warm atmosphere suddenly chilled when my eyes dropped to the tape outline of where the woman’s body had been found before the moss-colored sofa. The white area rug with an ivy design was stained a deep brownish red from her blood, and the taste of copper filled my mouth.

Slowly, I walked around the sofa to get a better view of the site of the woman’s death. An odd tension twisted in my stomach as I quietly moved through the apartment. I had seen more than my fair share of corpses, but there was something strange about moving around the dead woman’s apartment, as if her absence left the air feeling heavier. I rarely investigated human murders. It was usually my job to punish the murderer once he or she was identified.

Around me, Mira flicked on the lights. Her eyesight was extremely sharp, but she was obviously unwilling to miss anything. The nightwalker moved easily about the room as if she had no qualms over the fact that we were investigating the brutal murder of a young woman. Her feet were silent on the patches of carpet and only lightly clicked when she stepped onto the hardwood floor. I couldn’t understand the vampire. Did she not care that the existence of one of her kind could possibly be hanging in the balance? Obviously not.

“Nothing looks disturbed. No sign of a struggle,” James said in a soft voice, as he, too, was afraid to disturb the oppressive quiet of the apartment. Nothing was tipped over, shattered, or torn. Even the lamp shades were perfectly balanced.

“The door didn’t look tampered with. So we can assume she let her attacker in,” Mira said, walking over to stand beside me. She paused and then her head jerked up. “Unless the attacker was a magic user, cast a spell to unlock the door and walk in.”

I shook my head, unable to tear my eyes away from the tape outline. “No residue.”

“I beg your pardon,” Mira demanded, her tone finally jerking my gaze back to her face.

“I have a…” I licked my lips, fumbling for the right word. “…sensitivity to magic. Spells tend to leave behind a residue. A spell to unlock the door would have left a residue behind in the wood. There was nothing.”

Mira just arched one questioning brow at me then returned her gaze to the bloodstained carpet. “So, she probably let her attacker in. Could be a friend or lover.”

The vampire squatted beside me, shaking her head as she looked over the scene. “It wasn’t a nightwalker.”

I couldn’t stop the snort of disbelief at her comment, earning a dark frown from her. “You can’t possibly know that by just smelling the air,” I argued.

“Look at the blood,” she said in a near growl. “There’s too much blood.” Standing, she walked across the floor and pushed the sofa off the edge of the area rug.

“Mira!” Her name escaped me in a harsh gasp. I pointed to the floor, showing her that she was standing in the outline of the body.

Mira looked up at me with a look of utter disbelief. “You’re strange. You do know that?” she said blandly, narrowing her eyes at me.

I know it was a strange qualm, but you didn’t walk on someone’s grave if you could help it and you didn’t stand in the place where a person died. Call it an old superstition. I did what I could to keep up with the changing times and ideas, but there were some notions that I struggled to shed.

Bending down, the vampire grabbed the edge of the carpet and pulled it toward me as she backed up. The sound of cracking filled the air as the crust of dried blood crumbled.

“Look. Not only did her blood saturate the rug, but it seeped through,” she explained. I looked over the edge of the rug to find that small rivers of blood had dried in the ridges of the hardwood floor.

“So instead of killing her accidentally by draining too much, the vamp came in with the sole purpose of killing her,” I argued, stepping back and folding my arms across my chest.

With a growl, Mira released the rug and let it flop heavily back into place as she stood. “Even if a nightwalker had come in here with only the goal of killing her, he or she would not have passed up an opportunity to take a few pints from her,” she argued, her anger causing her irises to flare slightly. “You never pass up a free lunch, especially if it’s your enemy. This woman lost every ounce on the floor.”

“So you’re sure her attacker wasn’t a vampire,” I sarcastically said, fighting the desire to reach for the hilt of the knife resting along my left side. Anger started to bubble in my veins and roll in my stomach. Mira was sinking back into killer mode, donning the mantle of the ruthless hunter. I wasn’t convinced that a vampire was guiltless of this woman’s death.

“I’m saying fifty people could have been in the room watching her die, and I can guarantee not one of them was a nightwalker,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

“Bold statement,” I sneered.

“Yeah, it’s why you love me.” She laughed, reaching up and tweaking my nose. I blinked, staring at her for a breath. The anger had been washed from her eyes. There was a slight chill to the air from her powers, but it was quickly dissipating along with the scent of lilacs. And then, just as quickly, the fresh laughter in her eyes died and she turned serious. “But that still doesn’t answer our question of who,” she continued. “What are we left with?”

“Besides human and vampire?” James supplied.

“Yes,” she hissed between clenched teeth, looking back down at the tape outline.

“Lycans,” he suggested.

Mira shook her head. “Ryan said her throat was torn out. She wouldn’t have stood here while a lycan changed. She would have run. There would have been evidence of a struggle.”

“Unless she knew this person was a Were,” I stated, drawing Mira’s thoughtful gaze back to my face.

“True,” she slowly drawled. “Anything else?”

“Any shape-shifting naturi.”

“That could be a long list. I imagine something from the animal clan would be able to shift.” Mira shook her head, rubbing one hand over her face. “So we’re still at square one. Do we know anything about this girl?”

James reached into his back pocket and pulled out a tiny notebook. He flipped through several pages before settling on the information that he was searching for. “Abigail Bradford,” he read aloud. “Age twenty-six. Single. Daughter of Alabama senator John Bradford.”

“Great,” Mira muttered, drawing my gaze back to her. “That explains the media hysterics.”

James paused in the middle of his recitation, partially closing the notebook as he looked up at her. “I don’t understand.”

“Bradford is one of those bible-thumping ultra-conservatives that will make the Great Awakening very painful. I have no doubt his family headed up the Inquisition and the Salem witch trials,” she explained, pacing across the room. With a shake of her head, Mira turned back around to face the researcher. “Anything else?”

“Just that she worked as a curator for the Juliette Gordon Low house—”

“Oh, just stake me now!” she exclaimed sarcastically. “It can’t possibly get any worse.”

“Who was Juliette Gordon Low?” I demanded.

“She was the founder of the Girl Scouts,” she grumbled. “Probably was a Girl Scout herself. Miss Abigail Bradford was raised by a squeaky-clean family and worked for a squeaky-clean museum. It’s all too…”

“Clean,” I interjected, crossing my arms over my chest. I stepped away from the sofa and leaned my shoulder against the wall, turning my back to the tape outline and Abigail’s gruesome death so I could think clearly.

“Ha.” She glared at me. “Something feels off.” Mira paced away from me toward the wall of windows, running one hand through her hair.

“You think it was all a setup to draw attention to the outsiders,” I suggested. “Someone plotted her murder in order to shed light on the nightwalkers or lycans.”

“Maybe.” The single word escaped her in a soft, thoughtful whisper. “But that would indicate some long-term planning.” She turned on her heel to look at me, her hands shoved into the pockets of her pants.

“Vampires are known for their patience and long-term schemes. You have all the time in the world,” I reminded her.

“So do the naturi,” she snapped. “We need to know how long she’s lived in Savannah. Specifically, how long she lived in this apartment.”

“I can look into that,” James said. He reached into the interior pocket of his coat and pulled out an ink pen. Flipping to a new page in his notebook, he started to scratch out some notes. “Is there anything else you need to know?”

“Why she came to Savannah,” I interjected.

“And if any family members or friends from her past are outsiders,” Mira stated.

I sent her a questioning look as James continued to make notes. It seemed like an odd request. Yet James took it all in stride, never once betraying any doubts.

“Couldn’t hurt to check.” Mira shrugged before returning her gaze back out the window.

James was usually pretty good about getting random bits of information and would probably have our answers by late afternoon. Since acquiring him as an assistant, I was becoming accustomed to his strange quirks and rampant curiosity. But it was all temporary. I had outlasted more than two dozen assistants during my time at Themis. I outlived them all.

Mira’s soft voice drew me back to our current dilemma. Her voice was so quiet, I think she was mostly speaking to herself. “Why here? Maybe we’re making this too big.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, walking over to the windows.

“What if we’re looking for a conspiracy and there isn’t one? What if it really is all about Abigail?”

“You think she’s not as squeaky clean as her background?”

“She lived a block away from some of the hottest clubs and bars in the whole city. I doubt she moved here to visit the city library.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.

“You have a theory?”

“A hypothesis,” she said, pushing away from the window. “Let’s test it. Go into the bathroom and check for pills. See what she was on.”

I had a dark suspicion of what I was looking for, but I kept my thoughts to myself as I followed her down the hall off the living room. Mira turned left into the master bedroom while I took the first right into the bathroom, with James close on my heels.

It was a small room with tiny white tiles and pale blue walls. The large claw-foot porcelain tub dominated the far wall and matched the white porcelain wash stand. The room was softly lit with a pair of sconces with tulip-shaped frosted globes. It was all neat and tidy, with a scattering of female products that I didn’t want to try to comprehend.

The mirror over the sink was a classic medicine cabinet. Pulling aside the mirror revealed the usual assortment of Band-Aids, ointments, creams, and pain relievers. What caught my attention were the vitamins. Eight bottles, including two that were over-the-counter iron supplements. Iron pills were a common with people who had heart problems or were anemic. At a guess, I had a feeling this was what Mira was looking for.

Grabbing one of the bottles of iron supplements, I closed the mirror and turned off the light before walking across the hall to the bedroom. Mira stood before an open drawer in the bureau, softly cursing in Italian. She was rather fluent and creative.

“Good news?” I inquired.

“Scarves,” she muttered. “A whole drawer full.” To emphasize her point, she reached in and grabbed a handful in her clenched fist. She let the sheer bits of fabric slip through her fingers and spill back into the drawer like a silken rainbow.

“A nightwalker can heal a wound caused by a bite,” she began, closing the drawer. “But if you’re keeping a pet, you leave the wound so everyone knows that she is already taken. Unfortunately, the human is left to conceal the bite during the daylight hours. Scarves are a popular remedy.”

“She could just find them fashionable,” James offered, drawing her dark gaze back to me.

“Do you believe that?”

“No,” I replied, tossing her the bottle. She briefly looked at it, her fingers tightening around the plastic until it cracked and snapped.

“Somebody is going to fry,” she snarled, stalking out of the bedroom. She slapped the switch, turning out the light as she walked past.

“Five minutes ago you were sure a vampire didn’t kill her,” I called, following her down the hall.

“I still don’t think a vampire killed her,” she snapped. In the living room, we began flicking off all of the lamps. “But if she was a pet, it means little Miss Abigail could have been involved in all kinds of nastiness.”

Passing by the end table next to the sofa, I snatched up a four-by-five picture in a plain wooden black frame. It was of a pair of women with their arms around each other’s shoulders. The large white fountain that dominated Forsyth Park rose up in the background. Both women looked to be in their early to mid-twenties, with bright smiles and a look of innocence. Well, at least ignorant of the dark world that surrounded them.

“That her?” Mira asked, peering around my arm.

“One of them probably is,” I said, taking the back of the frame off. I removed the picture and shoved it into my pocket before replacing the empty frame.

Mira looked up at me, a slight frown pulling at the corner of her lips. “We’ll find out when we get to the morgue.”