A Vampire's Reckoning, page 19
part #2 of Stone Masters Vampire Series
Ellison reexamined the four deep pinpoint puncture marks on the dead girl’s neck. “And a Goth to boot.”
Ingrid addressed the crowd again. “She’s got what appears to be vampire bite marks, so she’s possibly into role play.”
“And it looks as if it may have been a big factor in her death,” Ellison said. “From what I can tell, it looks like she’s lost a lot of blood. We’ll have more of an idea when I open her up and run a few more tests. There is a slim possibility her blood was drained from these marks. We’ll take some specimen swabs and a wound cast to see if it gives us an indication of the weapon. I doubt they’re fang marks, but they certainly look like that. I’ll keep an open mind for now. No sign of sexual abuse.”
“What instrument would you need to do this?” Ingrid asked, eyeing the punctures.
“Well perhaps . . . surgical in design, but blood clots quickly in a healthy person so it’s unlikely.”
“Is a drug addict compromised?”
“His or her clotting factor could be off, but . . .”
“Where else could she have lost the blood from if there are no other external puncture wounds other than these?”
“Time will tell. Science is our victim’s advocate,” Ellison said. “Ingrid, as soon as I have something substantial I’ll call you.” He pushed his round-rimmed glasses back up his nose.
“I wish I hadn’t eaten that bagel now,” Ingrid said.
“I brought those in for the staff two days ago.”
She screwed up her nose.
Ellison placed his sharp knife to Gillian’s chest and cut into her pale flesh.
Ingrid was amused by Zara, who stood close by and revved a small powerful chain saw.
Two of the police officers fainted.
* * * *
Sipping on her third mug of coffee Ingrid scanned the reports once more, readying herself for the Salisbury Police Unit briefing. A provisional psychological profile had been completed and would be imminently presented.
“Everyone’s here, ma’am,” Sgt. Blake said.
“How’s Inspector Bradford holding up?” Ingrid asked.
“He’s in ICU. Apparently he’s lost a lot of blood and they’re trying to determine from where,” Sgt. Blake said.
“Oh my goodness. What happened?”
“Well he has all sorts of health problems,” Blake said. “So it’s probably his ulcer, but they’re running more tests and he’s scheduled for an MRI this afternoon.”
“Send my regards to his family, will you?”
“Will do, ma’am. Looks like you’re the it-girl. I hear the case is all yours.”
Detective Chief Inspector Vanderbilt began the briefing. Ingrid looked around, confirming the criminal forensic team, the senior forensic psychologist, and her other police colleagues were present.
“So far,” Ingrid raised her voice for the benefit of the crowd, “Dr. Ellison’s findings indicate that both girls were drained of blood. We’re awaiting test results to ascertain more. Excessive blood loss is the confirmed cause of death. We have primary sites, still unknown as place of death, and secondary, where the girls were dumped after death.
“As you are aware, the first girl found at Avebury was nineteen-year-old Tabitha Web. Tabitha left home at seventeen, and as far as we can tell spent most of her time in London staying with friends until she disappeared from a friend’s flat in Notting Hill three days before her murder.
“She had a history of drug abuse. The drug use is the only connection we have between the two girls. Gillian Stewart is our second victim, twenty-one years in age with one prior for dealing and using. Similar story—left home, went to live in London, and then disappeared off the face of the earth until she turned up dead at Stonehenge today.
“Neither girl was sexually assaulted though they were sexually active. The blood test results also indicated they both took the pill, so we know that they probably visited a doctor’s clinic.
“The blood tests confirm death by hemorrhage. Their hemoglobin had dropped to untraceable, bearing in mind the average female hemoglobin is 12-16 mg/dl. We are looking for small instruments used to make minute puncture marks. We have no other leads, no other clues, no fingerprints at the scene or on the bodies. Whoever committed these crimes is astute at covering up their tracks. Any questions?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sgt. Blake said. “Were there really no footprints at Stonehenge?”
“Blake, I’m as baffled as you all are considering there is so much mud at Stonehenge. It’s difficult to comprehend, but forensics insist.”
Ingrid nodded to Dr. Agatha Wright and invited her to the front of the room.
Dr. Wright, with laptop prepared, began her presentation. “Hi, everyone. I think I know everyone here—a few new faces. So for your benefit, I’m your assigned forensic psychologist. I look forward to working with many of you again and some of you for the first time. Right, down to business shall we?
“To recap, in the last two nights we have had two murders at two separate sacred sites. Two innocent looking—but not—girls drained of their blood. The first strung up, the second laid down, both posed in respectful, somewhat sexual positions, naked.”
She flicked on the computer projector switch, throwing a wall-sized image of the first dead girl tied to the stone. “If you look carefully she is positioned so that she appears asleep, not dead—her features calm, her long hair covering her body, staged as if in a painting or as an object of art.
“We are presented with images of beauty, possibly indicating the killer’s intelligence. Second image, again an ancient monument is chosen, the girl now lying down, perhaps reflecting the first. Positioned arms down by her sides, legs together indicating dignity, but again her nakedness proves her vulnerability.
“These are complex and contradictory images. They appear as messages but they are difficult to decipher. We believe we are looking for two, perhaps three young males working together. A female’s involvement is possible. Their ages probably range from early twenties to late thirties. They are educated, possibly employed, and have a creative background—someone involved with art.
“Chances are they have no priors. We are looking for individuals with egos. These are high-profile murders, so the culprits crave the spotlight. I wonder if this is a cult killing, these sites indicating sacrifices to the gods, or God. Let us first review Avebury, a Neolithic monument, a large prehistoric tomb on the highest man-made hill in Europe, and with the most extensive hedge enclosure.
“Are the criminals sending us a message, perhaps of both human frailty but at the same time indicating the worth of that human? Now we move to Stonehenge. This monument predicts the dates of the lunar eclipse. The principal axis of the monument is oriented in order to take advantage of the direction of the sunrise at summer solstice.
“Incidentally this falls on or around June 20 and 21. See a pattern here? The first girl was killed on the 19th at Avebury, the second at Stonehenge on the 20th, and tomorrow, June the 21st, there may well be another murder on or close to these sites. In approximately ten hours, thousands will be gathered at Stonehenge for the summer solstice. As always, time is an issue.
“Interestingly enough, bloodletting was used in rituals up until the early twentieth century. We saw this with the fossilized remains of humans found in the bogs all over Europe. We believe that the draining of their blood is also linked to their locations. Therefore, we are looking for a group of men or women who are perhaps copying these ancient rituals. They may even practice satanic worship or a form of witchcraft.
“So as you see, I am offering very little in the way of a refined lead. All I can say is I’m sure they will strike again and the victim will be another young girl, bled out and placed at one of our many places of heritage. My only suggestions are to place guards on these areas and hope that we get a lead this way. We can also investigate, as Jansen has suggested, the locations where the young Goths and pseudo-vampires hang out.”
Ingrid stepped forward. “Blake’s all over the web and Smith is working with the Metropolitan police. I will handle the press. We are starting with the girls’ last whereabouts. As it’s London, the Met police are on it. We believe we are looking for a club or group of individuals from London. Satanic rituals, however, are practiced predominantly in Scotland and Cornwall, so we are sending limited resources to local covens.”
“Witchcraft is heavily-practiced in these areas,” Sgt. Blake offered. “They tend to be more peaceful in nature though they may have important information that may assist us.”
“Thanks Blake,” Ingrid said. “There is another possible lead. We’ve had reports from two local hospitals that units of blood were stolen from their laboratories. The first, the local hospital in Avebury; the second—and just before the second murder—a break in at Salisbury General. Only blood was taken, blood used in patient transfusions.
“We believe there is a possible connection. Staff have been alerted and hospital security heightened. We are also going to expend some resources investigating these activities. We meet back tomorrow unless something pressing arises.”
Sgt. Blake raised his hand. “Perhaps if we installed security cameras in the blood banks? Who knows, the cult members may be using the blood as part of their ritual.”
“Great idea, Blake, make it happen,” Ingrid said.
Chapter 31
Jadeon
DEEP IN THOUGHT, hands in pockets, I loomed in the shadowy alley opposite Belshazzar’s, waiting for Alex. We had arranged to meet just outside the club at midnight. That way we could watch out for each other. After several long discussions, I had deemed Alex ready. However, having no need for time keeping, Alex was not particularly good at it. And after thirty minutes of observing the club’s regulars arriving I doubted he would show up. Perhaps the thought of seeing Orpheus again had put him off the idea.
Someone lingered behind me. I spun round to face Marcus and several of his minions.
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” he said.
“If you’re referring to the club, then no,” I said.
“Orpheus sends his regards.”
“What is it that you want, Marcus?”
“I have a message for you.”
“What is it this time?” I asked.
“He’s paying her a visit. He was wondering whether—”
“Ingrid!”
Marcus peered past me and stared over my shoulder. “Snowstrom?” he said.
I spun round and followed his gaze. In the shadows at the end of the alley was a tall man, dressed in a priest’s attire, who stared back at us with piercing blue eyes.
“Who is that?” I asked and turned to face Marcus again.
Marcus and his men were gone.
I stared back to view the priest.
He too was gone.
“Fabian?” I echoed into the night.
Whoever he was he had rattled Marcus.
With no time to search for the mysterious priest I flew toward Ingrid’s flat, fearing for her safety. With concentrated thoughts my mind studied Ingrid’s home. I viewed the apartment with clarity.
Orpheus watched over Ingrid while she slept. He had been tracking her. If unable to follow her himself during daylight hours, he arranged for his mortal devotees to.
Orpheus closed his mind to me.
Waves of anxiety threw me into a panic. I shot through Ingrid’s sitting room window toward her. Hearing me enter, Ingrid awoke. I skidded and caught myself seconds before stumbling into her bedroom. She leapt out of bed and peered into the sitting room. Orpheus had disappeared before Ingrid had even caught sight of him.
Upside down I clung from the light fixture suspended from her ceiling, staring down at Ingrid as she walked about the room.
Do not look up.
Ingrid checked both the kitchen and her front door, reassured not to find anything out of place. The phone’s shrill ring almost sent me hurtling. Ingrid answered the call and spoke rapidly into the handset, her expression stressed.
“Where is he now?” Ingrid asked the caller. “Keep him locked up until I get there.” She headed into her bedroom to get dressed.
She was talking about Alex and my grip loosened on overhearing that he was imprisoned back in Ingrid’s station. With sweaty palms my grasp slipped and I swayed on the fixture. Where the light was secured into the wall, cracks appeared in the ceiling. Dust fell into my eyes, hinting that the light was about to give way. A jolt confirmed my fear.
Ingrid passed beneath me and a sprinkle of dust trailed behind her. Without noticing she headed out of the apartment.
I did a back flip and landed on the floor. I hesitated at the window, moments before exiting, astonished by the book titles strewn on Ingrid’s coffee table and disconcerted that all referred to vampires. Several beige folders lay nearby and I peeked inside those too, dismayed by the content of the police files. Ingrid was investigating vampire-style murders.
Within minutes I had followed Ingrid to Salisbury Police Divisional Headquarters on Wilton Road. I flew past the guards, making a discreet leap toward Alex’s jail undetected and tapped on his door. The place was awful, and it was terrible to bear the thought he was in here.
“Jadeon!” Alex jumped off the prison bunk and peered through the door’s grate.
“Shush.” I checked for the guards. “What the hell happened?”
“I couldn’t do it anymore. I can’t bear their thoughts,” Alex said.
“You’re not making any sense,” I snapped.
“I heard it was possible to get blood.”
“Alex?”
“The hospitals, they extract it for humans. And they—”
“Who told you about such a thing?”
He peered sheepishly through the bars.
“Alex, haven’t you learnt by now . . . ?”
“Get me out of here.”
I subdued my fury. “I’m working on it. What happened?”
“I was taking a unit of blood from the—”
“Dear God!”
“I got attacked by this burly security man. He had this taser thing and zapped me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, please don’t be angry,” he said.
“Sometimes, you just need to—”
“What’s the time?”
“I’ll get you out of here before dawn, okay?”
“Your word?”
I nodded. “Look, you need to know that Ingrid is working on a murder case. It’s connected somehow to the blood you stole.”
“How?”
I turned to see Ingrid advancing toward me.
“Jadeon?” she called out. “How did you get in here past the guards?”
“Ingrid, there’s been some mistake. Alex—”
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.
“Perhaps that’s a question for your men,” I said.
She rested her hands on her hips. “Look, I need to interview him. I know this is difficult for you. It’s difficult for me. I’m seriously considering handing him over to a colleague to interview because of our . . .”
“Relationship?”
“Friendship,” she said.
“There’s been a mistake,” I said, “but let him out and I won’t take this any further.”
“No mistake has been made.” Ingrid frowned.
“Ingrid, you must listen to me.”
“He’s a suspect in a murder case. I could get into a lot of trouble for just talking with you. Look, I’m sure this is some huge misunderstanding and we’re going to sort it all out. However, you have to let me do my job. Okay?”
“Ingrid,” I whispered, “surely after everything that you and I—”
“Don’t you go there, Jadeon.”
I lowered my voice. “Perhaps if I could invite you back to—”
“You’re trying my patience now.”
I was shocked at her response. “I need to get my brother out of this place. How do I do that?”
“Step away from the cell and come with me.”
“Ingrid, I’m not negotiating with you. I am telling you that my brother—”
“He’s part of a bigger investigation. Alex is not going anywhere tonight.”
“No.”
“Unless the murderer himself turns up and confesses tonight with corroborating evidence, your brother—”
“There must be something else?”
“Look, I know this is difficult for you.” She softened. “Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll start the process with the paperwork for Alex’s bail and as soon as I can legally release him, I will.”
“It’s not enough, I need to do . . .”
“Get Alex a lawyer. I’m sorry I can’t do more. I’ve probably said too much already.”
* * * *
I was panicked. It was hard to think straight but I had to move fast.
I lingered in the dark alley in the center of the old Salisbury town, not caring who she would be. I just needed a body. The tipsy girl walked alone, her provocative appearance confirming her prostitution and her drugged-out face gave away her death wish.
I followed her.
Covering her mouth I dragged her into the dark passageway, pulling her along, giving her no time to react. The alcohol deadened her senses and made it easy to penetrate her mind.
She was seventeen.
With shame I let her go and pushed her back into the street. Stunned, she staggered off, not quite sure what had just happened. I withdrew into the shadows and leant against the wall of a house, feeling monstrous. With no time to feel sorry for myself, I mustered the strength to return to the police station on Wilton Road.
I leapt onto the police station’s roof in order to gather my thoughts. It would be easy to break down Alex’s cell door and expedite his release, but not only would we both be on England’s most-wanted list, we would lose the castle. It was imperative we did not arouse any more suspicion then we already had.
Was it too late for that now?
From my position the police mortuary was within easy view. With a leap I made it onto the side of the building. I yanked at the surveillance camera’s wires, disabling them. Checking to see the place was deserted I headed into the parking lot and quickly found Ingrid’s black Honda Civic parked in her personal space. I pulled up the hood and ripped at the engine wiring. Moving swiftly, I proceeded toward the coroner’s green Range Rover and did the same to his. With that accomplished I scaled the wall of the coroner’s building.
