Jonathan’s phone rang. He flicked it open eagerly, almost snapping off the top half in the process.
“Nick!” he practically shouted into the phone. “Please tell me you have good news.”
“Relax, Brit Boy.” The man on the other end had a distinct Southern drawl in his voice. “I wouldn’t waste my money on an overseas call if I’ve got no updates.”
“Get to the point, guy.” Jonathan grinned.
“Point is, I managed to get a hold of what you asked for. But these people sure as hell are strict about their policies. It’s damn near impossible to retrieve what you wanted. Hell, they almost slapped me in handcuffs for questioning about it in the first place.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong, is that you’re asking for something confiscated during a very sensitive period. You know my skin colour, dawg. I gave everyone the jitters when I asked about it.”
Jonathan smacked his head in frustration. “Oh, for the love of—”
“Calm down, I said it was ‘damn near impossible’, not straight—up impossible. This guy’s still got some tricks left in his bag. I managed to secure a pathway to your treasure.”
“My man. I never doubted you.”
“Do me a favour, and never pronounce those two words like that ever again.” The man chuckled heartily. “But don’t be too happy yet, I still need credits. Three grand at least, just to shut their mouths about your request. I hope this is legal, Jonathan. I better not get in trouble for—”
“It’s nothing that will disturb your early retirement.” Jonathan fiddled with the hologram on his wrist. “Transferred. Even gave you a tip of another two grand.”
“Why, the guv’nor’s being remarkably generous today, innit? Struck the lottery or something?” Nick laughed in a mocking tone. “Well, far be it for a man to dictate what another does with his booty. Pleasure doing business with you, my friend. Your goods will be shipped over soon.”
Jonathan cut the call and lay on his bed with a satisfied look on his face. The apartment was quiet. It had been two weeks since he heard anything from the Immortal Paranormal Association, but he was not complaining.
He was living his best life now that he had a whole room to himself and his adorable roommate. Oscar seemed to share his feelings about their new spacious accommodation, taking it upon himself to guard the door when Anya’s apartment was empty.
Jonathan took the time to test out his new body, and it seemed Maximus was right. Nothing was able to even scratch him; chainsaws, knives, jumping off skyscrapers. He had even tried setting himself on fire, and it felt like nothing more than a slightly warmer breeze.
Anya on the other hand, had been spending every night after work on her computer poring over endless lists of case files from the police database. Jonathan had offered to help her, but she always just brushed him off. He had not worked up the courage to ask her about the night at the auction; it seemed like the opportunity never arose.
Until that evening.
~ ~ ~
“Hey Jon, you’re not gonna believe what I just found out! I’ve got the location of the Lily Noir!”
“Well, someone’s back early.” Jonathan rolled off the couch with a sceptical look on his face. “Are you sure?”
“I dismissed myself early today.” Anya practically bounded towards him in glee. She waved a page in his face. “The address of Michael O’Cornell. He’s the one who took the Lily Noir.”
“How do you know that?”
“All those nights I spent looking through case files finally paid off. And besides, I personally saw him—” Anya’s mouth shut immediately as she looked furtively at him. Jonathan raised an eyebrow but decided not to pursue it. She must have some reason for hiding it, and he did not want to pressure a friend.
“Great. Are you going to issue a search warrant?” he asked.
“Not this time. We’ll go by ourselves.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t get— I mean, the police have their hands full dealing with petty crimes,” Anya replied quickly. “And I’m sure we can handle just one bloke anyway.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’?” Jonathan smirked and turned away. “I don’t recall joining the police force.”
“Well if you’re not coming, then I suppose you won’t mind if I borrow your knife. I’ve never used it to pick locks before, so don’t blame me if it gets blunted…”
That was enough to make Jonathan whip his head back at Anya’s taunting grin. He liked that knife.
“Well played, inspector. Lead the way.”
~ ~ ~
The address Anya had for her suspect was way out to the south of the city, near the only place where rich people still spent thousands of dollars burying their loved ones. Cremation was the default option for funerals and the ex-government had tried to reclaim London’s last graveyard, but the most powerful people in the city apparently had enough pull to protect that piece of land.
Fortunately, the rain had decided to stop just before Jonathan left the apartment. Run-down Chinese restaurants blurred past him as he sat silently on the back of the motorcycle cruising along the damp road. Part of him wondered which could be worse; to wrap his hands around Anya from behind or to hop off and run to the destination himself. It still felt strange to Jonathan’s old-fashioned heart to be riding pillion on a woman’s bike, especially when he could easily match its speed on foot now.
The pair reached a dull-looking villa with overgrown weeds crawling all over the porch. They got out of their vehicle and walked up the annoyingly garish staircase leading to the front door. The windows were dark and nobody seemed home, but not like that ever stopped a police officer before.
Anya rapped her knuckles loudly on the door and motioned for Jonathan to pick the lock before anyone could respond. Jonathan scowled; this city’s foulness had definitely wormed its way into his friend’s work ethic.
The door was pushed open just before Jonathan could get to work. He stood up and examined the scratch marks on the lock.
“I don’t think we’re the first ones to try and break in,” Jonathan muttered, recalling the name uttered by the assassin on auction night. Anya pursed her lips wordlessly and drew her gun, walking into the house.
Jonathan trod the ground as lightly as he could, as though it could change the fact that he was trespassing in a dark and creepy house. Anya’s flashlight darted around like a hyperactive fire spirit, creating unnecessary moving shadows in the dark.
“I wonder what kind of person Michael O’Cornell was?” Anya said, trying to break the eerie silence.
“He keeps to himself, that’s for sure.” Jonathan walked into a room, examining some photos and notes on the table. “He moved into London a few months ago and immediately picked this location to live in. Rumours had it that he was really after the graves of the rich, though some say he simply got the place because it cost little to no credits due to its unfortunate location.”
“How do you know so much? I didn’t see that information in the archives.”
“You do realise you’re speaking with the Jonathan Warner, right?” Jonathan boasted. “Best informant in London. Besides, the information in your archives came from us. And we informants aren’t that stupid to give you everything and put ourselves out of a job.”
Anya rolled her eyes and continued sifting through the drawers.
“There’s more,” Jonathan continued. “How O’Cornell even passed through all the immigration tests was a mystery, to be honest. This man had no particular skill set, nor did he hold down a job while he was here. And yet, the authorities just approved all his documents as though he was a returning citizen. It’s almost as if he had simply hypnotised them to let him in.”
“I don’t know. Sounds a lot like you, actually.”
“I beg your pardon? An informant is an official freelance job, thank you very much.” Jonathan folded his arms, looking clearly offended. “And I was a stage magician’s apprentice before I was an informant.”
“Yep, until you became so good at sleight-of-hand techniques that he had to fire you for stealing his props.”
“I did not.” Jonathan huffed and walked to the opposite side of the room. “It’s not my fault that daft old geezer just misplaced his things and— Oof! What the hell was that?”
“I think we just found our intruders,” Anya said grimly, pointing her flashlight downwards at the two corpses Jonathan had just tripped over. She bent down and turned their heads to the side, revealing two puncture wounds on their necks.
“Bloody hell…” Jonathan breathed, recognising the two dead men at his feet. The very same men who had tried to rob him of the gem he took from Oliver Harred’s place.
“I’m calling this in.” Anya pulled out her phone and walked off while Jonathan examined their bodies. He was no coroner, but even the most unobservant layman could tell that they were completely drained of blood. Jonathan furrowed his eyebrows. He did not like the idea of suspecting his own colleague, but Lucy was the only vampire he knew. And if Duncan was right, she was the only one of her kind still residing in London.
Or was she?
“Darn it, they won’t send anyone. My colleagues just can’t be arsed about anything that doesn’t give them credits,” Anya sighed. “They told me they have their hands full with another gang-related murder.”
“Porter, right? I heard about that too.” Jonathan shook his head. “Poor chap, he probably spilt the beans on someone he shouldn’t have.”
“How much do you know about our two victims here?”
“Hmm?” Jonathan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Well… I only know that they used to be Harred’s henchmen. A greedy bunch; perhaps they were going for jewellery.”
“Does it look like there’s going to be jewellery here?” Anya’s eyes narrowed. “These men must know something else that we don’t.”
“Unless you happen to moonlight as a medium, might I suggest we continue this conversation outside?” Jonathan said. “This place is giving me the creeps.”
“Perhaps we should. I can’t shake the feeling that something is watching— LOOK OUT!”
Anya pushed Jonathan to the ground as a wild shriek screamed over their heads. Jonathan looked up at the monster that almost took Anya’s head off. It hung against the wall, snarling at them with bloodied fangs and spreading its wings threateningly.
“Baba Yaga!” Anya screamed in full Slavic and drew her gun. Bullets pelted against the monster’s grotesque hide, which only seemed to anger it further. Its crimson irises darted to the policewoman. A sinister smile crept along its bat-like face, revealing a set of teeth too numerous to fit in its jaw. It lunged towards her.
Jonathan sent it crashing back into a wall with a tackle at the speed of a car. Sparks flew from his body as electricity burst from his fingers. The monster darted around, avoiding Jonathan’s impromptu light show before vanishing into the darkness. Anya ran towards him and pressed her back against his, aiming her weapon around.
“What the hell was that?” she breathed raggedly.
“I don’t know!” Jonathan exclaimed although he had a feeling she was not only referring to the winged demon.
“So you wield the Lily Noir too,” an unfamiliar gravelly voice uttered from the darkness. "This is going to prove troublesome."
Jonathan squinted at the humanoid figure walking towards them. It stepped into a pocket of light streaming in from boarded windows, revealing his sunken eyes and matted black hair.
“Michael O’Cornell…” Jonathan breathed.
“You’re under arrest!” Anya yelled with a trembling voice.
“For what? Protecting myself against trespassers after my precious red gem?” Michael gestured to the corpses on the floor with a fanged smile. “I have rights, y’know.”
“You’re under arrest under suspicion of first-degree murder. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to—”
Michael rushed towards her with supernatural speed. He snarled, baring his teeth towards her neck—
And met Jonathan’s arm instead.
The vampire flinched violently and backed away. Michael stumbled backwards, shrieking in pain from his broken fangs. Jonathan seized the opportunity and scooped his friend in his arms, who felt almost weightless at the speed he was moving. The marble floor cracked under his sudden burst of speed, and they were out of the house in less than a second.
“Wha—? Where am I?” Anya gasped, looking around wildly after Jonathan put her back down. “The suspect—”
“Almost killed you just now! We’re no match for him. We must leave n—”
The front door flew in their direction, crashing into Anya’s motorcycle. A clawed hand gripped the door frame as the bat monster slowly crawled out of the dark house in the true fashion of a 1980s horror film.
“My bike! Bozhe moy… We’re so dead…” Anya whimpered. The monster let out a deep growl as it prepared to pounce on them. Jonathan gave one last scowl at Michael O’Cornell before the world slowed down around him again.
The pair disappeared into the distance with a flash of lightning.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQhFPaowdth
