Vertigo Vampire: a Supernatural Thriller (The Specials Book 2) Page 7

  “I think you should speak to her,” Elliott tried. “About what happened last night.”

  The Count stilled. “What happened last night?”

  “You bit that guest on the sixth floor.”

  “Did I?”

  The challenge in the Count’s tone was unmistakable. Elliott understood that the vampire was an alpha predator and accustomed to controlling the prey around him, but Elliott believed that he occupied an unusual space within the Count’s world. At least, he didn’t think the vampire would kill him for making a suggestion. Hopefully not.

  “Last night,” Elliott began, “something happened. You didn’t finish feeding on that body.”

  “One day,” the vampire said softly, “you are going to die.”

  Terror swept through Elliott. His knees nearly gave out from under him. But he locked them. Every instinct he had told him he needed to be strong.

  “W-Why didn’t you finish feeding?” he persisted.

  The Count’s sharply sculpted features seemed to harden over until they resembled the work of a marble artist. “You think you know me, pet. You believe you have answers for this world. But I assure you—you know nothing of the darkness. When you do learn, it shall be too late for you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “This place shall be your coffin,” the vampire told him, setting Elliott’s heart pounding even faster and harder, “unless you leave now.”

  “I can’t,” he blurted. He cringed when the Count flashed his fangs at him. “I can’t leave. I have nowhere else to go. And I—I have friends here.”

  “If they are keeping you here,” the Count growled, “I will gladly tear their throats out.”

  “Oh, god, don’t say that.” Elliott was horrified. He found the strength to push away from the dresser that had been holding him up. He hesitantly approached the scarlet-garbed vampire. “Please don’t hurt any of them. They’re all I have…besides you.”

  The vampire tensed and then a cruel smile crossed his lips that Elliott nonetheless was captivated by. “What do you think I am to you?”

  Elliott’s legs nearly gave way at the purr in the vampire’s voice. The urge to fall to the carpet and submit was overpowering, but somehow he managed to stay on his feet.

  “I don’t know what you are to me,” he croaked honestly. “But I know what I want you to be. My friend, at the very least.”

  “A friend would tell you to leave, as I am telling you now.”

  “But Sheridan. And Arrow.”

  The vampire bared his fangs at Arrow’s name.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” Elliott repeated. “She’s not like Enoch.”

  At the mention of the previous Head of Security, the vampire narrowed his eyes. “You assume I killed him for you.”

  Elliott swallowed hard. “I know you did.”

  “Perhaps I tore his throat out because I enjoy doing that. To any human.”

  “That could be true,” Elliott allowed. “Or maybe you care.” He was afraid to name this connection that existed between him and the Count. The vampire was centuries old and was a supernatural being. Elliott doubted he would ever fully understand how the Count’s mind worked. All he could do was compare him to a human and deal with him as one, which might one day prove to be a fatal mistake.

  “Tell me why you stopped feeding,” he heard himself say. He felt dogged, not quite like a pit bull but maybe a mean terrier. He tried to channel Arrow’s determination. “Something happened last night. Why won’t you tell me? I can help.”

  “I will never require the help of humans.”

  “I’m sorry, but I think—” Elliott took a deep, fortifying breath, aware that it might be his last. “I think you’re afraid.”

  The vampire stared at him. Elliott began to feel wobbly again, like he might pass out. It was like facing a firing squad while standing in a tub of water while holding two electrical leads. The certainty of death was a bright white flare in his mind.

  “If you’re going to kill me,” Elliott whispered, “at least tell me you won’t waste my blood.”

  “I will not kill you. Today.”

  Elliott choked on a laugh. “But someday?”

  His entire body jolted as the Count glided up to him. The Count was taller than him and he floated six inches off the ground, but even had he been shorter, Elliott was certain he would feel miniscule in the vampire’s presence.

  Yet along with the fear and impression of insignificance burned a low desire that he couldn’t explain and was slightly embarrassed by. Everything about the Count’s alienness should have put him off, yet that very strangeness drew Elliott in. He was the moth dancing around a supernatural flame.

  “Do not fear that day, pet, though it has now grown nearer.” The Count didn’t touch him, and Elliott felt himself leaning toward the other male’s scarlet-clad chest. “If you need to die, I will make it painless.”

  “Um, thanks.” Elliott cringed. “I guess.”

  To his amazement, the Count smiled. Elliott had seen him smile before, but not like this, not absent of malice or cruelty but simply because he was amused. It made the vampire seem more human, though his otherworldliness would never fully be masked by anything he did. It burned off his skin like a fever.

  Awed, Elliott couldn’t help murmuring, “Count…”

  “Death has entered this place,” the vampire murmured. “I did not expect it.”

  Elliott held his breath.

  “Your Head of Security might manage to forestall yours under my guidance.”

  “Then you’ll talk to her? Tell her what happened?”

  “If I can resist tearing her throat out.”

  A strangled laugh got caught in Elliott’s voice. “I’ll warn her not to say anything that will set you off.” Not that I really know what that could be. It made him slightly sad.

  “I should know better than this,” the vampire said softly, as if to himself. His dark gaze moved over Elliott’s face. Elliott’s impression was that the vampire wasn’t talking about meeting Arrow. “I cannot help myself. If you succumb because of—no.” Fury hardened the Count’s features. “I refuse that responsibility.”

  He reached up with pale, elegant fingers, and carded them through Elliott’s hair. Elliott nearly swooned. His eyes fell shut. When he found the strength to open them again, the vampire was gone.

  “Bye, Count,” he said to the empty room. And then he allowed a giddy smile to cross his face, just this once.

  ~~~~~

  “Hey, you,” I greeted Elliott when he responded to my knock. “Ready for another fun and exciting shift?”

  “Yeah, Arrow. Of course.” Then he smiled with far more happiness than someone like me should have inspired in him.

  “What’s that for?” I asked as he shut the door on his room and walked with me down the hall.

  “What’s what for?”

  “That bashful smirk.”

  His blush reached the tips of his ears. “It’s nothing.”

  “Right,” I said. “I’m putting a ten spot on you having had a visit from a certain floaty vampire dressed in red.”

  He flushed even brighter, but he nodded. “Yeah, he agreed to meet with you. After being scary and intense and predicting my death several times.”

  I stared. “Sounds romantic.”

  He laughed weakly. “Anyway, I guess he’ll just randomly show up. So, um, don’t shoot him or try to stake him.”

  I nodded my acquiescence, though I recognized the danger in lowering my guard around the Count. This could be a trap to allow the vampire to get close to me. I’d make sure I was still on my toes if and when the mysterious creature in red paid me a visit.

  “I learned a couple of things today,” I said. “That dead guest was a man named Dr. Daniel Day. He was a war scientist who worked with Dr. Febrero.”

  Elliott blinked as he processed that. “Is that why he checked in here?”

  “It seems likely, but The Architect didn’t mentio
n meeting with him and I don’t know why else Day would come. And remember that blood sample I took? I had someone look at it and we learned that it contained poison.”

  “So someone poisoned Day and left the door open for the Count to find? Maybe that explains why the Count wouldn’t tell me what happened. He could have been embarrassed that he’d been tricked. Do you think the poisoner was Peerage?”

  It was a good question, and I didn’t like any of my answers because none of them made sense. “I don’t know what his motive would be.”

  “Yeah, me neither.” Elliott fiddled with his nametag. “People have been trying to stake the Count for years, but poison—no one’s ever tried that before.” He caught my arm as I began to descend. “Are you going to try to find out who did this?”

  His expression was earnest. Worried. He wasn’t merely curious about why this had happened.

  “Yeah, Elliott. I want to know who did this. Since I’m Head of Security I want to make sure whoever did it is caught so they can’t hurt anyone else.”

  “Okay.” His smile was grateful. “Thanks, Arrow.”

  “We’re doing our jobs, Elliott. No thanks needed.”

  I felt strange saying that, because I’d never been in a position of authority and the mere thought of it made me cringe slightly, as though I’d sold some part of myself to gain power. I reminded myself that this wasn’t the job I’d expected or even wanted, but it was the one I needed to keep in order to obtain my ultimate objective of government overthrow.

  Elliott and I made our way down to the lobby. Guests had been checking in all day, so I was relieved to see Sheridan finally alone at the front desk. She raised her head when we arrived and smiled.

  “The Sinistera’s suddenly a popular place,” I remarked as I leaned my elbows on the desk.

  She laughed. “Our popularity comes in waves. The more guests who live to spread word of mouth, the more bookings we get.” At my expression, she grinned. “That was a joke, by the way. The guests nearly always survive.”

  “Aaron Peerage and Dr. Day being exceptions,” I said casually.

  She nodded slowly, her expression pleasant, but she wasn’t a fool. She could tell I wasn’t happy about the deaths. “I wish I had information to share with you, Arrow, but I’m afraid I don’t.”

  I believed her. Mostly. Sheridan was a company woman. Though she was a Special like Elliott and I and I counted her as a good guy, she was also tight with Tower and hotel management, maybe with Nathaniel, too. I still wasn’t sure where her loyalties lay: with the hotel or with her fellow Specials. She had helped me in the past, but I was pretty sure there’d come a point where she would withhold information from me if she believed I threatened the hotel’s interests.

  “Taurus said Peerage was a VIP,” I said. “An invited guest of Tower’s.”

  “Yes. He and Dr. Day, both. They checked in together. My understanding was that they were friends or colleagues.” Sheridan cocked her head. “I profess that when I heard later that Mr. Peerage had assaulted Dr. Day, I was completely shocked.”

  “What if I told you that Dr. Day was poisoned?” I said, watching her closely.

  The shock on her face seemed genuine. “That’s very interesting. Housekeeping informed me that cause of death was exsanguination.” A gleam came to her eye as she said this, though I couldn’t interpret its meaning.

  “You said you saw Peerage and Day as friends,” I began.

  “Yes.”

  “For Peerage to do a one-eighty and murder his friend seems unlikely. What if someone else committed the murder?”

  Her nod came after a brief hesitation. “I suppose it’s possible, but you would need evidence of a different killer.”

  I turned my head and looked pointedly at a painting on the wall behind her, beside the mail slots. “There’s a security camera behind that, isn’t there? That’s why I haven’t been able to locate any. They’re hidden behind paintings.”

  She hid her smile with one hand. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out, Arrow. Not many have.”

  “I guess I’m suspicious by nature. So if there are cameras, that means there’s footage. I’d like to see yesterday’s footage around Dr. Day’s room.”

  “Hmm, it makes sense. However, there’s the small matter of the surveillance equipment being in the managers’ office.” Sheridan shook her head regretfully. “I doubt either Mr. Tower or Ms. Fallon will permit you inside to view the footage.”

  I doubted they would, either.

  “Where is Nova right now?” I asked.

  Sheridan looked down to straighten some papers, but the corners of her mouth twitched suspiciously. “Mr. Tower does a daily handover with the night manager from seven p.m. until eight p.m. He keeps a very strict schedule. No deviations.”

  My gaze shot to the brass eagle on the wall beside the painting which held a clock in its belly. “It’s seven fifty-one.”

  “Yes. Nine minutes until the managers emerge from the basement,” Sheridan confirmed, looking at me meaningfully.

  “No deviations?” I confirmed as my heart began to pound.

  “He’s as punctual as a clock.”

  I spun to face Elliott. “You stay here. Maybe you can buy me an extra minute or two.”

  His eyes bulged. “Arrow, no!”

  “I need to see that footage.”

  Before he could protest again, I darted behind the front desk and through the entranceway. I didn’t pause in the employee locker room. I headed straight for the door marked Office and trusted Sheridan to have told me the truth. I flung open the door and rushed inside.

  But the office wasn’t empty.

  I choked back a cry at the tall figure looming at the back of the room. It took me a couple of seconds to comprehend that I was looking at a statue of a man, not a living one. Catching my breath, I looked it over quickly. It was the statuary guard that Sheridan had told me about on my first night of work. There were two such animated guards, the other downstairs, guarding the basement. Fortunately, this statue wasn’t guarding the video equipment.

  I didn’t take time to look around at what else was in the office. Turning my back on the motionless statue, I located a small cabinet on the desk marked ‘camera’ and opened its door. Inside were four drawers containing disks with labels.

  And that was when my Glyph Eye condition decided to make an appearance.

  I watched it as it happened, the letters comprising May Flr 3 melting and warping until they turned into incomprehensible symbols. I hissed beneath my breath but there was nothing I could do. I thumbed through the disks, trying to guess both the passage of time and the correct floor, and finally settled on a disk.

  The computer tower was mounted into the wall above the desk so I slid the disk into the slot and immediately saw one of the two monitors also embedded in the wall go from black to showing the image of a corridor. I squinted at it, trying to determine which floor it was by the carpet color and the wall treatment.

  “Five!” I blurted when I recognized the floor. “Damn.”

  I ejected the disk and selected a different one. As soon as the footage appeared I scanned it urgently and then breathed a sigh of relief. It showed the sixth floor. However, one of the guests who passed through the footage was someone who had checked out last week.

  Sweat slid down my spine as I thumbed through the disks again, praying my Glyph Eye away. It didn’t happen, so I had to select blindly again.

  How much time had passed? I had nine minutes before Nova or Tower entered the office and it felt like at least five minutes had already gone by. Should I give up and try again on another day?

  “No way. I’m already here,” I muttered as I mentally crossed my fingers and chose another disk. I inserted it.

  The sixth floor. So far so good.

  I watched for a familiar guest, and sure enough, I saw a couple that I knew had checked in yesterday morning.

  I had it.

  I mashed the fast forward button to rush t
hrough the video feed. The camera’s positioning wasn’t the best for seeing Dr. Day’s room, which was located just off-screen to the right. There was probably another disk with different footage from behind a different painting but I didn’t have time to look for it. I watched obsessively as guests and staff moved quickly through the feed, and willed the video to go faster.

  Something showed up within a few minutes.

  I reflexively pushed the Play button to end the forwarding and leaned closer to the monitor, a frown on my face. Something stood outside Dr. Day’s door. I couldn’t say with one hundred percent confidence that it was human. It seemed humanoid at times, but then at other times I detected a hunch that shouldn’t be there, or a bulge that didn’t appear to be an arm. Its movements were eerily fluid, as though it were made of tar. I couldn’t even tell what it was wearing, because shadow seemed to wrap around the thing and prevent light from picking out the details of sleeves or trousers…

  I would have taken the thing for a glitch in the video, except for its presence at Dr. Day’s door. That was no coincidence.

  The thing appeared tall and thin. Then it was shorter and squatter. It took me a second to understand that it was growing and shrinking as it stood there, pressing against Dr. Day’s door after each adjustment in size and shape. The hairs rose on the back of my neck as I realized it was trying to find a way in.

  After several seconds of this, the thing seemed to make a decision. It began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller until I had to lean close to make it out on the screen. It was about the size of an apple. And then it was the size of a mouse. And then it flattened out and became a puddle.

  It moved forward, by what form of locomotion I couldn’t tell, and it disappeared from the screen. It hadn’t disappeared the way the Count dematerialized, though. It had entered Dr. Day’s room from beneath the door.

  I pressed the fast forward button, watching the screen obsessively. I nearly missed it. I did miss it, and had to rewind a few seconds to catch the square of light that fell across the hallway, indicating that Day’s door had opened. The scientist didn’t step out. A child did. It was around four feet tall, dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a high collar. Its hair was black and mussed. But despite its appearance, I knew in my heart that this thing wasn’t a child. It paused in the middle of the hallway. Goosebumps burst over my skin because I knew what was happening. It had sensed that it was being watched. It began to turn around to face the camera—