Page 18 of Brimstone Bound
Once I left the main tourist area, however, the crowds thinned and my apprehension grew. My eyes flicked from left to right as I examined the faces of the other passers-by. Was it one of these people who’d slit my throat? Were any of them surprised to see me? I stared so hard at one man, whose clothes and expression looked shady enough to belong in hell, that he waggled his eyebrows at me seductively. No. This was not a come-on.
I ploughed on, winding my way through the narrow streets until the spire of St Erbin’s Church was visible. Rather than stop and gaze at it, I forced my feet to keep moving. If I stopped now, I’d never manage to move again. Despite my lack of fatigue or injury, this wasn’t easy; I was trembling from head to toe and it took every bit of will power I possessed to walk up to the church gate and push it open. I can do this, I told myself. Ihaveto do this.
Police tape cordoned off a large area of the graveyard. It flapped gently in the breeze, an unpleasant indication of what had happened. My mouth was dry, but I kept going and ducked under the tape. My feet squelched in the wet mud as I made my way to the slightly firmer grass. I didn’t stop until I was standing next to a patch of discoloured ground. There. That was my blood. That was where I’d died.
I crouched down, doing my best to remain dispassionate. I didn’t do a very good job. I reached out, brushing the sticky blood that coated the grass with my shaking fingertips. It wasn’t even completely dry. I swallowed hard. We’d covered bloodwork at the Academy and, while I only knew the basics, I still reckoned that from the size of the bloodstain I’d lost a good six pints. Whoever had slit my throat must have ended up covered in it.
I raised my head and glanced at the nearest gravestone. Thomas Santorini. Born 1826, died 1899. Sorry, I mouthed. I didn’t mean to sully your resting spot.
‘Who are you?’
I jerked upwards at the sound of the cold voice then I spun round, ready to defend myself to the death again if I had to. Standing less than five feet away was a man. He was a few inches taller than me, with inky-dark hair, liquid black eyes and high cheekbones. His skin gleamed; if that wasn’t enough of a clue, he was coat-less despite the cold February air. I gaped at his immaculate white shirt with its frilly cuffs.
‘Vampire,’ I murmured. I lifted my chin. ‘This is consecrated ground. What are you doing here?’
He gave a mild snort. ‘There is no such thing as consecrated ground. We go where we please.’ He waved a hand. ‘Even in daylight.’ He took a step forward. ‘And right now, this is where I please.’ His voice hardened and his eyes raked my face before dropping briefly to my exposed neck. ‘I will repeat my question. Who are you?’
‘I’m with Supernatural Squad.’ It wasn’t really a lie. ‘A woman died here last night, and I want to make sure that supes weren’t involved.’ I met his gaze, challenging him to argue with me. I had more of a right to be here than he did – and if he was looking for a fight, I‘d give him one. I could do with the distraction.
‘There are only three humans currently with Supernatural Squad,’ he said. ‘And none of them are you.’
He didn’t know as much as he thought he did. ‘I’m a trainee detective on temporary rotation,’ I told him, with only a faint sneer.
The vampire quirked an eyebrow. ‘Are you indeed? And they let you out on your own?’
‘Apparently so.’ I glared at him. ‘Why are you here?’
‘For the same reason as you. A woman died here. I’ve been … tasked with finding out more. Sudden violent deaths aren’t good PR for our kind.’
Except it wasn’t a vampire who’d killed me. A vampire wouldn’t have used a blade. ‘Well,’ I said briskly, ‘you can stand down. Supernatural Squad will take things from here.’
His gaze flickered with amusement. ‘Will they?’
I opened my mouth to answer him but, before I could, the main church door opened and Reverend Knight appeared. ‘Hey!’ he called sharply. ‘Stop disturbing that spot! The police—’ He looked at me and his voice faltered. ‘You.’ He paled. ‘But—’
I interrupted before he could say anything else. ‘Reverend Knight. Good to see you again. I’m just scanning the area for evidence or clues that last night’s crew might have missed.’
He didn’t move a muscle. I wondered whether he was the person who’d found my body. Probably. It had to be quite a shock seeing me again. He should try walking in my shoes.
I looked from him to the vampire and back again. ‘Well,’ I said briskly, ‘I’ve seen all that I need to for now.’ I raised my eyebrows at Reverend Knight. ‘I’m with the police, Reverend. Can I come inside and ask you a few questions?’
I wasn’t foolish enough to wait for his answer; instead, I took advantage of his shock and ducked under the police tape again. I needed to interrogate him before he recovered his equilibrium and refused to talk to me.
I’d barely taken three steps when the vamp’s hand shot out and curled round my forearm. I stiffened at his touch.
‘I think you and I need to talk,’ he said.
I snatched my arm back, wrenching it away with surprising strength. ‘That makes one of us then.’ I sniffed, and sent a meaningful look in Knight’s direction before walking into the church. The reverend stumbled in after me. Thankfully, the vampire chose not to join us. Small mercies.
‘I … I … don’t understand,’ Reverend Knight stammered, once the heavy church door had closed behind us. ‘I thought I saw you… I thought you were… I…’ He sat down on the nearest pew, clutching at the armrest for support.
‘I know what you saw,’ I said. ‘And I’d like to be able to explain it but right now I can’t.’ I injected a mysterious edge into my voice, hoping that Knight would draw his own conclusions and stop freaking out.
‘You said you were with the police.’ His words were slow as he did his best to come up with a rational solution for what he’d witnessed. ‘Is this some kind of sting? An undercover police operation? Because you were dead. I was sure you were dead.’ He shook his head, whether in disbelief or amazement I wasn’t sure. He reached out and poked me gently, checking that I was solid and not a figment of his imagination.
‘As I told you,’ I said without flinching, ‘I can’t explain it right now.’
‘Of course.’ He blinked rapidly. ‘Of course you can’t.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘I spoke to your colleagues last night and told them I hadn’t seen anything or anyone. You and I met and chatted. I left the church an hour or so later to head home, and that’s when I saw you lying on the ground.’ He lifted his eyes to mine. ‘You were very convincing.’
