And even though she’s a witch, she’s still human, I added silently. Hugh might have been the first troll to make Detective Sergeant, four years previously, but he was still a troll. Life sucks sometimes, and not just for vampires.
I walked into the empty open-plan office and headed for Hugh’s L-shaped desk. It was easy enough to find—his was the only one clear of all but the essentials: a pile of paper coasters in a pink granite holder, three of the overlarge ballpoint pens manufactured for a troll’s fingers, and an electronic photo frame, currently showing a summer landscape of his mountain. Next to a tidy stack of files, his computer screen flashed a screensaver of the same view, this one taken in lightly falling snow.
Smiling, I asked, ‘So what’s with the goblin and you?’
‘Grandmother was concerned about some of the newer goblins being brought into London.’ He pointed me to his ‘guest’ chair as he sat down. ‘She asked me to be their Ardathair , that’s sort of a pastoral figurehead.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I frowned at his troubled face.
‘Sit down, Genny.’ Hugh placed his hands flat on the desk. ‘There’s something more important we need to talk about.’
So much for the catch-up. I dropped my bag on the floor, but instead of sitting immediately, I retreated to the water dispenser in the corner. ‘Did you want some, Hugh?’
‘What do you think you’re doing, Genny?’
Getting some water, I wanted to say as I filled the white plastic cup, but I heard the concern in his voice under the reproach, so I didn’t. ‘Hugh, it’s no big deal.’ I carried the water back to his desk. ‘I look at the victim, check her out for spells and let my client know if I find any.’ I sat down. ‘Job done.’
The cracks across Hugh’s forehead deepened. ‘There’s nothing to find. The standard tests for magic were all clear.’ He straightened one of his pens. ‘Then when Mr Hinkley brought up his concerns, Inspector Crane put a circle up herself and repeated them, and did some others. She even got an independent witch from another coven to confirm her findings.’ He gave me a level look. ‘No magic. Nothing.’
‘So that’s what I’ll tell him.’ I gave Hugh a small smile. ‘Once I’ve seen for myself.’
‘Genny, I shouldn’t be telling you this’—he pressed his index finger against his lips—‘but the most recent bites match the boyfriend’s dental mould.’
‘What about the blood counts?’
‘High levels of V1 and V2 as expected, VM3 present but inactive.’
I nodded. Vampire Venom and Virus—3V—isn’t exactly what the name suggests; the scientist who discovered the different components back in the seventies was a fanatical Souler. He identified the clear fluid injected by a vampire’s small retractable fangs as a combination of hormones and proteins, only he decided it made more sense to promote it as a poisonous virulent disease, and back then the Department of Health agreed with him.
The Venom—V1—part is the initial ‘infection’. It boosts production of the red blood cells and addicts the victim, which makes for the ideal blood-slave—lots of hot thick blood on tap, and someone who is dying (literally, on occasion) to have a vamp sink fangs into them. As the infection builds, V1 mutates into V2, and the morphogens alter the DNA, upping the slave’s immune system to the point that every other disease is killed off. It’s a great health benefit—that’s if the slave manages to survive the side-effects of the 3V itself. VM3 is the trigger for the Gift, the marker that the original scientist never found.
But then, he couldn’t see magic, and VM3 is the magic part of the equation.
The high levels of V1 and V2 made sense. Melissa not only worked for vampires, but dated one too. But with VM3 still being dormant . . . I frowned, that meant Melissa’s death had nothing to do with a botched Gifting.
Something else Hugh had said caught my attention. ‘Recent bites?’ I asked.
‘The pathologist reports that she had multiple bites, inflicted over an extended period of time. He thinks he’s narrowed it down to four, maybe five, regular partners. But only the boyfriend matched the bite wounds made in the last week.’
‘He must’ve overdosed her on V1.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Still, at least she’d have been too hyped-up to know much about it, so what killed her—a stroke or a heart attack?’
‘The victim died of blood loss, Genny,’ Hugh rumbled. ‘Almost drained dry was how the pathologist put it.’
What Hugh was saying didn’t tally with Alan Hinkley’s tale of true love between Bobby, aka Mr October, and Melissa. Draining someone infected with 3V would be almost impossible for just one vampire. They just couldn’t ingest that amount of blood fast enough—unless it was deliberate.
‘Shit,’ I muttered, ‘the sucker must’ve gorged himself.’
‘Exactly,’ Hugh sighed. ‘Case solved. Except for the father, who just can’t accept what’s happened.’
Damn.
‘Maybe the father just needs to hear it from someone else.’ I took a sip of water. ‘Someone not connected with the police. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that his son would’ve been staked and burned almost as soon as you’d nabbed him, is it?’
Hugh’s expression turned disapproving. ‘Vampires have the same legal rights as any other human, Genny. They have had for the last fifteen-odd years, since the High Court ruled—’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I interrupted. ‘So once the injunction’s lifted, there’s no harm me looking, is there?’
His mouth turned down as he picked up a file. ‘Genny, getting involved with this is not right for you.’
I so didn’t want to hear this. Not when I agreed with him.
‘C’mon, Hugh.’ I tried an appeasing smile. ‘I checked out a couple of things like this for your old boss.’
More red mica shimmered above his head. Hugh really was dusted about this. ‘Twice you worked for the old man, both times the victims were witches. Neither case was connected to the vampires,’ he said gruffly.
‘What can happen?’ I waved at the room. ‘We’re in a police station. So this has something to do with the vamps, but my client isn’t one, and neither was the victim. I deal with vampire victims at HOPE all the time. It doesn’t cause me any hassle.’
‘You’re splitting hairs.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Genny, you’ve coped better, these last few years—and I’m proud of you—but any contact with the vampires isn’t going to improve matters.’ His frown cracks deepened. ‘What if one of them decides to take an interest in you? What’s going to happen then?’
‘I can handle it.’ I glanced at the bruises circling my wrist. An image of the Armani-suited vamp sliced through me. I clenched my left hand as something fluttered deep in my stomach. Yeah, like hell you can.
Hugh leaned forward, hands flat on the file. ‘In the past, so long as a fae didn’t venture into Sucker Town, they could be reasonably sure of not falling foul of the vampires. Even then, an adult fae doesn’t have much to fear from them. They can’t trick you with mesma, they can’t mind-lock you.’ He drummed his fingers insistently, then stopped. ‘But that won’t stop them from using force if they think it’s worth it.’
I kept my voice calm, hiding my exasperation. ‘We’ve been over this—’
‘You could end up dead, Genny.’
Of course, dead would be my first choice.
‘And don’t bother telling me fae are hard to kill,’ he continued. ‘I’ve seen it happen before. Injure any fae badly enough in mind and body and they can’t help but fade.’
‘Hugh, I know all this.’ I swirled the water in my cup, watching as it formed a tiny whirlpool. ‘I don’t need a lecture.’
‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what you need,’ he rumbled quietly. ‘I’ve told you, you can’t afford to reveal what’s wrong with you.’
I pasted an attentive look on my face and tuned him out. Hugh’s advice had always kept me safe, and I loved him to bits. But sometimes it felt like listening to his ‘advice’ was like having a stake hammered through my heart: Don’t get too friendly with the witches. Keep your distance from the fae. Stay behind a threshold after dark. Never Glamour a human, however much you trust them— Of course, the times I’d actually ignored his advice hadn’t ended up a resounding success.