Blood Awakening

CHAPTER ONE-3

KISSERA FLEW BACK TO the store. Lucifer wanted a sample of the black goo, a picture of Angela and a trinket that had meaning to the both of them. There were also bills to pay, auctions to schedule and client inquiries that needed her attention. Lucky for her, a good chunk of the night remained.

What had she got herself into? Lucifer, who claimed not to be Satan, had agreed to help her. There was nothing about this that could end well. Desperation was a sad thing.

Once she returned to Relics, Kissera was greeted by a gold gift bag on top of a stack of invoices. She peeked inside. Oh, yum. Five pints of AB+. Patrick must’ve left it for her. She pushed the bag to the side, making a note to thank him when she got home. My employees are the best.

It was so much easier in the old days. Up until the early 1900s, vampires could feed on anyone, anywhere. Then some fool drained a Rockefeller. Humans started to poke their noses in vampire business. The argument between Creare and Nativum on how to solve the problem became so bitter, war broke out. A bad situation spiraled downward and almost exposed them all. In the end, Creare were forced to adopt the companion tradition the Nativum had used all along. She hated to admit it, but it the Nativum were probably right.

An hour into paperwork, Kissera was still on the same document. “This is pointless.” She finished off a glass of Patrick’s gift, gathered up the rest of the papers into a messenger bag, picked up the ornate gift bag, then headed out the door and right into a man dressed all in black, but much less cooler than Johnny Cash. Fine hairs on the back of her neck and arms stood tall and the air around her chilled signaling the arrival of Nativum. Welp, there went the one highlight of her evening.

For two races that were practically the same, the Nativum and the Creare always found ways to make each other's lives miserable. These days, Nativum, those born to their vampirism, held power over those turned, like Kissera. It'd been that way for the two hundred thirty some odd years she'd been a vampire. The war had changed nothing.

“Going somewhere Ms. Eriksson?” The man’s dry tone reminded her of Agent Smith from the Matrix movies.

He stepped forward, forcing her back against the glass door. He was the size of The Rock and just as immovable. Behind him, two other vampires provided backup. They were smaller, but not by much.

“Good evening, Enforcer.” Kissera stood up straight, arranging her face in what she hoped was a bored, yet respectful expression.

“Investigator. Did you forget we got a name change a hundred years ago?”

“No. New boss. Same as the old boss. Can I help you with something?” Kissera kept her tone clipped and business-like.

“We’re here to inquire about your companion, Angela Chiu.”

Oh, damn. They weren't wasting any time. Email followed by an in-person visit? She hadn't even been allowed the seven days the email had promised. Someone must've snitched on those humans from five years ago. But why now?

“What do you want to know?”

“Where is Miss Chiu?”

“Out.” Like this guy and his minions needed to be ASAP.

“We got a tip that she’s missing.”

“Your tip is wrong.” Not entirely, but no one in the vampire law enforcement community needed to know what had happened to Angela.

“When will she return?”

“Whenever she damn well feels like it. What’s this about?”

The leader looked at her, a curious expression on his face. “I smell blood.”

“That would make sense since I’m holding some.” She shook the fancy gift bag in his face.

He snatched it from her, dug around, and came up with one pint. Another. And another.

“There's four pints here. Your companion is missing. I have to take a look inside.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Enforcers were relentless, but she still had rights.

“We have probable cause.”

“Bullshit. You’ve been watching too much Law & Order.”

“Open the door, Ms. Eriksson. We don’t want to have to get rough.”

Kissera shuddered. The Nativum police might call themselves by a fluffier name, but they were the same thugs with their jackboots on Creare necks since before the war, when she and other Creare fought back against their tyranny. For a century Kissera struggled to put those miserable two years behind her. She wished these bastards would leave her in peace.

Her shoulders sank with defeat. Might as well get it over with. Causing a scene would guarantee this got back to the council, something no Creare in their right mind wanted. She unlocked the door and ushered the three officers inside. “Knock yourselves out.”

The leader stayed with her in the front showroom while his minions searched the rest of the store. One knocked at walls and banged on the floor in the main room. Kissera gasped as his heavy boot kicked a pedestal holding a duo of rare Pitkin flasks sending them cascading toward the floor. In a blink, the officer reached out and saved the objects from destruction. He steadied the pedestal, then placed the flasks back where they belonged. Kissera breathed a sigh of relief. Respect for old stuff was one of the few things all vampires had in common.

“Boss,” another officer called. “There’s a locked room up here.”

“Ms. Eriksson?” The corner of Boss's eye twitched, like he tried to hide the excitement of finding her red-handed, but his professionalism won out.

“Documents sensitive to light and air.”

“We’ll need to check inside.”

Stifling a barrage of insults, Kissera led the way upstairs, then punched in the code to the room of rare treasures. The door opened with a whoosh. “Only one of you. I don’t need a whole parade in there ruining stuff.”

“Stay here,” Boss ordered. He walked straight to the center of the room then rotated a full three sixty, stopping every once in a while to sniff the air or inspect a certain patch of wall.

“These walls don't match the ones downstairs.”

“Does your carpet always match the drapes?”

He struggled to squelch a smile tugging the edge of his lips and failed. A sense of humor in an Investigator? Wonders never cease. Maybe she could get away with a warning.

Satisfied she wasn’t hiding dead bodies in the wall, the officer left. Kissera resealed the room, and they all headed downstairs.

“Can I go now?” she asked.

“Not quite. Where did this blood come from?” He felt around the bottom of the bag then revealed two gold feathers.

Oh, you have to be kidding me. “It was a gift.” Not from Patrick?

“Angela’s blood type. Four pints. You know this doesn’t look good.”

“You think AB+ companions are so common I can bleed one dry for fun? It took me a long time to find Angela. The blood is a gift.”

“Who gave it to you?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Kissera glanced at the bag, remembering the note tucked into fancy gold and white tissue paper. It read: “An uncommon gift for an uncommon lady.” Ta ma dik. In less than twenty-four hours, Lucifer had managed to screw up her life.

“Try me.”

“An angel gave it to me.” Let's see what Mr. Investigator does with that.

“Ms. Eriksson, angels don't come down out the clouds to talk to the likes of us. Let's just go over to headquarters, get it all straightened out. This is just an investigation. Accidents happen. Companions are fragile. No need to go to the council. We can talk. You have to understand with this much blood and a missing companion of the same type we have a duty to find out what happened. Angela’s not around to ask, so we have to go through official channels. If Angela is no longer your companion, then you'll have to go through the delisting process.”

The Boss's words faded into gibberish as he reached out to grab her arm. Without thinking, Kissera lashed out with a left hook, overpowered by memories of a distant time when another group of black-clad men took her against her will. The ghost smell of below sea level New Orleans surrounded her and full blown panic swallowed her whole. She struggled, striking out with fists and feet while the Investigator attempted to put silver cuffs on her. Don't take me. Not again. The touch of silver on her skin shocked Kissera firmly into the present.

Her stiletto-heeled foot connected with the man's gut and he stumbled backward with a grunt. With a shout, the minions pounced and tried to shackle her. Their words meant nothing. Three against one. Terrible odds, but she’d faced worse.

The Investigator recovered quicker than she anticipated. He pinned her to the ground. Kissera squirmed and twisted, but under his heavy body she was helpless. They couldn’t do this to her again. She wouldn’t let them. A minion held her feet as the leader wrangled her arms behind her and clicked the handcuffs into place. Kissera flinched as the metal made contact with her skin. Pain shot through her arms, rendering them useless.

Not yet ready to give up the fight, she flung all of her will behind one thought. Break the chains. Both men went flying into a case of Limoges figurines. Kissera sat up, ready to give them more of the same. She rubbed her scorched wrists. Zap. A sharp pain stung her in the neck, the last thing she registered as the world went black.