Chapter 35: Chapter 35

The scene was a cop’s nightmare. Around the room, mutilated bodies lay scattered. But someone had set the pièce de résistance up on the dais for everyone to see. The floors, and even the walls, were bright red and slippery with blood. Forensics would have had a field day profiling DNA from this lot, he thought. It wasn’t just a massacre; it was a bloodbath. Chavez shook his head as he put on his gloves. He knew of this place. He hadn’t had the pleasure of eating here, though. Too exclusive and too expensive for his simple tastes. But he’d read testimonies about the excellent cuisine served here. Sadly, what used to be a posh Japanese restaurant was now nothing but a freaking slaughterhouse.

Taking a deep breath, Chavez took out his gum and popped it inside his mouth. How he wished he had a tub of Vicks. He loathed the thing, but it would help much in this case. The stench of blood and bodily fluids was too offensive, even for his hardened sensibilities. He also made sure his silver chain and cross were in the right place. He had exchanged his wooden cross for a silver one after he learned vampires were allergic to silver. Let them bite his neck now. They would foam at the mouth within seconds. Somehow, the image pleased him. Too bad he couldn’t enjoy much of his daydream. He had a crime scene to attend to. Carefully picking his way through the carnage, Chavez walked towards the tall man standing at the foot of the dais. He still hated working with these vampires. But he could at least tolerate a few of them now. Nick Roman had proven himself worthy of his tolerance.

“You got here fast,” Roman said, barely glancing at him.

Chavez grunted but said nothing. The bloodied blades in Roman’s hands told him everything he needed to know. He had administered justice swiftly and decisively. Vampire justice differed from human justice. They dealt with offenders without frills and drama. No court trials or appeals. Once proven guilty, death was the only verdict.

And Roman caught these creatures red-handed. Enough said.

Four of Roman’s Knights stood in one corner of the room, getting rapid instructions from the hulking, bald giant named Boris. They were stashing decapitated heads inside black trash bags. He preferred not to know what they would do with those. All he cared about was having these demons contained. For close to a year, they reported no vampire activities in the Metropolitan area. One or two strange deaths in the suburbs weren’t enough to cause alarm. And with no hard evidence to suggest vampire involvement, he didn’t see the need to consult Roman.

That all changed a month ago.

For weeks, Chavez had been hearing rumors about some bizarre activities. Reports of parties gone wrong, resulting in a couple of deaths. He ignored them, thinking the offenders were just unruly humans gone out of control. It was only when he came across a crime scene photo that he took actual interest. Both victims, young women with rare blood types, bore familiar-looking wounds. With Torres’ blessing, he dug into their old files and compared notes. He tried to find a plausible explanation, but he always came up with only one conclusion. Vampires were once again hunting women with rare blood types. The only difference here was that they did not bleed their victims dry. After two more of the same, he had no choice but to meet with Roman.

Roman’s first words to him were ‘Marcel’s behind it all’. Yet neither of them could find any trace of the secretive Osiris cult’s head priest. He wanted to widen their search and include new suspicious personalities, but Roman was adamant. Marcel was back, he said. They should focus on him and his known associates, not anyone else. Despite his misgivings, Chavez followed the vampire enforcer’s lead. And this was where they ended up after two weeks of following broken bread crumbs. He expected to find Marcel’s head on a spike, yet all Roman presented him was the body of another dead girl. Rage boiled inside him, but he held it back. He still needed Roman, if he were to put an end to this new rash of killings.

“The girl was from one of Marcel’s bevy of Black Swans. We’ve been following her for days, but then she disappeared. It was pure luck that led us here,” Roman said, walking over to the dais.

“You call this luck? She’s dead, Roman,” Chavez snarled. “And what the hell are you talking about? What’s a black swan?”

“Like I said. She disappeared. But Link recognized the man she was with before she did. Unfortunately, he could change his appearance, so it took a bit of time to find him again. And if not for Keno’s exceptional talent at tracing people, he would’ve vanished completely. I regret her death, but there was nothing I could do. She came here voluntarily. This was a black swan party gone wrong. I don’t think they intended to kill her. More likely, the plan was to turn her.”

“You keep on saying black swan. What the hell is a black swan?’

Roman glanced at Chavez and lifted a brow at him. “Are you sure you want to know? The truth might offend you.”

“Just tell me what it is, damn it,” Chavez growled.

“Believe it or not, there are humans who are sympathetic to vampires. Friends, benefactors, lovers, or even donors. And of course, there are those who want to get turned, to become vampires themselves.”

Chavez shivered, unable to hide his disgust at the last. Who, in his right mind, would want to be a blood-sucking creature of the night? These people must be sick in the head. Now that he knew what the girl was, a bit of his sympathy melted away. Maybe she got what she deserved. He silently reprimanded himself for thinking such an unholy thought. She was still a human being. A misguided, disillusioned one, but still a human being just like him.

The girl looked like an offering to the gods, laid on top of a gigantic platter like that. Around her were dozens of empty shot glasses. Gingerly taking one with his gloved hand, Chavez sniffed the red-tinged liquid that had settled at the bottom. He grimaced, his suspicion confirmed. Blood. They were all drinking blood from these shot glasses.

But if they were using these glasses, why did the girl’s body have fang marks?

As if reading his mind, Roman explained. “The shots were just appetizers. After having one or two, they would move on to drinking directly from her. It’s not normally done to first-timers; they often panic when swarmed. But she’s obviously not one. She’s used to getting bit. See these dark marks on her wrists and arms? They’re proof that she was a donor. Someone regularly drew blood from her. And based on the clothes and accessories we found in the dressing area, she had a wealthy benefactor.”

“You said the plan was to turn her, so why didn’t they?”

“Turning someone isn’t as easy as people think. The vampire turning her needed to remain attuned to her body. As soon as her heart stops, they must immediately force their own blood into her. This would jumpstart the heart. Only this time, they would fill it with vampire blood. With a gathering this large, it would be difficult for the vampires to focus on her heartbeat. They would more than likely get caught in a feeding frenzy. Here, someone forgot to monitor her heart.”

“Couldn’t someone turn her once they noticed?”

“Unfortunately, with many vampires feeding off of her, her body would quickly wither. The heart would be the first to dry out. By then, it would be too late to turn her. Look closely at her skin, it’s already wrinkling.”

Images of the hanging withered women flashed in Chavez’s mind, sending bile up his throat. That must’ve been what happened to them. As Garcia said, someone had sucked them dry. His hatred for these creatures set his heart aflame. If it were up to him, he would kill them all.

Yet, he also knew that not all vampires were blood-sucking animals. Roman and his Knights were almost as decent as his fellow cops. Almost. They still drank human blood, he reminded himself. But they at least respected humans and took their sustenance from blood banks, not directly from people. And if he were to believe the rumors, Roman didn’t even want to become a vampire. Someone cursed him to turn into one.

“Marcel was here,” Roman said, breaking into his thoughts.

“How can you tell? Did he leave a calling card?”

Roman smirked and pointed at a lone shot glass on top of a nearby table. It contained some transparent liquid. Chavez walked over to it and sniffed the contents. It smelled like vodka. “Vodka?”

“That’s his calling card. A single shot of vodka he never dinks,” Roman said, nodding.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve known the man for years. He’s been to all my bars. He would always order one shot of vodka, but never drink it. I always wondered what it meant. Now I know. He’s mocking me. It’s a mocking salute to me.”

“Are you saying he left this here on purpose? Maybe he made a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t a mistake. He’s declaring himself. He wants us to know that he’s back.”

“But why tip us off? He went into hiding and now he’s leaving evidence of his presence?”

“Oh, he didn’t go into hiding. He went away to prepare.”

“To prepare for what?”

"For war. He was gathering his forces. So, brace yourself, lieutenant. We’re now officially at war with the most powerful vampires in the world.”

Chavez gulped hard as he silently clutched his silver cross, hoping it would be enough to protect him from the approaching dark storm.