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Mike could see the crime scene tape from the car, bright as the signs for the festival behind it. Being able to see the tape from here didn’t make a difference; they were caught in festival traffic and there was no telling how long it would take for them to make it to the scene.
“One good thing about the dead,” he commented, “they’ll usually wait for us.”
His partner took another sip of coffee, nodded, and leaned back to get comfortable. It was going to be a while.
Mike was staring off into the glow of taillights when The Kill came on the radio. The song instantly brought back the memory of driving out to take the detective job in Edmonton, coasting on his success in that kidnapping case, somehow staying just ahead of the gossip after Crowley relented into allowing him to quit. Thirty Seconds to Mars had been on the regular radio station at the time, playing again and again over the thousands of kilometers of his journey. Now it was on the oldies station. Now he listened to the oldies station.
It had been a pretty good decade-and-a-half. A wife and kid, a house in the suburbs. He’d never make captain since the gossip caught up, but being a detective in Edmonton definitely beat not being a detective anywhere.
Then again, there was the festival traffic.
“Those ladies are staring at us,” muttered Tony, a slight head movement indicating the direction of another table outside the café.
These days both Henry and Tony were annoyed at the intrusion, but not annoyed enough to avoid going out on a summer evening with the soft rustle of overhead leaves, with warm light and murmuring conversations spilling out of the open coffee house door into the mist.
Henry had never become old enough to outgrow a certain sense of mischief and occasional fits of the dramatic flare that might be built into being a vampire. So he leaned closer and whispered in Tony’s ear. “Should we give them a show? A college kid flirts with a silver fox? Maybe they’ll go home and buy one of Elizabeth’s books.”
Not that women needed the extra motivation — the gay romance market was doing well. Women (mostly women) all over the world were buying books by “Elizabeth Fitzroy.” Both Henry’s publisher and his accountant were happy.
“I’ve never wanted to act,” Tony answered.
That was fine. Tony’s visit would be short enough; they should make it count.
Henry grabbed both their cups — one full, one half empty — and headed toward the exit. After all, there were other cafés in Vancouver, other paths, other ways to enjoy a beautiful summer twilight. There would be countless other summer twilights to enjoy, and countless others to enjoy them with.
“That was great! We’ll have to get together again soon.” Vicki tried to put as much friendliness as she could into her smile. Some days it was hard for her to tell anymore if it was working or if she was just grimacing. She’d never been a “smile” person to begin with.
Her “Girl’s Night Out” had gone late. But she and Jenny, the detective in the office next door to where she worked, had formed an instant bond that could leave them talking for hours without even noticing.
Vicki tapped her way toward her apartment as quickly as she could, knowing that her friend would be watching until she was all the way into the secured building. After all, it was dangerous to be blind. And a woman. Even in “Toronto the Good.”
She could fight down that part of her that wanted to shrug off all caution if it would ease Jenny’s mind. And she had taken a vow to forego macho bullshit. Most of the time it worked.
With absolutely perfect timing, her phone rang as soon as she had the door closed and locked. Even without the dedicated ringtone she would have known it was Coreen. Her former assistant was just as relentless as her mother had been, but always seemed to know when Vicki was available and when Vicki just hadn’t been answering her phone. It was eerie and Vicki carefully didn’t ask if Coreen had somehow acquired special powers. It wasn’t her business anymore.
“Hi, Coreen. What’s up?”
“How are the tattoos and scarification? Is the cross still holding its shape?” Coreen’s voice was almost as perky as when Vicki first met her, and Vicki’s image of how she looked would never age. But Coreen sounded both more confident and more tired.
“It’s exactly the same as it was before. The holy water tattoo is still holding; none of the darkness has come back. The cross still covers the whole brand and it’s still cross shaped.” Vicki had Jenny check her “body art” frequently. Jenny thought it was weird but indulged her.
“No burning?” Coreen checked.
“Definitely no burning. How are things on your end?”
“There’s a rumor that a collector has Astaroth stored in a bottle!” Coreen sounded almost gleeful.
“That’s a new one. Let’s hope that bottle never ends up at an estate sale.”
“And last night the boss lady…”
Vicki tuned out. She was glad that Coreen had a boss who could and would protect her and the city, even if it was because that boss was a viciously possessive and territorial vampire who wasn’t going to let anything mess with her city or her people. But if Vicki had to admit to her feelings — and she did not — she might acknowledge that she felt something like jealousy whenever she heard about Toronto’s newest vampire.
Vicki tuned in again just in time to hear “...drove a train right into the nest then set it on fire!”
“Is the billing going to cover that?”
“She’ll find a way to make it work. She always does.” Coreen sounded almost smug.
It didn’t take long after that for the call to wrap up. Coreen hadn’t asked about her life, rightly assuming that her work as a massage therapist was not adventurous. Vicki hadn’t asked about Coreen’s life of being the daytime face of the agency, researching, taking clients and performing surveillance.
Thirty minutes later Vicki had eaten and was soaking in a hot bath.
She’d been lost when Henry and Mike left, and even more lost when she’d inevitably gone blind. It had taken her a while to claw out of her despair and find a training program for a new job.
Ten years later she had a relatively happy life. She had a business partnership with a physical therapist. Nobody expected her to smile. She could earn her own money and live on her own terms. And for the first time since she started training to be a cop she had work she could leave behind at the end of the day.
No adventure, but still. At least no demons had shown up.
Vicki relaxed more deeply into her bath.