“That’s unsettling,” he told her. “Do give your sister my regards when you see her in hell.”
He threw the burning board inside a broken window, and whatever control Clemencie Vexen had over that house, she could not keep fire from seizing hungry hold of all the rotten, ready-burning things in it. In ten seconds the glow was visible at the window, and in thirty, flames were leaping and spreading throughout the structure.
Myrnin withdrew to a safer distance and stood to watch the Vexen house burn. Oliver stood with him, silent, as though he understood this was a necessary vigil.
Trothe stayed in the window staring out until the house collapsed in upon itself in a roaring rush of flames and sparks and ashes, and then it was done. Completely done.
“Whatever did you do with Lucian?” Myrnin thought to ask as smoke rose up in the dawning sky, and the Vexen girls vanished back to whatever fate waited for them.
“He fell,” Oliver said. “Tragic dismemberment accident.”
“Ah. Pity. How do you feel about a hearty breakfast?”
“I could murder a Bloody Mary,” Oliver said.
“Two Bloody Marys sound better.”
Oliver fixed him with a long sober look. “Are you sure you’re quite all right?”
“As all right as I’ve ever been,” Myrnin said. He was well aware, in fact, that it was not a reassuring answer. But what was one more whispering ghost at the back of his mind? He had a chorus of the wretched things. It was hard for someone to drive him to insanity when he’d already crossed those borders and taken up residence.
Amateurs.
SIGNS AND MIRACLES
Dedicated to Kelley Armstrong (and her readers) for her support of the Morganville digital series Kickstarter I was so awestruck that no less than the fantastic urban fantasy / YA author Kelley Armstrong helped us get our Morganville digital series off the ground, and she then donated the custom hardcover to one of her readers. She allowed me to choose the characters for this story, and I decided to explore one that I particularly love and have never written in point of view: Hannah Moses. This is a mystery story with Hannah as our detective, unraveling the story of a girl left for dead and a mysterious peddler of anti-vampire drugs, with bonus Monica Morrell, being heroic against her will, mostly. Glimpses inside the Morganville Police Department we’ve not previously been able to see, too.
I love mystery stories, and getting to write one like this was a total treat. Thanks, Kelley!
As with most things in Morganville, it started with a body. This one just happened to be alive.
Hannah Moses watched as the paramedics rolled the unconscious young woman away on a gurney, and then turned her attention back to the pavement where the victim had been found. It was dry asphalt, except where blood cast darker shadows. Not much use doing fancy analysis on that; the stains had been smeared around on dirty asphalt, then baked in the sun, and it probably wasn’t going to be any help at all. Not like Morganville, Texas, had much in the way of crime scene forensics, anyway.
“Problem?” The unctuous British voice made her stiffen, just a little; she could never get used to the way some vampires could sneak right up on her, even in daytime. Oliver was the worst. He got a hell of a kick out of it.
“You could say so,” Hannah said. She turned and put her hands on her hips. It emphasized the gun belt she wore, and she had to use every trick in her intimidation book to deal with Oliver, Morganville’s biggest snake and Amelie’s—what the hell was he, second-in-command? Boyfriend? God, she didn’t even want to know. “Got a resident who was attacked here sometime this morning. Nobody found her for hours.”
He stood in the shadows cast by a brick wall, unsettlingly close. He could easily step into the light if he wanted, even without the cover-ups, but she thought he liked the drama. “Quite a lot of blood,” Oliver noted. He sounded casual, as if they were chatting about the weather. “Not my work, of course.”
“I know. You’re so neat when you eat,” Hannah agreed. It wasn’t a compliment, and from the sharp-edged smile he gave her, he didn’t take it as one. “She was bashed in the head. She hung on, waiting for somebody to save her. Paramedics aren’t giving her much of a chance at recovery, though.”
“Well, you can’t save everyone,” Oliver said, in the same uninterested tone as before. “In point of fact, you can’t save anyone, in the end. Unless you make them immortal, of course.”
“That’s a hell of a long view you’ve got there.”
“It’s practical. I learned long ago not to accept responsibility for things outside my control.”
“Then why are you here? Didn’t think the problems of regular people-on-people crime were your business.”