The Light Who Shines Read online

  Gambino’s eyes reveal a new understanding when I finish. Then he asks, “Do you have anything else?”

  “Well, yes and no.” I fiddle with my hands as I say this next part. “This morning I was disarmed and held briefly at knife point while a masked man asked me about the amulet.”

  At this Gambino stands up and curses. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!”

  I feel his protective streak resurface, and I wait patiently for him to sit down and reassume his mask of calm. When he does, I go on.

  “I didn’t see anything new or helpful beyond the description the bartender gave me, but the man could have fit that description. Obviously because he was masked I can’t identify him. I was able to get away, but by the time I reached my gun and turned around, he was gone. He did his disappearing act again.”

  Gambino raps his fingers loudly on the desk. “The disappearing man,” he muses. “Is there anything else I should know about?”

  I give him a wry smile. “No, not at this time. I do want to talk to the parents myself though. Can you send their information over to my office?”

  “Sure. Let me see you out, then.”

  I pick up my privacy charm, and Gambino escorts me back to the sallyport.

  As I walk to my car, I notice that Officer Schmidt and his cohort are standing by a patrol car talking. They’re standing in profile and must be able to see me, but they make it a point to ignore me.

  As I hop in my car, my chimerator pulls tight. I flip the lid and see Jack’s face reflected. I answer the call, “Hola.”

  Jack growls, “Blue, I told you I wanted daily reports. Are you alright?”

  “I’m just leaving the precinct. I’m on my way over.”

  “Well, hurry up.” Jack disconnects.

  Cripes! He really needs to learn some phone manners.

  I turn on the ignition, and with my arm stretched out over the back of the passenger seat, I slowly back up. A crackling and popping noise followed by a slow hissing sound emits from my tires. Just my luck.

  Heaving a huge sigh, I slide the transmission back into park and climb out of the car. Both rear tires are as flat as pancakes. I get down on my hands and knees to carefully feel around on the pavement under my back tires. Sure enough, I pull out a handful of sharp nails, all the same size and all shiny new as though fresh from the box. I shield my eyes with my hands and look into the sun toward the direction of Officer Schmidt and his accomplice. I can see they are both laughing and taking sidelong glances at me.

  I kick my tire in frustration and look up at them again only to see they are still laughing. I could go over there and accuse them, but they would surely deny it. Men of the law would never do such a thing, of course. I could threaten to hex them! I wonder if they would believe that I’m capable of performing hexes. That would be funny but a bit childish. Unfortunately, I think my revenge will have to wait until an appropriate opportunity presents itself.

  Leaning up against the side of the car, I flip the chimerator open again and say “Rubalia.” Rubalia is our office assistant extraordinaire. The chimerator works its magic, and a few seconds later, she answers.

  “Rubalia speaking.”

  “Rubalia, I’m at the precinct and I have two flat tires. Can you send a tow truck?”

  Rubalia’s reflection shows her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose as she peers over them. “Two flat tires! That is quite a coincidence.”

  “It’s no coincidence, as you darn well know. Can you please tell Jack I’ve been held up and will be in as soon as I can?”

  Rubalia purses her lips and furrows her brow. “Of course. I’ll get someone out to you right away.”

  Chapter 10

  The Office

  Bluebell Kildare: May 27, 2022, Red Ages

  Two hours and too much money later, I’m on my way to the office again. As I navigate downtown, I pass yet another group of protestors wearing yellow robes outside the Mayor’s office. I press my fingers to my forehead as though to ward off the headache they are about to give me. The Dilectus Deo, or Beloved of God, as it is translated, are a cult of Norms who believe all Vampires and Gifted should be eliminated and that ungifted and unturned humans are the true children of God. I personally think the Dilectus Deo are more frightening than even Dark Vampires. They appear to be peacefully protesting, but the signs they hold are anything but. One reads, “Kill the leeches.” Another reads, “Aberrations should be put down,” as though we are animals.

  What really makes me mad is the mom out there with her daughter who can’t be more than eight years old, shaking a sign up and down that says, “Get the Aberrations out of my classroom!” It appears they start the hate training early. The kids who are taught to hate early rarely have enough strength to break away from a family culture of hatred. The girl has hardly any chance to develop an independent mind because she can see with what vehemence any objection or alternate thinking will be treated. I sigh deeply and keep driving.

  When I arrive at work, I park my car and walk toward the Supernatural Investigation Bureau building. It rises up, a sleek glass and steel structure, three stories high. This is the central office for the entire Smoky Mountain region, though our unit focuses on the City of Crimson Hollow. Crimson Hollow is the capital of the region and spreads out over the most scenic, mountainous areas of the Smokies surrounded by smaller outlying suburbs. It’s divided by districts with each district covered by a different unit.

  As I approach the building at a fast clip I see my reflection in the shiny glass. Maud’s saying that “good posture makes the woman” flits through my head when I notice that I’m walking with a straight back and my head held high. She would be happy to see that.

  The air thickens and buzzes slightly around me as I walk through the wards just beyond the entrance. The entire building is ensconced in highly specialized wards, and only those who work here can walk straight through.

  When I exit the elevator on the third floor, I follow the arrowed sign that reads “Homicides.” I am newly amused each time I read it, as it seems to invite me down the hall to be murdered.

  As soon as I walk through our department door, the inviting reception area surrounds me with the comfort of home. I love this office and I’m so proud to be a part of it. The room glows with the warmth of oak furniture and dark brown leather upholstery. Fresh flowers on the tables and impressionist paintings on the walls bring color to the room while the sunlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows brings the whole setting to life.

  I remember two years ago when I came here on my first day, the office seemed so professional and grown-up, and I felt like neither. I was sure that before long, my inadequacies would be revealed and Jack would send me packing. No one was more surprised than I when it turned out I was actually good at this job. It’s probably because I truly believe in what we do.

  The goal of the Supernatural Investigation Bureau is to maintain interbreed peace and security. Our unit, of course, is a small but vital part of the machinery that makes that possible. We use our skills and our strengths to keep the peace and ensure the balance between the Norms, the Gifted, and the Daylight Vampires. We do this by bringing Dark Vampires to the sun, persecuting the Gifted and Daylight Vampires who commit homicide, and persecuting Norms who commit homicide against the Gifted or Daylight Vampires. The regular police are simply not equipped to deal with these crimes the way our strength and special powers allow us to deal with them.

  Reigning queen over the reception area stands Rubalia, but she is far more than a receptionist. She is a brilliant research assistant, an office manager, and, I sometimes think, a goddess. Rubalia has deep brown skin and black shoulder length hair styled in big waves with flippy ends tipped in gold. She wears ruby red cat eye glasses trimmed in marcasite as her crown. Her robes are elegantly fitted skirt suits, and her weapons are dangerously sharp and high stilettos.

  The gold tips in her hair are her magical mark, but I am unsure of what her gift is. Some gifts
are very personal or simply frivolous, so it is considered rude to ask. It would be equivalent to men comparing phallus sizes in polite society. I speculate that her gift is to be creative, or to find information, or even to keep order. When my mind is being extremely wicked, I imagine that our uptight reception commander is really Gifted in pleasures of the flesh and lives a secretly lurid lifestyle when she leaves the office. Go Rubalia! Sometimes imagination is more fun than reality, anyway. In reality, she would probably slice and dice me with her stilettos if she had the faintest inkling of my imagination. Some things are best kept to one’s self.

  Rubalia is extremely efficient, is highly professional in her work, and tells it like it is. She simply will not allow anyone to be disorderly in her space or in the processes relating to the office. She allows us to be messy in our own offices as is evidenced by our office mate Xavier Ramsey. But woe be unto us if we forget to pick up our messages or a document or if we don’t properly charm our papers blank when we’re done with them. If we miss an appointment, Rubalia is not shy about giving us a dressing down that we will not soon forget. This is a professional office and “by God” she is going to make sure we behave like professionals.

  I now know that the real reason I succeeded at being a professional when I started was simply that Rubalia would not allow me to be otherwise. One day I should thank her for that. That is, if she will allow me.

  Right now Rubalia is speaking with Ernesto Ramos-Delgado who is asking for a map of this week’s Dark Vampire sightings and incidents. Rubalia plots the sightings, and Ernesto uses the map to target his hunts. He’s primarily responsible for eliminating Vampires who kill while feeding, thus turning from Daylight Vampires into Dark Vampires.

  Not only does Ernesto keep tabs on Daylight Vampires in our vicinity, but he also watches out for Dark Vampires who matriculate in from other areas. He calls on Jack for backup in more extreme cases. Jack is very old, even by Vampire standards, and thus very strong. Ernesto is also relatively old, and he is a skilled fighter in martial arts and swordplay. Of course he can use a gun too, but guns are useless against Vampires. He does use a compound crossbow that shoots oak stakes as an effective means to eliminate Dark Vampires.

  Essentially Ernesto is an executioner—or an exterminator, depending on your outlook. By nature of the fact that a Daylight Vampire must kill in bloodlust in order to turn into a Dark Vampire, their very presence is a proclamation of guilt. Because of this, no trial is required, and they are free game to be killed by any. The only way a Dark Vampire can be killed is by an oak stake to the heart, Holy Water, exposure to the sun, or being thrown on holy ground. Even if you decapitate them, you had best throw Holy Water on them or hold them down until sun-up, otherwise their bodies will continue to crawl around searching for their heads. Finding their heads and placing them back on their necks will revive them, thus the name Night-Crawlers.

  Basically, since they are pure evil, the only thing that really ends them is something purely holy. I am not sure why a wooden stake is purely holy. I should remember to ask Father O’Brennen.

  When Ernesto finishes speaking to Rubalia, he turns to me and lifts up his arm, waving it down again in a graceful flourish while bowing low to me. I feel my face heat up in a blush. I’ve always wanted to respond to his bows with a curtsy of my own, but I don’t know how. It would be utterly embarrassing anyway. Right now I clutch on to my cumbersome backpack as an excuse.

  “Good afternoon, Señorita Blue,” Ernesto says.

  Ernesto must have been turned in his mid-fifties. He has light brown skin and short, dark hair with a sprinkling of gray. His elegant, swooping mustache is the perfect accent to his tall, lean form.

  I smile at him and respond, “Good afternoon, Ernesto.”

  I feel Ernesto’s eyes sweep over me, then keenly focus on my neck for a moment. I breathe a sigh of relief when he chooses to ignore my injury, instead flashing me an easy smile as he walks away.

  I drag my pack up to the counter in front of Rubalia’s desk and lean over it, hoping to keep the cut out of view. “Good afternoon, Rubalia. Are there any messages for me?”

  Rubalia hands me a small stack and pins me with her eyes like I’m an errant teenager. “Good afternoon, Blue. Jack has been very agitated because you didn’t contact him today. Next time we would all appreciate you contacting him sooner. He’s responsible for everyone in the office, you know.”

  I accept my comeuppance and apologize. “I’m sorry, Rubalia. It was a very busy day. I’ll try to do better in the future.”

  Rubalia holds her mouth in a stern line and says, “Don’t try. Do.”

  I nod with chagrin and walk straight back to Jack’s office, wondering what I’ll see when I arrive. I start to knock, but before my knuckles even touch the wood Jack calls for me to come in.

  Jack sits with his arms flat on the desk, leaning forward while tapping a pencil against the wood top. I had expected anger, but I see warmth in his gaze as he takes me in. Jack is a good boss. He’s fair, and he gives good advice, but he lets each of us run our own investigations. He primarily acts as support and backup, but he does seem to pay extra attention to my work.

  Realistically, I am physically the weakest of my comrades. My gender limits my physical strength, my gift isn’t helpful in a physical confrontation, I’m a non-Vampire, I’m relatively young, and I am inexperienced compared to everyone else.

  Thankfully, Jack doesn’t hold me back at all; he just keeps tighter tabs on me than he does my counterparts. Sometimes I wish it were because he had feelings for me, but there are too many practical reasons for his overprotection to conclude that.

  Jack Tanner is a dichotomy of a man. He wears impeccably tailored suits and mixes with the upper echelon with charm and ease, yet when in his comfort zone his manners can be rough and quite abrupt. While his attitude is often cool and distant, his nature is protective and his actions show he’s caring. He has incredible strength and speed and can be a warrior when needed. All in all, he’s an excellent man to have on your side and would make for a fearsome enemy.

  I stand in the middle of the room, simply because I prefer standing to sitting, but with Jack’s gaze on me, I feel awkward. “I’m sorry I didn’t get into the office until just now. It has been a really busy day.”

  Jack’s eyes look concerned, then I see his nostrils flare. He stands, and in the blink of an eye he is right next to me. I always find it disconcerting when he moves so fast, especially now because he’s standing a bit in my personal space. He slowly moves all around me, circling me like a jungle cat, clearly assessing me, close but not touching.

  When he comes around to the front of me again, he asks in a low, growling voice that rolls through me, making my abdomen clench with an ache. “What happened today? Your neck is injured and you’re shaky.”

  Jack is so close that I have to tilt my head back to see his eyes. It’s challenging to stand so close to him and not reveal how he affects me.

  “What do you mean I’m shaky?” I ask, ignoring the more obvious question. I try not to notice the strong line of his jaw close enough to my lips that I could just lean in and lick it. I try to ignore the deep, musky scent of his skin that makes me want to inhale deeply. I fail on both counts.

  He reaches his hand out to my arm but pauses torturously just a hairsbreadth from my skin. He drops his hand, instead saying, “Your aura is thicker today. Thicker and shaky.”

  My mind wars with the urge to either touch him or to step away and remove temptation entirely, but instead I stand immobilized within easy reach.

  “How do you know what my aura looks like?” I ask.

  Jack shifts on his feet, lifts his hand toward me, and then drops it again. He mercifully returns to his desk, at human speed this time, and sits down. What would he have done if I had reached out for his hand and caressed it? Too late to find out, as the moment has passed.

  Jack says, “I never told you? That’s my gift. I can see auras.”

  “
No. I didn’t know you had a gift, and I don’t see a mark. In fact, I didn’t know Vampires could even have gifts!”

  I move to sit in the chair across from him. I was a little unsteady just now, and it seems safer in the chair.

  Jack frowns. “We were human once, just like you, Blue. Some of us are Gifted.”

  “Oh. I guess it was wrong of me not to consider that!” He’s piqued my curiosity now. “So, what does my aura look like?”

  “Beau...” Jack cuts himself off. I swear he was about to say “beautiful.”

  He continues. “It is a white light with a faint tint of blue. The tint is the same tone as your eyes, blue with a touch of violet, only much lighter. Hardly blue at all. Usually it’s only a hazy outline, but today the margins are much thicker. It comes out almost three inches, and it’s wavering like a flame.”

  “Hmm. Well, it must be because I had a challenging day.” I tilt my head and squint at Jack. “So, Jack. You must be an expert on auras, since you are one of the few people who see them.”

  Jack looks a little uncomfortable when I make this declaration, but he nods. “I do know more than most.”

  “Well, have you ever heard of someone having an aura strong enough to scare Dark Vampires away?”

  Jack suddenly starts coughing very hard, and his color turns a little gray just before he turns his head away. When the coughing subsides, he finally looks up at me and asks, “Where did you hear this?”

  I try to sound nonchalant. “Oh, Father O’Brennen and I were talking, and he mentioned hearing that happened once.”

  Jack is my boss, so I really don’t want to get into the whole died at birth, chased Dark Vampires away by the age of three, and was rescued by a mysterious Daylight Vampire thing. It seems a little heavy. What I want is for him to think of me as a capable professional.