"Did the vamp who attacked him last night feel very old?"
"I didn't get a whole lot of time to sniff him out, but I'd have to guess no."
"Then it can't be the same killer. It's after nine."
And young vamps fried at the slightest touch of sunlight. "Then either he has an accomplice, or he's older than he seems."
"Just be aware of both possibilities when you go in there."
"Boss, I have been doing this for a little while now. You don't need to tell me the basics anymore."
He harrumphed. "You may know the basics, my dear, but you have a frightening tendency to ignore them."
"But that's what makes me a good guardian, isn't it?" I said, then hung up before he could comment further.
It didn't take all that long to get across to Glenroy. It was one of Melbourne's older suburbs, and had originally been the haunt of the working class. These days, it had become a wasteland of run-down and grimy-looking houses - and run-down and grimy-looking people. Which was odd really, considering the closeness to the city.
Using the nav-computer, I found Havard Street and parked several houses up from my target. Number four was a red-brick affair with a sagging roof and smashed front windows. It didn't look as if anyone was living there, but maybe that was the whole point.
I got my gun out of the secure box under the seat, then climbed out, locked the car, and walked down. The scent of decay bloomed in the air, heavily enriched with the smell of humanity. The house beside my quarry's looked to be in a similar state of disrepair, but there were clean-looking floral curtains adorning the windows, and a shiny new car sitting in the driveway. Not hard to guess where all the money had gone in that household.
With the heavy scents that already rode the air, it was hard to catch Young's. Even when I walked through the broken front gate, the wrongness that I'd come to associate with him failed to materialize. I frowned and stopped just short of the steps. Neither of the front rooms had glass, let alone curtains, so I very much doubted Young would be in either of them. Even if he was older than I'd been presuming, he still wouldn't be able to stand the amount of sunlight that was streaming in through those windows.
I flexed my fingers, then gripped the laser a little tighter and made my way around to the side of the house. A ramshackle wooden fence divided the rear yard from the front. I jumped it easily enough, then kept to the side of the house as I crept forward. The ground here was barren, and little puffs of dirt rose with each step, making my nose twitch with the need to sneeze.
I ducked past a window and approached the back of the house. There were fewer windows here, but again, none of them were curtained or boarded - which was extremely unusual for the haunt of a newer vampire.
Dirt and cobwebs caked the back door, but the old metal handle gleamed in the sunlight. The dirt around the handle was smudged - as if fingers had brushed it when opening the door.
So obviously, someone had been through here recently. I just had to hope it was a vampire, and not some poor hobo looking for shelter for the night. Because if it was the latter, he was about to get a very big fright.
I walked up the steps and wrapped my fingers around the handle. Nothing seemed to be moving inside, and the smell of vampire remained annoyingly absent.
Hoping Vinny hadn't sent me on a wild-goose chase, I twisted the handle and carefully opened the door. Cold air rushed out at me, filled with the aromas of rot and age. But wrapped within those scents was the slightest hint of vampire.
It wasn't exactly a fresh smell, but he'd at least been here. He might still be, for all I knew.
I edged inside, my back to the wall and finger on the trigger of my gun. This back room was small, and filled with cobwebs and yellowed newspapers. I flared my nostrils, seeking the scents beyond what was in this room. Still nothing strong. I crept past the stacks of paper and into what had once been a kitchen. What remained of the counters showed recent use. A newish kettle sat on a stove, and a jar of coffee and a cracked mug sat nearby.
Young - or whoever was living here - was going all out when it came to the luxuries, obviously.
I continued forward, into a hallway. The wooden floorboards creaked under my steps, the sound seeming to echo oddly through the silence.
There was another room to the right, but again, beside newspapers and rubbish, it was empty. As was the bathroom and the living room. The front room possessed a bed that appeared to have been used recently, if the crinkled state of the sheets was anything to go by.
And Young had been in here. His scent was faint, but nevertheless here - it seemed not even the breeze coming through the smashed windows could remove the foulness of it.
But why would a vampire have a bed in one of the sunnier rooms of the house? Or did he only use it at night, when he wasn't out torturing people for whatever sick reasons he had?
Whatever the reason, he didn't appear to be here now. I blew out a breath and lowered the weapon. What next? It wasn't usual for a vamp to have more than one bolt-hole, but Vinny had seemed pretty positive that this was his current address. I mightn't trust her, but I trusted the anger that had been in her voice. Trusted her need for vengeance.
I moved back into the hallway. None of these rooms were exactly dark - certainly not dark enough for a vamp needing to avoid sunlight, anyway.
So if he was here, he'd have to have a daytime bolt-hole. I looked up at the ceiling. Old places like this had high rooflines, and it wasn't unusual for this attic area to be used as a storage area. And if it could fit junk, it could certainly fit a vampire.
I flicked my vision to infrared and studied the ceiling again. Nothing in the area immediately above me. I walked back through the house, gaze searching the shadows above me. It wasn't until I reached the kitchen that I saw the heat of life.
Only it didn't look big enough to be a vampire. It was more the size of a small cat.
Frowning, I retraced my steps until I found the hatchway, which was in the bathroom. After making sure the old cabinet would support my weight, I climbed up and carefully pushed aside the cover.
Dust and old spiderwebs drifted down from the darkness, and I brushed them away from my face. Spindly cracks of light ran across the roof high above, suggesting the old tin wasn't as waterproof - or light-proof - as it had looked from outside. After checking that the life source hadn't moved, I flicked the laser's safety on and shoved it in my pocket, then grabbed either side of the hatch and quickly hauled myself up. My gun was back in my hand before my butt hit the ceiling.
The red blur of life hadn't moved, but its oddly round eyes were regarding me steadily.
There was no smell of vampire up here at all. Just rotting wood mixed with the slightest tang of excrement. Not human excrement - not even vampire. This had an aroma that suggested some sort of animal had made itself at home here.
I switched back to normal vision and looked around. Despite the light creeping in through all the cracks, the edges of the roofline were still wrapped in shadows, and that's where my quarry - whatever it was - was hiding.
I rose and crept forward. Dust stirred, dancing in the streaks of light and tickling my nose. I sniffed, trying not to sneeze so I wouldn't startle whatever it was in the corner.
I was halfway across the roof when it moved, briefly coming out into the lighter areas before scampering off to the shadows at the other end. I smiled, and some of the tension eased from my shoulders.
It was nothing more dangerous than a brush-tailed possum. The little marsupials had flourished in suburbs all across Australia, and while they were damn noisy at night - and often messy when they got into roof cavities - they weren't particularly dangerous unless cornered and frightened.
The fact that this one was living here suggested a vampire wasn't. While they were comfortable sharing living space with humans and most nonhumans, vamps seemed to send them scattering.
I blew out a frustrated breath, then made my way back to the hatch and jumped back down.
This place had proven to be one big, fat dead end. Young might have been here, but he wasn't now. Whether he would come back was the question - and though the kettle and coffee suggested he would, with crazy vamps you never could tell.
And I wasn't about to hang about and wait for him. Jack could get the night guys to run a watch on the house - there were more of them, anyway. I needed to get back to the other investigation before our bloodthirsty cat found another horny male to beat and murder.
In the room ahead, a board creaked. Which wasn't unusual in old houses, granted, but up until now, the floorboards had creaked only when I'd stepped on them.
I stopped. The creaking didn't.
Someone - or something - was in the house with me. My fingers tightened around the laser.
I couldn't feel the presence of a vampire. Couldn't smell him.
And yet the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end, and the sudden sensation that trouble waited just around the corner sat like a weight in my stomach.
As it turns out, my clairvoyance had it all wrong.
Trouble wasn't waiting around the corner.
It was right behind me.
Chapter 6
I sensed him a heartbeat before he attacked, but that was enough time to move. I was very fast, and even though I didn't move all that far, it still saved my life.
The steel pipe that had been aimed at my head hit my shoulder instead. Pain exploded - a red-hot agony that reverberated up through my brain and right down my arm. My fingers went numb almost instantly, and the laser fell to the floor with a clatter.
Air stirred again.
I swore vehemently and dropped, scooping the weapon with my left hand and firing blindly behind me. Blue light flashed and plaster exploded, sending a cloud of white dust through the air. Then the boards creaked, and though I heard no footsteps, I sensed the vamp was moving away.
I swung around and ran after him. The room was totally empty, and even switching to infrared didn't help. Dammit, he was here somewhere, so why couldn't I see him? Hell, I couldn't even see the pipe he was using, and that was just plain weird.
His scent got stronger as I neared the door that led out into the hallway. I skidded to a halt and fired, using a sweeping motion from left to right. Wood fiber joined the plaster dust and the stench of burned hair suddenly tainted the air. Several grimy, greasy tufts plopped to the floor just beyond the doorway. He swore, then moved, skittering away like a spider on all four legs - something I sensed rather than actually saw.
I edged out the door, my nostrils flaring as I tried to capture the elusive scent of him. Dammit, how could the feel of him - the smell of him - have been so strong last night and yet so faint now, no matter how close I got? For that matter, how the hell could he be invisible when he'd been perfectly visible last night?
And if he had this sort of power, why hadn't he used it last night rather than running?
It wasn't a psychic trick - not only hadn't I felt any attempts at psychic intrusion, but I wasn't exactly prone to falling for any sort of vampire wiles or tricks anyway. Not in the "now you see me, now you don't" sense that humans did.
It was almost as if he didn't exist.
Like he was a ghost.
Except no ghost that I knew of could grab a metal pipe and attempt to brain you with it.
I crept down the hallway, my back against the wall and my shoulder protesting every little movement. I ignored it, concentrating on the tingling sense that was Young's presence, wishing I could pin down his location. He was close. That was all I could tell. Which was a fat lot of good if he decided to come at me with the pipe again.
Another board squeaked in the kitchen - and this time, the sound seemed to be moving away. The bastard was trying to get around me again.
Or he was trying to make me think that he was.
Given I wasn't sure, I stayed where I was, my left hand clenched firmly around the laser and my right shoulder aching like hell. Whether this was Young or not, the minute I sensed or scented him, the bastard was dead. Invisible vampires with a murderous bent didn't get second chances - especially not when they'd already tried to kill me.
My, my, an inner voice snarked, haven't you changed your tune since becoming a guardian?
Maybe I had - at least when it came to murdering psychos. But I'd still like to think the trigger-pulling impulse was generally more restrained in me than in my brother. That I wasn't the shoot-first, think-later guardian that Jack wanted me to become.
For several minutes, nothing happened. Sweat began trickling down my spine and I gripped the gun so tightly my hand was beginning to cramp. Not a good thing when holding a laser with the power of this one.
I flexed my fingers in an effort to ease some of the tension. In that moment, air stirred. I glanced to my right, caught a glimpse of a pipe whirring straight at my face, and threw myself down and forward.
I hit the wall opposite with a bone-jarring crunch and, for a moment, saw red as the pain in my shoulder caused a wave of agony that had my head spinning and my stomach twisting. The now-visible pipe hit the wall behind me and clattered to the floor.
I sucked in a breath that did little to ease the blinding ache and, in the process, tasted the foulness of vampire.
A foulness that was getting stronger with every second.
He was coming straight at me.
I dropped low and spun, lashing out with a foot. Saw a blur of washed-out color leap over it, then he was on me, hitting like a ton of bricks, the sheer weight of his attack forcing me backward. I hit a doorframe hard, and the pain in my shoulder intensified. Sweat broke out across my forehead and all I wanted to do was throw up. I swore and kicked out as hard as I could instead. My foot hit something solid, and there was a sharp crack.
"Bitch!"
The word stung the air, filled with venom. Then his weight left me, and suddenly his scent was fading again.