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“Whoever did this enjoyed every moment of it.”
The observation was made by a new voice. One which immediately grated against Maddox’s ear.
Maddox glanced over at the detective who should not have been there. He was not wearing NYPD badging, and he was not horrified. He was short — about five foot four, so very short for a male — and compact. His features were symmetrical and yet unremarkable. He was the sort of person who could go unnoticed anywhere and had been entirely unnoticed by Maddox up until he spoke.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Maddox said, extending a hand.
“Skip Chauvelin, FBI,” the man replied. He did not take the proffered hand, instead opting to hold up his gloved fingers in a gesture which indicated he could not go about touching things in that moment.
“This only just happened, and has already attracted federal attention?”
“We were working with the twins on some unrelated matters,” Skip said. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr Maddox. Your reputation precedes you in so many ways.” Deep brown eyes narrowed just a fraction as he mentioned Mad’s reputation. Mads felt a tingle of something like concern, though it was closer to attention. Skip was a man who needed to be watched.
“Perhaps you might be able to assist us with our inquiries,” Maddox said.
“I was going to say the same thing,” Skip smiled blandly.
Maddox felt a rare chill. It was not often a human being embodied calm menace the way this one did, hiding an avalanche of malevolence behind a bland half-smile. Maddox memorized the face and the name, the milky brown eyes, the light smattering of acne at the jaw line, though he was not a young man. There was something of the weasel about his aspect, or perhaps the mongoose. Either way, Maddox did not like what he saw.
“I would adore being of service,” he said, redirecting his attention to the crime scene. “Once we have discovered the perpetrators of this crime, of course.”
He heard two of his NYPD rookies in the back launch into an animated discussion. Evidently one had made a return from the gutter and decided to brave the scene again.
“Not technically a crime.”
“Someone broke and entered into the church, no?”
“Churches are always open. Worst you could really pin on anyone for this is a littering charge.”
There was a snort of disrespectful amusement.
This was what the ancestral and near immortal powers of Bertram and Ernest had amounted to, a moment of curiosity for disrespectful young humans who had no concept of the forces of time, life, or death. These two vampires had been thoroughly humiliated. Mad caught sight of several of the officers taking pictures and videos with their cellphones. Another breach of discipline and decorum. The final images of Bertram and Ernest would be spread far and wide, immortalized on the human internet.
“Do we take them to the morgue?” Candy silenced the rookies with her iron stare as they tried to come closer with morbid curiosity.
“If you touch them, they will crumble to dust. This is their last embrace for eternity. They have perhaps a few moments left before their remaining molecules desert them.”
“I want them moved,” Chauvelin interjected. “There could be evidence relevant to the FBI investigations.”
“Be my guest. Attempt to move them. Take them to a city morgue, where humans who have no idea vampires exist will be all too thrilled to examine what is left of them, I am sure.”
“We have dedicated black sites for vampire crimes. You know that, Mr Maddox. And these two… they were important. They deserve to be dealt with carefully.”
Immediately betraying his words, Chauvelin reached out to touch one of the twins. Could have been Bertram, could have been Ernest. It was impossible to tell at that point. The moment his grasping fingers made contact, the pair of them crumbled into ash. It was not a poetic floating away on the breeze. It was more like a heavy fall of dust hitting the ground in puffs of carbon.
Maddox resisted the urge to palm his face, instead turning to Candy with new instructions.
“Get a broom.”
9
Welcome Home
“Long night?”
Lorien met Maddox at the door with the kind of charming smile that could absolutely in no way be trusted. Maddox did not dignify the question with a verbal reply. Instead, he answered it with a raised brow. Lorien was not usually first to meet him. Lorien usually swanned about doing whatever it was he was doing and ignoring the rest of creation. The only reason he’d be at the door now is if he were attempting some form of damage control.
“Now I don’t want you to be angry, but…”
“What have you done, Lorien?”
“It’s not… I haven’t done anything.”
“Where is Will?”
“Good news is he’s still here, and he’s fine. I mean he’s as healthy now as he was when you left.”
