Chapter 6: Days Gone By

*Nathaniel*

I have seen it before – murder. It is not the first time I’m seeing a body and I knew it would not be the last; it could never be the last.

I sigh sadly and stand over the body of a gentleman who is completely devoid of fluids. His flesh clings dehydrated to his body as though it were vacuumed onto the bone. The jaw hangs open in an all too familiar silent scream. Undoubtedly, this was a violent death and he tried to fight back. The additional holes in his torso tell me this.

Based on the man’s attire, he was homeless. There are layers of clothing including jackets, sweaters, and long pants on the remains. All of the garments are in poor condition. Even his shoes have holes in them.

I crouch by the body, holding my breath to keep my senses from overwhelming me. There are marks along the wrists and ankles indicating the victim was held down while everything happened to him. There are a dozen or so puncture wounds near the larger arteries of the body.

Goodness how fragile humans are. Not that I really remembered what it felt like to be fragile – to be human – in a long time.

One look and I immediately know what the cause of this man’s death was. How could I not know? I was one of them – a vampire.

We are creatures of legend and myth, romance novels and fantasy, and the vast majority of things known about us are based on things people used to apply to witches and werewolves – both of which are complete words of fiction.

We can be savage – especially when we need to be – but we managed to keep ourselves and our secret away from the prying eyes of mankind. Often, we stay farther north to smaller cities and towns.

There are those, however, who venture into populated areas. Those are the vampires of concern. It makes me sick thinking about the needless death. Killing for sustenance was one thing and killing for sport was another. By no means, however, did I want to protect the ones who made themselves public like this.

I walk a fine balance between the two worlds – being in the human world while being a vampire. I know the dangers my kind presents and refuse to be part of the problem. Instead, I seek to be part of the solution.

Perhaps that is what draws me to being an investigator in the first place. I have advantages that no human can know or understand without explanation. Between my speed and senses, there is no doubt that myself and others of my kind are physically superior.

Maybe it is my desire to fight for the underdog that brings me back to the profession over and over again. Whatever the case, I need to put a stop to the killings, but I need to know more about them first.

I continue to inspect the body, now relying on my heightened senses to absorb necessary information. I look harder at the puncture wounds, using my keen eyesight to see what I can. Sure enough just below the skin I see faint marks revealing the dental impression on the human’s neck.

For my own records, I dare to reach into my inner coat pocket and pull out a sterile swab to rub over the wound. I doubt anyone on the police force has thought to swab the wound as of now, thank goodness, and I was not about to disclose this information.

I lean forward and inhale deeply. I immediately pick up the scent of five other vampires. I inhale deeper, trying to pick up anything else that I can use. Whether someone knows it or not, you can always detect trace evidence of where you have been and what you have done.

Say you sit in a cab, for example, and then later smell the jacket you wore that was resting against the seat. Will it smell like you? Most likely not. It will have remnants of every other person who was there before you.

This remanent is what I attempt to glean as I inhale deeply again. There is a musk to the body that goes beyond decay. Algae? Mold? Rust? Concrete powder?

I sigh and retract while still crouching by the body. This is already shaping up to be a rough evening. I hope, in the back of my mind, that the police give me a few more minutes to investigate the area.

I stand and survey the area. Is there anything else I’m missing? There is blood around the body, telling me that the murder probably occurred here. The man’s belongings, however, are not here. He was most likely on his way to his camp when he was ambushed.

I pull out my film camera and begin snapping pictures to document the scene.

This, for one reason or another, makes me think of that new officer I encountered a few weeks ago at the last so-called “Drainer” crime scene. What was her name again? Knight! That’s it. Claire Knight.

I must admit that she made me take a step back when I first tried to enter the crime scene. The young officer with her hair pulled back in a bun and her intense gaze. The fact she did not back down, even using her body to keep me from entering the scene, certainly left an impression on me.

I lower the camera, suddenly remembering what stunned me about the young officer. She reminds me of someone I knew nearly a century ago. She too had spirit and heart as well as dedication for what she thought was right.

Perhaps I was too brash when initially meeting the newest member of the force. I made the mental note to be polite to her in the future. After all, we are probably working together on the same case. The Chief did indicate he wanted this solved as soon as possible, and I wanted the same.

I want to know who is killing these people as well. Truly. Even I could only examine the clues so fast. Also, there is only one of me. How am I supposed to find a coven of vampires when I’m the only one searching?

Still, one thing I pride myself in is my stubbornness. I will find them, but it will take more time. I need to hurry. With the new information I gained from the body, a new list of possible locations forms in my mind.

Were the other vampires in a warehouse? An abandoned warehouse? Perhaps. I had to admit that it was not very original. Still, it was worth a shot.

I stand to leave when my ears pick up a slight shuffling sound just ahead by the edge of the bridge. There! My keen eyes see the very faint outline of a figure by the base of the bridge.

I tense every muscle in my body, preparing to leap forward in pursuit of the person when I see police cars making the final turn down the street. I look back and the person has vanished. Curses! I look back over my shoulder, unphased by the cold but a chill crawls down my spine at the icy and intense gaze of Officer Claire Knight.

She is wearing a gleaming look in her eyes. For a moment, I wonder why she might be looking so pleased with herself. Had she found out something about the case? The other officers approach me as I step away from the victim.

“Nathaniel! Did the Chief call you? How did you beat us here?” calls one of the officers as they begin roping off the crime scene.

“I have my ways,” I grin.

“Means yes,” says the officer as they continue to rope off the area. “He has to let us know when you are coming. I saw a figure standing over here and was about to taze you.”

I know they are joking and instead elect to watch the officers work. All the while, I feel Officer Knight’s eyes on me. She goes up to the other officers, whispering under her breath. She pulls out her phone and makes a call, stepping off to the side. If I want, I can listen in, but I decide not to.

It is not until Officer Knight gets back, wearing a keen look, that I know she is up to something.

“So, Mr. Ballard,” she says, eyes trying to pick up every detail imaginable. “May I ask why you are already here at the crime scene?”

I know immediately how this line of questioning is going to go – and it does not bode well for me.