Undead Case Files

Undead Case Files

The Box Set

Markie Madden

This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places and incidents are entirely fictional and are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, (or Undead!), locations, or incidents is coincidental.

© 2016 by Metamorph Publishing and Markie Madden

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All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. I’m not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

Smashwords ISBN# 978-1370122868

Published in Fisk, MO USA by Metamorph Publishing

Chapter One

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Books in The Undead Unit Series

Fang and Claw (Undead Unit 1)

Souls of the Reaper (Undead Unit 2)

Blood Lust (Undead Unit 3)

Siren Song (Undead Unit 4)--coming soon!

The Undead Unit Series

Over a hundred years in the future, it’s a world where supernatural beings live and work among humans. Of course, the government has forced them to take the Undead Oath in order to gain citizenship; they must not prey on humans for food. They’re often given tasks in jobs suited for their species, but just as among other minorities, they must struggle to prove themselves.

As if dealing with racial prejudice isn’t enough, there is also a criminal element, just as there is with any group of beings living in society. The Dallas Police Department has introduced an elite new squad made up of Undead officers and detectives. This unit is dedicated to solving crimes involving Immortals. Headed by veteran Lieutenant Lacey Anderson, can the Undead Unit overcome its obstacles, both internal and external, or will it be doomed to failure?

Part I: Fang and Claw

Prologue

I am not an Athenian, nor a Greek, but a citizen of the world. ~~Socrates

Greece, early 17th Century BCE

The room was silent except for the occasional crackle of wood in the fireplace. She knew Aegon always preferred to burn pine; he said it had the most pleasant scent of all the available woods. She took in a deep breath, and with her heightened senses, she could smell what he meant. The pitchy odor from the sap of the softwood tree filled the small room, and the warmth of the fire gave it a welcoming feel. Spending time in this room was one of her favorite things. She sat comfortably in the low-slung wooden seat, and gazed about the tiny extension of Aegon’s home, the place where he did some of his finest work.

The room was unique from others in Athens, because of what hung on the insides of the woven grass walls. Aegon was a clothing-maker, a tailor, and there were many different projects scattered about the room in different stages of completion. He was known for making some of the most elaborate himations, cloaks that were fit for royalty to wear, but as he didn’t require much in the way of food or supplies, Aegon always kept his prices low to cater to the peasants living near him.

Several garments were laid out on low work tables, some leather, some of woven cloth, some waiting for the final touches of beads, buttons, feathers, or any number of other decorations. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch them, to examine them closer and learn how they were put together. Aegon was just now putting the finishing stitches on another himation that he had promised would be ready by dawn.

His back was to her, he was busy with a task, so she turned from her inspection of some of his pieces to ask her mentor a question about a cloak, but then she heard the noise. At first, the sound was so quiet she wasn’t quite sure what she heard. She tilted her head, straining her hyper-sensitive hearing in case it came again. Her entire being was tense, every muscle in her predatory body primed to move at the slightest provocation. Then, it pierced the air again.

This time, she recognized the Wolf song, though she had never heard it before. Wolves were not native to the area around Athens, though they may have lived in some of the wilder, less populated areas of the country. It didn’t matter, her ingrained instincts knew what it was, and all the fine hairs on her body stood on end. A shiver, not quite controlled, ran down her spine. Aegon was still facing away from her, but she saw him tense as well. He, too, had recognized the song. Almost faster than she could see, he turned toward her.

Stay here, he hissed. I’m going to find Abana! And he left in a flash.

With her hero and mentor now gone, her anxiety climbed enough for her to begin quivering in fear. The sound of Wolves had touched some instinct deep inside her, and she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. If it were possible, her skin would have a light sheen of fear perspiration. As it was, her skin began to crawl, even though it was dry. She wanted to run, to hide, but she couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing Aegon in that way. She would stay and fight, fight to the death if that was what it took.

He returned quickly, beckoning her to follow as the sound of Wolves drew closer. He brought her through the main part of his home, a two-room structure built of stone. The larger of the two rooms held a stone hearth, a small table built of wood with its accompanying stools, and a low padded bench sitting under the biggest window. Aegon led her through to the smaller room, the room he shared with Abana. She never went in this room; they were her mentors, and she always respected their privacy. There were no windows in this room, and the door was made of heavy stone as well. Only someone with incredible strength would be able to open or close it.

She expected Abana to be there, but she wasn’t. She looked at Aegon, curiously. He shook his head; it seemed that he, too, had no idea where his wife had gone. A cold mist of fear slicked over her as she fervently hoped Abana wasn’t in the garden she loved, where she tended plants as if they were her children. It would not do for any of them to be left so exposed to the threat bearing down upon them.

The scene shifted, in the way memories sometimes do; now she was ready and waiting for the attack to come. Death was a very real possibility. Merope was between the wall and the low bed belonging to their teachers, cowering with her arms covering her head, sobbing; it seemed the poor girl gave no thought to the fact that she was responsible for the trouble. Phemius lay thrashing on the bed, his dark eyes empty and unseeing, lost inside himself while the illness raged at its peak, and she knew from her own experience that whatever might happen next could not be any worse than the agony he was suffering now.

Why don’t you get up and help? She hissed through her teeth at the young woman. You got us into this mess!

But Merope only shook her head and continued to sob.

Realizing she would get no help from either Merope or Phemius, she reached under the bed, finding a sword that either Aegon or Abana had, in preparation, left there, and she swung it in her hands a few times, trying to get used to the weight and find the balance of the weapon. She was as ready as she could be. She tuned out Merope’s sobbing cries, and focused all her attention on the howling of the Wolves. They were closer now. So very close....Close enough she could hear not only the song but the snarls as well.

Once more, the scene shifted, and she regained consciousness to find herself laying on her side, on the hard floor. Pain stabbed through her body and at that moment, she wished for death. She and Aegon were the only two left alive, she, injured, and Aegon, valiantly trying to fight off a pack of ten alone. She tried to get up, tried to roll over, tried to reach for the sword mere inches from her hand. Each movement was agony, and she moaned, hoping to catch the attention of one or more of the Wolves. But through the snarling and the loud bumps and thumps of battle, no one heard her.

At that moment, she was paralyzed, and she could not close her eyes to the horror of what was happening before her. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she watched her mentor, who she had come to know as father, being torn to shreds. The scent of his blood was overpowering. The sound of sinew and muscle tearing was a roar in her head. One Wolf had Aegon by the shoulder, another had teeth sunk deep into his hips. The rest of the pack were darting in for quick slashes of teeth and claws before jumping out of his reach again.

United States, 2118 CE

With a cry of distress, the woman sat bolt upright in her four-poster bed, throwing aside the velvety soft bed sheets. The vestiges of the memory remained even though her eyes were no longer glazed with sleep. Had it been possible, she would have been drenched in sweat. Had it been possible, her heart would have been pounding. But for her, those things were impossible. Absently, she rubbed the old scars on her arm and tried to push away the memories that had haunted her for so long. For Lacey knew she was no longer in the 17th century.

1

Man is by nature a political animal. ~~Aristotle

Dallas, Texas, United States, 2118 CE

Though the passing of time meant little to Lacey Anderson, she knew it was the year 2118 Current Era, and just edging into late fall, the hot and humid Texas days merging with crisp, cool, desert-like nights. The world was the same as it always had been, but everything had changed. The thin tapestry of rigid society had experienced a change of epic proportions many decades ago with the acknowledgment of the Undead, a derogatory term humans used to identify species of beings with an immortal, or almost so, lifespan. Those like myself, she mused.

Lacey remembered the day she had been forced to take the Undead Oath. It had been a choice of taking the Oath, or being executed. Though she had lived and worked among humans for centuries, she had to stand before a judge and repeat the words of the Oath while sworn to tell the truth. The Oath made each of the Immortals swear to abide by all human laws, especially where the harming of others was concerned. No Immortal could work among humans without taking it. The Oath was worded in a different way for each species; for her, it meant not drinking human blood.

All of this passed through Lacey’s mind in a flash as she gazed out the window over the shoulder of a large man sitting comfortably in a huge burgundy chair with gold accents. Even though the leather chair was extra-large, the man’s sheer bulk made it appear tiny, as if he were an adult trying to use a child’s seat.

"You want me to do what? She finally asked as she stood at stiff attention, back ramrod-straight, the hands clasped behind her vibrating with anger. Despite the precaution of the closed office door, she was sure the sound of her raised voice was apparent to whomever was still at their desks in the bullpen. She didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder through the frosted glass window on the door. What is this, some way to get me to quit so you don’t have to fire me?"

Her commander, George Wilson, a big, burly man whose pate was covered in thick, black hair shot with silver, shook his head. He sat behind his pristine oak desk, large, paw-like hands folded together and resting on the immaculate blotter. The huge window behind him offered a breathtaking view of the bustling business district around them. The tawny colors of dusky sunset sparkled in the spaces between city skyscrapers. With a bemused expression, he explained the new assignment to her.

The unit is being formed as an experiment. His voice was like a military commander during a debriefing, a leftover habit from his days of serving in the Army. Believe me, I fought against it as hard as I could, but I was outvoted. He cleared his throat. It’s thought, by some, and his voice betrayed his frustration of the stupidity, that a unit made up of Undead officers will have more success in investigating and closing cases involving either Immortal victims or perpetrators. Though you’ll be in charge, we felt that you needed a second and partner who could complement your strengths and balance out your weaknesses.

My weaknesses? She stared at her commander, the man she had taken under her wing when he was just a rookie, and they were both beat cops. She’d taught him everything she knew, and as he rose in the ranks, they’d been partnered for years. The kind of bond that blossomed between two officers who trusted their lives to one another was not something that was easily built. Even when he had been promoted above her, because she refused to play the politics of his position, they still shared that connection.

She could remain still no longer, and started to pace as he outlined the duties of the newly-formed specialty unit within the elite ranks of the Dallas Police Department. The thick, plush carpet beneath her well-worn boots masked any sound she may have made, and sprang back up after each footstep. He knows my history, she thought in anger. Doesn’t he know this is akin to torture?

He didn’t move, but she watched his eyes track her, back and forth, back and forth. She knew he wasn’t afraid of her, but he was evaluating her reaction; Vampires didn’t have the anger issues that came hand-in-hand with some species of Immortal. The more she heard, the faster and more agitated her pacing became. Her large strides took her quickly from one side of the office to another. Through her anger, she could no longer see the slashes of orange and pink sunset through the picture window, though it cast a feeble, sickly light across her face.

"Of all the people you could pair me with, why on Earth would you put me with him?" Her voice was full of venom.

Both you and Colton were up for promotion. But you’re the one that got it. His statement was bland.

She spun around to face him. But, he’s a Wolf, for God’s sake!

Lacey didn’t have anything against the Undead, being one herself, and she hadn’t worked often with Colton Scarber, so she had nothing against the man himself. But her kind, as a rule, didn’t trust easily, and had long been mortal enemies of Werewolves, due to a dispute the origins of which had been lost long ago. She couldn’t imagine working with one for a few days or a week on a case, much less bring one under her wing and trust her life to it!

Lacey stopped pacing, turning and staring out the office window as the light faded over the city she was empowered to protect and serve, but seeing none of it. The sensation of ‘someone walking over her grave’ seeped into her, and she shivered as the emotion of fear washed over her. The long, erratic scars on her right shoulder and arm remained a constant reminder of the fangs and claws of a Wolf, and she rubbed the uneven surface of the scar as if to scrub away the memories associated with it. Her coven had been destroyed almost five centuries ago, and she alone had survived the attack.

She thought Wilson understood the battle raging inside her, for he kept silent as Lacey fought to control her emotions and instincts. Having worked the streets with her for so long, the man had earned not only her respect but her trust as well. And trust was something that Lacey rarely did. She knew he suspected she had post-traumatic stress disorder after the incident that almost took her life, and was grateful to him for not pressing the issue. When she had regained control of herself the best that she could, she turned to face him once more.

He spoke before she could voice any other objections. No one’s even sure if this type of unit will work out. His voice held a touch of kindness. But if anyone can make it work, I have every confidence that you can. Hearing the dismissal in his voice, she turned and left the office.

Too bad I don’t have that confidence in myself, she mused as she returned to her tiny office on the other side of the bullpen. The bare, stingy room, at the moment, had no door to slam, though she had been hounding the drones in maintenance about it for six months now. Instead she kicked at the rickety desk chair in frustration. With a creak of sticky wheels, the chair rolled about four inches before coming to a halt.

The office smelled stale, as it always did; the filtration system in the building was old and over-burdened with the scents of old coffee, leather duty belts, and often unclean suspects. Her sensitive nose, as always, picked up the coppery smell of human blood, a scent that would forever plague her. To give herself a moment to settle, she sat at her desk and thought about history as she had experienced it.

~~Wolves cannot be trusted. There remains too much of the animal in them. She clearly heard Aegon’s voice, though he was turned away from her, busy at his work table. Just remember that.~~

The Undead, a mixture of Immortal species such as Vampires, Werewolves, and many more had, certainly, been around as long as humans, but their numbers at the beginning of recorded time were low enough to conceal them from society. Of course, there was always rumor and myth surrounding these supernatural beings, often morphing into fairy tale nightmares about monsters drinking blood or stealing souls, sometimes told to frighten misbehaving children. At first, the Undead could be passed off as legends. Eventually, however, the number of Undead individuals had become too great for humanity to ignore.

Later, the passing of the Undead Registry was an attempt by governments to track and control all of the many Immortal species. At first, anyone deemed Undead was required to undergo rigorous medical and genetic testing, and their DNA was downloaded into a database so they could quickly be identified. For a long time, the ruling classes of the world’s governments had also maintained a group of ‘volunteers’ used for research and testing purposes.

These days, the Immortals, or Undead, while accepted by the general public, still suffered prejudice from humans, similar to the bias endured by any variety of minorities throughout recorded history. Yes, they had equal rights, that is, until they went looking for a job, a promotion, or even a decent education. And human parents never wanted their children to bring home a member of the Undead, it just wouldn’t be proper!

With a sigh, Lacey stood. Guess I have to break the news now. Part of the perks of being the boss?

She stuck her head out the office door, looking in the direction of numerous tiny, boxed cubicles where officers from the Major Crimes unit went about their duties. Colton!

He looked up with a jerk, as if she had caught him in the act of playing hooky. When she waved him in the direction of her office, he scowled at her.

Untangling his long, muscular body from his desk chair, he shook his mane of thick, slightly wavy black hair away from his face, causing it to fall down to his shoulders. He always wore it loose, not bothering to tie it back at the neck. Not even close to regulation. I don’t know why they let him get away with that! It wasn’t the first time a similar thought had come to mind. But she knew when to pick her battles, and at the moment, this was not one she was ready to start. But I’ll be remembering this later.

His shoulders were wide and muscular, and his arms were bulging under the sleeves of his casual shirt. His skin was the color of creamed coffee, and it seemed to her that he had a perpetual five o’clock shadow of dark, coarse-looking hair. His entire body was built like a linebacker. He walked with an odd gait common among Wolves; he padded on the balls of his feet, his knees slightly bent, his heels never striking the floor. It gave him the appearance of being ready to pounce at any moment. It amazed her that he was able to move his bulky body on the tiptoes of small feet so out of proportion to the rest of him.

Wishing she had a door to close to ensure even a modicum of privacy, Lacey decided to get it over with quickly, like removing a bandage stuck to the skin. She put the desk between them, both as a precaution and as a prop, and rested her hands on the back of the chair.

His dark brown eyes bored into hers. Yeah? His voice was sullen with a hint of impatience.

I’ve just been informed of some reassignments.

You’re kidding me? He threw up his hands as if in frustration. What, are they shipping me off to Parking Violations or some crap?

Since the Equal Opportunity Law has changed, they have plenty of Zombies pulling that duty. You know as well as I do that they’re not good for much else. That earned her a wry chuckle. No, this is going to be something new. Some smart ass upstairs decided to put together a special unit of Undead, specifically to work cases dealing with either victims or perps who are Immortals.

Wow! Never thought I’d see the day. So, they’re sending me to this unit?

Both of us, actually. With an imperceptible movement, her hands tightened on the chair back. I’ve been promoted, and you’ll be my second.

On alert for the hair-trigger temper of a Wolf, she stood her ground while he choked and sputtered, almost gasping for breath, his face turning a bright shade of red, until he finally howled outright in anger. For a brief moment, the entire bullpen outside her office fell silent. But everyone was used to his frequent outbursts, and the normal chatter of a roomful of cops soon resumed as if nothing had ever happened.

Colton felt the boil of his blood as he struggled to control himself. Even though he could turn to a Wolf only with the cycle of the full moon (unlike a Shifter who could turn at will into their Animal), his mind and body still retained Wolf-like characteristics even while in his human form. They usually had anger management issues, and his temper was worse than most. He had often been praised by his father and mother; traditionally, among Wolves, this facet of their personalities had been encouraged rather than repressed. He grunted and sputtered, and didn’t care who might hear.

Every male Wolf wants to be an Alpha, at the top of the pack, instead of taking orders from another. Especially a female. Especially a vamp female. It wasn’t embarrassment over his earlier outburst of howling that angered him; that reaction to anger was common among Wolves. No, it was the fact that he would have to answer to a woman that had his temper soaring out of his control.

Body trembling with fury, he stared at his co-worker for a long time. She stood motionless, as if she were carved out of a slab of marble, arms crossed over her chest. Her pale skin looked pasty next to the dark blue of the pressed cotton shirt she wore. The grayish color of a ragged series of scars was visible trailing from under the right sleeve. Her exotically-slanted, ice-blue eyes, unblinking, stared into his, and her shorter-than-shoulder-length blonde hair was bobbed as straight and neat as a pin. She faced him down as if she felt no fear, but he knew that she must; how could one have gone through what she did and not feel a touch of fear when confronted with her enemy? And a furious enemy, at that?

God knows why they’d partner me up with a vamp! Especially this one, knowing her history. She’d rather put a knife in my back than work with me! As if I had anything to do with it! To give himself time to rein in his anger, he paced to the open doorway, leaning his weight on the wooden frame, gazing out into the bullpen without seeing it. His hands were fisted at his sides, and he took several deep breaths, as he’d been taught in anger management classes, though at the time, he’d thought the classes were trivial and useless.

When he could speak in a civil manner again, he turned to face her. Guess I need to start thinking of her as my boss, for Christ’s sake! She still hadn’t moved a muscle. Unnerving, that way Vampires have of being perfectly still. That’s just not natural!

So, when is this big change? It took all his effort to keep his voice even.

They’d like to have it set up by the beginning of next week. She stepped out from behind the desk, perhaps feeling the need for a buffer was gone. We won’t even need to move to another department, we can stay right here in Major Crimes.

Well, what’s the deal? I mean, anyone can investigate crimes against any of the Undead. Techniques remain the same. Why form a special unit? He remained where he was, leaning on the door frame as if for support.

She shook her head. We’re all aware that there’s a certain...challenge in dealing with Immortal crimes. Especially when it comes to the judicial case after we’ve passed them on.

There’s no such thing as a ‘jury of your peers’ when you’re talking about Immortals. His lips curled with the sneer.

Well, regardless. She shrugged her shoulders as if it didn’t make a difference to her. "I think this is just an experiment to bring up the number of ‘solveds’ involving Undead individuals. You know, something to make the department appear more politically correct. I mean, next year is an election year."

But the investigation of the case is no different whether it’s involving humans or Undead.

She raised a hand. That’s not always true. After all, we’re more likely to talk to another Undead, even of a different species, than we are to humans.

He could see her point; he’d felt the same way himself, and many times. Still, he wasn’t happy to know that she had gotten the promotion he’d been expecting, but, as a lieutenant, she would now be his superior officer in a new unit he wanted nothing to do with. Unless, of course, he was put in charge of it. Again, his anger boiled and he paced. The cramped confines of the office didn’t allow much room, and his strides brought him from one side of the room to the other in a few steps.

If it makes you feel any better, I don’t like this any more than you do. And the commander’s not even sure if it’ll work. More than likely, after a few months when nothing’s really changed, things will go back to normal and we’ll be back in Major Crimes. She said it as if she believed that it would.

So what are they calling this new specialty unit? He held his chin up in disdain, a subtle behavioral sign of defiance that he suspected she picked up on.

What else could they call it? She answered with a wry grin on her lips, hinting at amusement. The Undead Unit, of course.

2

In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. ~~Hunter S. Thompson

Their first case came in a mere two nights after the official and formal formation of the Undead Unit. Lacey was in her office, initialing paperwork from the last cases she’d supervised before her promotion, when her aide, David, stuck his head into her doorway.

Call for you.

What? She looked up from her work, distracted.

Dispatch. He scratched his head. They’re on the phone. Line one. She often wondered what phenomenon caused all Zombies to sound like they’d just climbed out of the Everglades with a mouthful of mud. Or perhaps it’s the fact that they dug themselves up out of their own graves?

Thanks. She snatched the phone from its cradle. Lieutenant Anderson.

We have a call for you, lieutenant. The woman had an unfamiliar voice. A domestic disturbance. Uniforms are already on the scene.

With the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, she grabbed a yellow legal pad and a pen, jotting down the address and all the information dispatch had gathered from the call. With a groan, she noticed that the complainant was a Wolf, and her boyfriend was a Shifter.

Well, I gotta break Colton in as a partner sooner or later, she thought. Might as well take him along on this one, rather than one of the human officers. Gotta get to know him, to see if I can trust him. But a Wolf! She shuddered at the thought of him watching her back.

Securing her weapon’s shoulder harness and shrugging into the pale blue jacket she had slung over the back of her chair, she walked out of the office and waved at her new second-in-command, and partner. She was grateful again that her new position didn’t require her (or her men) to wear the hideous and unflattering uniform of the street cops.

Let’s roll, we’ve got a case.

He fell into step behind her as they left the cavernous building housing the Dallas Police Department, his slow pace showing his reluctance to go out on a case with her. Several times, she forced herself to look behind her, to ensure he was still following her.

Out in the parking ramp, Lacey walked to a sleek, liquid black Audi S4 sport sedan; after her promotion, she had been offered one of the department’s Chargers, an ugly, wannabe sports car with blackened windows, cheap rims, and LED police warning lights not well-hidden in many places. She had refused and continued to use her personal vehicle, which was within company policy. She had portable lights and a built-in siren; that was all the flash she cared to have.

Before approaching the car, Lacey hit the button on the remote in her hand to disarm the alarm system and unlock the doors; otherwise, anyone within the car’s pre-set perimeter would earn a nasty electric shock. Colton held back a moment, as if impressed by her choice of vehicle. He let out a quick whistle of appreciation.

That’s some ride you’ve got there.

The windows were tinted so dark it was impossible to see through them. The vehicle had soft, rounded curves that encouraged the eye to follow them, and shiny chrome in all the right places. Four chromed rings were centered in the flat black grille, giving the appearance of teeth in a dark mouth, and the headlights became eyes, forming the ‘face’ of the car. Five-spoke chrome rims held low-profile tires, and a slight spoiler curved gently upwards from the trunk. Sexy ground effects trailed along the side from front tire to back tire. The car’s deep black paint job gleamed even in the fading daylight, and Lacey’s hyper-sensitive senses could just pick up the feeling of static from the vehicle’s anti-theft features.

I like it. She leaned into the car and pulled a stack of files off the passenger seat, tossing them into the back so he could sit. She never had company in her car. He adjusted the seat to fit his bulky stature and settled into the soft, gray leather. She gave an inward grimace. Her ride would forever stink of Wolf from this moment on. Nothing to be done about it.

The engine started with a low purr, masking the power of the 400-horsepower, supercharged 3.0 V-6 engine tucked under its hood. The interior was the epitome of luxury, with wood-grain dash and accents, and when the lights came on, the inside lit up like the cockpit of a jet. The in-dash computer between the seats was softly lit, awaiting instruction from the driver. The red LED lights were designed not to interfere with the night vision of humans, but were also less annoying to the sharp eyes of a Vampire than the white light most often used in vehicles.

Not bothering with auto drive, Lacey zoomed down the parking lot’s ramp in manual mode, the sporty car with its powerful and throaty engine more than satisfying her need for speed. It was past rush hour; traffic was heavy but at least the cars were still moving. She zipped into the left-hand lane of the highway and continued to make quick lane changes as she wound her way through traffic. The engine never strained though she was driving close to 100 miles per hour.

So, what’s the call? Colton’s silky voice broke the silence.

DD. She made another lane change, barely glancing over her shoulder to verify she had a clear lane. Your kind, sort of.

Wolves? Or Shifters? Humans often didn’t understand the difference.

One of each. She never took her eyes from the road. Yet she saw Colton fidgeting out of the corner of her eye, and mentally dared him to try and touch the radio or adjust the climate control. He’d be lucky if she just broke his fingers.

This should be interesting. His right hand held a death grip on the chicken stick, the small, retractable handle above the passenger side window. That’s the most unlikely pairing I’ve ever heard of.

Yeah, I know. That’s why I brought you along.

Nice to know I’m good for something. Lacey didn’t have to look at his face to pick up on the sarcasm.

She grunted as she took the off-ramp at top speed, and slowed as she pulled into a residential area. Homes and apartment buildings were crammed together, stingy strips of grass the only lawn. Lacey couldn’t understand how people could live here, almost right on top of their neighbors. She was again grateful for her own house, on its ten acres full of trees and rolling hills. From her windows she couldn’t even see any neighboring homes, much less hear anything from them unless she tried. Or they were throwing a raucous party, which was, of course, too low-class for them to even consider.

Her partner, on the other hand, probably preferred to live in an area similar to this. With his pack mentality, he’d go crazy if he lived away from the bustle and press of people. Wolves enjoyed the company of their own kind, and multi-generational homes were commonplace among them. For that reason, domestic disturbances were one of the rarest of crimes among the caste of Wolves.

Lacey pulled up to the house and blocked the driveway; she had made this a habit after a call several years ago during which the suspect had escaped custody and led them on a high-speed chase through the city. A bland-looking tan and white patrol car was sitting at the curb. She and Colton got out of the car, and she flicked the remote, locking the doors and setting the alarm.

The front door of the tiny house had been left open, but she still knocked and announced their arrival. Dallas police! She nudged the door open with her foot, her right hand resting on the weapon nestled under her left arm. When she entered the living room, she saw a uniformed officer handing a glass of water to a petite, plump young woman. Her face was streaked with tears and her red hair was in disarray. She had a crumpled tissue in her lap.

Lieutenant Anderson, she introduced herself as the officer stepped toward them.

Ma’am, he acknowledged her rank with a straightening of his shoulders. My partner has the other half in the kitchen. He nodded toward a short hallway. She locked eyes with Colton, then jerked her head in that direction. He paused just long enough to convey his displeasure, then moved down the hall in silence.

Miss, what’s your name? Ignoring Colton’s defiance, at least for now, Lacey crouched down in front of the woman, to appear less intimidating as she spoke.

The woman sniffled and caught her breath. Missy. Melissa Tompson.

Can you tell me what happened, Missy?

She wiped her face with the tattered tissue. I--it all happened so fast. He came home and I guess he’d been drinking. Her voice wavered. I was just about to put dinner on the table, and I-- I guess it wasn’t fast enough for him. So he hit me. Her hand went to her left cheek, where the angry red imprint of a hand was becoming visible and just beginning to bruise.

And did you hit him back? Given the innate nature of Wolves in general, and her knowledge of a few in particular, Lacey assumed that Missy would have retaliated.

No, no. She shook her head. I’ve always been able to control my temper, even before I took the anger management classes. She smiled with a wry grin. My dad always said he was disappointed in me. Lacey nodded, understanding how a calm Wolf in a culture that encouraged violence would be an enigma.

Though she was surprised to discover that the assailant in this case was not the Wolf but the Shifter, she didn’t mention it. Did he hit you more than once? Missy shook her head again. Well, he’ll be going to jail tonight for simple assault. I can get you in touch with a departmental counselor if you’d like. Are you married?

No, but we’ve been together for so long it didn’t really seem to matter anymore.

He’s got no right to hit you. Lacey looked right into her eyes to hammer the point home. If you’re scared to leave him, we can get you a protective order. All you have to do is come down to the department. Reaching into her pocket, Lacey handed the woman a card. You let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you.

Thank you. I’m hoping this will all blow over like a bad dream. She wiped at her tear-streaked face.

Lacey, knowing how domestic violence of any kind left scars on the psyche, knew it wouldn’t just blow over, but would rear its ugly head time and time again, and left her to the uniform. She walked into the kitchen to interview the Shifter. Hunched over a small dining table was a sinewy man with long brown hair. His hands were cuffed behind his back. Fists held tight to his hips, Colton stood with feet set wide, his bulk seeming to hover over the suspect, a look of barely-contained anger in his eyes. When he caught sight of Lacey, he stepped aside and turned his back on the culprit.

What’s his story? With a glance she included both Colton and the uniform in her question.

The uniform glanced at Colton, in that one look deferring to him to answer.

He admits it, says he’s been drinking. He was pissed that dinner wasn’t on the table when he walked in, and he slapped her. Colton reported without looking at the suspect.

I didn’t mean to hurt her! The handcuffs rattled as the remorseful man shifted in his chair. I don’t know what came over me! I feel bad about doing it, now. I love her!

Well, I’m afraid you’re coming with us tonight. Lacey’s voice was scathing.

I know. Shame was evident in the man’s tone. I deserve it.

What’s your Animal?

Fox. His head still hung, his demeanor a parallel to the shy yet crafty animal he could become.

Lacey nodded to the uniform, who helped the man to his feet and perp-walked him out to the car. Lacey and Colton followed, and watched until the man was secured into the back of the patrol car. The second uniform rejoined his partner.

Take him in, Colton instructed. We’ll meet you there. He turned to Lacey. Are you done here?

I’ve got everything I need. This one feels like an open-and-shut case.

Don’t say that, you might jinx it! Colton laughed in a humorless way.

Come on, we’ve got paperwork to do.

They returned to the department, and saw to it that the remorseful Shifter was surrendered into the hands of the drones in Booking. Lacey left strict instructions on the type of cell he was incarcerated in; a Fox could slip through the bars of the standard cells with ease.

They went to their respective work places in the Major Crimes unit. After just a few minutes, Lacey, as usual, handed all the case information on a memory card to her aide, David, to file in the computer database. In the meantime, she had the other cases to look over and sign off on.

God, I hate doing this crap, she thought. And the computers don’t help, all they do is make MORE work for us to do! Disgusted, she gave the cluttered pile a shove. What we need is a good old-fashioned case. The kind we can’t close in fifteen minutes.

Colton’s voice echoed in the back of her mind, you might jinx it! It was fortunate that she wasn’t quite as superstitious as Wolves were. But that might prove to be her undoing.

Colton was more than happy to be going home just five minutes past the end-of-shift. He’d put in too many long hours and days during his time with the Major Crimes Unit, and it didn’t seem as if that would get any better with the formation of the Undead Unit. Because a lot of the Undead were nocturnal, he had a feeling his biological clock was about to turn around.

So he wanted to spend every moment possible with his beautiful wife, Becca, and their pups. The kids were now six months old, just big enough to be getting into tons of trouble and hassling their mother. As he climbed into his aging pickup truck for the ride home, a smile crossed his face as he wondered what antics they had been up to today.

Peace washed over him as he pulled up to his building. He didn’t mind spending the day surrounded by people, but they weren’t his kind. His brownstone apartment was in a building tenanted by Wolves. Many of the families were related to each other in some manner. Being around those of his own kind made Colton relax after putting in a long day of protecting and serving.

Becca greeted him at the door, carrying a child under each arm. The kids were struggling against her grip, attempting to reach one another to continue a fight she had obviously just broken up. Her soft, round face lit up and she gave him a quick kiss before turning her attention back to the rambunctious children she was holding.

Now, you’re both in time-out, and if you come out before I say you can, you’ll be in worse trouble. Go. She set them down on their feet and gave each a quick slap to the rear, sending them off in the direction of the bedrooms. She glanced into the living room where the sounds of other children could be heard. How was your day, honey? Her voice was musical.

First case today. He was cheerful as the smells of home invaded his extraordinary senses. He twitched his nose, double-checking that nothing smelled amiss since he’d left earlier that morning.

Her face clouded over for an instant. Oh? Biting her lip, she seemed unsure if the news was good or bad.

He swept her up in his arms and gave her a much more passionate kiss than before. Besides the usual scents of home, her unique pheromones filled his nose, and he breathed deeply of her smell of honey and baking bread. It was always the best part of coming home. Domestic dispute, a Wolf and a Shifter. The Shifter broke down and admitted to it before we even got there. Open and shut.

Well, I guess that’s good, then. She walked with sinewy grace to the kitchen where the smell of cooking food permeated the air. They ate pretty much what they had eaten as humans, but now preferred their meat a bit raw. With a side of animal hearts.

He followed, enjoying watching the sway of her hips as she moved. She went to the stove to resume her cooking. He made himself comfortable at the small dining table tucked into the corner of the room and watched her.

She was a little on the plump side, something to be expected after having given birth to a litter of five, but in his opinion, there was just more of her to love. Her golden-red hair was a riot of curls that tended to frizz, and he noticed with amusement several long strands sticking up as if she had been trying to tear her hair out. With the five kids at home all day, he imagined she might have thought about it. If you could look up the phrase ‘frazzled mother’ in the dictionary, it was possible that you would find her picture there.

I did get to work the case with Anderson, though. He sniffed the aromatic air in appreciation.

He saw the shudder move down her spine. What was that like? Her voice held a hint of fear.

She’s not all bad. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his long legs at the ankle. She drives a bad-ass car, that’s for sure!

She turned to glare at him. Colton Scarber, you watch your language around those kids! You know they all want to be just like daddy!

Sorry, he muttered.

Do you think she knows? I mean, about, you know? There was a nervous tone to her voice.

Greece? He finished the thought for her. I don’t see how she couldn’t know. She was there. But she didn’t mention it.

Though Colton, a born rather than bitten Wolf, hadn’t experienced it, the incident was imprinted on his brain as part of his Pack instincts. They had evolved a kind of racial memory and any information his ancestors had known was available to him. That same knowledge would be passed down to his kids, and their kids, forever down his bloodline.

Well, I certainly hope she doesn’t blame you for it. You weren’t even born yet.

I know it. But it does make it a little tense to work around her.

What are you going to do? Becca wondered.

I’ll see how things go. If nothing else, I could request a transfer. But I’d like to stick it out. I think it’s a good opportunity.

If you think you can handle it, you know I support you.

From the other room came shouts and snarls, like the sounds of young puppies acting tough. Colton got up and went to the refrigerator, digging around until he found a bottle of beer. There was a sudden loud thump and a high-pitched yip from the living room, and they both turned in that direction.

I’ll get them, he said to her.

When he got to the living room he saw his other three kids, all sitting in silence on the floor about four feet apart. Two of them looked guilty, while tears welled up in the eyes of the third. He sat down in his cushy, well-worn and over-sized recliner, and beckoned to the child.

Come here, Derek. The boy eagerly climbed into his father’s lap while the other two looked on. Were you playing too rough?

Ya Da-da.

Where does it hurt?

Derek pointed to his left arm, where a series of long, red scratches danced across the skin.

Rough play was common among Werewolf packs, and Colton remembered his fair share of wins (and losses) in scuffles with his own siblings. There was a fine line between encouraging the children’s natural inclinations, yet preparing them for the anger management classes the government would soon impose on them.

Well, you’re a tough boy. Colton soothed the child, and ruffled the young boy’s mop of dark hair with great affection. You’re going to grow up big and strong! And you two, don’t be pestering your brother so much! He glanced over at the others. The two children looked crestfallen at the scolding.

All right now, come on. Give your daddy some love.

With excited squeals, the other boy and a girl launched themselves into his lap, where they all bounced up and down in manic excitement. The two who had been sent to the bedroom, and who had quietly crept down the hallway to eavesdrop, chanced their mother’s wrath and joined the dog pile on their father’s lap. Drool dribbled down chins and clumsy fingers clutched at him, but he couldn’t have been any happier. He leaned back and crossed his ankles. This was the life.

On the other side of town, Lacey could have been on a different planet as she raced down her long, curving driveway, pulling her expensive car into a three-car garage carpeted with earth-toned outdoor carpet. After 500 years, she’d gotten the house and property to reflect her personality and taste. Nestled into the lush woods in a strip of land almost unmarred by human touch, it was her perfect sanctuary.

She had money, and lots of it, saved up through the decades. The house and its property had long been paid off; there was only the yearly tax to be paid. She didn’t use much electricity, and her water came from a well drilled behind the house. Lacey’s living expenses were very low.

She spent money on lavish things for herself instead: expensive Turkish rugs, tasteful statues and artwork, music and movies on disc, and Chippendale furniture. Since she was doomed to an immortal life, she was damned well going to live it in as much comfort and decadence as she could.

Her window treatments tended toward the dark, not because she needed them that way but because she preferred them to be. Vampires could, contrary to the old popular belief, go outside in the daylight, though it tended to irritate their eyes and skin, like a human with poison ivy or a sunburn.

She opened the door to her haven, and with a grateful sigh, tossed her keys on a small wood table in the foyer. She punched her code into the alarm system panel beeping its soft tone near the door. The panel chimed twice to alert her that it was unarmed.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, finding her way with excellent night vision and the tiny night light she always left burning in the hallway, she made her way to the kitchen. It was a cavernous space filled with the best of commercial-grade appliances; Lacey could and did eat the same things that she did before she was ‘Turned’, while she was human, and she often enjoyed cooking extravagant meals for herself. In secret, she spent time watching the food channel to learn new recipes. But human food was not what she was after at the moment.

She opened the door of her stainless steel refrigerator, pulling out a packet of cold cow’s blood. Since Vampires had to survive on blood, to keep the symbiotic virus in their systems fed, and since the laws prohibited them from feeding on humans, an arrangement had been made with meat packing plants all across the world. Humans had processed meat as food for centuries, but the blood had always been disposed of. It was a logical step for the meat providers to package, and by doing so profit from, what they had discarded before. It was the same for the Wolves and Zombies, who needed hearts and brains to survive.

It wasn’t the best, in Lacey’s opinion, more like the difference between ground beef and filet mignon, but it kept her fed. Even though the animal blood sustained her, it came with drawbacks; she wasn’t as physically strong as when she dined on human blood, and more of her human frailties surfaced. She had, however, never gotten used to drinking it cold; the blood had to be kept chilled or it would spoil. She put the packet carefully into the top-of-the-line microwave and jabbed the preset start button. While the appliance was warming her meal with an audible hum, she took a crystal wine goblet out of the glass-door cabinet, and rinsed it in the gleaming three section sink.

When the timer went off, she pulled open the cap and poured the warmed blood into the wine glass. She carried her dinner into the living room and sat down on the plush couch. Setting the cup down on a coaster atop a cherry coffee table, she kicked off her boots and curled her legs underneath her.

Screen, on. Soap channel.

The big screen television across the room flickered on. Though she’d rather die than admit it, she loved watching reruns of the hundred-year-old daytime drama series. She knew that many of the producers and directors behind the scenes when the dramatic shows had been filmed were Vampires. She’d even met a few of them. She took a sip from her glass and prepared to relax and spend the evening being entertained.

3

The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. ~~Edmund Burke

Something was buzzing in her ear. She made a half-hearted attempt to wave it away before she realized that it was her phone. She reached for it as her eyes snapped open, every sense alert now. Answering the phone, she put it on speaker.

Anderson. Her voice didn’t betray the fact that she’d been sleeping.

Lieutenant, this is Carl with dispatch.

What’ve you got?

He gave her an address which she scrawled on a notepad she always kept on the nightstand. The complainant was nearly hysterical when she called. Said she’d been walking home from work and was assaulted by a Wolf. I was going to call in SVU but I thought you might like to handle this one.

I’ll be there in ten minutes. Give Detective Scarber a call, tell him to meet me there.

He’s next on my list.

She climbed out of her king-sized, four poster bed and hurried to the walk-in closet. When she emerged, she was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans with a button-up shirt tucked carefully into her waistband. She carried her boots, and after putting on a pair of socks, slid her feet into the supple leather. She slipped her weapon into the buttery leather of a belt holster, rather than using the shoulder harness she often carried while on duty.

She didn’t bother turning on a light as she moved through the house. She grabbed her keys from the table in the foyer, set the alarm, and locked the door behind her.

Irritated, Colton swiped at the phone shrieking on his dresser. He was a heavy sleeper and tended to ignore the phone or shut off his alarm clock. Becca had suggested that he keep his phone on the other side of the room, so that he’d have to get up out of bed to answer it. The strategy worked, though nothing could make him like it. He glared at his reflection in the dresser’s mirror, scowling as he noticed his hair sticking up in every direction.

He saw the caller ID on the phone’s screen and groaned. The soft moonlight streaming in the window allowed him to see well enough to take down the address and particulars of the case. Turning back toward the bed, he noticed that Becca wasn’t there. He assumed she was feeding the kids.

After he dressed, he crept from the bedroom. He found his wife on the couch in the living room, one arm curled around Emily, the smallest of the kids, as she nursed. She looked up at him when he stopped in the doorway.

Call? She kept her voice soft.

Yeah. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone on this one. He saw that her eyes looked tired. Maybe he should call his mother, see if she could come lend a hand with the kids for a few days to give her a break. That’s a good idea. He made a mental note to call on his mother sometime today.

It’s okay, honey. There’s coffee in the kitchen if you want some.

I think I will grab a mug. That sounds good. He leaned over to give her a kiss and brushed a hand across Emily’s silky hair. He hated leaving his family in the middle of the night, but had accepted that fate when he’d taken the police officer’s oath, and that was something he was very serious about.

He went into the kitchen and filled a travel mug with coffee, double-checking that the lid was screwed on tight. One time when he’d failed to do this, the cup fell out of the holder in his truck, and spilled all over the floorboard. Since then, he’d taken no chances.

Passing by the living room, he called out, Love you. Get some sleep. With that, he locked the apartment door behind him and climbed into his truck.

Though she lived farther away, Lacey arrived on the scene close to downtown well before Colton, thanks to her fast car and her love of speed. Two cruisers sat nose-to-rear at the curb, and an EMS van was parked sideways, taking up two lanes. She could see that the uniforms were working to mark the crime scene with