Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“You are not human,” she said.

“Now, that’s not nice.” I swung the tire iron.

She ducked. Her fist slammed into my mid section. I used the sudden change in momentum to bring the iron down in the opposite direction. It cracked against her ribs even as I fell to my knees, gasping for air. She retreated, snarling.

“Who are you?” she asked again.

I glared at her, still on my hands and knees. “I’m annoyed. Who are you?”

“I am impatient.”

“Nice to meet you, Impatient.”

Her purple eyes roved over my body, examining me. She inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring. “What is your business here?”

“House hunting. Is this place for rent?”

She bared her fangs. “Can you not provide a serious response, child? I could kill you where you crouch.”

I drew up to my full height—not very impressive next to her—and held the tire iron back like a baseball bat. Ready to swing for home the moment she moved. “I dare you. What are you doing here? This isn’t your part of town.”

“I suspect my purpose is the same as yours—to discover the identities of those who would spread lies of an alliance between goblins and vampires, and to stop them.”

My jaw dropped. I couldn’t help it. Behind her formal tone, I heard sincerity. A small spark of hope flared to life.

“You’re against the alliance?” I asked.

She tilted her chin. “I and most of my kind see no benefit in it, in the long term, and know nothing of its purported existence. Goblins are a disagreeable sort—disgusting, destructive, and incapable of forming a productive society. Many vampires share their view of humanity, but I would prefer to live alongside your kind than theirs. We would lose more by aligning ourselves with goblins than we could ever hope to gain.”

“Do your leaders share this opinion?”

Something flickered in her eyes—curiosity? “None of the Families speak of it openly, child, because it is not happening. I heard the rumors from an underling, but we do not act upon rumor, only upon facts. I fed the rumors to a human informant, and he was supposed to investigate the allegations, but I have since lost contact.”

Alarm bells wailed through my head. “What was your informant’s name?” I asked.

“He asks me to call him—”

“Evangeline!”

I spun toward the stairs, nearly tangling my ankles in my haste. Behind me, the vampiress snarled. Footsteps thundered down, followed moments later by the rest of Alex. He froze on the bottom step, hand on the narrow railing, attention fixed over my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I said to him, keeping myself between the two. “He’s a friend, Impatient. He’s not a threat.”

She made a show of sniffing the air. “No, I suppose he is not. And my name is Isleen.”

“Evy. He’s Alex.”

“What’s going on?” Alex asked.

“Potential ally,” I said. To Isleen: “You were saying he asked you to call him what?”

“Truman,” Isleen said. “That was the name he gave me.”

Wyatt. He hadn’t told me who his informant was, the person who’d told him about the potential alliance. Turned out it was someone with pretty good intel and a direct link to the upper echelons of vampire power. An alliance that had once felt like only a possibility now inched closer to terrifying reality.

“You know him,” she said when I didn’t speak.

I really had to learn to control my facial expressions. “Yes, I do. He’s been captured by the Triads. They’re holding him for questioning, but I have a contact on the inside who can help us break him out.”

“To what benefit?”

“To save his life?”

Isleen inclined her head, a subtle gesture that dripped with condescension. “Will his help be beneficial to our cause?”

Our cause? My wrist ached. I loosened my grip on the tire iron, allowing circulation back into my hand. “What the fuck do you think? Yes, he will be beneficial to our fucking cause.”

“That is all I was asking. Do not get upset.”

“Lady, you haven’t seen me upset.”

“You are as loyal as he said.”

I stared, my temper teetering on DefCon Five. “You know who I am?”

“At first I was uncertain, but now I am not. He spoke of you, Evangeline, although I imagined you younger.”

“And blonder?”

“Pardon?”

“Long story, and it has everything to do with why I’m here.”

Her eyes asked the silent question, but I hesitated. I hadn’t the stamina to repeat my sordid tale twice in one day. Besides, I still wasn’t certain that I trusted her. Vampires are, by nature, very self-centered. Their goal is always the betterment of their people, and if other species are trampled along the way, so be it. Deceptive and willing to play you like a fiddle for their own purposes, they still possessed one quality that many humans did not: an unwillingness to lie.

Still, I saw little distinction between deceiving and lying, but vampires saw an ocean of difference. How could they be proud of a culture that embraced duplicity?

Isleen watched me with cool disinterest. She pretty much ignored Alex. Both scored her faith points, but instinct kept me from trusting her. Her people were part of this rumored alliance, whether she liked it or not. And Wyatt and I weren’t exactly low-profile players in the Triads. I had to be sure.

“What does Truman look like?” I asked.

“Taller than him,” she replied, nodding in Alex’s general direction. “Black hair, dark eyes, I believe what you call a Mediterranean look. Greek, perhaps? A soft voice that deepens when he is angry.”

So far so good. “What about the scar?”

“Scar?”

“Yeah, the scar on his face.”

She remained motionless. If she’d been up close and personal with Wyatt like she said, if she knew him at all, then she’d know—

“He does not have a scar on his face. None that was ever visible to me.”

“Good.”

I walked past her, toward the other doors that lined the corridor. Interview time was over. I needed to do what I’d come here to do. I passed several doors and stopped in front of one that sported a broken padlock. The door’s nameplate had been ripped off and a black X had been drawn in paint. No, not paint. I touched it, and a soft fleck came off on my fingertip. Dried blood. I jiggled the knob; it wasn’t locked.

“I would not, Evangeline,” Isleen said. She stood next to me without seeming to move. Alex hadn’t twitched from his place by the stairs.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Death is in that room. Something wicked and depraved happened there. It is quite overwhelming.”

Fear traced lines across my back with icy fingers as I realized which door I had been drawn to. I had died in this room. Going inside might jog loose the rest of my missing memories. But faced with that possibility, I hesitated. Some things were better left buried; others had to be dug up again, no matter how painful. Which was this?

Beyond my hesitation, one simple thought rose to the surface: Wyatt needed me. I had to do everything in my power to save him. He brought me back, gave up his free will, so I could tell him what happened in that room. Not going in failed him, made his sacrifice for nothing. No.

“I have to go in,” I said, as much for Isleen as myself. “I have to see it.”

She retreated a step. I turned the copper knob. It didn’t squeal. The door creaked open. Warm, humid air crept out, bringing with it the heavy odor of death. Metallic, sweet, and thick, it was a physical entity that forced me backward. I released the knob, but the door continued to swing into inky blackness.

Just inside, my fingers found a switch. Dim, garish light from a single, naked bulb flooded the room. Dried blood spackled every surface. Barely larger than a coat closet, the room’s wood-paneled walls sported haphazard sprays and streaks, with no discernible dispersal patterns. A stained and ripped mattress lay on the cement floor. Two lengths of chain were bolted to the wall above one end of the mattress, each ending in a pair of unlocked handcuffs. A set of rusty shackles, like something from a bondage film, lay on the floor by the opposite end of the mattress.