Michele Hauf - The Vampire Hunter

Yep, that was the way it worked on vampires. Normal faery dust caused instant addiction. This new stuff compounded that addiction with an unreal craving for sparkly stuff. Only, sometimes the sparklies the dust freaks went after were pieces of jewelry attached to innocent humans.

“Magic Dust. Is that what they call it?”

“Yep.”

Kaz hated that the substance carried an appealing name. Of course, that’s how most drugs were named, to attract attention.

“You know it drives vampires crazy for anything that sparkles?”

Vail studied his knuckles, the diamonds glinting. “Nothing wrong with sparkly stuff.”

“Unless it’s wrapped around some human’s neck, and the vampire decides to tear through it—and skin and bones—in an attempt to feed their addiction.”

“You told me about your friends. I’m sorry, man. That’s rough.”

Robert and Ellen Horst had been murdered last week while in Paris on their honeymoon. They’d called the morning of their arrival, hoping to meet Kaz in a café to catch up. Kaz and Robert had both hung around Madame du Monde’s Dance Emporium a decade earlier for reasons they’d kept to themselves.

Kaz had only arrived at the hospital five minutes before Robert had died. His friend had told him the attacker had fangs and had been crazy for his wife’s diamonds and had growled about needing more dust to keep the high. As he’d exhaled his dying breath, Robert’s hand had fallen open to reveal the fang he’d knocked out of his attacker’s jaw as he’d fought for his and his wife’s lives.

That tooth now sat in Kaz’s front pocket.

“I have no clue where it’s coming from,” Vail offered. “None of the known dealers in FaeryTown, that’s for sure. They’re all sanctioned through the higher-ups, if you know what I mean.”

“What does that mean, exactly? Does someone control all sales of faery dust and ichor?”

Kaz hadn’t a clue about illicit drugs sold amongst the paranormal breeds, and the Order certainly hadn’t an interest in it, either.

“Dust and ichor are two different highs, man. Do you even know how it all works?”

“It’s a drug that makes my job a pain in the ass. What more do I need to know?”

Vail sighed and tapped the steering wheel, then turned to him. “So you’ve got faery dust and faery ichor. The dust is easy to obtain, and it gives a quick high. Very addictive. You get dust directly from the faery, but can also do something to the ichor to make it turn to dust. I’m not sure how that works. But it’s dust form. Right?”

Kaz nodded. He understood that much.

“Vamps deal dust. But not ichor. The Sidhe Cortège controls that.”

“Do I want to know what that is?”

“You should. They’re sort of faery mafia that exist only in the mortal realm.”

“Great.” Yet another wrench tossed into his investigation. “So all ichor goes through this cortège?”

Vail nodded. “A vampire can only get ichor by going to FaeryTown and checking into an ichor den. Or he can find a willing faery and bite her. Ichor straight from the vein is amazing. Or it was. I’m clean now, man. And then there’s the ultimate. The Neverland Fix.”

“Explain.”

“That’s when a vampire has sex with a faery—you know when a faery comes they sort of explode dust all over, right?”

He had not known that. Kaz wasn’t sure he’d ever get the image from his brain.

“So if you bite them and suck out their ichor while they are coming in a cloud of dust it’s like Neverland,” Vail said. “Except, you ain’t never coming back from that one. Total oblivion for the vamp. No chance of returning to sanity. But I’ve heard it’s worth it.”

“Is that so?” Kaz eyed his informant. He knew the vampire was a father and had many friends in the paranormal community. But how much was he keeping to himself? Did he have reason to protect those vamps who dealt dust?

“You going to some kind of AA, Dark One?”

Vail nodded. “Don’t worry about me. Addiction is tough. Since I’ve gotten clean, I fight it every day. Good thing I have Lyric. She’s a million times more appealing than ichor. But still...” He heaved out a sigh.

Kaz had never touched drugs or alcohol, himself. Too many bad memories harbored by those illicit substances. Vail’s sigh said so much that didn’t require words.

Kaz understood addiction because his father was an alcoholic. Okay, so he didn’t understand it, but he did know it when it hit him in the face. The bastard was always ready to punch him whenever he got wasted, which had been all the time. Kaz hadn’t seen him in almost fourteen years, and had no desire for a reunion anytime soon.

“Now that I let my mind wander,” Vail started, “there is a vamp chick who slinks about under the radar. Always into something new. Not attached to a particular tribe, though she does tend to date tribe leaders. She deals dust and has been known to do wet work, as well.”

Sex, drugs and murder? Sounded like a piece of work. “Name?”

Vail held up his palm between the two of them. “There are only two or three vamps who have permission to deal dust in this city. Give me your word that this information did not come from me.”

Kaz slapped his hand into Vail’s in a gentleman’s agreement. “You have my word. I know you supply me with information because you care about your breed. You don’t want to see any of them addicted to the stuff.”

“The vampire’s name is Switch,” Vail said. “I don’t know where to find her, only that she moves around. She’s tall and slender. Aggressive, but attractive in a hooker kind of way.”

“Great. That describes half the female vampires in Paris.”

“Yeah, but you should be able to pick her out by her hair. Half black, half pink, like some kind of cotton-candy machine gone over to the dark side.”

A distinguishing hairstyle? Perfect. It would give Kaz a place to start.

“So you know the names of those two or three who sell the dust? They would be the ones giving Switch the work, right?”

“Yes, but...I don’t have names. Isn’t what I’ve already told you enough?”

It would be a start. “Thanks, Vail—er, Dark Stranger. Give my regards to your wife.” He recalled the Order notes he’d reviewed before coming here tonight. “Did she just have a baby?”

“Our second,” Vail offered with a note of pride. “Sweet little girl. I love her, even when she wakes in the middle of the night yowling like a banshee. Yeah, I’ll tell Lyric you said hello. If you need me...I’ll find you.”

“Cool.”

At the thought of a vampire baby, Kaz quelled the shudder that wanted to give his bones a good shake. Then he prayed he wouldn’t have to stake the little flesh pricker someday.

After shaking Vail’s hand, Kaz got out of the car, stroked the smashed front panel and walked away, hands in his coat pockets, without giving the vampire a glance back.

He lived on the left bank, far from the eighteenth arrondissement. Hopping onto the Metro at the Blanche station, he settled in for the ride.

Once home, he activated the inner wards by closing the four sliding locks on his front door. The Order ensured all their knights’ homes were warded against vampires, werewolves and sometimes, if the knight requested it, witches. Between that and some personal wards he’d had tattooed on his body, Kaz felt relatively safe, even knowing the city of millions was populated with tens of thousands of paranormal critters.

Standing before the living room wall, plastered with a large Paris city map, he darted his gaze from the red pins, which indicated the location of tribal nests, to the white— individual vamps, to the few green pins—known wolf packs.