Black Market Blood Page 2

  “Maybe. What’s your name?”

  “Michael. Most people call me Sully. I can be Nat if you want, though.” Sully leaned on the counter, folding his hands and batting his eyelashes. The resemblance to Nat soon faded as all the jagged edges that didn’t fit became readily apparent. This kid’s hands weren’t scarred from years of firestarting. As he flirted, it was clear he wasn’t suited to Nat’s aloofness and passivity. This kid—Sully, apparently—was probably a pro. Since some of Artie’s girls were already at this party as escorts, Sully was probably doing the same.

  “No, no,” Chaz said, shaking his head. “I’ll call you Sully.”

  “Good. You should call me.” Sully’s lips curled as if they spoke several different languages where pleasure was always the same verb. He dug his hand into his pocket and took out a card with a number on it. “Can you find this jacket for me? I want to go outside and smoke.”

  Chaz laughed. “Oh, I’m not coat check.”

  “But will you be for me? I’ll let you call me Nat. Fair trade?”

  Chaz clucked his tongue. He wanted to brush this kid off, but now… he saw the number: 27. He’d passed that jacket when he was trying to find his own. It was red leather, nice, and completely unsuited to Nat.

  But this wasn’t Nat. This was Sully. And Sully seemed a lot friendlier than Nat would ever be. “Sure. I think I already passed your jacket.”

  “Excellent. Thank you!”

  Chaz located the red leather easily. As he lifted it off the coat hanger, he realized his own brown trench coat was underneath. He checked the collar where he’d stitched his badge number—and sure enough, there it was. “Huh.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I just found my own jacket too.”

  “See? The world makes sense again.” Sully shucked his jacket over his shoulders and pulled out a package of cigarettes. He placed one between his lips without lighting it, then raised a brow. “Want to join me?”

  Chaz did. He really did. But he also heard the clanking of glasses as people got ready to toast Jack. As he was still here, he may as well go back and get some cake. “Maybe another time.”

  “I’m gonna have to hold you to that…?”

  “Oh, I’m Chip. Chip MacDonald.”

  “Chip, huh? You don’t seem like a Chip.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “Cool. I’ll remember it. You remember me?”

  “Sully. Not Nat.”

  “Yeah.” Sully smiled again. Those eyes, those damn gray eyes, were so fucking familiar.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a brother or something?”

  “Nope. Only child. See you.” Sully’s cigarette bounced as he talked and turned away toward the door. The familiarity struck Chaz to his bones—but also made him deeply sad. If that’s not Nat, then maybe he is dead.

  “You came back!” Jack said as Chaz slipped into the bar area again. His jacket was over his arm, but Jack paid no attention to it. “Come here, have some cake. I’ve gotta make a speech now.”

  Jack made a face like he was nervous. As a blonde woman in a tight dress handed out cake, Jack took the stage near the bar. Someone turned down the music and everyone, even the business professionals not involved with the cop party, turned their attention to Jack.

  “Well, thank you all for coming out tonight. I know the Toronto streets don’t always make it very friendly after dark, which is why I’m here, really. I take my job very seriously. I’ve been working those exact streets for almost a decade now, and while there’s been improvement, I know it’s not enough. The City of Monsters will stay that way until we can remove all traces of monstrosity from our thoughts and actions. Humans and supernaturals alike, we must work together until the burden of crime is lessened. We deserve it, and the future deserves it. Thank you.”

  The crowd applauded and raised their glasses.

  The cake’s frosting was bland against Chaz’s tongue, like so many of Jack’s words. But the crowd was happy, and for a while, it felt like Chaz was happy too. After eating most of his slice, he set down the paper plate. Everyone was coupled off, and Jack had disappeared to the sidelines to answer his phone. Chaz counted to one hundred, scanned the crowd for Sully, and finding nothing, sought out Jack again.

  “I think I’m going to go now,” Chaz said when Jack hung up his phone.

  “I thought so. You’re hanging by a thread, I know. But what if I told you we just got a case?”

  “Really?” All the exhaustion ebbed from Chaz’s bones. “What kind of case?”

  “Murder on the docks. About an hour away. The police said the body is fresh. Best for clues, you know? You feel up to taking it?”

  “Definitely. Yeah. You know me; I love the night.”

  “I do know you. So you’ll get a head start, okay?”

  “A head start on what?”

  Jack narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t pick a partner tonight—I’m pretty sure you didn’t talk to anyone else but me—so I’m going to send someone there. See who’s the first person to leave willingly from a rip-roaring party and they’ll have to do.”

  Chaz wanted to correct him. I did talk to someone tonight—Nat. I mean Sully. I talked to Sully tonight. “I can work this alone.”

  “I know you can. But trust me. The first person to leave this party for a job will be a perfect match for you. Now go, you workaholic. Make me proud.”

  Chaz slipped his jacket over his shoulders. Jack did have a point. If he and his partner both hated parties, that would at least be a step in the right direction. Before Chaz got into his car, he scanned the streets for signs of Sully. A cigarette ember glowed against the pavement, reminding him of Nat’s flames, but that was all.

  Chapter 2

  WHEN CHAZ arrived at the scene, there were already three cop cars and one ambulance. The ambulance seemed a little late, given the body was already dead, but Chaz soon realized the crew was treating an officer with an arm laceration. The gash in his inner forearm running from wrist to elbow looked deep, though it barely bled. Chaz made eye contact with the man, and the fear in his gaze struck Chaz to his core.

  Shit. Another monster crime. Chaz wasn’t sure what type it was yet, but that never mattered. Only the public’s perception did. Whatever the type, it would set the city into a fear spiral for the next couple months.

  Chaz flashed his badge to bypass the officers around the yellow tape. The Toronto docks were spread out along Lake Ontario and extended into the Scarborough Bluffs, a rock face that was mostly populated by gargoyles. Most of the beachfront area attracted tourists and locals who wanted to wade in the water in peace. Chaz expected the body to be around the bluffs—it was a perfect dumping ground in the middle of the night—but instead his GPS had led him to the industrial area closer to the heart of the city. Several tanker boats were docked while their drivers spoke to officers.

  An Asian woman, with long dark hair and dressed in a police uniform, walked up to Chaz. “Hi, detective? I’m Jinny Rong. One of the first on the scene.”

  “Hi, I’m Chip MacDonald with the 297. What can you tell me about what’s going on here?”

  She adjusted her hat awkwardly. “I can do that, but do you want to wait for your partner?”

  “Don’t have one yet but will momentarily. It’s best not to waste too much time, you know? Especially given one of your officers is already down.”

  “Alan Ramirez? Don’t worry about him. He walked into the shore, tripped on a rock, and was cut by some aluminum cans. He’s more worried about tetanus than anything else.”

  The concern in Alan’s eyes flashed in Chaz’s mind. He wasn’t so sure an aluminum can could strike that much fear into anyone, but he didn’t want to question it. Jinny’s curt way of speaking made him trust her authority; in a few years, he anticipated being alongside her in the detective squad room.

  She led him to the body hidden behind one of the docks. The lower half was the only visible portion, while the torso and head were under th
e rising tide. The legs were spread out like the blades of a pinwheel, bent at odd angles, but not broken. Chaz guessed the body was a man’s, since hair lined the shins and the thighs were thick with muscles, but it was hard to tell because the body was also quite slender. Pants had been torn up to the knee and hugged the thighs like a second skin. Chaz thought he spotted a T-shirt on the victim under the water, but he wasn’t sure and he knew the more time he spent staring into the dark, the more likely it was to raise suspicion of his supernatural status. When he first realized he’d been turned, aside from the sun-sickness and the feverish hunger around blood, his depth perception in the dark had been the most obvious change. He couldn’t see precisely, but he could sense objects and distances if he really wanted to, as if a three-dimensional map displayed itself in front of him without visual cues but by some kind of newly acquired somatic memory. In the dark Chaz always knew where to walk without crashing into anything—but for crime scenes like this, where there were only streetlamps, along with Jinny’s flashlight and the moon, he knew it was best to play dumb. Chaz could see no visible sign of any foul play, except that the person was dead and in the water.

  Chaz crouched down. The body had a few markings on its feet, but Chaz wasn’t sure if they were tattoos or algae. He extended a pen from his pocket and pushed at the feet. He was surprised when they let out a squishy noise, like a sponge. Water flowed out of the pores in waves.

  “Oh,” Jinny said. “Oh, I was not expecting that.”

  Chaz’s stomach churned. He regretted the cake. “I take it your partner was trying to get at the man’s head when he fell?”

  Jinny nodded.

  “Did he swallow any water?”

  “I don’t think so? But I’m not sure. I think he just cut himself.”

  “But he didn’t bleed into the water, did he? If so, he should be checked out by a supernatural doctor.”

  Jinny scoffed, then realized Chaz was serious. “What can they do that a normal EMT can’t?”

  “Well, they can test his saliva to see if he swallowed any of the water the dead man has absorbed and be sure his blood isn’t tainted.”

  “Can’t normal medical doctors do that?”

  “Yes. But then they tell you you’re cursed and there’s nothing you can do. Some supernatural doctors have cures.”

  Jinny still seemed skeptical, but she nodded. “Let me go tell him. I’ll be right back. I’ll bring the witness who found the body too.”

  Chaz nodded, his gaze still fixated on the vic’s body. The waves crashed against the skin viciously; Chaz worried it would slide off with each new motion. The moon was nearly full and cast an eerie glow over the scene. This wasn’t a werewolf killing, so Chaz knew to exclude all information about the moon’s position from their investigation. Most werewolves, especially those infected with any disease that made them more aggressive, hated water. With Jinny gone, Chaz took out his flashlight. He got as close as he could without wading ankle-deep, but even with the light, the man’s face was nowhere to be seen.

  “Can we get him out of the water yet?” Chaz asked, turning to the crowd.

  “Not yet,” one of the EMTs called. “The medical examiner’s still not here.”

  “Really? Fine.” Chaz’s voice trembled as his mind raced with a million possibilities. Maybe the man was half-gone. Maybe he was a siren. Maybe he’d been devoured by a kraken. Or maybe, just maybe, he was a kid who’d drowned and the sea life had eaten him away. For once, Chaz wanted an easy murder. One that didn’t add to Toronto’s reputation.

  “Finally,” Chaz said when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, expecting to see Katja Suljak, the medical examiner. “Can we please—”

  A man in a trench coat and rain boots stood a few feet away. He was a few inches taller than Chaz and positioned himself with his arms akimbo, giving off an air of stiff authority. His demeanor contrasted with his young-looking face and soft, almost cherubic cheeks free of stubble. He looked familiar, but Chaz couldn’t place him. He had a badge against the left corner of his standard-issue jacket.

  “Hello, Chip MacDonald? I’m Declan Gallagher. I’m assigned to this case with you. How have you been?”

  Right. Duh. New partner from the party. Maybe that’s why he looks familiar. Chaz tore himself out of his trance and extended his free hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Gallagher. Glad to have you here.”

  “Please, call me Declan. May I call you Chip?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Chaz said somewhat forlornly. “I guess you’re bummed about missing the party, huh?”

  “Not at all. I was actually just arriving when Jack told me to go. I was happy to come.” Declan crouched down by the body, mimicking the exact steps Chaz had just taken: touch the feet with a pen, assess the algae or tattoos, then try to find the face with the flashlight. Chaz was struck for a moment by how similar their actions and demeanors were. If not for Declan’s pale skin, blond hair, and ice-blue eyes, Chaz would have wondered if they were twins separated at birth.

  When Declan opened his mouth again, Chaz anticipated his question. “We can’t get the body out of the water until the examiner comes.”

  Declan smiled, nodding along. “I see. Then am I all caught up?”

  “Seems so. Though I’m worried about that officer with a cut.”

  Declan glanced over his shoulder and nodded. “Me as well. There are a lot of chemicals in this water.”

  “Not to mention undocumented creatures.”

  “I see. Is that what you believe killed this man?”

  “I have no idea what killed this man—if this is a man we’re dealing with—because we can’t get him out of the water,” Chaz said, enunciating the last line a little harsher than he’d meant to. He quickly scanned Declan’s face to see if he was annoyed. It was the opposite; Declan smiled again.

  “Would you like me to put the fear of God into the examiner to hurry? I always like to make a good first impression.”

  “You know, after tonight, that sounds pretty good.”

  Declan left Chaz’s side and wandered to the crime scene tape. His rain boots sank into the wet sand, leaving deep imprints behind him. The low rushing of the waves and Declan’s occasional, booming syllables were all Chaz heard. After only two minutes, Declan escorted a woman with long black curls and dark skin to the shore.

  “Sorry,” she said with a thick Nigerian accent. “There was a crash on the road. I’m here now.”

  “Where’s Katja?” Chaz asked.

  “I’m Melinda Ladipo. Ms. Suljak is at a conference tonight, but she will be back and we’ll work together on this case.”

  Chaz nodded, not fighting the job switch. The lab had been looking for another ME for months now, hoping to enable the lab to stay open for extended hours. He liked Katja, mostly because she always had spearmint gum and Vicks VapoRub, along with some herbal remedies for the smell or sickness, on hand at every scene. He once saw the halo of light around her head when they worked a case, too, but he hadn’t been able to investigate it further. Chaz’s instinct said witch or necromancer, but it was hard to tell since both of those could be self-taught powers, rather than manifested ones. He couldn’t blow her cover without blowing his own.

  “Thank you for coming,” Declan said. “We’d like to hurry because we’re worried about Officer Ramirez’s safety. He was cut and exposed to some of the water.”

  Chaz appreciated hearing the “we” from Declan’s mouth so soon. Most partners wanted all the credit. Already, Declan was playing fair. Chaz stepped aside, closer to Declan, to allow Melinda more room to work. She unlatched her kit and took out a few pH strips, along with some other ones Chaz knew nothing about. She dragged them through the water and waited before nodding.

  “Everything okay?” Declan asked.

  “I’d like some help getting the body on shore so I can examine him properly, but we’re not dealing with monster-contaminated water.”

  “Really?” Declan said. “You know that quickly?�
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  “They don’t just give away medical degrees like candy, you know,” Melinda said. She smiled through her criticism, making Chaz feel as if she was both professional and chummy. “Of course, I’ll need to do more official tests with my good equipment to rule out all kinds of pathogens, but my strips here tell me about the level of acidity in this water and the level of phytochemicals.”

  “Okay,” Chaz said slowly. “We don’t have medical degrees, so what does that mean? Especially in terms of monster contamination?”

  “Phytochemicals are found in plants. There are normal amounts of phytochemicals in this water, meaning that there probably isn’t anything supernatural messing up our reading, which then means the body has not been contaminated by a kraken, a siren, or any other kind of monster that likes to live in water. Plants are the first to notice when something is amiss, and so far, nothing is amiss here.” As they processed the scene, Melinda went on for a few extended moments about how the science behind this still wasn’t peer-reviewed, but it was a matter of days. Chaz doubted that—not because what she said didn’t make sense—but because monster science almost never got peer-reviewed.

  “So nothing contagious, right? Sorry to cut you off, but I think Ramirez wants to know.” When Melinda gave a small nod, Chaz let out a sigh. “Great. I’ll give him the good news.”

  Chaz walked up to Alan Ramirez in the ambulance. He reiterated what Melinda had said, while Jinny and another EMT took a stretcher for the body. Alan was relieved, but the flare of fear was still etched across his face.

  “You need me to call anyone?” Chaz asked. “I know it seems scary being exposed like this, but even for the infectious monsters, you need a much longer exposure than the three seconds you were in the water. You’re probably fine. Just a few stitches on your arm and you’re good to go.”

  “Yeah, I know. But….” Alan surveyed the scene conspiratorially. “Jinny said there were supernatural doctors? Is that true?”

  Chaz understood the fear now; it was less for his wounds and more for who he was. Chaz also examined the area for eavesdroppers before he slipped Alan Katja’s information. “She’s the normal medical examiner, but I have a feeling she’ll know what to help you find, okay?”