Page 16 of Soulmarked
“Word of advice?” He started backing away, fading into the shadows with practiced ease. “Next time you want to huntvampires? Bring silver bullets. And someone who knows what they're doing.”
I watched him disappear into the darkness, irritation warring with curiosity. Part of me wanted to follow, to demand more answers about what he knew. But my pride was still stinging from having my ass saved, and something told me Sean Cullen wasn't the type to give straight answers anyway.
I looked down at the card in my hand, then at the creature's rapidly decomposing corpse.
I pocketed the card. I wouldn't call, probably. But something told me this wouldn't be the last time our paths crossed.
Now I just had to figure out how to explain the ruined suit to accounting.
4
THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT
My phone rang just as I was pulling into the precinct parking lot, coffee barely touched and the sun barely up. Sterling's name flashed on the screen.
“Cross,” I answered, stifling a yawn.
“Change of plans.” Sterling's voice had that careful tone he used when something wasn't quite right. “I need you at 782 East 75th Street. Possible homicide.”
I was already pulling out of the lot, making a U-turn. “Possible?”
“Body's intact, no obvious cause of death, but...” He paused, and I could picture him in his office, choosing his words carefully. “Local PD is calling it 'unusual.' Their lieutenant specifically requested you.”
That got my attention. The NYPD didn't usually request CITD agents by name, especially not for seemingly normal homicides.
“What aren't you telling me, sir?”
Another pause. “The responding officers reported some... irregularities. The kind that tend to end up on your desk anyway.”
Ah. That's what this was about. Sterling knew about my “unusual” case files, even if we never discussed them directly.
“I'll check it out,” I said, navigating through early morning traffic.
Twenty minutes later, the Upper East Side brownstone loomed before me in the early morning light, its elegant facade at odds with the cluster of police cars and crime scene vehicles crowding the street. At 7 AM, the summer heat was already building, but something about this scene made me shiver.
Sean's business card burned in my pocket like a guilty secret. Three days since our encounter in the alley, and I still hadn't called. But standing here, looking at yet another crime scene that didn't quite fit normal parameters, I was starting to think I should have.
“Agent Cross.” Officer Rodriguez nodded as I approached, his face pale despite the heat. “Vic's name is Marcus Sullivan, 45. Investment banker. Cleaning lady found him in his home office this morning.”
I followed him up the marble steps, noting how the temperature seemed to drop with each step closer to the door. By the time we reached the entrance, my breath was almost visible. In July.
“AC's not even running,” Rodriguez said, catching my expression. “Whole place is just... wrong.”
The foyer was exactly what you'd expect from a successful Wall Street type, expensive art, antique furniture, everything screaming old money and good taste. But something felt off. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and the mark on my chest tingled unpleasantly.
“Office is upstairs,” Rodriguez continued, leading the way. “Fair warning, it's... weird.”
“Define weird.”
He hesitated at the top of the stairs. “Look, I've been on the force fifteen years. Seen all kinds of shit. But this?” He shook his head. “This is something else.”
The office door stood open, revealing a scene that made my stomach turn. Marcus Sullivan sat at his mahogany desk, perfectly posed like a mannequin. His skin was grey-white, drained of all color. His eyes were open, staring at nothing.
“No blood,” I noted, moving closer. “Anywhere.”
“That's just it,” Rodriguez said. “ME says he's completely drained. But there's no wounds, no entry points. It's like the blood just... vanished.”
I circled the desk, taking in details. The room was freezing despite summer sunshine streaming through the windows. The victim's laptop screen flickered erratically, and his smartphone's display was completely scrambled.
