It took a few months of working together before Mick caught on that I was different. Not only was I a quick learner—as in he only had to tell me once for me to get it—but I knew things, or should I say, I felt things. I’m not talking intuition, although I had plenty of that. I’m talking about unexplainable things, things that saved our asses on too many occasions to count. Each time it happened, Mick would give me a look. I knew he wanted to ask, but he never did. I tried to talk to him about it once, but he shut me down. Not because he didn’t want to hear it but because we both knew what would happen if it ever got out. Someone would blab about it and then I would be transferred to PHD. We liked to joke about the Paranormal Human Division, but the thought of ending up there scared the shit out of me. PHD was known as the death squad. Good cops went in, but they didn’t come out.
After busting an old man for urinating on the side of someone’s boat and a couple of teenagers smoking weed, we gave up on the docks and decided to head into the city. Luckily, Mick found a parking place on the street outside the Old City Jail, and we only had to walk a few blocks to get to the deli. Over bacon cheeseburgers and crinkle-cut fries, we listened to tips from the Bernster on how to up our game. Mick lasted ten whole minutes before he’d finally had enough, and told the asshat to shut the hell up. Normally, that was my job, but as I’d been warned to go easy on the rookies, I left it to Mick.
As I shoved the last ketchup-covered fry into my mouth, Bernie asked in a bored-sounding voice, “Where to now?”
Mick’s eyes snapped to mine, and his lips split into a calculated smile. “Bernster wants some action. I say we give him what he wants.” Yeah, Mick was officially done with Bernie.
Returning his smile, I suggested we patrol near Uni. Uni was short for Unitarian Church Graveyard. Hopefully, we would encounter a ghost there, or even better, a ghoul. Ghouls were harmless, but they sure as hell didn’t look that way. The thought of Bernster pissing his pants made me shiver with anticipatory glee.
“I told you to stop calling me that,” Bernie grumbled as we walked in the direction of Uni.
“Okay, Bernster,” Mick replied, and I tried not to laugh.
Three blocks from Uni, I spotted the little girl. She was standing in the entrance of an alleyway. Her hair was a mess of tangles, and she was dressed in ratty pj’s, but what caught my attention was her blood-covered body. She looked as if she’d bathed in it.
“Do you see her?” I quietly asked out of the corner of my mouth. I’d been known on occasion to see things that weren’t actually there. Or, should I say, things that were there for me but not Mick. Before making a fool of myself and chasing off after a ghost, I decided it was best to ask.
Bernie’s gasp of, “What the fuck?” answered my question.
“Don’t approach,” Mick warned before calling out to the little girl, “Hey there. Are you lost?”
“My mommy is hurt. Please, help her,” she tearfully responded.
It wasn’t until she spoke that my senses started to tingle. Her voice sounded like a child’s, but there was a certain weight to it, a depth that screamed of something else. Mick lurched forward, and I grabbed onto his sleeve to stop him from going to her. Bernie, who was out of my reach, shot past us in a mad dash.
“Bernie, no!” I screamed, but it was too late.
“What the hell was that?” Mick panted beside me.
“A trap. I need to go after him, are you good?”
“Yeah, shit, I don’t know what happened. I’ll go with you, just give me a second.” I knew exactly what happened. She’d trapped him with her voice. A five-year-old vampire siren, that’s all we needed running around our city.
I quickly explained the situation before concluding, “You’re susceptible. If that’s her thing, it’s highly likely she’ll do it again. I need you to stay here and call for backup.” Thankfully, he didn’t put up a fight. “Watch your back,” I told him as I unsnapped my holster and pulled out my gun. Aiming into the now dark alley, I raced after a man who didn’t know shit from Shinola about being a cop, much less how to kill a vampire. Fuck fucking Bernie!
I found the dumbass crouched next to what I assumed was the girl’s mother. On approach, I could see the glow of his flashlight directed at her face. It was a pale, waxen, creepy-looking face. She may have looked dead, but I knew better. It was hard to put into words. Death was like a void—a cold, balloon-like emptiness inside my head. I didn’t have to see a dead person to know they were deceased because I could feel it. Life was the opposite. It was like stepping into a puddle of sunshine and feeling the warm glow of it all the way down to my bones. Vampires weren’t cold, nor warm, but somewhere in between. Some made my senses tingle, like when a hand or foot falls asleep, while others felt more like tiny ants crawling across my skin. The older the vampire, the stronger the feeling. This one must have been old as dirt because I felt as if I had an entire colony marching up and down my spine.
My heart slammed against my chest as I trained my gun
