Melanie
Even though the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, Melanie remained blissfully out of its lethal rays as Caitlyn drove her to the station. Anxiety and fear had become an unhealthy cocktail, and her stomach was queasy after gorging on too much bottled blood.
Today was D-day, time for her to prove she could be a functioning member of P.I.T. without going postal and attacking anyone. Not that she had attacked just anybody last time. She’d had a major crush on Ricky since she’d first joined P.I.T. and laid eyes on him, but the warlock had been totally out of her league. Long, raven-coloured hair, haunting eyes so green they were almost emerald, a smile that was devilishly teasing, and a bad-boy attitude that oozed sex appeal. There was an untamed wildness caged behind that smile, and Melanie had been eager to explore it.
What was the line in that song? Always been a sucker for a wild boy?
But that was before she had died. She liked to ignore what’d happened before Caitlyn had been forced to make her a vampire. The torture, the complete and utter feeling of helplessness, the overwhelming shame and fear as she had screamed while Stephen Donnelly sliced through her skin until blade kissed bone. Melanie shivered at the memories - memories that sometimes jerked her awake, clutching her stomach as if Donnelly had come back to end her a second time.
“Are you okay?”
Caitlyn’s voice pulled her from the flashes of memory, and Melanie angled her head so she could look at the drop-dead gorgeous vampire sitting next to her. Caitlyn exuded an elegant grace that couldn’t be bought, reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe, Grace Kelly, or Audrey Hepburn. Waves of inky black curls cascaded to just below her shoulders, framing a perfectly proportioned face. But what Melanie had always found most captivating were Caitlyn’s almost-black eyes. On a good day, they were slate grey. On days when her emotions were high, they seemed to take on the same dark shade as her hair, a perpetual lagoon that beckoned you closer.
“I’m good,” Melanie replied, but the tremble in her voice belied the calm she was trying to trick her body into feeling.
“Melanie,” Caitlyn said, her tone light and comforting—a tone which Melanie once would not have thought possible from the vampire who appeared cold to most people. “No one would think less of you if you took more time to ready yourself. It has been a mere heartbeat since you became undead. Time will always be on your side.”
Melanie shrugged. “I need to prove to myself that I can do it, you know? And with Donnie gone, it sounds like they need all the help they can get, even if they picked the short straw with me.”
Caitlyn steered into her parking space and shut the car’s engine off. Twisting in her seat, she turned her full attention to her protégée. “You are not ‘the short straw’ as you say, d’accord? You have learned well over the past few weeks. You can do this. Are you afraid that you will have another reaction such as the one you had with Ricky?”
“I don’t think so. I mean, not really. I’m kinda embarrassed like.”
Slipping on a dark pair of glasses, Caitlyn turned to gaze out the window. “When I awoke into my second life, I was crazed by bloodlust and sexual hunger. The two came as a ruthless partnership. My maker wanted me to be a killer, to bathe in blood and revel in the high sex brought afterwards. My life as a human was mundane and perfect. My life as a vampire, crazed with power and prestige, sucked away all the joy of my human life. For someone so new to this life, the control you have displayed is awe inspiring. I must admit to being jealous that you have managed to learn in six weeks what took me decades to master.”
Caitlyn rarely spoke of her time before Cork. For her to be sharing even the tiniest snippet with Melanie made her feel special, wanted. It meant a great deal to Melanie because goddammit, Caitlyn would not have chosen to make her if it had been avoidable.
“I think it’s nerves. People who knew me as a human will now see me undead—fangs n’ all. I saw how people acted around you, Donnie, and Derek. Will that be my life now? People terrified I’m gonna go Hannibal Lecter on their asses?”
With a hand on the door handle, Caitlyn whispered softly, “People fear what they do not understand. Once, it was humans of different coloured skins, or religions that dared differ from theirs. Nowadays, humans fear the supernatural even though most of us roamed the earth before them. Were you not scared of us when you started working alongside us?”
Melanie shifted in her seat. “Of course I was. You all had the ability to rip out my throat without breaking a sweat.” Thinking more about how she’d previously felt, she added, “This conversation isn’t comforting me at all.”
“I did not mean to comfort you, Melanie. I was merely stating facts.”
Truth.
Again, her new lie-detector skills kicked in. She had gained the ability to decipher truth from lie by taste—a sickly sweet taste for a truth, bitter and nasty for a lie. All her human life, Melanie had sought to be different, to be more than she was. Now she was a walking, talking lie detector. At times, she wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not.
“Let’s go in. You will feel better once you are surrounded by the team.”
“Can you give me a second? I need to do this by myself.”
The older vampire uttered no other words, she simply slipped from the car and disappeared moments later inside the station.
Melanie sat back, banging her head against the headrest. Come on, Newton, get it together. You can do this…
Sliding from the car, Melanie hissed as faint rays of sun hit her face and her skin sizzled slightly. Ducking under the cover of the archway leading into the station, Melanie self-consciously assessed her clothing situation. Caitlyn had given her access to her accounts, and by God, the vampire was loaded. Not wanting to go overboard, Melanie had chosen necessities, holding off on a splurge until she could afford to buy her own stuff. She’d already been living rent-free at Caitlyn’s since becoming a vampire, and Melanie was used to fending for herself. Being undead wasn’t going to change that.
Shredded denim jeans, torn at the knees and various other places, clung to her legs. A River Song Wouldn't Stand For This Shit tee hung loose around her body, topped by a cropped, black denim jacket rolled up to the elbows. She’d shoved her feet into a pair of well-worn, black Timberlands. Maybe this wasn’t the best work attire, but it was something she would have always worn. The only things missing were the thick-rimmed glasses that she no longer needed.
Rolling back her shoulders, Melanie had finally resolved to head in when the back door opened and Derek Doyle popped his head around it, grinning.
“You going to stay out here all day or come give me a hug?”
Laughing, Melanie enveloped herself in his muscular arms, safe in the knowledge that Derek wasn’t as breakable as others. He smelled like the woods, all piney and crisp. Derek had been one of those who’d helped her train, who’d taught her how to defend herself and how to use her new supernatural speed to her advantage.
When she stepped out of Derek’s warm embrace, Melanie shoved her hands into her pockets. Derek held open the door for her, and she ducked under his arm. Immediately, the scents overwhelmed her. She could smell all of them, tell who had showered this morning and who hadn’t bothered in days. The repugnant odours flowed up her nose, and she gagged. Stumbling back, Melanie felt Derek’s hand on her shoulder.
“Ride it out. Trick your mind into accepting the smells as normal, everyday. Exhale the breath you just took and count to ten. That’s it. Remember, there’s no need for you to inhale.”
Derek’s voice soothed her, and she followed his instructions. After a few minutes, the scents became tolerable, and she considered Derek’s advice, reminding her not to breathe in. That one was hard sometimes—learning to forget to breathe simply because you didn’t need to anymore.
“Thanks,” Melanie murmured with gratitude. “Don’t tell Caitlyn, okay? She’s stressed out enough without worrying more about me. I promise to not go on a workplace rampage if I can help it.”
“Damn. And here I was, hoping you’d be the entertainment today, take some attention from me.”
“Deerrrek! That’s not even funny,” she whined.
“C’mon, we got work to do. Nice T-shirt by the way.”
He took off at a quick pace, and Melanie trailed after him, concentrating on not breathing.
One foot in front of the other. Don’t breathe. One foot in front of the other. Don’t breathe. Don’t think of anything but walking with one foot in front of the other… and don’t breathe.
She repeated the mantra inside her head until Derek pushed open the door to the P.I.T. office and stepped inside. Grinding her teeth, Melanie followed after him. Everyone turned to look at her—everyone, that was, apart from Ricky. He was studying whatever was on his desk as if it were the Holy Grail or the key to finding Atlantis.
Sarge gave her a big smile as he came over to her. She could hear the rapid thumping of his heart, smell the rancid, beary scent of him. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, Melanie. We certainly could use your help.”
“Glad to be back, Sir. Happy to help.”
He chuckled. “Now that you’re a full member of the team, you get to call me Sarge.”
“Sure, Sir—I mean, Sarge. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”
Sarge winked as he said, “You’ve got time.”
Caitlyn came to stand by her as she fidgeted with the hem of her tee. Ricky had yet to spare her a glance, and for some reason, she felt a little angry. Even Erika had inclined her head to Melanie as she stuck pictures up on a board—pictures that made Melanie grateful she had no stomach to be sick.
“Right lads, on the board is Grayce Chin. Grayce was a twenty-three-year-old student from China, and a Draco—rare and precious in her family. No skin, flesh, blood, or DNA remained, although Anna was able to confirm ID using dental records. She’s been dead all of two days.”
Melanie’s jaw hit the ground in shock. Two days? Poor girl. Yanking on her big-girl pants, Melanie jutted her chin into the air and stalked to her desk. A phone, tablet, and laptop awaited her. She hesitated, slouching into her chair as Derek continued to speak.
“This is the first instance of a crime like this in Cork, but after a few phone calls I found something similar that occurred in Galway, and before that, two in London. This unsub leaves no clues, nothing behind to suggest he’s been there apart from abrasions to the pelvis.”
Oh yeah, Melanie was thrilled she had no stomach.
“All girls were in their early- to mid-twenties. All victims were from rare breeds of supernatural families, or so we’ve been led to believe. I have a conference call with a detective in London shortly. Melanie, can you go through the Grayce’s laptop, see if you can pull anything from it—any dates she may have gone on, or where she might have been the last few days?”
“Can do,” Melanie confirmed, opening the laptop and checking the phone at the same time.
Nothing unusual was on the phone. It was a run-of-the-mill Android with none of the backup-to-cloud services that an iPhone would have. This girl would have had to connect her phone to her laptop to remove any data. She nosed through the girl’s pictures, sadness pricking her as she looked at pictures of a pretty Asian woman, smiling and laughing with her friends. No sign of any particular male. They all seemed to be a close-knit group. Nobody stood out.
Caitlyn and Erika were deep in conversation when Melanie dared to glance up from the phone. Derek and Sarge seemed to be arguing over in the corner, neither of them audible despite her supernatural hearing. She only guessed they were angry as both their faces were contorted into ugly snarls.
She missed Donnie. If he were here right now, he’d be peering over her shoulder, joking with her and making her feel at ease. The tension in the room, thick and layered, made her squirm in her seat. Where the hell was Donnie? Was he even okay?
Ricky rose from his seat and turned around, giving her his back. She gasped. His hair! What had happened to his hair?
“What did you do to your hair?” She hadn’t meant to speak her thought aloud, but sometimes her mouth worked of its own accord.
The tension rose as Ricky pivoted to face her, his cheek tinged a little red. All eyes watched them not so subtly.
Yeesh, they really expect me to jump his bones, don’t they?
Ricky reached around and rubbed the back of his neck. “It caught fire. No big deal. I needed a trim anyways.”
Laughter bubbled inside her chest as she struggled to keep a straight face. “You set your hair on fire?”
“It’s in better condition than the couch.”
Melanie giggled. It was such a typical girl sound that it surprised her. At that, everyone went back to doing what they had been doing before her outburst.
Ricky rested his cute butt on his desk. “You okay?”
“Sure. Things are still just a little hard to process.”
“Well,” he smiled, “you know where I am if you need anything, Melanie.”
Wait, what? He’d never once called her Melanie, not since they’d first met a couple of years ago. Did he see her as different now? Did he think that she was less than human? His eyebrows lifted, and she realized she was growling.
Holding up a hand in apology, she turned back to the laptop. Password locked. One thing Melanie had always been aware of was her mad skills with a computer. After years and years of solitude at home, computers and those on dark-net sites had become her friends. It would only take her a little while to figure out how to get around the password.
Feeling someone watching her, Melanie lifted her head and caught Caitlyn studying her. The other vampire raised a brow, and Melanie nodded. Caitlyn was checking in on her.
“Any luck with the laptop?”
The husky tone of Ricky’s voice sent shivers down her spine. She had heard him sing with the same husky tone, and she understood why many a woman had gone to bed with him. Those emerald eyes held hers now, and she thought back to the day she had first laid eyes on Ricky Moore.
Her palms were sweaty as she wiped them against her jeans. Nervous tension had built up while she waited to see the man in charge—or would that be monster? Melanie guessed the fact she wasn’t cuffed had to be a bonus. It wasn’t every day a nineteen-year-old hacker got rumbled logging into government records and posting them on her anonymous website. The fact she was sitting here, awaiting her punishment, suggested Melanie hadn’t been anonymous enough.
The room she waited in was small, littered with untidy desks, and had only one teeny tiny window. She had been placed behind a desk by a good-looking man who’d introduced himself as Agent Doyle and told her to wait for Sargent Delaney. That had been like forty-five minutes ago. Her mouth had long-ago gone dry, and her foot tapped against the ground restlessly.
Finally, the door flung open and in walked someone who could not have been Sargent Delany. Dressed head to toe in black, rivers of inky, shoulder-length hair tumbled down the man’s shoulders. A thick line of stubble curved from his chin, circling full lips and striding into a clipped beard. He wore a Linkin Park tee, and he smiled when he caught sight of her.
“Oh Goldilocks, who’s been sitting in my chair?”
His voice was so smooth it clenched her stomach… and other places… and Melanie sprang from the chair, shoving her thick frames up her nose.
“I’m sorry. Agent Doyle told me to sit and wait here. I can sit somewhere else while I wait.”
The man’s smile only widened, wicked and sinful. “Goldilocks, you can’t be the infamous hacker that Sarge has been griping about for months. You’re too pretty to be a nerd.”
“Goldilocks isn’t my name. It’s Melanie.”
“Lanie, I like that. Tell me, Lanie, how does a respectful-looking girl like you end up on the wrong end of the law? Come on, pretty lady, tell me your story.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she refused to answer him.
He moved away from the entrance and came to stand by her, next to his desk. “C’mon Lanie. You really gonna shut me down without even getting to know me? I’m known to be quite charming, ya’ know?”
Oh, she didn’t doubt that. Bad boys had always been her thing—boys that she went out with, drove stolen cars with, and drank with, in order to glean some sort of response from her parents. But something told her if she went after this bad boy, it would be more than her heart that would be broken.
“I’m just going to wait for Sargent Delany if you don’t mind.”
“Babe, you don’t want to wait for Sarge. He’s not as handsome or as charming as me.”
Frustrating, that’s what he was. “Don’t you have to be stupid somewhere else?”
The gorgeous man glanced at his watch and flashed her a blinding smile. “Nope, not until four.”
Melanie groaned, covering her face in her hands. What had she done to deserve this?
The door opened once again, and a greying older man strode into the room. “Ms. Newton, sorry for keeping you, but I see Agent Moore has been keeping you company.”
The man, Agent Moore, continued to grin, and Melanie resisted the urge to slap him.
“The name’s Ricky. I’m sure you won’t forget. I look forward to working with ya’, Lanie.”
He swept from the room, and Melanie tried to focus on what he’d just said as well as the words Sargent Delaney was saying as he made Melanie an offer she couldn’t refuse.
“Melanie, you with us?”
Derek’s voice was laced with worry.
“I’m good, sorry. Just need a bit to get into the computer. It’s password protected.”
Derek nodded and returned to his own work. Ricky had gone back to staring at his paperwork. She wanted the Ricky who constantly teased her, who drew a response from her that no other person ever had. She wanted the man who had whispered in her ear, “The first time you sink those pretty little fangs into my neck, I wanna be inside you, too.”
And if it killed her—again, that is—she was going to get him back.