Solving the Vampire Murders

forty-seven

Mandy ran.

Bare feet skating across cold tiles and polished concrete, upstairs and through doors with Torren clutched to her chest. Even though he was taller and broader than she was, his body felt like a child in her arms. Limp with sleep.

There were a few things she knew were true. The first was that Torren couldn't be dead. His coloring wasn't the pale gray and purplish-blue she remembered her father's being. The second was that his heart wasn't beating. Its comforting rhythm silent.

So Mandy ran. Ran with the anger she'd come to know. Ran with Torren's head tucked under her chin.

Faris didn't have to throw open the flat paneled doors to the upstairs pool lounge because they were hanging limply off the hinges. Smoke and screams coming from inside.

"We can't take Torren in there!" Mandy screeched over the commotion. "It's not safe."

"You're right, of course." Faris ran a hand through his tangled hair. He was dirty and dusty and looked more tired than Mandy had ever seen.

A bolt of fire shot through the open doors, and Mandy turned away from the heat. Shielding Torren's body with her own. "The Coven Calling room. There's a couch."

Faris weaved around the doors and into the side passageway where Clint held Coven meetings. Very few places inside Medea's Sin weren't protected by security locks, given their secretive lifestyle. Luckily, the fighting hadn't spilled out into the hallway and into this more private space.

Mandy placed Torren's body on the leather couch, propping his head up on a pillow. Faris darted to the bar and grabbed a bottle of red wine and a clean bar towel. "I can clean the cut, but I don't have anything to stitch up the wound," he complained, dabbing Torren's neck with the cloth.

Mandy watched Faris intently as he wiped away the dried blood. This wasn't how Torren and Faris were supposed to meet. This day was so fucked up. Everything was wrong.

Faris set the cloth and the bottle of wine down. Green eyes bright behind long lashes. "Thank you," Mandy said. Even though she couldn't make tears, it still felt like they were falling down her cheeks—the phantom memory of their once red hot trail.

"I haven't done nearly enough. I need to find one of his compatriots and convince them to help us."

Mandy stood. "I'll do it. I'll find Jones. She was the most capable one in the group. She'll know what to do."

"Let me go, Mandy, please. It's Dante's Inferno in there. I can't—"

"You keep Torren safe. Try whatever you can to bring him back. Set up your beakers and Bunsen burners or whatever."

Faris cracked a dull smile. "How can you make a joke at a time like this?"

Mandy tried to put on a brave face. "I don't know. Defense mechanism or something? I'll be back as soon as I can."

She turned to leave, but Faris snatched her hand. Pulling her close. "Don't die," he whispered. Pressing the softest of kisses to her lips. A barely-there touch that managed to leave her breathless.

"Too late."

With one last look at Torren, Mandy broke free of Faris's arms and ran from the room, searching for Jones.

What she found was mayhem. Practitioners she hadn't met had joined up with the others. Five coven members still loyal to Clint were on their feet. Mandy almost stepped on Luca's lifeless body in the confusion. His head had been torn clean off his shoulders.

Dodging spells and water and whatever else the random magicians threw at her, Mandy felt hope slipping away.

"Over here! Help!"