"Nancy Sinister"

[dochermes]

"Nancy Sinister"

10/21/- 10/22/2008

The doorbell rang at ten to eleven that night, and Bane jumped up off the couch. He was surprised because he had kept the location of his apartment relatively private and he had never had more than a handful of visitors. This was unexpected. As it happened, he had been doing nothing more interesting than sorting out clippings about mysterious events from various newspapers. He was fully dressed except for his boots, which he slipped on, and his sportjacket which he grabbed from the back of the couch as he moved to the door. Bane had an excited gleam in his grey eyes, he thought this could mean excitement in one way or another.

On top of the bookcase by the door to the hall was a 12" black and white monitor getting signals from the tiny camera he had concealed outside. Bane pushed the ON button and studied the image. Right outside his door stood a single person, with no one else in sight. White male about thirty, well-dressed in a charcoal grey suit with white shirt and black tie, neat short haircut, in good athletic trim. Bane's training let him observe from the way the man stood that he was carrying a gun behind the right hip, but he also saw that the man's body language indicated no immediate threat was intended.

In a relaxed ready stance from which he could react in any direction, Bane unfastened the chain and unlocked the bolt and kicked the rubber wedge away before he could open the door. "Yeah?"

"Mr Bane. You haven't met me before, but here's my ID." The man held out his wallet and Bane took it without taking a wary eye off the visitor. The wallet held a laminated card with a picture and a thumbprint. UNITED STATES DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE - MANDATE 2319A. STANLEY M POWELL. The Dire Wolf tilted the card and saw it had the hologram of the Great Seal at an angle, then handed it back to Powell.

"The Mandate, eh? Your agency and I have a bit of a history," he said coldly.

"It's not a business where anyone can trust anyone," answered Powell. "My chief sent me to ask you to come to our facility tonight."

"And why would I do that?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that. He did say you would be interested in what you find."

Bane hesitated for only a few seconds. It had been a slack week at the Dire Wolf agency, with not even a hint of an interesting case. He got bored too easily for his own good. "All right," he said. "Let me turn out the lights." He still had his 38 holstered behind his left hip from when he had come home and the matched silver daggers were as always sheathed on his forearms beneath his sleeves.

Powell waited in the hall. As Bane met him, closing the door which clicked and buzzed as the alarms became armed, the Mandate agent said, "We've known about this apartment from the start, of course."

"Of course," Bane replied, not happy with the remark but not terribly surprised. It was only his emergency hideway down in Chinatown that he had tried to keep completely secret.

"But you have done such excellent work for us over the years, despite our frequent disagreements, that the Council didn't want to bother you at home before. Tonight is urgent."

"All right, I've already taken the bait." As he preceded the agent down the stairs, the Dire Wolf knew there was actually no decision to be made. He didn't owe the Mandate anything, he had carried out assignments because he had wanted to, not because he worked for them, and more than once they had tried to leave him holding the bag. But he also knew he had to find out what would make those cold devious spymasters send an agent for them this time.

At the first floor, another agent stood just inside the front door. He looked quite a bit like Powell, just ten years older and with lines of cynicism marking a bitter mouth. The two men nodded to each other. Bane stood between them as the older agent opened the door. Parked two spaces down on Third Avenue was a black Lincoln with tinted windows. Just once, thought Bane, just once I'd like to see these spooks show up in a canary yellow VW Bug. Never happen. Powell opened the back door and the Dire Wolf obligingly got in. The car smelled brand new. As the two agents got up front, the older one driving, Bane said, "What can you guys tell me on the way?"

"Nothing," Powell answered. "You'll be briefed when appropriate."

"Fair enough," Bane said. He watched as they headed east and then south, rolling past the United Nations building. With a faint smile, he saw the incognito headquarters of INTERCEPT and wondered if the two organizations had ever clashed. Most likely. STIGMA had been reported active lately as well, the Wu Lung branch up to no good. Manhattan is crawling with secret organizations these days, Bane reflected. The FBI's own Department 21 Black had called on him a month ago about reported Ghouls. Who else was running around the city tonight? Basilisk? The White Web?

They reached what looked like just another office building, a rectangle of chrome and glass windows reaching up eleven stories, set back from 1st Avenue by its own parking lot. The Mandate agent turned in and pulled up to a guard booth which had a horizontal metal bar protruding to block their path and suddenly put the car in park. "Trouble," the older agent growled.

Bane had already spotted the body and was out of the car moving toward it. The head and one arm of a middle-aged man hung out of the open window of the guard booth. The Dire Wolf sought a pulse at the exposed throat and brought up his fingers with blood on them. As the two Mandate agents came up behind him, Bane tilted the dead man's head to show two ragged holes on the throat with blood smeared around them. "Still wet," he said. "Let's get inside."

The three of them headed for the main entrance, wide glass doors under a chrome plaque that read WORLDWIDE LITERACY DRIVE with a drawing of an open book behind a globe. Powell yanked on one of the doors and was visibly surprised to find it unlocked. The lobby had tiled floors and marble walls, two elevators side by side and a semi-circular desk with an empty chair behind it. Bane flashed around that desk and found another corpse... a big muscular man in a dark blue uniform, gun still in holster. The same bite marks were on his neck.

"Just what were you fellows holding here?" Bane snapped. "Tell me you're not trying to capture vampires!"

Powell had drawn his gun, a Smith & Wesson .45 revolver, and he held it in both hands. "I can't understand why no alarm went off. The prisoner must have escaped just as we were pulling up." He picked up the phone on the desk and slammed the receiver down angrily. "Dead. The prisoner knew just what lines to cut."

The older agent had stepped over to the elevator and pushed the button to summon the cage. "Report to Control first, find out the situation. That's our next move."

As the three of them stood together, the elevator door slid open with a ding. There was another corpse in there, lying on the floor face up. It was a young woman in a white blouse and dark blue skirt, her black hair clotted with blood.

"Robin," said the older agent. "She worked in Records. I didn't know her except to say hello in the hall. Three casualties! And how many more?" He knelt and gently checked but she was of course dead. The other elevator opened and Agent Powell said, "Come on, Pratt. We have to hurry and see what's going on."

"Yes, of course." He joined them in the elevator. Bane watched as Powell pressed the button for the top floor, held it down and then pushed the basement button as well. A chime sounded and the cage descended, even though they were on the ground floor and went down at least three levels."You shouldn't be seeing this," he told the Dire Wolf, "but these are extraordinary circumstances."

The elevator door opened to reveal a hall of gleaming stainless steel lit by red bulbs in the ceiling. Powell held up his ID card and swung it from side to side, and a series of clicks sounded. They headed quickly down the hall to a metal door that had no identifying sign on it, just a red light bulb over its top. As they approached, the bulb switched to bright green and the door opened. The three men entered an old-fashioned office with booklined walls, comfortable armchairs, a deep plush rug and a cherrywood desk topped with IN and OUT baskets. Behind it sat a man Bane recognized with shock.

II.

The ferocious blue eyes fixed on Bane with the intensity of a hawk sighting a rabbit. The shaggy head of hair was more grey than black now, and the narrow face was furrowed but the man was still instantly recognizable. He had always been thin, and now he had lost weight to the point where he seem frail beneath the well tailored suit, but the enormous will and discipline still burned almost visibly. "Powell, Pratt. Wait outside. I will call you in shortly."

Left alone with the man, Jeremy Bane took a seat in front of the desk without waiting for an invitation. "I have to say, THIS is unexpected."

Seth Petrov gave a wicked grin. "Heh. It has been many years since we last tried to kill each other. No hard feelings, I trust?"

"No. I guess not. We were playing the game, just on opposite sides. And our fight could have gone either way."

"Good. You are becoming realistic, Dire Wolf. You are surprised to see me here. Yet I am not Director of the Mandate, merely the Supervisor of the New York branch. My experience in the Midnight War makes me qualified and my, shall we say, misdeeds of years gone by? They were pardoned in exchange for my service." Seth straightened up slowly and Bane saw discomfort every time the man moved.

Looking at the gnarled hands, seeing Seth wince as he leaned back, Bane thought he understood. "Rheumatoid arthritis."

"I suppose I can't hide it anymore. Yes. My days as a gladiator are behind me now." He made a growling noise. "Ironic, isn't it? Training my body since infancy for speed and strength, and then my body starts consuming itself."

"It just happens," Bane said. "There's no reason for it. Listen, back to business. The three dead people we passed on our way in here...?"

Seth let out a deep exhalation. "Eleven were killed in total. Our agents are cleaning up now. Within a few minutes, no trace of the deaths will remain. When the subject escaped, she did more damage than was really necessary."

"Now we come to the important issue. The bodies I saw had two bite marks on the throat and blood smeared all over. What exactly was this subject?"

For a long moment, Seth Petrov did not answer. Just as Bane was about to repeat the question, the former Weapons Master said, "Something new. Something extremely dangerous. A living vampire."

"A what?! Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"

"I would have thought so, too," Seth muttered. "The Mandate has captured some of the Undead over the years. There's not much to learn from them, we usually destroy them right away. But this latest subject is an anomaly in every way. A living breathing Human with vampire traits. Our scientists were unreasonably excited. Maybe they relaxed their security procedures. In any case, in the interval since Powell and Pratt went to fetch you, the subject slaughtered almost a dozen men and women to escape."

Bane could not hide the feral gleam in his eyes but he kept his voice steady. "Tell me more. Everything."

"Just a second." Seth thumbed a button on the side of his desk and said, "Agents Powell and Pratt, come back in." As the two men entered the office and came over to stand behind the chair where Bane sat, Seth Petrov began again, "We have not been able to get a positive ID on the subject from any databanks. She refers to herself as 'Nancy Sinister' and we have adopted that name for lack of a better one. Nor does she photograph. The best we can get is a vague blur on film that is useless. The subject is a white female, apparent age 17. Height five feet three, weight one hundred and five pounds, slim build. Straight black hair, currently at shoulder length. Red irises. Speaks with basic American accent, most likely East Coast above Virginia."

None of the three men reacted and Seth continued, "The Mandate only had her in custody for twelve hours after she was caught by chance while crouched over a victim behind a restaurant. We did not have time to establish any abilities or traits she might possess, other than enhanced strength and speed, as well as accelerated healing and resistance to injury. Her upper canines somehow lengthen when she feeds. She does drink blood in the traditional vampire method. Yet she is a living human with a pulse and respiratory cycle and metabolism. Sunlight does not affect her. Nor do holy objects."

Seth stood up, rather stiffly, and raised an admonishing finger. "This rather small teenage girl was unarmed and unaided when she broke out of this high-security facility. She killed eleven capable adults doing so, several of whom were armed. Gentlemen, she is out there in the night right now. I tell you that no one in Manhattan is safe tonight!"

Knowing a cue when he heard one, Bane rose and tugged his jacket down. "I'm on it. I'll report as soon as I have news."

"Agent Powell will work with you," Seth told him firmly. "Pratt, I'll need you here to re-establish security."

"Not this again." Bane raised his hands, palms out in a dismissive gesture. "Honestly, you should realize I get best results by myself. Let me get to work my own way, Seth."

"Then Powell and Pratt will simply tail you. That will hamper your style more than just co-operating would."

The Dire Wolf stood silent for a long moment, then gave in. "All right. I think it's a mistake but having your men following me would give me away even worse. Come on, Powell, we might as well use a Mandate car."

III.


On a side street off 36th Street, a small figure flattened in a doorway as a car rolled past. She was wearing only a white hospital gown, knee length and open in the back, and this would never do. Nancy Sinister kept to the shadows as much as possible, but she felt much too visible. Across the street she saw a Salvation Army store and rushed over to it. This would help. Skulking around to the rear of the building, she smashed her bare hand through a glass panel of the back door and opened it. A silent alarm had certainly been set off, she must be quick. Moving confidently through the darkness, she snatched up clothing without hesitation. A long dark raincoat. A pair of faded jeans with the knees out. A man's red-checked flannel shirt. Throwing the hospital gown aside, she put on these clothes and started for the door. There, a pair of tan cowboy boots that looked about right. Comfort was not a requirement.

She tugged them on and leaped out the back door, running across the street with the raincoat flapping behind her. It was all she could do not to laugh loudly, she felt so good. So much blood tonight! The stolen lifeforce roared through her body like liquid fire. The night belonged to her.

As she stood on the corner, a white Nissan Sentra came to a halt and a man wound down the passenger side window. "Hey, you need a lift?"

"Sure," she answered, fighting down a wild laugh. She opened the door and jumped in. Jazz was playing on the stereo system and she could smell beer. "Maybe we could go for a little ride."

The man smiled in the faint light from the dashboard. He looked about fifty, overweight but well dressed. "Why not? You know, maybe we could help each other out. Know what I mean?" One meaty hand dropped to her leg and slid up and down her thigh. Nancy struggled not to growl. This man thought she was a streetwalker, she realized.

"There's a good spot," the man said. A darkened section of the street with no one in sight. He eased up to the curb and turned the engine off. A click sounded as he undid his seatbelt. "I was thinking you could use forty dollars--" was all he managed to say before she yanked his head to one side and plunged her teeth into his neck like sabres. He gasped and convulsed but was helpless against the inhuman strength in her tiny hands. For a few minutes, there were only hideous sucking noises and the empty sigh of a body as life left it.

Nancy Sinister raised her head, licking her lips and trying not to howl at the night. She was burning with life and strength now. Wiping her chin with her hand, she licked that hand clean and chuckled to herself. Time to get going. The living vampire jumped out of the car, circled around and opened the driver's side door. With one hand, she hauled the dead man out and dragged him up onto the curb to toss him into an alley like a mere bundle of rags. "Not what you were hoping for?" she said out loud and cackled. On second thought, she went through his pockets and found a hundred dollars in twenties. Getting back into the Nissan, she started up the car and pulled out onto Lexington Avenue. It was only one o'clock in the morning, much could happen yet before dawn.

Heading south, her head started to clear. Too much blood too quickly seemed to cloud her thinking, she realized. It was like getting drunk. She would have to learn her limits. At she reached 12th Street, Nancy pulled into an empty spot and looked around. The dried blood in her mouth was getting thick, that was another drawback... once she got organized, she would have to carry mouthwash or gum or something. Getting out of the car and taking the keys with her, she started walking. Courtney and Garret had their apartment somewhere around here, she had been to it twice although she called Courtney constantly to chat. Yes. There was the building, an old red brick structure with a front door that had been freshly painted. Pulling her raincoat around her slim body, the living vampire stared up at the corner window on the fifth floor. Not only were the lights on, she spotted Courtney walking past it. Perfect.

Nancy pressed the white button that said 2B WALSH-HARMON and a second later, a woman's voice said, "Yes?"

"Hi, Courtney, it's Nancy. Can I come in?"

"Nancy? What are you doing out this time- oh, sure, come right up." The door lock buzzed and she opened it to trot up the stairs. Again she was gleeful. Folklore said that vampires could not enter a residence without being invited. She didn't know if it was true or not, but certainly rules like that would not apply to her. She was the first of her kind, Princess of Darkness. Uncle Ezra had no idea what he had unleashed on the world.

IV.

In a section of the parking lot toward the rear was a row of six new Lincoln Impressions, all black, all gleaming as if they had been waxed just seconds earlier. Powell had signed for a set of keys for Number Three for the next twenty-four hours and he unlocked the doors as they approached it. Bane was trying to resign himself to working with a partner for the case. He disliked the idea, and yet it would be more trouble to have two Mandate agents following him and getting in the way. Scowling, he got in the passenger seat and buckled up.

Powell got behind the wheel and backed out to head toward the exit on 35th Street. "So. I expected you would want to examine the scene where the prisoner was being held."

"Your boys have already started to clean. I doubt if I would find anything useful." Bane glanced over at the agent. "You seem to be taking all this well. Most people would be struggling to accept the idea of vampires being real."

"Huh, well I've been with the Mandate for six years. I've seen some things. When I signed up fresh out of college, I figured there was no genuine supernatural, just maybe some psychic abilities or obscure phenomena that could be explained with investigation. I learned better. Now I've seen the Midnight War," he said almost sadly.

Bane said, "Let's start by going to where your group captured this 'Nancy Sinister.' What a name."

"All right." Agent Powell made a right at the next light and started heading south. "Down by Washington Square. You know, Mr Bane, you have quite a reputation. I hear our supervisors mention calling you in for something particularly sticky and they sound impressed. I understand you've been in the Midnight War for years."

"Feels like forever. Look, we're going to be working together, might as well be on a first name basis. You call me Jeremy, I'll call you Stan. Deal?" Before the agent could answer, a soft beeping came from the Dire Wolf's belt. He unclipped his Link and said, "Hello. Yes. Okay, go ahead." For the next few minutes, he made only non-commital noises as he listened. "Got it. I'm already out on the streets as it happens. I'll keep an eye out. Thanks, lieutenant, I'll keep you informed."

Powell turned his head quizzically but didn't ask. Bane said, "That was the NYPD. A body has been found dumped in an alley on 32nd and Lexington, two bite marks on the neck. The man has been identified, and his car is nowhere nearby. If we go to the scene, we will have to deal with CSI and red tape and questions. Listen. Turn over to Lexington and keep going to where the vampire was caught. We are looking for a 2008 white Nissan Sentra, license BRD 8991."

"The police fill you in on crime scenes?" Powell sounded amazed.

"They use me the same way the Mandate does," Bane answered. He was peering at every car within sight. "Keep an eye out for that Nissan. I'm going on the chance that our target just killed the man, stole his car and started heading toward her neighborhood... and that's only based on the idea that she was caught near where she lives, so this is not a sure thing."

Powell said nothing, but drove slowly. At 13th Street, he said, "That looks like it," and came to a stop. Traffic was light and no one was behind him. "White Nissan Sentra."

"Good! Find a parking spot if you can and join me," Bane snapped as he jumped out of the car and ran over to the Nissan. The plate number matched. Peering in, he saw what looked like blood on the headrest of the driver's seat. He pulled out his Link and called Lt Montez' private phone. "Hi. Bane here, I'm standing on 12th and Lexington, next to that Nissan. Plates match. No, I haven't touched it. Okay."

As Agent Powell trotted up, Bane told him, "The cops are on their way. I take it you'll notify your organization?"

"Yes. The Mandate will take over, we're a federal agency after all. The police don't like it but that's the chain of command."

The Dire Wolf slowly turned around, checking the area. "I'm going to prowl the neighborhood. I should be back in a few minutes. Call your team if you want." He took off at a run, silent and difficult to spot in the night in his black outfit. Left behind, Stanley Powell got his cell phone out and grumbled as he dialed headquarters.

Rounding the corner, the Dire Wolf got out his Link and patched into the phone service. He had wanted to contact his sources without being overheard, and first he called his best source. "Bleak? Hi, sorry to wake you."

"I was already up. Still nocturnal after all these years. What's the situation?"

"Crazier than usual. I'm working with the Mandate- for the moment at least. A teenage girl they describe as a living vampire has killed at least a dozen people and is on the loose. You know more about vampires than every other expert combined."

"I should," came the characteristically sour reply. "A living vampire, huh? By that, they mean a flesh and blood human who breathes but who has vampire traits?"

Bane slowed as he talked, glancing suspiciously around him. "That's how I understand it. Some of the powers of the Undead but not the weaknesses. Ever hear of such a thing?"

"It's happened," Bleak said. "Everything has been done before. But it's rare. It takes a pretty skilled sorcerer to cast the original Vampirism spell on a live person to get that effect."

"The Vampirism spell?"

"Sure. You haven't read about it? I'm surprised. On Ulgor during the Corruption, when the Midnight War started. Someone was taught the Vampirism spell by the Sulla Chun, which is why we've had to deal with the goddam bloodsuckers ever since."

The Dire Wolf had come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. "I guess I'm behind on my Midnight War history. So. Who in the New York area could cast such a spell, do you think?"

Bleak gave a bitter laugh. "Not many. You've sort of thinned out the evil warlocks around here, Dire Wolf. Let me think. Melchius might be able to. Dr Benazawa, she's supposed to be retired though. A few survivors of Red Sect are still around. Maybe, Ezra Gideon has enough knowledge."

"I'm going to have to go. Thanks, Bleak. Stop by my office in a few days for a bonus. Talk to you later," he hung up and returned the Link to his belt. That had been quick, usually it took a few days of digging to get a lead. Circling to rejoin Agent Powell, Bane passed a weathered red brick building that had a window lit with the curtains open and he glanced up but only saw a a short young man in a white T-shirt and boxer shorts gazing back down at him. Bane moved on. As soon as he turned away, a thin girl with lank black hair down to her shoulders appeared, glaring down at him with red-irised eyes. She could sense her natural enemy.

V.

Coming back to where he had left Powell, the Dire Wolf paused while still a block away and faded into a doorway to watch. A black & white cruiser was standing in the street with its lights flashing and right behind it was a black Lincoln with tinted windows. There was Powell, with two other Mandate agents in black suits, arguing with a uniformed NYPD officer and the unmistakable bulky form of Lt Joseph Montez. Bane remained out of sight. He did not want to get caught up in that confrontation, which was certain to get heated.

Watching from the shadows of the doorway, he took out his Link again and called another of his army of researchers and reporters. "Hi. Josie? Sorry to wake you but I need information."

"My daughter would be dead these past twelve years if not for you," came a woman's voice. "You call any time you need to, Jeremy."

"I'm looking for Melchius. You have any idea where I can find him?"

"Not around here. He's been in Europe at least the past three or four years. Germany, last I heard. I can dig up his address there, if you want."

"Oh no, don't bother," he said. "I just wanted to know if he's been active around New York lately."

"Nope. I would have heard. Melchius has his followers and they would have told me. Anything else?"

"That's all I needed to learn," Bane told her. "Thanks, Josie. I appreciate you keeping me informed."

"It might save someone else's life," said the woman. "Glad to help."

The Dire Wolf broke the connection and holstered the Link to his belt again. So he could scratch the ancient warlock Melchius off his list. He watched as Montez and the officer got in their cruiser, slamming the doors harder than necessary, and roared off. Too bad, he thought, he would much rather have worked with Montez and the NYPD on this case than with the Mandate. Bane moved up the street and appeared next to Powell, making the man give a start. In his black outfit, Bane was hard to spot in the night and his silent tread didn't help.

"Don't DO that!" Powell said. "These two agents are going to search the car for clues. I haven't heard from HQ yet. What have you got?"

"I didn't spot any living vampires in the area," Bane replied with a straight face. "But I have remembered a few people who might have a connection with this Nancy Sinister. We can check on them if you want to come with me."

Powell glanced over to where his fellow agents were taking photographs and samples from the abandoned car. "Good idea. Let's roll." He headed over to where his own car was parked, and they got in.

"Head for the Upper West Side," Bane said. "86th and Park, if I remember right. We'll pay a visit to Ezra Gideon first."

The Mandate agent pulled out and made a right at the intersection. "Who's Ezra Gideon?"

"He was a leading member of Red Sect before he broke off to start his own little cult. I take it the Mandate knows about Red Sect?"

"Yes. I'm authorized to say that much. We have been following Red Sect from the start, since the Lundborg brothers founded it a hundred years ago. And I've read the reports about the times you've smashed the cult yourself."

Bane exhaled angrily. "Not for good. They always seem to reform. Using gralic magick to accumulate wealth and throw drug-fueled orgies will always appeal to sorcerers. Gideon was as bad as the rest of them."

"Let me ask you something, Mr Bane. Jeremy. I understand you're independently wealthy, a millionaire several times over in fact. Why do you run the Dire Wolf Agency when you don't need the money? Why do you chase after these dangerous maniacs and monsters at all?"

The Dire Wolf did not answer right away. "It's just my nature," he said at last. "Some people have a calling, this is mine." He studied the deserted streets as they headed uptown. Somewhere out there was a creature that looked like a teenage girl but which had already killed a dozen people and was just getting started. He felt the familiar adrenalin surge as the hunt began again and he welcomed it.

"86th and Park," said Powell. "Now what?"

"Find a parking spot if you can. There. In front of that van. I assume you're armed?"

"Standard issue." Powell turned the engine off and gave Bane a curious look. "No silver bullets, though. I hope that this so-called living vampire is susceptible to regular slugs."

"Only one way to find out," Bane replied. He stepped out onto the sidewalk and pointed at a ten-story apartment building of white stone on the next block. "That's where Gideon lives. He's a vile old wretch but he may have answers we need, so he has to be kept alive."

Powell did not comment. He followed Bane, who suddenly turned his head and said, "Oh, silver bullets are for werewolves, not vampires. I thought you would know that."

"I'm no expert," the Mandate agent said. "My duties were mostly clerical, to be honest."

Bane stepped up to the front door of the apartment building, which had a brass plate which read AMBROSE HOUSE. By now, it was almost three in the morning. Inside the lobby, he could see a uniformed security guard at a desk peering back at him. "If I was by myself, I'd sneak in somehow," Bane said, "but you're with the Mandate. I figure you can get us in, right?"

"I think so." Powell pressed the white button beside the glass-panelled door and the guard immediately got up and crossed the lobby. As the man neared, Powell held up his ID card to the door. It worked. The security guard unlocked the door and cautiously opened it just enough to ask, "Department of Defense, eh? What brings you boys here in the middle of the night?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Powell replied, handing him a card. "Call this number. The Secretary's office in Washington will tell you to co-operate." The Mandate agent pushed through, headed confidently for the twin elevators and pressed the button without waiting to see the guard's reaction. Bane stepped in the cage with him and pushed for the eighth floor.

Emerging in an elegant hall with mahogany paneling and subdued lighting, Bane headed for the door to Suite 803. There was no name listed. Motioning for Powell to stand back, the Dire Wolf pressed close to the door and slowed his own breathing. This was a Tel Shai technique that enhanced his hearing. A full minute passed. Then he took a deep breath and straightened up. "There's no one in there," he told Powell.

Bane took a small gadget from an inner pocket and unlocked the door as quickly as if using an actual key. The Trom devices he had kept from the old KDF days were invaluable and would be impossible to replace at this point. Pocketing the gizmo, he opened the door and reached around for the light switch. As he flicked the lights on, they both saw the corpse of Ezra Gideon lying right at their feet. The body was on its back, with two small holes in the throat and a smear of dried blood around them.

"I guess I should have said, no one alive in here," Bane muttered.

VI.

Courtney Walsh was twenty, a short sturdy girl with frizzled dark blonde hair. At the moment, she was wearing an oversized black T-shirt at least a 4X by the way it reached her thighs. Coming out of the bedroom, she threw a pillow on the couch and unfolded a flannel blanket. "You don't HAVE to explain anything, Nancy," she said, "but you know, if you want to let us in on it.."

Sitting in an overstuffed chair next to the TV, Nancy had taken off the raincoat and cowboy boots. She sighed and straightened up. "Aw, not much to say. One fight too many with my mother. She took a swing at me and I took a walk. I'll have to go back and get my stuff, not that I have much."

"well, you can stay here for a few days at least," Courtney said. "Garret, this is Nancy Gideon. We were neighbors growing up. I was an only child and so was she, so we pretended we were sisters."

"Hi, Garret," Nancy said, getting up.

"Hey there," the boy answered. "Look, not to be anti-social but I have to go to work in a few hours. See you later." He went into the darkened bedroom and closed the door partway.

Leaning closer, Courtney said, "I don't work tomorrow. We can talk. Right now, you get some sleep too, hon."

"Thanks for everything," Nancy said. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Not a problem." Courtney closed the bedroom door behind her.

A nightlight glowed softly in the outlet behind the TV. Nancy stretched out on the couch fully dressed and pulled the blanket up over her. She wasn't sleepy in the least. The vitality from all that blood roared through her, making her feel like she could run for miles and never get tired. Still, she had to pretend to be normal. To avoid being caught, she was going to have to pass for Human. The thought amused her. Closing her eyes, she turned over on her side and, despite her expectations, was asleep within a few seconds... a deep black sleep without dreams that was like being genuinely dead.

VII.

As Agent Powell took out his phone to call headquarters, Jeremy Bane tugged on a pair of black latex gloves from one of the dozen pockets tailored into his jacket and examined the body. He studied the bite wounds on the neck, then lifted the corpse's right hand and flexed the fingers. Ezra Gideon was wearing blue cotton pajamas with a very old Navy blue bathrobe over them, and slippers. There was nothing in the two pockets of the robe other than a few clean tissues.

The former Red Sect sorcerer was about sixty, an inch under six feet tall, maybe two hundred and twenty pounds with a pot belly. He was almost bald, with a short fringe of graying hair at the back of his head and around his ears. The eyes were closed but Bane remembered them as dark brown. The mouth had been hanging open when he had died.

Bane stood up and stared at the positioning. Gideon was lying on his back, his feet just clearing the open door. There was nothing on the floor that he might have dropped when he was attacked. From the way the arms and legs were positioned, Bane decided the warlock had not been dragged away from the door.

"Headquarters will have a forensic squad here in fifteen minutes," Powell said as he came over. "That's Ezra Gideon?"

"Yes. I met him once last year. I questioned him about Red Sect activity and he convinced me he had left the cult." Bane stood with hands at his sides, gazing down at the body.

"What's your opinion on his death?"

"Oh, it was a vampire attack," the Dire Wolf said. "Classic bite marks on the jugular, blood smears, the usual. The vampire seized him and bit, then lowered him to the floor as he got weak. He was facing away from the door and a few steps inside, so the vampire didn't grab him just as he opened it. He knew the Undead."

"Sounds logical," Powell said. "How long do you think he's been dead?"

"Less than twenty-four hours, not much less. I'd say he was killed yesterday morning or early afternoon." Bane took a step into the apartment. It was quite plush, with leather-covered furniture and dark wood bookcases crammed with old volumes and journals. One chair faced a big-screen TV and stereo, and on a side table beside it was a nearly empty bottle of white wine with a glass and a plate of cheese. The Dire Wolf went over by the TV and saw a few items on an end table.

"I don't think you should touch anything," Powell said. "Forensics wouldn't like it."

"The Mandate wanted me on the case, I'm on the case," answered Bane. He picked up a worn brown wallet and went through it quickly but thoroughly. He did not have a photographic memory but decades of practice allowed him to remember every detail. Next to the wallet was an old flip-open cell phone with a crack in the screen. He pulled up calls made and received, memorized them, then placed each object exactly where he had found them.

The Dire Wolf glanced over at Powell, who was standing just inside the door. "Don't worry, I was a burglar for years. I don't leave signs I was inside a place." This did not seem to reassure the agent. Bane went to an open door and saw a bathroom. He spent a minute studying the contents on the medicine cabinet, spotted a hair brush with a pink glitter handle on the sink, and checked that it had a few straight black hairs in its bristles. Ezra Gideon hadn't left those hairs. Bane stepped out of the bathroom as Powell watched and went into the adjoining bedroom.

The furnishings here were quiet to the point of being somber. Heavy dark curtains on the windows, solid oak dresser and nightstand, a double with a carved headboard. But here was the most interesting item yet. Draped over the bed was a black silk sheet covered with arcane symbols in gold thread. Standing on the headboard was a six inch high in red metal of a man in armor. Two candles had burned down to their silver holders at the foot of the bed. Lying on a chair was an ancient book about five by seven inches, with a black leather cover that had an iron clasp. Bane recognized it at once. This was the English translation of THE REVELATIONS OF TOLLINOR KJE, an incomplete text published in London in 1843. As soon as he spotted that book, the Dire Wolf slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. Now he understood the situation. That statue represented Draldros.

Stepping back out into the apartment, Bane faced the unhappy stare of Agent Powell. "Come and take a look, Stan. It's okay." As the man crossed over and stood in the door to the bedroom, the Dire Wolf saw bewilderment on his face.

"This was where Gideon conducted a forbidden ritual with knowledge from the Corruption," Bane told him. "Black Magic. This is where our living vampire was created."

"If you say so," Powell muttered. "They didn't teach any of this at the Academy." He stepped back, "We shouldn't be in here."

Bane followed him back to where the body was lying. As they stood over it, four men appeared in the hall outside. One was much like Powell himself but taller, a bulky dark-haired man in a black suit. The others were older and carried huge cases of equipment.

"Hello, Powell," said the other agent. "Tell me you didn't touch anything."

"Good morning, Wilson. How are things at headquarters?"

"Just about tidied. What a nightmare. Control has been supervising the clean-up." The agent smiled tightly. "I recognize you. The famous Dire Wolf. They said you were helping on this case."

"It's a major situation," Bane said. "Your Control briefed me. Powell and I are going to be on our way while your forensics team works. I think I have a lead on this case."

"Shouldn't we wait for their results?" Powell asked. Wilson looked like he agreed.

"No. They can call you with any results. We need to keep moving." Bane stepped toward the door but Agent Wilson stood in the way, arms folded.

"I think you two should stay here while forensics examines the scene. That's procedure," the big man said.

There was no threat in Bane's quiet voice but his grey eyes were dangerous. "I'm not a Mandate employee. I'm going through that door." After a second, the man stepped aside without a word and the Dire Wolf left the apartment. Powell followed uncertainly. They hurried to the elevator and headed down to the ground floor.

"You sure break a lot of rules," Powell said unhappily.

"Listen. Gideon turned a person into our vampire with a forbidden spell. That's what that paraphenalia was in the bedroom. I'm sure the subject was a relative, Nancy Gideon.. that was her wallet and cell phone next to the TV. A niece most likely, I don't think Ezra Gideon had any children."

They stepped out into the lobby and rushed into the street. It was just beginning to get light outside. Parked in a tow away zone was a black van with government plates, the forensics vehicle.

Walking quickly to where their car had been parked, Bane continued, "Nancy was a willing subject. She wanted the spell to be cast. Something like that takes several hours. As soon as she transformed, she made Ezra Gideon her first victim and she went out for more without even getting her belongings. Most likely she intended to come back but the Mandate caught her."

"How do you know all this?" Powell blurted out as he unlocked the agency's Lincoln.

"Observation, deduction, experience," Bane said. "This is my field of experise, Stan, I've been fighting the Midnight War for a long time." He got in the passenger seat and pulled his Link from its belt fastener, then started entering data.

"Where are we going?" asked the Mandate agent as he eased out in the light traffic.

"I'll know in a minute. Just head south for now. Back to where the car was abandoned, that's a safe bet." Quite illegally, Bane patched into the Verizon system and got reverse listings for numbers. The most recent one on Nancy's phone came up as belonging to Ezra Gideon himself. Well, that figured. Bane had seen earlier that one number had been called more than any other, at least every other day, with calls lasting over twenty minutes. He found it belonged to someone named Courtney Walsh. Breaking a few more laws, Bane pulled up her address, an apartment on East 12th Street she shared with a Garett Harmon. Just two blocks away from where the stolen car had been left. He shut down the Link and holstered it.

"East 12th Street it is," he told Powell.

"What IS that gadget?" the agent asked. "It looks like a remote control but you seem to use it like a computer."

Bane shrugged. "At one point, it was more advanced than anything else in the world. But to be honest, at the rate smartphones are developing, I think Human technology will match it in a few years."

"I understand about half of what you say," Powell muttered.

VIII.

At six-thirty, Nancy Sinister woke to Courtney shaking her. "Huh? What? Okay. I'm up." She stirred and yawned widely.

"Finally. I was having so much trouble waking you that I was getting worried you were in a coma or something," Courtney said. "Come on, I'm burning some eggs and French toast."

"Smells good," Nancy said. She got stiffly to her feet and stretched. Evidently she still could fall asleep like a normal Human, not going into an Undead state like a real vampire. And she had to urinate urgently. "I need the bathroom, okay Court?"

"Help yourself," her friend said from where she was at the stove, stirring the eggs. Nancy went into the bathroom and plopped down on the toilet, still coming back to full awareness. She passed more urine than she would have thought possible before she was done. The more she thought about it, the less she understood how her new system could work. She had taken gallons of blood from a dozen people in the past twenty- four hours, she should have bloated out like a balloon but she had felt and looked normal. Well, it was magic. Uncle Ezra said some aspects of gralic magic did not make sense any way you looked at them. Finally finished, she went to the sink to wash her face and hands. She looked the same, which made her realize she cast a reflection in the mirror. Nancy grinned wickedly. All of those rules she had heard about vampires didn't seem to apply to her.

There was a bottle of Listerine on the shelf beside the sink, and she gargled with it to clean the dried gummy blood out of her mouth. She repeated with another swig and wiped her teeth with a finger, then leaned close to the mirror and bared her teeth. The canines looked normal, they weren't pointed more than usual. Did they change shape when she was ready to feed? They had to. She saw her eyes were their usual color, too, even though those spies who had been holding her said her irises were red. What was that all about?

"Nancy! Come on already! Did you fall in?" yelled Courtney. The living vampire left the bathroom and joined her friend at the round breakfast table where a plate of scrambled eggs and two pieces of French toast was set for her. For a second of panic, Nancy wondered if she could eat regular food now. Well, she had to try. Sitting down, she said, "This isn't burned, Court, it looks great."

"I'll be making coffee in a minute. Dig in, kid."

Nancy Sinister took a tentative bite of the eggs, chewed and swallowed. There was no problem eating, so she poured way too much syrup on the French toast and started slicing it. Courtney sat down at her own plate and started shoveling the food down herself.

"Whatever happened to that uncle of yours? Ezra, the writer?"

"I haven't seen him in the longest time," Nancy lied. "His friends were creepy. They stared at me as if I was naked. Buncha pervs." There, she thought, I'm setting up an alibi for when my uncle's death was discovered.

"I was wondering if he might help you out. You said he was rich."

"He's got big bucks, maybe I should ask him. I did put in job applications all over town the past few days, I hope one of them calls me." As she said this, Nancy remembered with a jolt that she had left her phone at Uncle Ezra's. With her wallet. She had to get back there right away. She finished her eggs with a sinking feeling that she had made too many mistakes already. Those spies were no doubt searching for her all over Manhattan.

Courtney got up as the coffee maker finished pouring steaming hot liquid into the clear pot. She poured them both a mug, stirred Neutrasweet and milk in hers. "You still like yours with just milk?"

"Yes, please." Nancy cleaned her plate and accepted the mug of coffee. Not much like what she had been drinking lately, she thought with glee. For the first time, she had time to think about the people who had kept her prisoner. Some government agency, she figured, the CIA or NSA or some other bunch of secret spooks up to no good. She had thought she was out of sight behind that dumpster with her victim, but a black limo had come to a stop at the alley. Two creeps in black suits, wearing sunglasses like the Men In Black who everyone knew showed up at UFO sightings had gotten out and one of them tasered her. Which made her think, weapons could hurt her. She had figured she would be bulletproof after the vampirism spell, but maybe not. That taser had sure knocked her out....

"Nancy? Hey, Earth to Nancy," Courtney said as she snapped her fingers.

"What? Sorry."

"Boy, you were a million miles away. Are you okay?"

"Me? Fine. I just have a lot to do today. I guess I didn't think things through when I walked out." She got up, took Courtney's plate and her own and went to the sink to rinse them off. "Maybe I better get started."

"We don't have a car," Courtney said. "Who can afford it with the rent? Otherwise, I'd drive you. But I'll go with you today."

"Thanks, Court, but I'll be fine. I guess first I'll go see my uncle. Then apply for a job a few more places, then take the subway up to my mom's place and get some clothes and stuff. Okay if I stay here tonight until I figure out what's up?"

"Sure," her friend said as she got up for a second coffee. "Garret won't mind. His brother slept on our couch for two weeks, so he better not say anything."

Nancy Sinister glanced at the Felix clock over the refrigerator. Seven o'clock. Now she had to go out in sunlight. Uncle Ezra had promised it wouldn't hurt her but she wouldn't know for sure until she went outside. She started to speak but at that second, there was unexpected knocking on the apartment door.

IX.

"I swear to God, if that's Garret's brother come to borrow something..." Courtney mumbled as she went to answer the knock. At the sink, Nancy slowly turned and watched. Her friend opened the door and said, "What?" but stopped short as she saw the two strangers.

Two grim-faced men, each holding up a wallet to show an ID card. The one in front wore a black suit and tie, the one behind him had a black sport jacket and turtleneck, but they both looked stern as judges. "Government agent," said the man in front. "We're here to speak with Nancy Gideon."

Everyone froze as Nancy crouched and hissed like a cat. Her irises were bright red again and her fangs had extended. She raised clawed fingers.

Agent Powell stepped forward, pocketing his wallet and reaching behind him for his gun. "You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you.." His speech was cut off. Nancy Sinister crossed the apartment in a flash, quicker than a cobra striking, and backhanded him so hard he spun completely around. As he fell, the living vampire threw another blurringly fast blow at the second man but, to her amazement, he deflected it with a circular block and hit her squarely in the face with his other fist. She grabbed for his lapels, intending to sink her fangs in his neck, but again he blocked her and slammed the palm of one hand up under her chin with deadly force. Her jaws smacked shut. She reeled wildly back, uncertain what to do next.

Bane stepped calmly toward her. This creature was fast and strong, but she had no training. He felt his Kumundu skills would give him an edge, but in any case he had no intention to slugging it out with her. He crossed his arms in front and straightened them out again with a silver dagger in each hand. Their blades gleamed cold in the morning light.

As the sight of those silver weapons, Nancy panicked. She jumped back next to Courtney, who was staring with bulging eyes at the conflict. Grabbing her friend by an arm and leg, the living vampire heaved Courtney up overhead and threw her bodily at her enemy. Bane tried to break the girl's impact by yielding, catching her and falling backward himself to the floor. They both landed on the still dazed Powell in a tangle of arms and legs. In that instant, Nancy spun and dove headlong through the kitchen window, crashing through the glass and falling five stories to the sidewalk below.

Getting free, Bane was on his feet in a few seconds and rushing to the window. He glared down and saw no sign of the monster. With a growl deep in his chest, the Dire Wolf swung through the broken window and dropped to the street himself, rolling as he hit the sidewalk. Despite the tagra diet which gave him enhanced healing, the wind was still knocked out of him for a few seconds. He got to his feet and knew his target was long gone.

A man had pulled over his truck and yelled, "Hey buddy, you all right?"

"I'm fine," Bane answered. "Which way did the girl go?"

"I didn't see no girl," the driver answered. "All I seen was you jumping out of a fifth-story window. You didn't break nothing?"

"I'm okay," the Dire Wolf said. "Thanks anyway." He turned to go back into the apartment to see how Powell was, feeling intense disgust and frustration.

Blocks away, Nancy Sinister raced faster than a track star up the street. People stared but she didn't even notice. Who was that man? He had been as fast as she was and he carried silver weapons. After a few minutes, her panic subsided and she slowed to a jog. She was just drawing attention to herself. The living vampire settled down to a fast walk and suddenly realized she was out in daylight without it harming her in the least. That was good to know.

Without knowing why, Nancy swung east, reaching Second Avenue. Bad neighborhood, she realized vaguely but something seemed to draw her here. It was odd, she felt some impulse making her go this way and she followed it. Here were two ancient buildings, both with yellow CONDEMNED tape across their doorways. What was she looking for? She stepped between the buildings and stood before a basement window that had been boarded over.

She knelt and tugged a board loose, then wiggled through the opening without knowing why, dropping lightly into a cellar that smelled of mildew and decay. Her night vision kicked in and she could see clearly. Five men were lying on the damp concrete floor, not sleeping but dead. No. Undead. She could tell they were vampires, not like her but genuine vampires.

A low chuckle escaped her. That was why she had been drawn here. Of course. These were her kind. She stared down at them, five corpses that would move again when night fell. This was perfect. She would have so many advantages over them. She could move in sunlight, she could break many of their restrictions but she was still one of them. Nancy went to a corner and lowered herself to lean against the cold wall. She had drunk so much blood the night before that she felt no thirst for now. She could wait here until darkness fell. Then these vampires would stir and meet their new leader.

6/16/2014