Date: 2012-05-24 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal; Vampires; Young Adult
Description: Words: 88702 (approximate) Night Realm is a Paranormal Detective novel set on Australia's Gold Coast. It is the story of private detective, Ryan Fox. When he meets the beautiful Selena Thorne, Ryan’s life takes a detour into a dark world he thought only existed in folklore and in the minds of movie producers. Selena hires Ryan to acquire the unusual research of scientist, Doctor Marlon Becker. Becker is a hematologist and an expert in blood disorders. When Ryan discovers what the focus of Becker’s research is, it puts a whole new spin on things. Chelsea, Ryan's teenage sister, meets Travis and
Publisher: Smashwords

Night Realm

Darren G. Burton

Published by Darren G. Burton at Kindle

Copyright © 2012 Darren G. Burton

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The Author asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work

Cover Design:  Darren G. Burton

Read the Sequel

Night Realm 2: Scarlett Dawn

Other Novels by Darren G. Burton

Power Play

Minotaur

Scarecrow

Silhouette

One

Michael nodded his head in time to the heavy beat of dance music. The night club was pumping and very busy, with a good ratio of guys to girls. He’d taken up a position near the dance floor, leaning his back against a pole as he casually watched the action on the floor.

One young woman in particular had caught his eye. She was blonde and busty and really knew how to work her supple body. The tiny red skirt she wore barely even reached her thighs, it was that short, and her breasts threatened to explode out of her little white top as she bounced around to the hypnotic beat. Michael felt two kinds of desire surge through him as he watched her. One was of the sexual kind. The other, a deep and burning insatiable hunger.

Every so often she would cast furtive glances his way, then turn her back to him and move that immaculate butt just for his benefit. That’s what he arrogantly presumed, anyway.

A drunken guy staggered in front of Michael and stopped, effectively blocking his view. The guy stood there ogling the girls on the floor. Michael tapped him on the back and the man twisted his head to see who was annoying him. Michael waved his hand to indicate for the guy to move. At first the man opened his mouth to protest, but when Michael shot him a menacing glare, the guy thought better of it and stepped aside. Michael continued to glare at him for a moment longer, just to make sure the message had sunk in, then returned his attention to the hottie in the tiny skirt.

With a flirtatious smile, she moved slowly over to him until she was dancing not more than two feet in front of him. He reached out and touched her arse. When she didn’t object he fondled it some more. The young woman moved closer still, until she was all but giving him a lap dance. The stirrings in his black pants were strong and rigid; especially when she commenced grinding her butt against his crotch. She turned around then, draped her arms over his shoulders and put her face close to his ear.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Amanda.”

Her words slurred just slightly and Michael knew she was on the verge of being drunk. He placed his hands on her hips and smiled at her.

“I’m Michael,” he said, still grinning, displaying two rows of even white teeth.

Amanda glanced around him. “What are you drinking?”

“Nothing. But I’ll buy you one.” He signaled a passing waitress who was on her way back to the bar with a tray of empty shot glasses. Michael placed a twenty on the tray and eyed Amanda expectantly.

“Bacardi and Coke,” she told the waitress, who then moved off and was quickly swallowed up by the swelling crowd. To Michael, Amanda said, “Are you here by yourself?”

He nodded and offered her his disarming and handsome smile once more for good measure.

“Flying solo tonight. How about you? Who are you here with?”

“Just some friends.”

“Female?”

Now Amanda grinned. “Why? You want more than one of us?”

“No. Just checking that you’re not here with a male interest. I’m not looking to tread on anyone’s toes.”

She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and said in his ear, “No male interest, except you.”

Michael breathed deeply of her perfume. It was sweet and intoxicating, as was the underlying raw scent of her young flesh. He fought hard to keep his animal urges under control for now. This was not the place to let loose.

Five minutes later the waitress returned with Amanda’s drink. The young woman snatched it off the tray and immediately took two long sips from the glass. She didn’t bother using the mandatory straw.

Michael busied himself running his hands all over her butt and up and down her smooth thighs while Amanda drank her Bacardi. She swayed back and forth to the music. He had her, he knew. Unless one of her friends came along to stuff things up, Amanda was his tonight. He grinned again. Things were looking good in this new place.

Amanda was just draining her glass when a chubby brunette came up beside her. The new arrival shot Michael a stern look, then said something in Amanda’s ear. The conversation went back and forth between the two girls, then the brunette gave Michael another of those austere glances before disappearing to wherever she’d come from.

“What was that about?” Michael asked Amanda, although he already knew.

Amanda shrugged nonchalantly. “Rebecca’s just being over-protective. Don’t worry about her. It’s all sorted. I’m going home with you tonight.” She leaned in close and kissed him, then abruptly pulled back as if bitten and eyed him curiously.

“It’s a medical condition,” he told her calmly. “That’s why I feel cold.”

Amanda looked uncertain, her logical brain trying to fight through the haze of all the alcohol she’d consumed.

“Are you cold-blooded?” she eventually asked.

“Not really. It’s too complicated to explain. But don’t worry,” he added quickly. “It’s all good.” He straightened up and placed his left arm around her shoulders, drawing her in close. “You want to get out of here?”

Amanda nodded, most of the uncertainty now gone from her eyes, and together they left the club.

Outside the night was warm. The streets were almost as crowded as the night club had been. As they passed a small patch of parkland to their right, a fist fight broke out between two drunken guys, with the mates from either side eagerly spurring them on. Michael hurried Amanda past the ruckus, weaving in and out of people, making his way toward the public car park where his red Mercedes coupe awaited them.

“Nice car,” Amanda commented and lovingly ran her fingertips along the gleaming duco. “Is it brand new?”

“Almost.” He unlocked the car and opened the door for her. “Hop in.”

Michael gave the engine a good rev, squealed the tyres on the pavement and sped out of the car park.

“Where’s your place?” he asked her.

Amanda’s eyes were starting to flutter from the effects of alcohol and fatigue. She pointed ahead. “Just follow this road and take a left at the next set of traffic lights.”

Amanda continued to guide Michael through the Gold Coast streets until they were way out in the suburbs, an area known as Riverstone Crossing, only there was no river to be seen.

Strange name then, Michael silently mused.

The area was still under construction, with the shells of new houses being built all around. Amanda pointed left and Michael drove down an empty street that was basically all vacant blocks of land. Right at the end of the street they arrived at a cul-de-sac and he parked in the driveway of the one lone house that stood there. It was a two storey structure, with a balcony running along the entire front of the first floor. The house was dark, the only light source emanating from a dim street lamp. Michael looked around as he tailed Amanda to the front door. He saw no one about.

“Do you live alone?” he asked.

“No. I live here with my parents, but they’re out of town for the weekend.”

Amanda unlocked the entrance door and they stepped inside, where they walked in darkness past a living area and kitchen and entered a guest bedroom at the back of the house. Now Amanda flicked a switch and three down lights illuminated the room, to reveal a comfortable looking queen-sized bed covered in a pink quilt and half a dozen pillows in matching cases. She immediately disrobed and went naked into the adjoining bathroom. Michael shed his black clothing and sprawled nude on the bed, awaiting her return. When she finally opened the bathroom door, her eyes roamed his muscular form and she smiled with approval.

“Nice bod,” she praised and dove onto the bed with him.

The ensuing sex was brief, passionate, and at times even a little rough. Michael didn’t care too much for the pleasure or enjoyment of his sexual partners. For him it was all about Michael and satiating his own desires. He did it his way and in his time. Tonight he wanted a quick result as he had a more urgent hunger to feed.

When the sexual tension had fled his body, he collapsed on top of her with a satisfied sigh, his face buried in her neck.

It was then that he felt the stirrings in his upper jaw as two long, sharp fangs protruded from the gum line. The scent of Amanda’s warm flesh was overpowering now and he couldn’t wait a moment longer.

Amanda squealed in both surprise and pain as Michael sank his razor fangs into the soft flesh of her throat. She writhed around under his weight as warm blood entered the channels in his fangs and he sucked greedily on her vein. Overcome with delirium, his eyes rolled back in his head as he fed on the life fluid. Amanda had now gone limp beneath him. She made no sound. She had passed out. Michael continued to feed until he’d drained virtually every drop of blood from her body. When he was done and filled with renewed energy, he sat up, crimson dripping from his fangs and chin. He glanced down at Amanda’s lifeless form on the bed. Her skin had now taken on a pallid, ivory tone. Some blood leaked from the two puncture wounds on her throat and trickled onto the quilt.

He grinned maliciously. He’d really needed that drink.

Michael quickly got dressed. He then tossed Amanda’s shed night club clothing onto the bed and rolled it and the lifeless body up in the quilt. He easily carried her out to his car and stuffed her into the passenger seat. After starting the motor he drove slowly and quietly until he was out of the estate, then headed west until he reached an area of uninhabited bush land. There he parked the car and dumped the body about twenty metres away from the road, covering it loosely with a few fallen tree branches. He returned to the car feeling more alive than he had in weeks. His hunger had been satisfied.

For now, at least.

Two

Ryan Fox sat in his car bored out of his mind. He tapped the fingers of one hand on the steering wheel while tugging on his left ear with the other, constantly moving around in the seat as if he’d been sitting on a plane for ten hours.

What he really craved was a cigarette. Two weeks ago he’d made up his mind to quit. So far so good; but tonight, sitting in his car with nothing to do but watch the house across the street, the cravings were really getting to him.

He leaned over and flipped open the glove compartment. A small light came on illuminating the interior. Fumbling around within he discovered a few unpaid bills, vehicle registration papers, an empty chocolate bar wrapper, business cards of all kinds - including his own - scattered all about. Damn. There were no smokes to be found. What he did find, though, was a half full pack of chewing gum, the wrapping scarred and squashed and the contents looking anything but appetizing. Ryan squeezed a crushed piece from the remnants of the packet and popped it into his mouth. At least it gave his mouth something to do. He still wanted a cigarette, but the urge wasn’t as bad.

Returning his attention to the house over the road, he saw nothing had changed. The curtains were drawn and he couldn’t see anything inside. Lights burned beyond those curtains.

Would there be any action tonight? he mused as he sat there in darkness.

This was the third night in a row he’d staked out the man’s residence. The first two nights had drawn a complete blank. Nothing had happened. Maybe he was being too obvious by parking right across the street, but he didn’t care.

Ryan rubbed fatigue from his eyes. He hated this part of his job. Working cheating spouse gigs was almost always tedious, dull and totally uneventful. More than fifty percent of the time it proved to be just wasted time on his part, and wasted money on the part of the concerned client.

This guy’s wife, Julia, was a nurse. She currently worked the night shift at the Gold Coast Hospital in Southport. Suspicious that her husband may be engaged in extra-marital activities while she was away at nights, she’d called Ryan a few days ago, asking if he’d look into it for her so she could find out for sure one way or the other. Ryan detested these cases, but times were tough and he really needed the cash, so he’d reluctantly agreed to take it on.

His ‘person of interest’ was a forty-two year old named Brad Davis. Why Julia suspected him of adultery, she couldn’t really tell Ryan when they’d met for coffee to discuss the case and his terms. Just a hunch, she’d said. Women’s intuition or some shit like that.

Ryan chewed tenaciously on his gum, still fantasizing about a nicotine hit.

“God, Brad,” he said to himself. “Don’t be so boring. Do something, anything, before I lose my mind here.”

He may be bored to death, but at least he was getting paid to sit there and watch this guy, he reminded himself. It wasn’t a love job, a freebie. There was cash in the hand. And how he needed that right now. Business had never been so quiet before. The last few months were a financial killer. The Global Financial Crisis - or whatever spin the planet’s politicians wanted to put on it to cover their own inadequacies - seemed to be permeating every facet of life across the globe. Here in Australia it hadn’t been quite as bad as in some countries, but the land of Oz certainly hadn’t been spared, either.

Ryan checked his watch and saw that the luminous hands were just ticking past nine o’clock. He sighed heavily, leaned back in his seat and arched his back to try and stretch it. He was only twenty-five, but sitting in the one spot for too long still gave him aches and pains and stiffness. Maybe he’d played too much football in high school? Too much sport in general. He’d been a bit of a sports junkie during his teenage years; rugby league, cricket, soccer, triathlons, abseiling, tennis and squash. The only physical activity he indulged in these days were regular gym workouts, and the very occasional game of squash with a mate.

Across the road the lights went out inside the house.

Ryan sighed heavily again. “Great! The boring bastard’s going to bed now.”

A moment later he heard a low rumbling sound. A sliver of light appeared beneath the automatic garage door as it started to open. A car engine fired to life. When the garage was fully open a white Toyota Camry Altise drove out and onto the street, the garage door closing behind it. Finally Brad Davis was on his way to somewhere.

Ryan started his car and followed. He waited until his quarry had turned right at the next corner before switching his headlights on. Keeping a respectable distance between them, Ryan tailed Brad onto the Gold Coast Highway, where they drove south toward the plethora of highrise buildings that made up the tourist metropolis of Surfers Paradise; the congested skyline resembling a giant bar graph. It also happened to be where Ryan lived.

Traffic was heavier the closer they got to Surfers and it was slowing to a crawl. Brad’s Toyota was a few cars ahead. Ryan kept slightly to the right of the lane so he could keep an eye on it, a bulky behemoth of a four wheel drive directly in front of him obscuring his view. A taxi attempted to nose in front of him, but backed off when Ryan blasted his horn. It wedged in behind him instead. Two streets later and the four wheel drive exited left, leaving only a small hatchback between Ryan’s ageing black Ford Falcon XR6 and Brad’s Camry.

The footpaths were crowded with groups of young people heading towards the night club strip. Packs of alpha males, groups of scantily clad females, and some mixed groups all on their way for a night of drunken bliss.

A drink and a smoke would be nice right now, Ryan thought as he indicated left onto Beach Road. Up ahead Brad swung right and entered a car park. Ryan waited for several cars to pass in the opposite direction before cutting across the road and driving up to the ticket machine. He pressed the button and a ticket spat out. Tossing it onto the passenger seat he continued on, keeping a distance between himself and Brad. The car park was crowded and it took a bit of driving around before Brad located a free space. Ryan drove past him and found a vacant spot just out of sight in the next aisle. He quickly cut the motor and got out, not wanting to lose sight of his target now that some action was actually happening.

Ryan caught up with Brad out on the street, where it was easy enough to keep himself anonymous amid the crowds that populated the footpaths. While they waited for a set of traffic lights to give them the Walk signal, Ryan kept an eye on Brad from a few metres behind.

He was a shortish and somewhat chubby guy and didn’t appear to be too heavily into fitness. The man was well-dressed in tailored charcoal trousers, gleaming black leather belt and a long-sleeved, maroon button-up business shirt. He wore no tie and the night was far too warm for a jacket. Gleaming black dress shoes that matched his belt covered his small and stubby feet. He had a full head of black hair with flecks of grey through it.

Ryan himself wasn’t really dressed for a night on the town, although he could get away with his outfit. He had on faded blue denim jeans that were fraying around the hems, a white T-shirt that was untucked, and his shoes were Colorado casuals of a cream and tan colour. Not exactly Mr Sharp Dressed Man, but it would have to do.

He took in some eye candy as he trailed Brad along Cavill Avenue and then down Orchid Avenue. The beat of dance music emanated from the various night clubs along the street. Interspersed between the clubs and hotels were restaurants and various eateries. Brad was making a beeline for somewhere in particular and he kept checking his watch as they walked, as if concerned about being late. Ryan checked his own watch and saw that it was twenty to ten. Maybe Brad’s rendezvous was supposed to be at nine-thirty.

At last the chubby man reached his destination. He’d stopped at a restaurant called Roma Italia. Using his amazing detective abilities, Ryan deduced that it must be an Italian restaurant. Ryan ducked between cars and moved across the one way street, where he took up a position on the other side, leaning casually against a concrete wall that divided the grounds of a resort from the street. From there he watched proceedings in the restaurant.

As was common in the warm climate that enveloped the Gold Coast strip, many of the restaurants offered both indoor and al fresco dining, as did Roma Italia. Brad was shown to an outside table by the host, where he seated himself adjacent to a woman who appeared to be somewhat younger than him. With the distance between Ryan and the couple it wasn’t easy to tell, but his eyesight was pretty sharp and he was good with that sort of thing. She was blonde and looked attractive enough. Being seated, the table was covering much of her body, so Ryan couldn’t really determine what her figure was like. From what he could see of her upper body she seemed in reasonable shape.

So was Brad Davis having a sordid affair with this younger woman? Ryan mused. He guessed he was probably about to find out.

Brad leaned over the table and kissed her on the cheek. Nothing too sordid so far.

Over the next quarter of an hour the pair drank a glass of wine each and nibbled on some garlic bread. Nothing much was happening other than chit chat. Some guy beside Ryan was talking rather loudly on his mobile phone. In his free hand he held a smoldering cigarette. The smoke wafted Ryan’s way and the smell of it made him salivate. He had the overwhelming urge to ask the guy for a cigarette, but refrained. He’d been doing well so far. Besides that, he didn’t like sponging off people like some street feral.

Instead, he stepped away a few feet until the smell of smoke was less tempting, then withdrew a small, compact point-and-shoot camera from his pocket. It had a 15X zoom function and HDR, which made it a handy tool in situations like this. When needing to be a little discreet in public places, this camera was a better option that his big and cumbersome DSLR. Sometimes he just used the camera on his iPhone, but the picture quality wasn’t as sharp and the zoom function nowhere near adequate for the most part.

The man with the cigarette moved on, leaving the air clear and fresh, enabling Ryan to keep his mind on the job, rather than dwelling on the loss of a bad habit. He made out like he was a tourist taking snapshots of the scenery - if you could call concrete and pavement ‘scenery’. While he appeared to be randomly focusing on things via the live view on back on the camera, he aimed the lens across the street and zoomed in on Brad and the mystery blonde. At the moment they were busily dining on their main course, another round of wines resting on the table in front of them. Ryan took several shots, then panned to the left and pretended to photograph the busy street in general. After that he put the camera away until the couple had finished their food. If they were indeed having an affair, he figured they may start canoodling after dinner. That didn’t happen. Instead, Brad Davis went over to the counter and fixed up the bill. The blonde rose from her seat and waited for Brad outside the portable barriers that hemmed in the outdoor dining area of Roma Italia. Brad took her hand when he joined her and together they strolled slowly down Orchid Avenue back towards Cavill Avenue.

Ryan waited until they were a good twenty metres or so down the road before he darted across the street, whipping the camera out of his pocket as he went. He wanted to get a shot of them from behind holding hands. He manually set the camera’s ISO level high so there was less chance of the images being blurry; which often tended to happen when taking photos on the move. Ryan snapped off five shots, hoping one would be reasonably clear. He quickly scrolled through the previews and decided they were good enough.

The couple went left into Cavill Mall. Ryan had expected them to turn right and make for the car park, heading back to either his or her place for a sexual romp. Instead, they were walking towards the beach. Sand and sex didn’t go well together, so he figured a couple of their age wouldn’t be planning to get it on down by the water’s edge. Besides, too many police patrolled the sands at night time looking for exactly that kind of activity. On top of that, drinking was banned out on the streets and on the beach. It was a Saturday night and uniformed cops were everywhere.

The mall was crowded. Earlier in the evening there would have been families milling about watching street performers. As the night wore on and the scene got considerably uglier, the families were quickly replaced with swelling groups of revellers. At the end of the mall on the left was one of Australia’s busiest McDonald’s stores. Within the store people lined up to purchase some gourmet fast food.

A narrow road divided the city from the beach. Across the other side of The Esplanade stood an arched sign made of stainless steel. The sign simply said: Surfers Paradise. Ryan reckoned it had to be one of the most photographed signs, not only in Australia, but in the world. Every tourist coming through town either took a photo of it, or had someone else take a photo of them with it. Hell, Ryan was a local and he’d even had himself photographed standing beneath it!

Brad and his date turned right when they arrived at the end of the mall and ascended some concrete stairs. They appeared to be heading up to a night club called Bliss. It was a new club and Ryan had yet to go there. He trailed them up, hoping the bouncers on the door considered him well enough attired to enter.

He deliberately hung back and waited until Brad and the woman were ushered inside, then he casually scaled the remainder of the stairs and stood eye to eye with the bulky, all-dressed-in-black security guy guarding the door. Pulsing techno music came from within, the subwoofer vibrating the very ground Ryan stood on. The bouncer, who looked to be of Polynesian descent - as was common in Gold Coast clubs - scanned Ryan from head to toe with his keen dark eyes. He hesitated a moment, gave Ryan the once over again, and then nodded towards a counter just inside the door.

“Ten dollar cover charge,” the man grunted.

“But I’m a local,” Ryan protested.

“Ten dollars or you don’t go in.”

Ryan decided not to push the issue, although he usually refused to pay to get into local clubs. Tonight he had an agenda that he didn’t want to blow, so he succumbed, stepped inside, withdrew a tenner from his wallet and handed it to the pretty young woman manning the counter. She stamped his wrist and he went on through.

Inside the crowd was an eclectic mix of ages and dress styles. Being a new club many people were obviously trying it out for the first time. After a while it would naturally self-define its clientele. Ryan edged over to the bar and waited ten minutes to get served. In the meantime he tried in vain to search for Brad Davis, but it was just way too crowded to spot him.

The bar ran two thirds of the length of the right wall. It was lit up with blue and pink neon strips of lighting around the edges of the serving area, and a section of alcohol storage space that hung down from above. Wine glasses and champagne flutes dangled upside down from racks bolted to the overhang. Ryan counted ten people working behind the bar, either serving customers, or washing glasses and refilling the ice tubs. The place was a buzz of activity, spurred on by the thumping beat of the music.

Bliss was basically a large rectangle of floor space with the bar on one side and the dance floor down the opposite end from the entry foyer. All the fittings and floor coverings were new, the place having recently been transformed from a large restaurant into a night club. The wall on the left side of the club and a part of the front wall were virtually all glass, apart from a metre high section of painted concrete at the bottom. The windows afforded a great view of the Surfers skyline by night and the beach below.

Ryan finally got served and had to yell above the music to be heard. “Bourbon and Coke.”

The barman held up a bottle of Jim Beam White Label and Ryan nodded. The drink was poured and Ryan slid ten dollars across the bar, receiving a couple of coins in change. He pocketed the coins, took a sip from his glass, then went to find Brad.

As he searched, he took in more of his surrounds. Round tables with matching stools were scattered frequently throughout the floor space. On the far side where all the windows were there was a series of comfortable, low-set lounges lined up just below the glass. Somehow, despite the crowds, Brad Davis and date had managed to snare one of those lounges and sat close together while people-watching. Brad had his hand on the woman’s thigh. She was wearing black pants so there was no direct skin contact, but the gesture was certainly an intimate one. And she certainly wasn’t objecting.

Ryan only casually glanced their way, then edged through the sea of people towards the dance floor, where he spent a moment checking out the girls as they moved to the rhythm of the music. Some danced well, some not so well, but it was always interesting to watch. There were several small podiums around the floor for people to dance on and all were packed with gyrating bodies. After a few minutes of idle skirt gazing, he forced himself to get his mind back on the job and returned to the rear of the club, hoping he might be able to find somewhere to sit down. As fate would have it he lucked out and snared a table right at the back, just as a couple were vacating it. He took a seat in a position where he could keep an eye on his subject. This time he slipped the iPhone out of his pocket and pretended to be typing a text message, while in actual fact he was taking several photos of Brad nestled in close and cozy with the blonde. He then put the phone away and finished his drink, wondering if that was enough evidence gathered to satisfy his client that her husband was indeed being unfaithful. He was just about to get up to leave when a very attractive woman approached the table.

She was quite tall for a female, maybe only a few inches shorter that Ryan’s six foot frame. The woman looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties with long, lustrous and silky black hair that fell well past her shoulders. Her face was only lightly made up, the skin pale and almost translucent looking; but not in a sickly way. Ryan found it quite appealing, actually. She had full lips coated in red gloss and black eyeliner to enhance her very dark eyes. Her face was oval shaped, tapering towards a proud chin and jaw, high cheekbones and a slightly pointed nose. She moved with an air of grace and confidence, the long black evening gown clinging to a perfect and classic hourglass figure. The woman was very slim without being skinny. On her hands she wore black silk gloves that ran halfway up her forearms. She smiled as she drew alongside Ryan’s table, exposing a perfect set of teeth.

Before she introduced herself she signaled over a waitress, who quickly scurried over. It became obvious to Ryan then that this woman either managed or owned the club.

“I’d like to buy you a drink,” she said close to Ryan’s ear. He got a whiff of expensive perfume that he couldn’t name. It smelled delicious. She eyed his empty glass. “Are you drinking bourbon?”

“Good guess,” he said, offering her his best smile. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” The woman instructed the waitress to hurry back with a bourbon and Coke, then she took a seat beside Ryan. “My name’s Selena Thorne,” she said and extended a hand to him. Ryan took it lightly in his, the feel of the silk somewhat sexy to the touch, and shook it once.

“Ryan Fox,” he said. “Do you manage this club?”

She nodded. “Manage and own.”

“You’ve done a good job with the décor.” Ryan looked into her eyes. They were dark to the point of almost being black. He could barely separate the irises from the pupils. It made them hard to read. They were nice eyes, though.

“I’m afraid I can’t take the credit for that. The original owners ran out of funds just as they finished refurbishing. Which was bad luck for them, but fortuitous for me. I took over the lease and the license at a very reasonable price.”

“How long have you been open?”

“Two weeks tonight.”

Ryan grinned. “Excellent. Your two week anniversary. It looks like business is going well.” He scanned the crowded club once more.

“I’m happy,” she said. Selena ran her eyes over him briefly before returning her attention to his face. “So what’s a handsome young guy like yourself doing sitting here drinking alone?”

He held her gaze. “I didn’t think I was alone.” He saw a twinkle in her eyes then. “Actually, I’m working right now.”

Selena chuckled. “Where do I get a job like yours? Sitting in a night club, drinking for a living.”

“It’s not quite like that,” Ryan explained. “I’m working on a case.” He pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to her.

When she read it her eyebrows raised, her interest piqued. “Foxhunt Investigation and Detection Agency. So you’re a private detective.”

He nodded, cringing at the sound of his business name. He still wasn’t sure if he liked it or despised it. “Right now I’m working an infidelity case.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“Not really. They’re quite boring.” He nodded subtly in the direction of Brad and company. “That’s the errant husband right there with his mistress.” Brad and the woman were now affectionately pecking each other on the lips. “I think I’ve gathered enough information and evidence now to satisfy my client that her husband is being unfaithful. It’s unfortunate, but the truth often is.”

“Well put,” Selena agreed. She looked at Ryan’s business card again, her brow slightly furrowed. “Mind if I keep this?”

“Not at all. That’s what they’re for.”

“I just may require your services in the near future.” She stood up, leaned in close and added, “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ryan. It’s been a pleasure meeting you. Good luck with your case and I’ll talk to you soon.”

He smiled up at her. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you too. And,” he raised his glass, “thanks again for the drink.”

Selena Thorne gracefully melded back into the crowd and was gone. Ryan watched her until she’d disappeared. He definitely hoped to hear from her, even if it was just work related. When he looked back in Brad’s direction, he saw Brad and the blonde on their feet preparing to leave.

Ryan tailed them back to the car park, where the mystery woman got in behind the wheel of a blue Nissan Pulsar. Hanging back in the shadows, Ryan couldn’t hear any of the conversation that ensued. She drove off and Brad headed back to his Camry. Ryan trailed him out of the car park and expected him to turn north on the highway. Instead, he indicated left and drove south. Ten  minutes later they were in the backstreets of Mermaid Beach. Brad came to a stop outside an old brick home, where a blue Nissan Pulsar was parked in the carport. Ryan continued down the street, performed a U-turn, switched off the Ford’s headlights and cruised to a stop just south of Brad’s car, another parked car between them.

Brad was in the house for several hours before finally emerging. Ryan could only guess what had been happening inside, but he had a pretty fair idea. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that they were having sex. Ryan’s stomach felt hollow. He didn’t know his client, Julia, but he felt for her, and wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news to her; and possibly her heart. But what could he do? He was hired to find out the facts, and the facts were what they were.

Ryan waited until Brad’s car had turned right at the end of the street before starting the engine and getting back on his tail. Brad ended up driving straight home. No sooner had he entered his house and all the lights went out, obviously going to bed and pretending he’d been there all night.

You’re days of cheating are numbered, Brad, Ryan thought with satisfaction as he headed for home.

Three

On Monday morning Ryan met up with Julia Davis at a café in Main Beach. It was a clear, sunny day with just the hint of a breeze about to keep the ambient temperature pleasant. He was dressed in jeans again, wearing the same shoes and had on a red polo shirt. His eyes were hidden behind the dark lenses of cheap sunglasses

Julia’s expression was forlorn as she scrolled through the images of Saturday night on Ryan’s compact camera. When she was done she repeated the process before handing the camera back.

“I’d like copies of those,” she said and stared down into her coffee mug. She toyed with the froth of her cappuccino with a spoon while Ryan brought up the images from inside Bliss Night Club on his iPhone. He slid the phone across the table to her and the woman reluctantly picked it up. “And these as well,” she said after viewing the images of her husband cuddling on the lounge with the blonde woman. “I might need them in the case of a divorce settlement.”

Ryan nodded. “I’ll send copies through to your email address this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” she offered, though Ryan hardly felt like he was doing her a great favour. He felt like shit right now, having just all but proven to Julia that her husband was getting laid elsewhere. And with a younger woman, to rub a little more salt in. He really wasn’t sure what to say to her.

“What else happened the other night?” she wanted to know. “After they left this night club.” She handed the phone back.

Ryan took a deep breath and said, “He went back to her house.”

“And?” she prompted.

He shrugged. “Well, I can’t say for certain what he was doing in there, but he was inside for several hours. Then he went home.”

Julia’s sombre expression now transformed into one of anger. Her face reddened as scenarios of Brad bonking another female obviously flooded her mind. Ryan saw her visibly shudder. Once again he didn’t know what to say to her. Everything he thought of just sounded lame or patronizing, so in the end he kept his mouth shut. After all, he was a detective and not a counsellor.

Ryan had so far never experienced the cheating partner situation and he hoped he never would. Right now he was single and life seemed simpler that way. He’d had girlfriends ever since the early high school years, but nothing very serious and nothing for quite some time.

A sealed envelope was slid across the table. Ryan didn’t immediately pick it up. He drank the rest of his flat white coffee and clinked the cup back down onto the saucer.

“That’s the remainder of your fee,” Julia said, her pale blue eyes reflecting the sunlight. “I don’t think I’ll be needing your services any further. You’ve shown me and told me all I need to know.” She looked at him. “Do I owe you any other expenses?”

Ryan shook his head and stuffed the envelope of cash into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Can I order you another coffee?” he asked her.

She considered it. “I feel like getting drunk, but that wouldn’t help, would it.”

“Probably not,” he agreed and thought silently: But it would numb the pain. The urge for a cigarette suddenly gripped him. Habit by association, so used to smoking with a coffee; especially at an outdoor cafe.

“I wonder what went wrong?” Julia said, more to herself than to Ryan. Her expression looked vacant as she drifted off somewhere. Abruptly she sat up straight, leaned forward with her elbows on the table and looked him hard in the face. “Do you think I’m attractive?”

Ryan was momentarily thrown by the unexpected request to appraise her level of sex appeal. He cleared his throat, preparing to answer. While she wasn’t ugly, he didn’t really find her attractive either. She was okay. Nondescript.

“Sure,” he lied, trying hard to inject some enthusiasm into the word. “Many men would find you attractive.” But he could tell by the dubious look on her face that she wasn’t buying what he was selling. “Look, maybe you’re not my type, but that doesn’t mean you’re not appealing to plenty of other men out there.

“I don’t know anything about you or your husband, so I’m not even going to attempt to touch on what might be wrong, or has gone wrong, in your relationship. Chances are you’ve done nothing wrong. You can’t blame yourself for Brad’s weaknesses. That’s his problem. The way I see it, Julia, is that you’re too good for him. I know this sucks and I know it hurts and that anything I say right now isn’t going to make the situation better, but in time you’ll know it’s true. Trust me on that.” He shrugged. “Maybe you can mend your marriage, but if you can’t, chances are down the line, you’ll be better off without him.”

“You’re probably right,” she said, although she still didn’t looked convinced.

Time would sort it out.

Ryan got up from his seat and Julia did the same. They shook hands and Julia managed a strained smile.

“Thank you, Mr Fox,” she said.

Ryan nodded. “I wish I only had better news for you. Good luck with everything.”

They then went their separate ways.

*  *  *

Sean and Stacey arrived back at their home in Riverstone Crossing late Monday afternoon. He parked the car in the driveway and he and his wife got out. Summer was coming so the sun was still quite high in the cloudless sky. They’d just experienced a great weekend at a health retreat in the Sunshine Coast Hinterland. Both felt tired, but at the same time rejuvenated.

Once inside the home Stacey called out to her daughter, “Amanda? We’re back!”

There was no reply.

“She’s probably still at work, Babe,” her husband said casually.

A look of confusion crossed Stacey’s features. “She normally has Monday off.” Having a thought then, Stacey opened a door on the opposite wall to the kitchen. “Her car’s here,” she reported, staring into the gloomy double garage.

Sean replied, “Then she’s probably gone visiting friends.”

“Without her car?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a friend came by and picked her up?” Sean took a beer from the fridge and cracked it open, taking a long swallow of the amber fluid. “Ahh!” he said with satisfaction. “Those health retreats don’t understand the positive benefits of a good, cold beer.”

Stacey went down back to Amanda’s room. A moment later she returned to the kitchen, looking and feeling even more confused.

“The quilt’s gone from her bed, and the bed’s all messed up,” she said in a strained voice.

“What are you so worried about?” Sean wanted to know. “She’s  a big girl now and she can take care of herself. She probably had a sleepover at one of her friend’s places.”

Stacey shook her head. “I’m not so sure.” She looked into her husband’s eyes. “Sean? I have a bad feeling about this.”

Four

After returning home for a sleep, the consecutive late nights having drained him, Ryan did as promised and emailed Julia Davis copies of all the photographs he had taken. He pulled the money from the envelope she had given him, counted it, then stuffed the bills into his wallet. He’d made a much-needed couple of grand from the gig. Some bills would be getting paid.

He tugged on his ear a few times, then sat back in his chair at the computer desk and gazed out the full-length glass windows of his large bedroom, where he took in the late afternoon view of Surfers Paradise and the placid blue of the ocean beyond.

Ryan lived in a two bedroom, two bathroom highrise apartment in the centre of Surfers. It was an older style apartment, which meant it was quite spacious and roomy, unlike many of the modern places. The rent was also surprisingly cheap, and had virtually stayed the same for the four years he’d lived there. He used to share the place with a mate and they halved all expenses, but that all changed a year ago.

On the desk he saw a business card for a real estate agent up on the Sunshine Coast. He picked up the card and dialed the number on his mobile. It was answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Tessa. It’s Ryan Fox here. Just wondering if you’ve had any interest in the house?”

The estate agent spoke so loudly, he was always forced to hold the phone away from his ear so he didn’t risk perforating an ear drum.

“Hi, Ryan!” she bellowed. “No, no luck so far.”

“Is anyone interested? Anyone put any offers in?”

“Not yet, but I had quite a successful open home on Saturday morning, so I’m expecting some offers to flood in from that.”

“Really?” He was more than a little surprised. “That does sound promising.” He took a deep breath and said, “Look, I know times are tough and the market is way down, but I really need to get that house sold. I’m willing to look at any reasonable offer.”

“Well, I did stress that you should have taken the last offer we had. I realize it was well under the asking price, but in the current economic climate-”

“I know,” Ryan cut in, “but I wasn’t as desperate to sell three months ago.”

“I understand. I’ll do my best.”

“Thanks, Tessa. Keep me informed. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Will do. Bye, Ryan.”

Ryan placed the phone down on the desk and glanced around the room. Basically there was just a queen-sized bed with four pillows. The pillowcases were all different. Nothing matched. Even the black and white quilt that covered the bed was a different colour and design from that of the pillows. There was a bedside table and lamp. A small TV with DVD player rested on a cabinet beside the bed near the windows. The room had built-in wardrobes and a small ensuite bathroom. The only other furniture in the room was the desk he was sitting at.

Now that Julia’s case was over he had no cases to work on, which wasn’t good. So far he’d heard nothing from night club owner, Selena Thorne. Possibly she was just being polite the other night when he’d met her, and didn’t really have anything for him to work on.

He shrugged. If she called, she called. If not, something else would come up.

He took a shower for something to do and shaved the stubble from his face for the first time in days. When he was done he looked at his reflection in the mirror. His short, dark-brown hair could probably use a bit of a tidy up with some scissors. The whites around the blue of his eyes were surprisingly clear, considering all the late nights he’d had recently. His body was lean and fit and chiseled, accentuated by his olive skin and a light sun tan. He slapped his flat stomach with satisfaction and put some clothes on.

Ryan left the bedroom and went into the old kitchen. He searched the refrigerator for something to make for dinner. He withdrew a container of leftover pasta from God knows how long ago. Through the clear plastic lid he could see flecks of green mould, so he tossed it in the bin.

Unable to find much to eat and making a mental note to do some grocery shopping, Ryan opted for sausages and fried eggs on toast in the end. As he was cooking up enough for two, he heard the entrance door open and close.

“Dinner’s almost ready!” he called out to his sister.

“Not hungry,” came her abrupt reply and he heard her bedroom door slam shut.

“She sounds like she’s in a great mood. Again,” he mumbled as he dished up plates for the pair of them, despite her saying she didn’t want any.

The air was filled with the salivating aroma of eggs, sausages and toast as Ryan sat down at the small dining table to eat. Before him was the living room with an LCD television in the corner near the full-length glass balcony doors. There was a three-seater lounge, beige in colour, and two matching armchairs. A square wooden coffee table rested on the carpet between the furniture. Some newspapers, remote controls and a chess board sat on top of it. Through the glass doors Ryan had a view of the ocean some three hundred metres away. The outlook was partially obstructed by other buildings, but he could still see the water and a stretch of sand. It was twilight out there now, just about everyone having left the beach for the day.

He tucked into his food and didn’t realize just how hungry he was until he’d swallowed the first bite. The food was washed down with a glass of water. When he was done, he washed his plate, cutlery and the frying pan.

His sister still hadn’t emerged from her bedroom, so he went to her door and knocked firmly on it. “Chelsea?” The only response he got was the sound of water running in her shower.

Ryan went out on the balcony and gazed out over the lights of Surfers Paradise by night. Twilight was succumbing to full dark now and he could no longer see the ocean. It was just an indistinct dark smudge beyond the line of buildings. Twenty floors below the highway cut a path through the concrete jungle. That road was never quiet. Even when he’d stood out there at three in the morning it was still relatively busy. Didn’t anyone ever sleep?

A half hour later Chelsea emerged from her room and stepped into the living room. When Ryan turned and looked at his seventeen year old sister, his jaw dropped.

“Where the hell are you going looking like that?” he demanded.

Chelsea was five feet, six tall and had bleached blonde hair, preferring that to her natural medium-brown hue. Her figure was fairly solid, but well-proportioned and quite curvaceous. Even though she was his sister, Ryan could see she was very pretty; a fact backed up by the amount of attention she’d received from guys ever since reaching adolescence. Her crystal blue eyes shone with intelligence and she was always quick with a comeback. At the moment her facial features were hidden behind a thick and viscous mask of heavy make up. She had on so much eyeliner that it looked like her eyelids had been dipped in ink. Crimson eye shadow cut an arc just under her thinly-plucked eyebrows. Her face was white with a sickly application of foundation that was all wrong for her olive complexion. Crimson lipstick had been pasted onto her plump lips. On her throat was a conspicuous, dark-brown mole.

The over-doing of the make up was only a part of what concerned her older brother. It was the choice of outfit that really worried him.

She wore a skimpy top that was little more than a sports bra. It was white and barely managed to confine her ample breasts. If Ryan chose to examine the top more closely he’d be able to see through it. It wasn’t exactly discreet as far as hiding her nipples was concerned. Below her bare midriff, sitting low on her hips, was the skimpiest black skirt he had ever seen. It only just covered the cheeks of her butt, and if she happened to bend over even just slightly, all would be exposed.

“What are you wearing under that thing you call a skirt?” he asked, the tone of his voice filled with disapproval.

“Underwear,” she said, giving him a look that suggested he was a complete idiot.

“A G-string, no doubt.” He shook his head. “You look like a real slut.”

“Well, thanks for the compliment,” she snarled.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Ryan repeated his earlier question.

“Out with friends.”

“But where?”

She shrugged and said rather brusquely, “I don’t know yet. We’ll just hang in Surfers for a bit and see what happens. Maybe we might go to a club?”

“You’re too young for night clubs.”

She smirked mischievously. “It’s never stopped me before.”

“Did you go to school today?”

“Nope. I did a full day at Threads.”

Threads was a trendy clothing store in town where Chelsea worked part-time.

“What about school?” he protested. “This is your last year and you’re almost finished.”

“School’s boring. I hate it. I’d much rather work and earn money so I can go out and have fun.”

Ryan sighed with frustration. “But you’re so close to graduating. It’s important that you get your HSC.”

“Yes...Dad,” Chelsea said with heavy sarcasm.

“I’m not your father.”

“Exactly.” Chelsea went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and emerged with a can of Coke. It hissed with effervescence when she pulled back on the ring tab. “There are too many rules at school, Ryan. I hate being told what to do.” She drank some Coke.

“No kidding. Look, you can’t just drop out of school.”

She burped loudly. “Why not? I’m just following your example.”

Ryan made a face. “What do you mean? I finished school. And a couple of years of uni.”

“But you dropped out of the Police Academy, didn’t you,” she reminded him, grinning smugly, knowing she’d scored some points with that one.

“That’s not the same thing,” Ryan said, trying to find a way to justify his own actions from the past. “The Academy wasn’t doing it for me.”

“And school’s not doing it for me.”

“The Academy was too restrictive,” Ryan went on, despite his better judgement. “There were just too many rules and regulations-”

“Exactly.” More points for Chelsea.

He knew immediately he’d stuffed up completely. She’d won that argument easily.

“The manager at Threads has offered me a fulltime position if I want it,” Chelsea told him, looking more at peace after her victory over him. “And I want it.”

Ryan still couldn’t believe he’d walked right into her verbal trap.

“But what sort of a future is there working in a clothing store?” he said.

“Probably more of a future than you have working as a pretend cop. Half the time you’re unemployed.”

“I’m not unemployed. It’s a business. Sometimes business is slow. It can happen to any business.” He selectively chose to ignore the ‘pretend cop’ remark.

“The way your business is going, you’d make more money on the dole.”

“I just finished a job that made a few thousand.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Hardly. Do you hate living here with me that much?” he asked her earnestly.

“Until now I haven’t really had a choice, have I. But that may change now that I’ve got a fulltime job.”

He changed the subject. “The house might be selling soon. I spoke to the agent today and she sounded pretty confident about some leads she has.”

Chelsea’s features darkened. “I still don’t know if I want to sell Mum and Dad’s house.”

“We need the money.”

“No,” she said firmly. “You need the money. If it wasn’t for you that house wouldn’t even be on the market. Mum and Dad and me would still be living in it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, ‘if it wasn’t for me’? Surely you’re not blaming me for their deaths now?”

“Now?” she was incredulous. “I’ve always blamed you. I’ve just never said it to your face before.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” Ryan started to pace the room out of frustration. “I’m just as devastated by their deaths as you are. How could you possibly blame me for what happened? They had a car accident, pure and simple.”

“Yeah, while rushing down here to see you, Ryan. That’s why they were driving down in that storm, because you’d conned Dad into getting involved in some half-arsed business idea, and you needed his signature on that bank loan application in such a Goddamn hurry. Why couldn’t you have just waited another day?”

“I had to get in quick or we’d miss out,” Ryan said and hung his head.

“Well, we all missed out in the end, didn’t we, Ryan? We lost our fucking parents, crushed under the weight of an eighteen wheeler truck.”

“It was an accident, Chelsea.”

She eyed him with absolute contempt. “Yeah, it was an accident, but one they would have avoided if it wasn’t for your impatience.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“The hell I don’t!” She picked up her handbag and a cold sausage from her uneaten dinner. “I’m going out, big brother. Why don’t you do us all a favour and go jump off that balcony over there.”

With those words she stormed out, making sure she slammed the door hard behind her for emphasis.

Ryan shook his head in utter bewilderment. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. He felt on the verge of tears and wasn’t sure if it was from frustration, or guilt, or the fact that his baby sister - someone he’d been so close to while they were growing up - hated him that much that she wanted him dead. Bleary-eyed, he looked out at the fuzzy lights of Surfers Paradise and felt them beckoning to him, drawing him outside.

Ryan stepped onto the balcony.

Five

Chelsea was determined to put the issues with her brother aside tonight and have some fun. Maybe she’d been a bit harsh just now, but who the hell did he think he was? A replacement for her Mum and Dad?

As she walked into town she received countless whistles of approval from males driving past in cars. Even guys walking by on the footpath couldn’t help but openly ogle her. The attention made her smile. She really enjoyed men finding her attractive and sexy. It gave her chills of excitement and made her feel alive. Not to mention the confidence boost.

She never glanced back at her apartment building as she headed up Elkhorn Avenue. With all the attention she was getting, her altercation with Ryan was already forgotten about. From her handbag she took a pack of cigarettes, lit one with a cheap plastic lighter and inhaled with satisfaction. Chelsea puffed away all the way to Cavill Mall before flicking the butt into the gutter. The plan was to meet up with her friends at Macca’s, so she made a beeline for the top end of the mall near the beach.

Town was fairly quiet on a Monday night, but there were still quite a few people around; especially in the restaurants and fast food outlets. Chelsea stepped around a group of little kids and skirted a crowd of onlookers enthralled by the antics of a street performer. The man was currently juggling three swords whilst precariously balancing on a unicycle.

“The things people do,” Chelsea quipped and strode along the mall.

When she neared McDonald’s she spied her best friend, Emma, standing outside playing around with her mobile phone. Chelsea’s own phone buzzed. When she checked it she saw that it was a text message from Emma saying: Where are you?

“I’m right here!” Chelsea called out to her friend.

Emma grinned when she saw her, her pale green eyes lighting up. The girl was dressed scantily just like Chelsea, only her top and skirt were both black, as was her nail polish and lipstick. Her shoulder-length, raven hair added to the overall dark theme. However, her skin was naturally very pale and contrasted rather starkly with the black. Emma always looked underweight, even though she ate more than most of the guys they hung out with.

As Chelsea gave her friend a quick greeting hug, Emma’s phone beeped. When she checked it a rather forlorn look crossed her features.

“Rachel’s not coming,” she reported. “Has to work the night shift at Pizza Hut.”

“What about Dean?” Chelsea said.

Emma shook her head and Chelsea felt tinges of disappointment seep through her. She’d been looking forward to seeing him tonight. They’d been friends for years, but just recently she’d started to develop romantic feelings for him. The feelings weren’t strong, but they were definitely there.

“Don’t look so devastated,” Emma told her. “Dean’s a mate. He’s like a brother. I really don’t think you should go there. If you want a boyfriend, find someone fresh and new and exciting. Dean’s just, well...Dean. Do you know what I’m sayin’, girlfriend?”

Chelsea shrugged and reluctantly decided that her friend might be right.

Emma said, “Let’s get some food. I’m starved.”

They went into McDonald’s and lined up in one of four lines behind about five other people. When they were served, Emma opted for a Quarter Pounder Meal while Chelsea got a Chicken Caesar Wrap and a Coke. They found a free table outside right on the edge of The Esplanade. The sound of the nearby surf pounding on the beach could be heard when there was a break in the slow-moving traffic.

“How come you weren’t at school today?” Emma asked between bites on her burger. She washed it down with a mouthful of Coke, then immediately took another bite while waiting for Chelsea to reply.

“I’m thinking of quitting,” Chelsea said, contemplating her wrap, but not yet having taken a bite.

“You’re what?”

Chelsea went on to inform her friend of the offer of a fulltime job at Threads.

“I want to earn money. I’m sick of school.”

Emma made a face. “But we’re almost finished. There’s only a month to go.”

“You sound like my brother.”

“Well, if that’s what he told you, then he’s right. Ryan’s not such a bad guy.” She grinned wickedly then. “And he’s kinda cute.”

“Don’t even think about going there,” Chelsea warned.

“He’s single, isn’t he?” She was still grinning.

“Emma. That’s gross. He’s my brother.”

“But he’s not my brother.”

“Emma!”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Ryan’s off the menu. I’m just stirring you, anyway. But back to the school thing. Can’t you just hang in there for one more month?”

Chelsea shrugged and ate some of her dinner. She spoke with her mouth full. “I don’t feel like I can go through all those end of year exams. Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”

“Then don’t think about it.”

“How can I not think about it?”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence, their wandering eyes checking out the guys that walked by solo, in pairs, or in groups.

“That one’s cute,” Emma said after swallowing her last mouthful of fries.

“Nah.” Chelsea shook her head.

“You and I have different taste, girlfriend.”

“Yep. I don’t fancy Ryan for starters.”

“That’d be a bit hard in your situation,” Emma pointed out the obvious, “but if he wasn’t your brother, you might think differently.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Chelsea was adamant. “He’s twenty-five. That’s like middle-aged, almost.”

Emma laughed, almost choking on her Coke. “Bet he’d just love to hear that.”

Chelsea was still peeved with Ryan. “I don’t wanna talk about my brother anymore.”

“Okay.” Emma stood up. “Then let’s go for a walk and have a smoke. We can talk about my eighteenth birthday party.”

Leaving their rubbish on the table, the girls walked across the street and onto a pathway that followed the line of the beach. Floodlights lit up the sand at the end of the mall. A few people sat down there. Others wandered around at the water’s edge. The sound of the surf was quite loud, but soothing at the same time. The girls lit a smoke each and leaned on a handrail to gaze out over the beach.

Emma said, “Friday night at the Broadbeach Community Centre. Make sure you’re not working. We start at eight. My parents will be there obviously, since they organized the thing. I’ll be allowed to drink, but if you want alcohol, you’ll have to sneak a drink outside. Maybe afterwards a few of us can come into town and go to a club.”

“Sounds really good,” Chelsea said. “I need something to look forward to.”

Six

Toby Matthews squinted his eyes against the rancid smoke as he placed more wood on the campfire. Twigs crackled and snapped as they burned, the flames painting Toby’s face and arms in hues of red, orange and yellow. He hung a can of water from a stick he had propped up over the fire, the ends of the stick resting in the forks of two other sticks he’d jammed into the earth. The water sizzled quickly from the heat and would soon be boiling. Then he could have himself a nice cup of tea.

Camping was prohibited where he was and fires were strictly forbidden. But he didn’t care. He’d been on this earth for quite a while now and all the modern rules and regulations were a personal pet hate of his. He actually enjoyed bending and breaking the rules, at least in small ways like he was tonight.

Behind him he’d hitched up a small, two-man tent. The nylon was blue in colour with mesh closing in the doorway. He lived in nearby Canungra and he’d walked to his location. He needed to get out into the wilderness once in a while and he enjoyed the exercise it gave him. At sixty-two he was still very fit, but only because he made a concerted effort to stay in shape and not get lazy. Strangely, since his wife passed away two years ago, he seemed to enjoy solitary time more and more. In recent months he’d become a real loner. Some would say it wasn’t a healthy existence, but Toby relished it. Times like this invigorated him and it also made him somehow feel closer to Margaret; like he was connecting with her on some kind of earthy level. It was hard to explain, but he knew what he was feeling.

He checked on the water just in time to see it start to boil. Holding a grimy rag in his leathery hand, Toby removed the can from the flames and dropped a Lipton teabag into it. Then he sat back and jiggled the draw string, releasing the succulent aroma of fresh tea.

The night was clear and the stars were like a carpet of fine jewels against the blackness above him. He scanned back and forth, admiring the heavens and wondering what it would be like to be up there in one of those space shuttles. Those astronauts had the life. Big money, exciting journeys into outer space. How did one get a gig like that? he pondered.

When the tea was brewed he added half a sugar for taste and just a dash of milk. The mix was stirred with a stained spoon, then he held the cup in both hands and brought it to his lips for a sip. It was delicious. From his pocket he removed a rather crumpled cigar. He bit off the end, jammed it between his yellowed teeth and lit it with a stick from the fire. He tossed the burning stick back into the coals and puffed tenaciously on the cigar to get it burning nicely. The flavour was strong and pungent, but he liked his cigars that way. Some people just puffed on them. Toby preferred to draw back on cigars like a cigarette. To him that was the only way to smoke them. He took a long drag, then chased it down with a sip of tea.

Around him crickets were chirping. At the moment the sound wasn’t too bad, but when thousands of them got going, it could get quite overpowering. Toby hoped it stayed the way it was. For the most part he wanted peace and quiet. Somewhere nearby to his right an owl hooted. Its call was answered by another off to the left.

He grinned. Were they planning to mate tonight? Good luck to the little buggers.

Cigar smoke mingled with that of the fire. One of the fresher logs made a snapping sound as the flames licked up its sides. A breeze drifted through the valley, fanning the flames and making the fire glow temporarily twice as bright. Then the breeze was gone and the fire returned to normal once more. Now that his tea had cooled a bit, Toby gulped it down, sprawled out on his back on an old blanket and smoked his cigar while staring up at the night sky.

He thought of Margaret then. He really missed his wife. One day they would be together again. No more cancer, no disease, no ageing bodies. He genuinely believed that and a part of him couldn’t wait for that day to come.

Toby closed his eyes and reminisced about the good old days. He continued to puff on his cigar at regular intervals as he let his mind wander. Only when he felt the stub burning his fingers did he open his eyes and toss the remains into the flames. He closed his eyes again and relaxed, enjoying the calming sounds of the open fire and the wilderness at night. He soon started to doze and was on the verge of falling asleep when he heard a sound that didn’t quite fit in with nature’s music.

There was the definitive crunch of twigs snapping under a heavy weight, and Toby could have sworn he heard footsteps slowly coming closer to his camp site.

It wouldn’t be an animal. There was nothing around these parts other than lizards, scrub turkeys, birds and kangaroos. The only one of those that would be heavy enough to make those sounds was a kangaroo. But kangaroos hopped. They didn’t walk.

Toby sat up and reached into a knapsack beside him. When he withdrew his hand it gripped a stainless steel knife with a seven inch blade. The blade gleamed with menace in the firelight. He got to his feet and into a crouch, ready to defend himself if it came to that. Could just be another camper out for a stroll. He listened intently. All had gone quiet. Even the crickets had stopped making a noise. Toby held his breath, his heart beating hard against his ribcage.

There was a whooshing sound, like something flying or moving very quickly, only no footsteps this time. It was followed by a crashing noise in a thicket of bushes somewhere off to the left of Toby’s campsite.

What the hell is it? Toby wondered, starting to feel very anxious. In the light of the fire he could see his knife hand shaking. He put his other hand over it to steady it, but his left hand was shaking as well, so it didn’t really help.

A gust of wind suddenly ripped through the area, causing the flames of the fire to roar and dance around crazily until the wind had passed. Toby brushed hair away from his face and eyes. He started crabbing his way to the left, remaining in a crouch, keeping his centre of gravity low and his senses alert.

Now he heard the heavy footsteps again, this time circling around behind him.

Toby rose to his full height and spun around, expecting to see something emerging from the bushes and coming at him. There was nothing there, though several low branches of a tree just beyond the edge of the clearing were swaying back and forth.

All went dead silent.

Toby held his breath. He could both hear and feel a rapid pulse beating at his temple. Straining his eyes to see into the darkness beyond the camp fire, he spied nothing but deep shadows and blackness.

What the hell was out there?

Whatever it was, it seemed to be stalking him, toying with him to the point where Toby’s nerves were starting to fray.

Something broke free of the forest to his left and darted across the campsite, moving so rapidly he couldn’t even be sure it had really happened at all. What it was, he couldn’t tell. It was just an indistinct blur of motion, though it was about the average height of a man.

Maybe I’m losing it? Toby thought and rubbed his eyes. Was there some hallucinogenic in that tea? Perhaps dementia was setting in?

He figured it was none of the above when he heard a sound somewhere in the forest just behind the tent. It was those slow, heavy footsteps again. Once more twigs snapped under the weight of whatever was lurking out there shadowing him, and possibly hunting him.

The thought to call the police crossed his mind, but then he remembered there was no phone reception out where he was, no towers nearby to pick up a signal.

No, he was on his own in this.

Something was startled from the trees. Toby heard the faint flapping of wings. When he looked up he saw three bats flying overhead, rapidly retreating from the area. Bats gave him the creeps and he shuddered, the knife jerking around in his hand.

He saw a shadow taking shape between the trees right behind his tent. Toby backed up until his left boot crunched on the hot coals at the base of the fire. He felt intense heat on his leg and realized his pants had caught alight. Dropping the knife to the dirt, he slapped at the flames with his bare hands, blistering the skin of his palms. The hairs on his calf had all singed off and a severe pain engulfed his entire lower leg by the time the flames were extinguished. He groped for the knife, felt the rubber handle and snatched it up. When he moved, pain shot up his leg, the skin having melted just above the line of his boot.

Sensing something behind him, Toby slowly turned and there it was, standing motionless on the other side of the fire.

It was a man dressed all in black to match his black hair. He was young, maybe early twenties, and looked very lean and fit judging by his stature. The most striking thing about him, though, was his sapphire blue eyes that seemed to glow brighter than the fire. The man wasn’t smiling, nor was he frowning. In fact his face was completely devoid of all expression.

Toby searched the guys hands, but saw they held no weapon. He held up his lethal-looking knife to warn the intruder that he meant to cause serious harm if he was attacked. The stranger glanced at the knife, completely unperturbed.

Ever so slowly the guy broke into a smile. Well, more of a malicious grin, really. Toby watched in the firelight, mesmerized as two fangs started to protrude from the upper jaw. The stranger’s eyes darkened to a deeper shade of blue. They took on a dead look, emotionless, like that of a shark when it attacked and mauled its prey. The man opened his mouth wide and hissed at Toby.

Toby’s heart hammered so hard and fast he feared it might crack a rib. His breathing was shallow and ragged now as fear gripped him in its iron fist.

Who the hell was this man?

More to the point, what was he?

He felt caught in two minds. Should he advance on the man, threatening attack? Or should he retreat into the woods and make a run for it?

Before he could make up his mind, the stranger disappeared back into the forest in a haze of rapid movement. There were the sounds of branches rustling and debris being crushed underfoot. Then all went deathly silent again.

Toby came to his senses when the pain in his left leg became all-consuming once more. He seized a bottle of water and poured it all over the burn, filling his boot in the process. The water eased the pain a little, but not much.

Trying to take his mind off the agony, he thought about what he’d just seen. What on earth was that? A vampire? Were the centuries-old legends real? It couldn’t be! Surely not! But how could he move so damned fast? And those eyes and fangs!

Five minutes passed without incident. Toby saw and heard not a thing in that time and he hoped and prayed that the man, vampire, whatever it was, was long gone.

But it wasn’t.

Up above he heard that same whooshing sound he’d heard earlier. He looked up in time to see the figure of the stranger swooping down towards him. Instinctively Toby ducked, but all to no avail. The flying man was upon him in a split second, crashing into Toby’s ageing frame and crushing him to the ground. The knife flew from Toby’s hand and the air burst from his lungs; and with the man’s weight on top of him, he found it hard to take another breath.

The stranger looked into Toby’s eyes with his penetrating, deep blue stare. Once again he saw the life ebb from those eyes as the man opened his mouth, exposing those bizarre and lethal fangs. Saliva dripped from the tips and Toby had the fleeting image of a wolf about to maul him.

Something came over him with certainty then. He was a goner. He didn’t have the strength to fight off his attacker. He was just too young and way too strong; more powerful than any man Toby had encountered in his sixty-two years. He just hoped his death was a quick one.

In a flash the stranger’s head moved. Toby felt a new pain then as the pair of fangs pierced his neck. The man on top of him grunted as if in orgasm and made a loud, disgusting slurping sound. Toby literally felt the life draining from his body, and as he succumbed to the everlasting blackness of unconsciousness, Toby’s last thoughts were that of his wife, Margaret. She would be waiting for him on the other side, and that thought alone made death much more bearable.

When he’d had his fill, Michael got up on his knees, gripped the dead man’s head in his hands and twisted so violently that the head ripped away from the neck and rolled into the fire.

There it hissed and sizzled as it was quickly charred by the flames.

Seven

Ryan slipped into a light sports coat and headed out the door. He needed to go for a walk. Whenever something was on his mind he either walked or drove. The movement helped calm him down so he could collect his thoughts.

He may have been very frustrated and somewhat depressed before, but Ryan was never going to leap to his death from the balcony. That wasn’t his style. He wasn’t one to just give up and quit. When the day came that he died, he planned to go out with a little more dignity than suicide.

He strode across the highway dodging traffic, not bothering to wait for a green Walk signal at the lights, and headed into town. As he walked he kept his eyes open for his sister. Even if he spotted her he probably wouldn’t approach her. Better to let them both cool down a bit. He really just wanted to know that she was okay, despite the fact that she hated him.

He cut through the Centre Arcade, where the aromas of Asian cooking filled the air. The old arcade was made up of Japanese, Chinese and Korean eateries, and for the most part, only other Asians seemed to eat there. Although there were plenty of good Asian restaurants in town, the ones in the Centre Arcade had that cheap, dodgy look. Ryan had always steered clear of sampling their wares.

After travelling up Cavill Mall, he crossed The Esplanade, glanced all about, spotted Chelsea nowhere, then walked down onto the beach.

Shoes were cumbersome in sand, the fine grains tending to slip beneath the flat soles. He walked rather awkwardly down to the water’s edge and onto the firm, damp sand, where he went north and out of the floodlit area of beach.

In a way Chelsea had been right with what she’d said earlier. He was partly responsible for the death of their parents, and he felt it. If he hadn’t pressured Dad into coming down that day to sign the documents, they would never have been out driving in that storm, and the fatal collision with the truck would never have happened. He knew it was an accident, but he shouldered some of the blame nonetheless. There was nothing he could do to change things now. He just had to try and get on with life, and so did Chelsea.

Now she wanted to quit school, with only one month to go. That would be such a waste and a huge mistake. Education was so important in the job market in the modern world. The bare minimum now was completing your HSC to get a look-in for employment in most industries. Many required tertiary qualifications as well. He had to find a way to convince her to finish her studies. If she refused to listen to him, then he’d have to find someone she would take notice of. One of her friends maybe.

Ryan walked and thought for fifteen minutes, then he diverted left and headed back up to the footpath. He turned south and strolled down toward the mall. As he walked he placed his hands in his pockets. That was when he found it.

He withdrew the lone cigarette from his right pocket and studied it, then sniffed it. It was a little wrinkled and squashed, and probably a bit stale - it had been ages since he’d worn that jacket - but certainly worth smoking.

His mouth started to salivate for a nicotine fix as he continued to examine the cigarette.

“What the hell,” he said and stuffed it between his lips. Now all he needed was a light. Rather fortuitously a gent walking towards him was smoking a cigarette and Ryan hit him up. “Thanks,” he said, touching the smoke to the flame that was offered him.

The smoke was heavenly. Ryan took long puffs and drew the smog deep into his lungs, holding it there before exhaling as if he’d just had a toke on a bong. He couldn’t remember ever enjoying a cigarette so much. It was burning far too quickly, though. He willed it to go on and on, but eventually he had to take the final puff before stabbing it out on the side of a rubbish bin.

Now his mouth tasted a bit like charcoal and his lungs, which had been feeling very clear after two weeks of abstinence, felt congested and contaminated. He was disappointed with himself. He’d been doing so darn well. Why did that cigarette have to be in his pocket?

“Lead us not into temptation,” he softly quoted a line from the Lord’s Prayer.

Oh well, it wasn’t the end of the world. So he’d stuffed up and succumbed. From now on he’d just have to try harder. Ryan was determined not to be a slave to the habit any longer. He was going to quit and stay quit.

He passed McDonald’s and once again checked around for any sign of Chelsea. Across the mall his eyes came to rest on the pulsing pink and blue neon sign of Bliss Night Club. He paused in the centre of the mall, contemplating whether he should duck into the club and see Selena Thorne.

No, he decided. He didn’t want to be a pest or look desperate. If she had some work for him she would call him.

Instead, he decided to head for home.

*  *  *

It was now after nine PM and there was still no sign of Amanda. Her mother had tried calling her phone several times, but she just kept getting her message bank. Twice she left a message demanding Amanda call her back. The third time she didn’t bother.

“I’m getting really, really worried now,” Stacey said to her husband.

“Try calling that friend of hers,” Sean suggested. “What’s her name?”

“Rebecca?”

“That’s the one.”

“I don’t know her number.” Stacey sighed heavily with exasperation. “I’ll check in Amanda’s room. Maybe she has it written down somewhere.”

Stacey retreated to the rear of the house and searched her daughter’s bedroom for a book of phone numbers or something. As luck would have it she found just that in the draw of the bedside table. In it she located Rebecca’s phone number, along with the numbers of numerous guys. Stacey ignored that fact for now and punched Rebecca’s number into the phone. The call was answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Rebecca,” Stacey said quickly. “This is Mrs Simms, Amanda’s mother. I was just wondering if you’d seen her lately.”

“No, not since Saturday night. I’ve been trying to call her for two days.” Rebecca sounded extremely concerned.

“Where did you see her last?” Stacey wanted to know, trying to keep the edge of fear out of her voice.

“We were at a night club. I picked her up. She ended up leaving with some playboy. I tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

Stacey’s heart was in her mouth now.

“Do you think this guy was dangerous?” she quizzed.

“I don’t know. Maybe. There was something about his eyes that I didn’t trust. They were really spooky.”

“Can you tell me anything else? Do you know where they were going, if they were coming back here? The quilt’s missing off her bed.”

“That’s all I know,” Rebecca replied. “I’m really sorry, Mrs Simms. I feel like it’s my fault that she’s gone missing.”

“It’s not your fault, Rebecca. You can’t control Amanda any more than I can. Let me know right away if you hear from her. Okay?”

“I will.”

Stacey hung up and went back out to the kitchen. Sean looked at her expectantly and Stacey shook her head. She dialed another phone number.

“I’m calling the police,” she said and put the phone to her ear.

Eight

It was early Tuesday morning and Summer Croft was taking a drive with her Golden Retriever, Samson. He looked across at her from the passenger seat, eyes wide with excitement, pink tongue hanging out as he panted. The breeze blew in through the open windows and tussled his furry coat. He loved a drive, with the feel of the wind in his hair.

Summer glanced at the number two love in her life - her husband being number one - and smiled contentedly. She loved seeing him happy.

She didn’t know where they were going as she headed west from Nerang. Anywhere would do. Maybe they would stop somewhere and take a walk. It was her day off. Normally Matt would come with them, but he had to work. Not to worry. Samson was great company, and sometimes it was nice to have good company that didn’t talk.

“How you doin’ there, boy?” she said to her dog.

He responded by glancing at her, then poked his head out the window where he got the full brunt of the wind. His eyes squinted against the air torrent, his mouth agape, tongue dangling out and catching the breeze. He twisted his head to follow the path of a low-flying bird, then scanned the bush land for anything else of interest. Seeing nothing, Samson drew his head back inside the vehicle and looked across at Summer again. She reached over and rubbed one of his droopy ears. Samson licked her forearm as she did this, something he often did when she patted him. Some people despised being licked by a dog, but Summer didn’t mind. She loved him too much to care about things like that. Any sign of affection from him warmed her heart.

Up ahead she spied a bit of a clearing at the edge of the road. She took her foot off the accelerator and the car instantly slowed. Summer applied the brake and pulled over to the side of the road, bringing the car to a complete stop, pebbles crunching under the tyres. Before getting out she hooked the lead up to Samson’s red leather collar, then went round and opened the passenger door.

“Let’s go, boy.”

Samson jumped down onto the dirt and immediately started sniffing around. It was only early, but already the sun was quite hot. By the time they’d walked around for five minutes, a sheen of sweat was forming on Summer’s forehead. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and let herself be dragged into the forest as Samson explored further. His keen nose had picked up a scent that really had him excited and he took off, almost pulling Summer’s right shoulder out of its socket.

“What is it, boy?” she asked, trotting along behind him, her shoes kicking up dust.

Samson’s nose was going crazy now as he made a beeline for what he could smell. Even before he’d reached it, Summer saw the standout colour of pink on the ground beneath some branches and bits of wood. Samson led them right up to it and started whining as he sniffed his find.

Curiosity getting to her as she got a whiff of something unpleasant herself, Summer started removing the branches that loosely covered the object. She soon discovered it was a pink blanket of some kind with something wrapped inside it. With feelings of trepidation, knowing full well what it looked like it might be, Summer let go of Samson’s lead and bent down to unroll the blanket. The object inside was heavy, the stench stronger as the material was removed. She gagged and felt bile rise in her throat. When she’d uncovered it completely, she staggered back in shock and disbelief.

Inside was a naked young woman, the skin extremely pale and slightly greenish in hue. Lifeless blue eyes bulged from the face, and the body was bloated from bacteria, intestinal gases and the heat.

Samson started sniffing around the corpse and nuzzling his nose into the face and neck area. Summer roughly dragged him away. With a shaking hand, she struggled to remove her mobile from her pocket so she could call the police.

*  *  *

Homicide Detective David Marks came to a stop behind a bunch of other vehicles; including unmarked cars, patrol cars and a waiting ambulance with its red and blue lights flashing. Marks figured that the ambulance wasn’t going to be needed.

He jumped out of his blue Ford Falcon and made his way towards a line of a yellow and black crime scene tape that cordoned off a section of the forest. The tape had been looped around tree trunks and the branches of small shrubs. Marks lifted the tape and ducked under it, nodding at a couple of uniforms as he made his way over to the body.

The Scenes of Crime Officers (SOCOs), today wearing fluorescent orange suits, were already there doing their thing. They had on their mandatory latex gloves and plastic boots. Some were busy gathering evidence and placing items into labeled plastic bags. Video footage was being shot and a police photographer was actively taking numerous photographs of just about everything. Numbered yellow markers had been placed on the ground near anything of interest.

Marks saw what looked to be a pink quilt from a bed lying spread out on the ground. On top of the quilt was the body of a young blonde woman. One of the SOCOs was currently taking some measurements while another was performing various cotton swabs on the corpse and placing the results inside plastic vials.

Sitting on a fold-up chair, just outside the line of tape, was a woman with a Golden Retriever dog beside her. Marks figured she must be the lady who found the body. A female constable was there talking to her.

“Please don’t come any closer, Detective,” one of the SOCOs warned. “We’re not done processing the scene yet.”

Marks stopped in his tracks, then ducked back under the tape and decided to chat to the woman with the dog. As he approached, he nodded to the constable and she stepped away.

“I’m Detective David Marks,” he said to the woman, who was constantly rubbing the ears of her canine. “I’ll be in charge of handling this case. I know you’ve probably already given details to the constable over there,” she was now leaning against the trunk of a tree, perusing her notes, “but I’d really like you to tell me exactly what happened and what you know, if anything.”

He knew he could gather all that information from the uniforms, but Marks preferred first-hand knowledge straight from the source if he could get it. He clicked on a digital voice recorder.

“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” he asked. She eyed the small device, then shook her head. “Can you state your name for the record?”

“Summer Croft.”

Summer then went on to fill Detective Marks in on how she and her dog had stumbled upon the body.

“Did you disturb much of the crime scene?”

“I unraveled the body from the bed linen, and Samson had a bit of a sniff, but that was it. I then dragged him away and called the police.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me, Miss Croft?”

“It’s Mrs Croft. And, no. That’s all I know.”

“Did you see any sign of anyone else in the area at the time?” She shook her head. “Okay. Thank you, Mrs Croft.” He switched off the voice recorder. “I take it you’ve given your contact details to the officer over there?” He nodded towards the female constable. Summer nodded in confirmation. Marks fished a business card from the pocket of his suit jacket. A breeze whipped through the forest and made his red tie flap about his torso. He handed the card to Summer. “If you think of anything else, no matter how minor or insignificant it may seem, please give me a call on this number.”

Marks left her then and gathered some contact details from the constable who’d interviewed Summer earlier, after which he stood at the edge of the crime scene, just outside the tape, and waited for the SOCOs to finish up so he could get a preliminary report from them. While he waited, the morning sun beating down on his bald head, his fingers played with his goatee. It was a habit of his; especially when he was deep in thought. Sweat started to bead on top of his head and he rubbed it off with his other hand.

He was only thirty-one, but started losing hair in his mid-twenties. It had begun as a typical receding hairline that just kept on receding at a rapid rate until the only hair he had was on the sides, and a little at the back. Rather than remain that way, or growing the sides long so he could do the unfashionable ‘comb-over’, Marks decided to just shave his head completely bald. At least that looked kind of cool.

Now, as he rubbed sweat from his shiny pate, he felt prickles at the sides and realized it was overdue for a bit of maintenance.

Another hour went by before the forensic team started to pack up their gear. Marks decided it was now safe to enter the area, so he slipped beneath the tape and walked over to take a look at the body before it was bagged and shipped to the morgue.

SOCO team member, Chris Saunders, was waiting expectantly for his arrival. He still had his gloves on and refrained from shaking hands in greeting.

“Chris,” Marks said with a nod. “Anything you can tell me so far?” He switched on his voice recorder again as he hated taking handwritten notes. Maybe he was lazy, but he figured why not use modern technology. Some of the detectives had taken to jotting down notes on iPads or smart phones. Detective Marks couldn’t be bothered doing that either.

“She’s dead, for starters,” Chris said with a grin.

Marks nodded grimly, not sharing the joke. “I think I’ve gathered that much. Estimated time of death?”

“Not sure until an autopsy is done, but a rough estimate would be at least a couple of days.”

“Cause of death? Anything obvious?”

Chris shook his head. “Again, not certain. There are no signs of bullet wounds or stab wounds. No bruising around the throat or crushing of the wind pipe to suggest strangulation or asphyxiation. She doesn’t appear to have any broken bones. No major bruising. Really doesn’t look like she put up a struggle at all.” He glanced at the body, then back at the detective. “We did find something really odd, though. Come here and take a look at this. See what you make of it.”

Marks followed him over and knelt down beside the poor girl. She only looked young, maybe late teens or early twenties at the most. What a waste of life, he thought as he fingered his goatee again.

“Look here,” Chris said and pointed at the throat on the left hand side. “See these two puncture wounds crusted over with blood? Have you seen anything like that before? I certainly haven’t.”

Marks shrugged. “Could they be insect bites? Or a snake bite?”

“I’m not about to completely rule it out, but I don’t think so. We’ve taken some swabs of them, and the autopsy should tell all of us a lot more than what we can determine on site here.”

Marks eyed the naked form, his eyes resting for a brief moment on her completely shaved vagina. “Was she sexually assaulted?”

“We did find traces of semen in the vaginal cavity and on the quilt, but that doesn’t prove she was raped. She may have had consensual sex just prior to the murder, most likely with the perpetrator himself. We’ve taken swabs and put a rush on DNA profiling. He might show up in the system somewhere.”

“Hopefully. It’ll sure make my job a lot easier.” Marks rose to his full height of five feet, nine. “Bag her up,” he said.

Two other SOCOs placed the corpse carefully into a body bag and zipped it up. The bag was then placed on a trolley and wheeled up to a waiting van that belonged to the government contracted funeral director, who would then transport it to the mortuary. Another pair of forensic team members stuffed the pink quilt into a large black plastic bag and labeled it.

“You know,” Chris mused, “she may not have been murdered. Could have been an accidental death. The guy has sex with her. Somehow she dies. Heart attack, maybe. The guy panics, wraps her up and dumps her body.”

“I guess it’s possible,” Marks said, though not convinced. “If it was accidental, why not just call it in? Why go to all this trouble of dumping her and later having to explain if caught? It doesn’t really make sense.”

“Well, one thing I’m sure about,” Chris said. “She wasn’t killed here. She was murdered some place else and her body dumped here.”

“Yeah, but where?” Marks watched as the body was loaded into the back of the van. Some members of the press and a news crew were just arriving on scene. “Any identification?” he asked Chris. “Do we know who she is?”

One of the uniformed officers overheard and came up to Detective Marks. “I might have a lead on that,” he said. “A missing person’s call that came in last night.”

Nine

Detective David Marks was at the Gold Coast morgue in Southport, awaiting the arrival of Sean and Stacey Simms; the dead girl’s probable parents. They were due in any minute to formally identify the body.

He paced up and down the chilly corridor that ran off the waiting area. They always kept these places at a constant temperature of about 20° or 21° Celsius.

Body identification had to be one of the most unpleasant parts of police work and he couldn’t wait to get it over and done with.

Marks checked his watch. They should arrive shortly.

His mobile phone beeped, telling him he’d received an SMS. When he checked it, he saw that it was from his wife, asking him what time he might be home this evening.

He wrote back.: I don’t know.

Things weren’t the best at home for him at the moment. A wedge had driven distance between himself and his wife of late, and maybe the chasm was just too wide to traverse? His case load had been heavy these past six months, and now this new murder investigation on top of everything else.

A separation and possible divorce may soon be on the cards.

He already had the SOCOs around at the Simms residence in Riverstone Crossing, meticulously going over the house, and particularly Amanda’s bedroom. If this body was indeed that of Amanda Simms, then it was highly likely her death happened in her bedroom.

When Stacey and Sean Simms arrived they were ashen-faced, eyes glazed and disbelieving. They hadn’t yet viewed the body, but it was obvious to Marks that they already knew the truth and expected the worst.

Marks signaled an attendant dressed in a white lab coat and wearing glasses with thick black frames. The man entered the door that led into the holding room. Marks guided Mr and Mrs Simms over to a window that allowed them to see into the room. They watched as the attendant opened a door to what looked a lot like a cold room. In that large chamber the temperature was sub-zero, about -15° Celsius. It was used to store bodies that had yet to be identified. The attendant emerged a moment later wheeling out a trolley with a sheet-covered corpse on it. Beside him, Marks felt Stacey Simms stiffen when she saw it.

The trolley was wheeled over to the window. The attendant looked at Detective Marks. He looked at Mr and Mrs Simms.

“Are you ready?” he asked softly.

They both silently nodded.

The sheet was pulled back to reveal the face.

Stacey gasped and collapsed into her husband’s arms. Sean just stared, mesmerized. He appeared frozen with shock. Ever so slowly he peeled his eyes away from the scene beyond the window and turned his head towards the detective.

“That’s Amanda,” he stated flatly.

Marks nodded to the attendant, who then covered the body back up and quickly wheeled it away.

Marks took a deep breath and sighed. “The Coroner wants an autopsy performed to determine the cause of death, among other things.”

“So you don’t know how she was killed?” Sean asked, his eyes red, verging on tears. Bravely he held them back for now. His arms were still wrapped tightly around his distraught wife.

“No. We don’t,” Marks answered. “The autopsy will tell us more.”

“So, you’re not even sure she was murdered?”

“The fact that her body was dumped in bush land strongly suggests she was. I’m sorry, Mr and Mrs Simms.”

Marks let them console each other for a few minutes in the waiting area, giving them a chance to come to terms with their loss to some small degree.

Bleary-eyed and sniffling back tears, Stacey asked the detective, “When can we make arrangements?”

“Her body will likely be released as soon as the autopsy is complete.”

“Likely be released?” Sean repeated. “What exactly does that mean?”

“She should be released as soon as the post mortem is finalized. However, there is the slight chance that we may need to retain the body for longer in the event that we need to gather more evidence. But that shouldn’t be the case,” he added quickly.

Mrs Simms asked, “When will the autopsy be conducted?”

“It’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock.”

“Can we be there?”

Marks shook his head. “That’s really not an option, Mrs Simms. Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”

“She’s going to be mutilated, isn’t she,” she stated, bitterness coating her tongue.

“I assure you your daughter’s remains will be treated with the highest degree of respect. Only procedures absolutely necessary to determine exact cause of death will be carried out. She will in no way be mutilated.”

Sean looked convinced but Stacey didn’t look so sure.

“I really need you to accompany me down to the station to answer a few questions. I can drive you there and drop you back to your car when we’re done.” Stacey and Sean glanced at one another. “I really wouldn’t be asking you to do this right now if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. We need to catch her killer and I need some background on your daughter to be able to do that.”

*  *  *

“How old was your daughter?” Marks asked.

Sean Answered, “She’d just turned twenty a few weeks ago.”

They were sitting in an interview room back at the precinct. This wasn’t a formal interrogation, just preliminary questions to obtain some background on the victim. A coffee rested on the table in front of Sean. Stacey had only wanted water. Marks had opted for black tea. He had his digital recorder on the table and set to Record.

“Was she seeing anyone? A love interest? Did she have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“You mean, was she gay?” Stacey looked incredulous. “Amanda was not a lesbian.”

Marks held up his hands in a gesture of supplication. “In this day and age I’ve gotta ask things like that.”

“She didn’t have a partner that I know of,” Sean said. “But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t seeing someone without our knowledge.”

“Was it common for her to have friends come over to the house?”

Sean said, “Sometimes.”

“Men?”

“Male friends, yes.”

“Lovers?”

Stacey shook her head. “Our daughter never had sex in the family home. I’m not saying she wasn’t sexually active. Hell, she was twenty.”

“Not to our knowledge,” Sean added. He stared hard into the detective’s eyes. “Do you think some guy who was keen on Amanda may have killed her?”

Marks shrugged. “It’s a distinct possibility. Maybe he was a jilted lover? Or someone who fancied her but she didn’t feel the same way? Many murders are crimes of passion, and with most murders, the perpetrator is known to the victim. We have to look at all possibilities.”

“Are we suspects?” Stacey asked pointedly.

Marks hesitated before answering. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and tenting his hands. “When a murder first occurs, virtually everyone known to the victim starts out as a person of interest. It’s a process of elimination. So, where exactly were you two when Amanda disappeared?”

“We were on the Sunshine Coast at a health spa, from Friday afternoon until Monday,” it was Stacey who answered.

“Can that be verified?”

Sean said, “Absolutely.”

“Okay. Leave me details of the place and I’ll look into it.”

“Detective, this is all wasting time,” Stacey said. “You really need to speak to Amanda’s friend, Rebecca. They were out together on Saturday night and Rebecca saw her leave the night club with some guy.”

Marks sat back with a sigh. He scratched at his goatee. “Well, I wish I was told this a little sooner.”

Stacey shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again. “I’m sorry. With everything that’s happened, and seeing our daughter lying there dead on that table...” Her voice trailed off.

“It momentarily slipped our minds,” Sean explained. “We did mention it to the officer who took our missing person’s report last night.”

A reprimand for him, Marks thought and leaned forward on the desk again. “Did this Rebecca know the guy? Was it someone either she or Amanda were familiar with?”

Stacey shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I don’t think so, but you need to talk to her.”

After a few more questions and issuing them each with a business card, Marks sent them on their way and arranged for a uniformed officer to locate Rebecca Winston and have her brought into the station to make a statement.

As it turned out she’d never seen the young man before, and she was pretty certain Amanda had only met him for the very first time that night.

Deeply distressed over her best friend’s death, Rebecca was taken before a forensic artist, who utilized a computer program to form a fairly accurate rendition of the possible offender. Copies were printed off and distributed in hardcopy, by fax and by email to staff in all stations in the local precinct and beyond. An APB was put out on the suspect.

Marks kept several copies for himself and decided tonight was a good night to do some night clubbing. He sent his wife a text saying he didn’t have a clue what time he’d be home and not to wait up for him.

Ten

Ryan was busy searching the apartment for a cigarette when there was a knock on the door. He opened it to find Chelsea’s friend standing there in her school uniform.

“How did you get up here?” he asked, knowing full well he had to let her in after she’d buzzed the intercom.

Emma shrugged easily. “Someone else was coming in at the same time.”

“So much for building security,” Ryan groaned and stood aside to let her enter. “Would you like a drink of something?” he asked her.

“A beer?” she said hopefully and smiled.

Ryan shook his head. “No way.”

“I’ll be eighteen on Friday.”

“Yeah, well it’s only Tuesday. How about orange juice instead?”

“Fine.”

Emma sat down on the lounge and waited for Ryan to join her. He poured her a glass of juice and took it into the living room, placing it down on the coffee table for her.

“Is Chelsea home? She wasn’t at school again today.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ryan said and sighed. “And, no, she’s not home. She was gone when I got up this morning.” He tugged at his ear and stared out the balcony doors. “She’s probably working at Threads.” The fingers of his other hand started strumming on his thigh. “I need you to do me a favour, Emma. Chelsea won’t listen to me. She wants to drop out of school with only a month to go. Which is crazy.”

Emma picked up her juice and took a sip. “I know. She told me last night. I think she’s crazy, too.” She stared at Ryan, her eyes vibrantly green in the bright light that streamed in through the windows. She sat back on the lounge and crossed her legs, her blue pleated skirt covering her lap. Emma held the glass in both hands, sipping on it occasionally.

“So, do you think you can talk her out of it?” Ryan asked. “Like I said, there’s no way she’ll listen to me at the moment.”

“She seemed kinda pissed off with you last night.”

“We’d just had an argument.”

“About school?”

“Yeah that, and other things that I won’t go into.”

“I tried to talk to her last night, saying how crazy it was for her to quit with only a few weeks left, but she wouldn’t listen. You know what she’s like.”

He nodded, knowing all too well what his sister was like and how stubborn she could be. Maybe he came across that way to others too? He wasn’t sure.

“She should listen to you,” Emma said, a slight, approving smile curling the corners of her mouth. Today she had on no lipstick or nail polish. “You’re a nice guy. One of the good guys. I’m normally attracted to the bad boy, but nice guys are good too.”

“I’m not all nice and goodie-goodie,” he assured her. “I have my flaws.”

“Who doesn’t? Are you trying to tell me that you have some bad boy in you?”

“Maybe?”

Ryan knew Emma smoked and he contemplated asking her if she had any cigarettes on her. However, he decided against that for a number of reasons. For one, he didn’t want to be a bad role model for his sister’s friend. Secondly, he was supposed to be making a concerted effort to quit the habit. He really needed to stop thinking about it. What he needed was something to do, a case to work on, something to keep his mind occupied.

He felt Emma’s gaze upon him. When he looked at her she had a glint in her eyes. He’d seen that look before, and it worried him that he was receiving it from a seventeen year old school girl.

“Would you like to come to my birthday party on Friday night, Ryan?” she asked out of the blue. “It’ll be fun. I guarantee it.”

He managed a rather strained smile in response and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it will be fun, but I won’t go.”

She sat forward and offered him a pleading look. “Why not?” She then batted her eyelids at him rather amateurishly.

“For one, it’s for people your age.”

“No it’s not. My parents will be there.”

He ignored that. “Secondly, I’m assuming my sister will be there, and I’m one hundred percent positive that she wouldn’t want her big brother there keeping an eye on her. Especially the way things are with us at the moment.”

Emma looked genuinely disappointed, but didn’t push it further. However, she continued to stare at him as if he was the best looking man to walk planet earth. Ryan felt uneasy under her gaze and shifted his weight in the chair.

Emma patted the couch. “You can sit here beside me if it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

“I don’t think so, Emma.”

“I won’t bite.”

“I think you might.” He stood up and paced the living room floor, walking over to the balcony, glancing down at the city of Surfers, then back to the chair again. “I’m really flattered, Emma, but I’m not gonna go there.”

“Don’t you find me attractive?” She tried the eyelid thing again without success.

“It’s not about whether I think you’re attractive or not. Of course you’re attractive. Many guys would think so; especially guys your own age.”

“I prefer older men,” she told him.

Ryan wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with that label at just twenty-five. He shook his head to get his thinking back on track.

“I’m too old for you,” he said.

“No, you’re not.”

“If you want someone older, find someone who’s twenty, or twenty-one. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to date Chelsea’s best friend.”

“And if I wasn’t Chelsea’s friend? Would you go out with me then?”

“No,” he replied with all honesty.

Emma frowned and pouted like a girl half her age would do. “So you’re telling me you’re just not interested in me no matter what?”

He nodded and made eye contact with her. “That’s what I’m telling you. Please don’t be offended by it. We all have our own types we go for.”

“And I’m not yours, obviously.”

She was still pouting as she stood up, preparing to leave. Ryan followed her to the door and opened it for her, wanting to make sure she left.

“Will you have another talk to Chelsea about school?” he asked, hoping like hell she’d still help him out after just being rejected by him.

To her credit she agreed, and then she was gone.

Eleven

It was dark outside when Chelsea finally came home. Ryan was sitting in the living room, idly watching television but not really focusing on it. He turned to face her as she entered and tried to think of something to say.

“Hi,” was all he could come up with.

Chelsea grunted a greeting without looking his way. She was dressed in jeans and a red sleeveless top. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge, then went straight to her bedroom and closed the door.

Well, at least she didn’t slam it, he thought.

His iPhone buzzed on the coffee table, the sound switched off. He leaned forward and picked it up, studying the caller’s mobile number that displayed on screen. It wasn’t one he recognized. He sat back in the chair and answered it.

“Hello?” he said, his voice sounding tired from boredom.

“Hello. Is that Ryan Fox?” a woman’s voice came through the speaker. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Ryan couldn’t pick it. He could hear music in the background.

“Yes, it is,” he said.

“Good evening, Ryan. It’s Selena Thorne here, the owner of Bliss Night Club. How are you?”

“I’m really good,” he said, which wasn’t entirely the truth. His heart had skipped a beat when she announced her name. He’d been wanting to hear from her about some work, but another part of him had just wanted to hear from her regardless. “What can I do for you, Selena?”

“Well, you know how I said the other night that I may have some work for you.”

“Yes.”

“I have something I need you to do for me over the next few days. That is, if you are not too busy with other cases.”

Ryan almost laughed at that last line. “That sounds good. I have some free time at the moment.”

“Excellent,” she crooned in her silken voice. “Would it be possible for you to come into my club tonight sometime to discuss it? I’m here until five AM.”

Ryan checked his watch. Nearly seven-thirty.

“How about I meet you there at nine.”

“That’ll be great. You will find me at the end of the bar near the entrance. Although I doubt we will get particularly busy tonight, being a Tuesday and all.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks, Ryan.”

Ryan ended the call and sat there for a moment, staring blankly at the TV. He felt a little excited, but quickly realized it wasn’t just about the prospect of some work. He felt quite keen to see Selena again. Apart from her obvious beauty and sophistication, there was something intangible about her that really appealed to him. He didn’t really know what it was.

Maybe it was just that mysterious thing called chemistry?

He could hear music coming from behind Chelsea’s closed bedroom door, but couldn’t make out what the song was. For a brief moment he considered knocking on her door and trying to have a talk to her about school. In the end he decided to see if Emma could have any sort of positive influence first. He’d give it a couple of days. There was still time.

Ryan went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of cheap wine from a cask in the fridge. It was called Fruity Lexia, or some sickly name like that. With his drink in hand he stepped out onto the balcony to take in the view.

A light breeze was blowing in from the ocean, billowing cooler air over the city. Thousands of lights burned in the many buildings in his field of view. This place always looked alive and that’s what he liked about it. Things were always open, no matter what the time of day or night, and it always felt like something was happening.

He went into his bedroom, closed the door, placed his wine on the sink in the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. After taking a couple of sips of wine, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. A day’s worth of stubble covered his cheeks, chin and under the jaw. Ryan thought about shaving it off, but decided to leave it as is. He kind of liked the stubble look. It suited him.

He fired up the shower and stepped into it, letting the lukewarm water cascade over his head and run in rivers down his naked body. Loving the invigorating feel of a shower, he soaped himself up, then danced around under the jet of water to rinse himself off. After toweling himself dry, he ran a brush through his hair, then sprayed on some Hugo Boss cologne. Back in the bedroom he slipped into some fresh underwear, then opened the doors to his wardrobe and perused the clothing that hung there.

Ryan considered wearing a suit, but decided that might be a little formal and overdressed for a quiet Tuesday night. Besides, by the time he walked up town to Bliss in a suit, he’d probably be sweating. And he didn’t want that.

He opted for some slightly more casual black pants and black leather shoes, then rummaged through his array of shirts, looking for something light, cool and comfortable that still looked reasonably dressy. He pulled out a white one. No, would look like a waiter. He put it back and took out a black one. Possibly. In the end he decided to wear one that was a charcoal colour. It was basically a solid colour, but had subtle stripes crisscrossing through the material in a slightly darker shade of deep grey. Ryan slipped into it, buttoned it up to the third top button and left it hanging out. It was a shirt designed to be either worn out, or tucked in. He preferred out on a warm night. His wallet was slipped into his back pocket and his keys tucked into a front pocket. A Seiko watch was then strapped to his left wrist.

Fully dressed, he went back into the kitchen and poured another glass of wine, which he once again took out onto the balcony. There he sat at the small outdoor plastic table and relaxed. There was still more than half an hour before his rendezvous with Selena. Maybe one more glass of wine after this one and he’d be on his way.

When he was halfway through the third glass he glanced at his watch. Twenty to nine. Time to get going. He downed the rest of the wine and left the empty glass unwashed beside the kitchen sink. He didn’t bother telling his sister he was going out.

The breeze grew a little stronger as he strode into town and drew nearer the beach. There were plenty of shoppers about, many of them from overseas. Not too many people looked like they were dressed for a night of clubbing or hard drinking. Like most places, he figured, that was more prevalent on weekends.

Ryan slowed his pace as he walked through the mall, a light sheen of sweat starting to form on his face and the back of his neck. He went and stood by the beach for a few minutes to catch the full brunt of the sea breeze before climbing the stairs and entering Bliss without being asked to pay a cover charge. That was another thing that was usually reserved for weekends. On week nights clubs were just happy to get people through the door and spending money over the bar. As with Saturday night, a bouncer was standing just outside the entrance, but tonight there was no one attending the reception desk.

The music volume was set very low and there were only about fifty people inside the club, with at least six of those being staff. Selena Thorne was where she said she would be, standing at the end of the bar. Once again she was dressed all in black, only tonight she was wearing black pants the hugged the curves of her hips and buttocks to perfection. She had on a sleeveless black top that had a nice sheen to it. It looked to be made of silk or something similar. It was button up with frilly lapels running down the front of it. Her breasts looked impressive as they stretched the top’s sleek fabric. On her feet she wore glossy black shoes with a three inch heel, and once more she had those black silk gloves on her hands. The mandatory black eyeliner framed her dark eyes and her lips were again painted with red lip gloss. A simple fine gold chain with no pendant hung loosely around her slender neck.

She smiled when she saw him and her eyes lit up. Ryan briefly shook her gloved hand and returned her smile.

“Hi, Ryan. Would you like a bourbon?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Selena called over the barman and instructed him to fix Ryan a top-shelf bourbon and Coke. From the storage area above the bar a bottle of Knob Creek was removed. The barman proceeded to pour a generous nip into a glass of ice and topped it up with Coke from a bottle rather than using post mix. He placed the glass on a coaster in front of Ryan, then went back to his task of polishing glasses.

Ryan seated himself on a bar stool and Selena did the same. He picked up the drink, sniffed it, then took a sip and nodded with approval.

“That’s a really nice drop. You not going to join me in a drink, Selena?”

She shook her head and watched him enjoy his bourbon for a moment. It had a bit of a kick to it. Ryan had never drank Knob Creek before, but figured the alcohol percentage must be higher than that of Jim Beam White Label. He finished half the glass before Selena got down to business.

“I’m having a bit of trouble with my day shift,” she said.

“I didn’t think you were open in the day time.”

“We’re not, except for Friday and Sunday afternoons. The problem is with my cellarman. He’s the one in charge of goods receivable. Virtually all deliveries are made during daylight hours. I work nights so I can’t be here.”

“So what exactly is the problem?” Ryan said, wishing he had a cigarette to go with his drink. “Do you not trust him? Is he ripping you off somehow?”

Selena looked perplexed. “That’s just it. I’m not sure. I have no proof of anything. It’s just a hunch. I have a deep-seated feeling he’s up to something during the day, but I just don’t know what.”

“So you want me to do some digging and find out what it is, if anything,” he surmised.

She nodded. “It’s for my own peace of mind more than anything. Hopefully my feeling is wrong, but if it’s not, I want a stop put to whatever he’s up to when I’m not around.”

“So, what’s the plan? You want me to work alongside this guy for a couple of days and observe his movements?”

“That is exactly what I want you to do. I’ve been presumptuous and already left a memo for him downstairs in our loading and storage area, letting him know that you will be starting tomorrow. The premise is that you are looking for a job and you’re willing to do a few days of work experience for me. He’s to show you the ropes, which includes all the paperwork.”

Ryan nodded. “Does he normally work alone down there?”

“For the most part. He’s also in charge of bringing stock upstairs and restocking any of the alcohol and other items that may be running low behind the bar. Of a night the bar staff do any necessary restocking.”

“So, what’s your cellarman’s name?” Ryan wanted to know.

“Gordon Wells. He’s late thirties and has been doing this kind of work all his life.”

“What time do I start?”

“Ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Can you make it?”

“Sure, but we haven’t discussed my rates yet.”

Selena nodded. “I’m willing to pay you five hundred dollars a day for a maximum of three days. If you haven’t figured out what he’s up to in that time, then you’re not a very good detective,” she was blunt.

The daily rate was a little less than he’d normally charge for detective work. But still, a guaranteed five hundred a day and something constructive to do with his time was always a good thing. It sounded simple enough, and it gave him a legitimate excuse to see more of Selena. Something he was keen to do.

“Okay. Deal,” he agreed. “But what if I find out he’s not up to anything underhanded. Do I still get paid?”

She nodded. “If you can prove that he isn’t, yes.” Selena looked hard into Ryan’s eyes then. “I know he’s up to something, Ryan. If you can solve this little problem for me, then I will have another job for you to do; one that I’m willing to pay very handsomely for.”

*  *  *

Detective David Marks walked the streets of Surfers Paradise that night dressed in the same clothing he’d been wearing all day. He was on the hunt for anyone fitting the description of the identikit picture Rebecca Winston had provided them with that afternoon. Other detectives and uniformed police were scouring the streets looking for the suspect as well. Along with this they were busy showing the suspect’s picture - and a recent one of Amanda Simms - to staff in shops, restaurants, bars and clubs, on the off chance that somebody recognized the man, or had some information regarding him and his possible whereabouts. They were also querying whether anyone had seen the two together last Saturday night.

The picture of the suspect and Amanda’s photo had been splashed across the evening news and would also appear in tomorrow morning’s newspapers.

Marks was making his way towards a club called Night Beats, where Rebecca had last seen Amanda alive. It was after nine as he walked past a small patch of parkland and trotted up the stairs to the club’s entrance, where he entered without any resistance from the beefy security guy on the door. He looked about the open spaces inside. The place certainly didn’t vibe on a Tuesday night. It was virtually empty, bar about a dozen paying customers and a few staff members who looked bored out of their minds. Thankfully the music was set to a comfortable volume as the DJ played some nineties hits. He wondered if that was the usual theme here. Nineties music.

He decided to liven up their night by going to the bar and ordering a stubbie of XXXX Gold; a light beer. Once he had the beer in front of him, he had a long swallow of the chilled amber fluid, then took the pictures of ‘person of interest’ number one and Amanda Simms from his jacket pocket. Marks loosened the tie around his neck and undid the top button of his shirt. It was time to get a little more comfortable.

Just as he was about to call the barman over and quiz him on the photos, his phone beeped with a message from his wife.

When are you coming home??

Soon, he replied and put the phone away.

Marks then signaled the barman over and flashed him his credentials. The barman raised his eyebrows when he saw that Marks was a cop.

“Did you work Saturday night?” the detective asked him.

“Yep. From ten ‘til five.”

The barman ran a hand through his fine blond hair and eyed Marks a little nervously. Marks’ naturally suspicious mind wondered why the guy looked edgy. Did he just not like cops? Or did he have something to hide? Some unpaid fines maybe? Not his problem. He was looking for a killer.

Marks slid copies of the two pictures across the bar. “Do you recall seeing either of these two people in the club last Saturday night?”

The barman scrutinized the pictures carefully, then slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “That doesn’t mean they weren’t here, but this place cranks on weekends. Thousands of people come and go all night. I might have seen them, but I don’t remember them. On a night like tonight I would for sure.” Marks took the pictures back. “Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

“Is there anyone else on tonight who was working Saturday?”

“Sharon was working the floor that night.”

The barman pointed out a young woman dressed in a white singlet top and purple skirt. She was taking a drinks order from one of the tables. Marks waited until she came over to the serving area before approaching her. Once again his ID was flashed, then he showed the waitress the rendition of the suspect and the photograph of Amanda.

“Do you remember seeing either of these two here on Saturday evening?”

Sharon studied the pictures and nodded almost immediately. “Yeah, I remember them. They were over there on the edge of the dance floor.” She pointed to a pole. “The guy was leaning against that pole and the girl was all over him. They ordered a drink from me. She had a Bacardi and Coke. I don’t think he was drinking anything.”

“You have a great memory,” Marks said and smiled, genuinely impressed. “Is there anything else you can tell me about them? Did you happen to overhear any of their conversation?”

“Sorry,” she said with a firm shake of her head. “It gets really loud in here, and unless someone is yelling right in your ear, you can’t hear a word.”

He nodded his understanding. “I can imagine. Was the guy here with anyone else, do you think? A mate?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Did you see them leave the club together?”

“Nope, but Troy was working the door that night. He might have seen them.”

“Which one is Troy?” Marks swiveled his head about.

Sharon angled her head towards the entrance. “The big guy out front.”

“Thanks very much for your help.” Marks handed her one of his cards. “Call me if you can think of anything else to tell me, or if you see this guy around anywhere. Call me immediately, any time of the day or night.”

Sharon eyed the detective quizzically. “So what’s this about?”

“The girl was murdered and we think he did it.” Marks tapped the picture of the suspect for emphasis.

He had several copies of it on him, so he left a copy with Sharon to show around. The more people around town keeping an eye out, the better their chances were of a hit. His eyes came to rest on the black domes around the club that discreetly hid cameras.

“Where can I find the manger?” he asked her. Sharon pointed at the bar. “The barman?” Marks returned to the bar. “I need to see your CCTV footage from Saturday night.”

“No can do. It’s erased nightly.”

“Seriously?”

The manager/barman nodded. “Seriously.”

Marks went off to talk to Troy.

The big bouncer held the pics so closely to his face that Marks was concerned he couldn’t really see that well and wouldn’t be of much use. That proved to be a wrong assumption.

“Yeah, I saw them leave together. Right after that a fight broke out in the park downstairs. I went down with some others to break it up and saw them two heading up the street, arm in arm, all cuddly like.”

“Did you see where they went, if they got into a car or a taxi?” Marks was hopeful.

The bouncer shook his head. “Nah, man. I was too busy by then.”

Marks clapped a hand on the doorman’s beefy shoulder. “Thanks for your help.” He slipped the doorman a card as well, and several others to pass around. Without bothering to go back in and finish his beer, he trotted down the stairs and out into the street.

He spied a taxi rank across the road and up a ways. After waiting for a passing car, he walked across the street and up a slight hill to the line of taxies. There he methodically went through the process of showing the photos and asking questions of every taxi driver on duty. It proved fruitless. No one remembered giving the two a lift on Saturday night, and several of the drivers hadn’t even worked that night.

Frustrated, Marks moved on and continued canvassing anyone and everyone in the area, hoping to find someone who could give him a solid lead on this guy.

The last thing he did was commission all the CCTV footage from around town on Saturday night and early Sunday morning. He would assign a junior detective the task of enduring the endless hours of viewing pleasure.

Twelve

When Ryan got up at eight-thirty the next morning, Chelsea’s bedroom door was open. He poked his head in to discover her room was empty. A quick search of the apartment told him she’d left already.

Hopefully she’d gone to school.

After a toasted cheese sandwich for breakfast and a coffee, Ryan showered, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt, then left the building and went up town to start work.

He’d stayed for one more drink at Bliss, just chatting idly with Selena about nothing in particular. When he left the club and hit the fresh air outside, only then did he realize just how potent those top shelf bourbons were. Coupled with the wines he’d consumed earlier in the evening, he’d felt half pissed as he walked home.

Once again the day was clear and sunny. The humidity felt a fair bit higher than it had the last couple of days and Ryan wondered if they might be in for a storm later on. There was very little breeze about, even as he walked up Cavill Mall toward the beach, adding to the overall sultry feel of the day.

A lot of people were heading to the beach. Some were locals, but the majority looked like tourists from interstate and overseas. Charlie’s Cafe was packed out with the mid-morning breakfast crowd and, as always, McDonald’s was doing a roaring trade.

Directly below Bliss Night Club was the receiving and storage room. It was situated right near a small undercover parking area and loading zone for delivery vehicles and small trucks. At the moment the loading zone was empty.

There were two doors to the club’s storage facility. One was a standard entry door that was made of metal instead of wood. The other was a roller door, big enough to run a small forklift in and out of. The roller door was currently shut, but the entrance door was slightly ajar. Ryan went up to it and knocked three times. There was a grunt from within which Ryan took as an invitation to enter.

“Are you Gordon Wells?” Ryan asked the man and extended a hand.

“Last time I checked.”

“I’m Ryan Fox.”

The cellarman’s voice was deep and throaty and sounded like he was speaking with gravel in his mouth. Wells gripped Ryan’s hand so hard it felt like his bones were about to snap. His hand was then twisted beneath the cellarman’s in a typical power play handshake.

Selena had said Wells was late thirties, but he looked more like fifty. His leathery, tanned face was heavily wrinkled. Deep crow’s feet were etched into the corners of his eyes. Frown lines were carved across his forehead and heavy grooves ran down his chin from the corners of his mouth, giving him the appearance of a puppet when he spoke. The man’s hair was completely grey. It was short and fuzzy, particularly above the ears, which stuck out like wing nuts. His torso was barrel-shaped, an unflattering shape that was accentuated by the tight-fitting yellow T-shirt he wore and the stubby blue shorts.

“I’m here to work with you today,” Ryan said. “To learn the ropes.”

Wells grunted again and nodded. “Yeah, I got the memo. Can’t say as I’m too happy ‘bout it.”

“Why’s that?”

“There’s not really enough work for two. Besides, I’d rather work alone.”

Interesting point to note, Ryan thought.

He took in his surroundings. At the moment he was standing in a small, narrow office of sorts. There was a filing cabinet that, going by the labels on it, was used for storing delivery dockets and the like. There was one swivel office chair on wheels, blue and black in colour. It sat before a simple white desk with wooden top and metal legs. On the desk was a computer, LCD monitor and a laser printer. There was the usual office paraphernalia scattered a little messily on the desk; such as pens, sticky notes, paper and note pads. A small fan buzzed atop the desk, providing some slight relief for Wells when he was seated in front of the computer. There was a cutaway in the wall to the left that opened up into the spacious storage area.

When Wells saw Ryan looking into the other room, he said, “Go in and take a look around.”

Ryan did so. The room was quite spacious and well-organized. Parked near the roller door was a small orange Toyota forklift that ran on LPG. There were cases of beer of all varieties taking up the entire far wall, with the more popular beers stacked neatly on pallets. Other pallets spaced strategically in the centre of the floor held boxes of spirits of every description. There were also racks holding things like boxes of straws, coasters, napkins, trays, glasses, cleaning products and a whole array of other stuff used in the day to day running of a night club. Long fluorescent lighting illuminated the room from the high ceiling. Several industrial fans angled down from the corners to help keep things comfortable. Both were currently set to full power, creating a swirling current of air. At the back of the room was a large sliding door that led into a cold room. Ryan walked down there and slid the door open. He was greeted by a blast of frigid air which he found quite refreshing. Inside there were more cartons of beer, as well as the setup for the post mix system. Plastic tubing snaked up from the syrup chambers in the post mix machine through holes in the ceiling above, those tubes obviously linking up to the taps in the club. There was also a freezer section inside with clear glass doors. Through the glass Ryan could see bags of ice stacked one on top of the other.

Ryan stepped out of the cold room and shut the door. Returning to the main storage area felt warm and stuffy and he immediately felt sweat start to leak from his skin.

“Why don’t you open the roller door to let in some fresh air?” he said to Wells, who was tapping away on the computer keyboard.

“Security reasons,” came the gravelly reply. “Door only opens when there’s a delivery.”

“Are you expecting one anytime soon?” Ryan stepped back into the little office.

Wells checked his watch. “In ‘bout an hour a pallet of VB will be arriving. Not much to do until then.” He shook his head, looking at the monitor and not at Ryan. “Still got me stumped why the boss lady wants you workin’ with me. Barely enough for one to do, let alone two.”

“It’s just for the experience.”

“So you’re doin’ it for free then?” Now he did turn around and face Ryan, a hard look in his hazel eyes. “Are you makin’ a play for my job?”

“No, not at all, Gordon. If Selena gives me a job, I’ll most likely be working upstairs. She just wants me to know how it all works.”

Wells raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she wants you to manage the place?”

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Have you done this sort of work before?”

He shook his head.

Wells just grunted and returned his attention to the computer, where he was mindlessly passing the time playing some online slots game. Ryan would really like to get a look at that computer and see what he could find. If the man was up to something, then maybe he’d left some clues on the hard drive somewhere? Possibly he would get an opportunity when the truck arrived to unload the beer.

“I’m goin’ outside for a smoke,” Wells announced and got out of the chair. “Come and join me.” Ryan glanced at the computer, then followed Gordon Wells outside, where Wells removed a pack of Winfield from a pocket of his shorts and lit one up. “You smoke?”

Ryan shrugged. He almost refused the cigarette offered to him, despite his lungs crying out for the fix, but in the end he accepted. Sometimes doing something simple like sharing a smoke or a drink or a conversation about the football can create a bit of a rapport with someone. Or was he just using that as an excuse to let his willpower crumble? Either way, he took the smoke and lit it with the cellarman’s lighter.

After a few drags Ryan had a mixed reaction about it. On one hand the carbon dioxide and nicotine hit was divine, because that’s what his addicted body was craving. Mentally, though, he felt really guilty about it and that severely marred his overall enjoyment of it.

He decided that was a good thing.

“Do you like working here?” he asked Wells casually.

Wells thought about it and nodded. Ryan detected a bit of a glint in his eyes, but wasn’t sure what it meant. “It’s pretty cruisy. I hardly ever see the boss lady, so that’s a positive. Not that I don’t like her or anything, but who wants the boss hangin’ around all the time? Not me. I don’t want anyone hangin’ around all the time. That’s why I took this job, because I get to work alone.” He glanced sideways at Ryan. “Until now.”

“It’s only for a few days.”

When Ryan’s cigarette was two thirds through, he stabbed it out on the ground and dumped the remains in a nearby bin.

“What a waste,” Wells complained. “With the price of cigarettes these days, I smoke mine right to the butt.”

“I’m trying to quit.”

“Now ya tell me.”

Once Wells had smoked his until he was sucking on nothing but smoldering cellulose acetate, he put it out and they went back inside.

Ryan was bored already. Without access to the computer and no deliveries coming in yet, there wasn’t really anything for him to do; investigative or otherwise. He didn’t want to pepper Wells with a bunch of questions and make the guy suspicious of him.

At a quarter past eleven the truck with the beer arrived. Wells opened the roller door and climbed aboard the forklift. He fired it up and expertly maneuvered it out to the truck, where he had the pallet unloaded and inside the storage room in no time flat. After loading some empty pallets back onto the truck, Wells signed the driver’s delivery book and closed the roller door again.

“We need to clear some floor space,” he told Ryan. “We’ll stack this beer onto that pallet over there.” He pointed to a pallet that was down to its last five cartons. “We’ll take those off and stack the new ones on, then put the older ones on top. That’s called stock rotation.”

“Right. Got it,” Ryan said.

While he stacked the five cartons on top of a nearby pallet, Wells removed the invoice from its plastic envelope and ripped the clear pallet wrap from the new arrival. The pair then worked in tandem stacking them onto the pallet near the wall. Wells would take one off the new pallet and hand it to Ryan, who would then place it strategically on his pallet. As he worked Ryan counted the beer cases and finished with a total of sixty-four from today’s delivery. He loaded the five older boxes back on by himself, the load now totaling sixty-nine cartons of Victoria Bitter. He made a point of remembering the totals.

After lunch a delivery van arrived with a dozen boxes of Smirnoff vodka. Once again the stock was rotated on a pallet that housed four different brands of the spirit. Wells placed the invoice in the office on top of the beer invoice.

When Wells ducked out for another cigarette, Ryan quickly glanced over the figures on both invoices before joining the other man outside.

“Who does the ordering here?” Ryan asked during the afternoon as he helped the cellarman restock the supplies upstairs in the empty club. A cleaner was busy vacuuming the floors.

“I do for the most part,” Wells said. “Why?”

Ryan shrugged and stacked some Jack Daniels on the shelves. “No real reason. Just wondering. I’m trying to learn the job. Remember?”

When four o’clock came round Wells told Ryan to go home. Ryan was under the impression that he’d be working until five, but the cellarman insisted he leave at four. Ryan suspected there was a reason for that. His intuition was telling him - as it had done with Selena - that something was not above board with this man. He had a feeling he’d find out exactly what it was before his three days were up.

There was indeed a storm brewing out in the west. Heavy dark clouds were forming above the mountains. The air was thick and steamy with humidity and the easterly wind had picked up in intensity. That would swing around to the west when the thunderstorm came through.

On his way home Ryan took a detour through a shopping arcade. His plan was to pass by Threads and see if Chelsea was in there. As he strolled slowly by he saw her inside folding up shirts and placing them neatly onto a display pile. She didn’t see him.

Ryan sighed and continued on home.

Thirteen

Detective Marks arrived at the morgue early. As he parked his car in the staff car park he noticed a storm was brewing in the west. He made sure all his windows were completely closed before going into the building.

He’d just got off the phone to Mrs Simms. Once again she was concerned about the autopsy on her daughter. Marks asserted that Amanda’s remains would be well-respected and that even if organs had to be removed for closer examination, they would all be returned to the body. She still hadn’t sounded appeased, but what could he do? This had to be done to accurately determine the cause of death. She and her husband were already making funeral arrangements.

So far all efforts to locate the suspect had drawn a blank. No significant leads had come in from the public yet after the media exposure, and he and the other detectives and police hadn’t gleaned much information from last night’s canvassing.

They needed a breakthrough, and soon.

Marks went downstairs where he met up with another detective, Scott Richards, who worked for the Coronial Support Unit (CSU). He was also going to be attending the autopsy. Richards was a few years older than Marks and was often the person Marks consulted with when it came to the autopsy process and ensuing results. Unlike the Homicide Detective, Richards had a healthy and full head of blond hair. He was tall with bright blue eyes, was fit and lanky, and always seemed to have a perpetual suntan. Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was a fulltime surfer. It was true, he did like to surf, but time constraints of the job usually meant he didn’t get much of a chance to indulge his passion.

In the ‘cutting room’, as Marks liked to call it, they teamed up with the Forensic Pathologist who would be performing the post mortem on Amanda Simms.

Dr Jim Shultz shared the same hairstyle as Marks, only he was naturally completely bald and didn’t shave his head at all. He wore expensive spectacles with gold frames, the lenses exaggerating his dark brown eyes and making them pop out of his skull like a goldfish. He was short and plump and probably not considered the world’s best specimen of masculinity. However, he was very adept at his job, and that’s all Marks cared about. He didn’t need Shultz to win any modeling contests.

Amanda Simms was spread out on the cold and sterile stainless steel table, with its drain hole down the bottom and fluid catchment area beneath. The tone of her skin looked completely unnatural, which was to be expected when one was dead.

The pathologist looked as dapper as he could in his white lab coat, latex gloves and plastic boots. The three men nodded greetings to one another.

“Anything interesting show up on the X-Rays?” Marks asked the doctor.

“They were all normal,” said Shultz.

“Hmm,” Marks said, standing there rubbing absently at his goatee with thumb and forefinger.

The room smelled like a hospital. It was supposed to be a clean and sterile scent, but Marks always found it quite sickly. There was another smell in the air, one that would become more pungent as the autopsy got underway. The smell of death.

“You guys want face masks?” the pathologist asked. He obviously wasn’t bothering with one. Used to the aroma, no doubt.

Both Marks and Richards decided a mask and lab coat would be a good idea. They also slipped visors over their heads. The visors had large, clear plastic face shields designed to protect them from any gore splatter. Their hands were then fed into gloves, just in case they needed to touch the deceased.

When they were just about to get underway a female mortuary technician came into the room. She was Asian, possibly Chinese, and was armed with a tray of implements to be used in the autopsy. On the tray were knives and scalpels, forceps for moving things around, a ladle for fluids and a bone saw. There was also an array of other objects spread out on the tray.

One of the SOCOs, a new guy that Marks didn’t really know, entered the room carrying a notebook and a small digital video camera. He would take notes throughout the procedure as well as record events on camera.

Dr Shultz adjusted his glasses, lowered the visor over his face and moved in close to the body. He pointed to Amanda’s throat. “What do you make of these lesions here?” He looked at Marks.

The detective shrugged. “I was hoping you could tell me. I thought they may be insect bites of some kind.”

Shultz examined them with the magnifier and nodded to himself a few times.

“What?” Marks wanted to know. “Are they bites?”

“Well, they’re definitely puncture wounds of some kind. They are located directly on the left common carotid artery.”

Marks said, “So what does that mean?”

“It means there is a good supply of blood flow through that artery coming from the aorta.”

“So you think something latched onto her vein and tried to suck her blood?” Marks tried to play with his goatee again - as was his habit when contemplating - but with his gloved fingers and the face mask, he could barely feel the hairs.

“I didn’t say that,” Shultz replied in a firm tone. He made notes of the lesions on a body chart, then proceeded to examine every inch of Amanda’s body, searching for any other wounds. He came up dry. There were no other injuries of any kind. All the while the SOCO filmed every aspect of the procedure, as well as jotting things down on his pad.

Shultz then went to work on the interior examination. With the help of the technician he made various cuts around the body, peeling back the skin, removing the ribcage and placing it on a tray. Connecting tissues to organs were severed so the organs could be removed for dissecting and closer examination. Samples were placed on slides for close scrutiny under the microscope. Shultz took urine samples and collected samples from the stomach and intestines.

“That’s odd,” the doctor said after a while.

“What is?” Marks quizzed.

“Was there any blood at the crime scene?” Shultz asked.

“Not where she was found, no,” said Marks. “The SOCOs also went over her bedroom where it’s presumed she was killed, and they came up with nothing there, either. Why?”

“Because there is very little blood in this cadaver.” Dr Shultz shook his head in confusion and closely examined the puncture wounds again.

“Do you think the killer drained her blood somehow?” It was Richards who posed the question.

“Maybe we’re looking for a killer who works in pathology?” Marks mused. He asked Shultz, “Is that what killed her?”

“A lack of blood will lead to death, yes,” the doctor concurred, “but we can’t rule out another cause of death just yet. The removal of the blood could have been posthumous. Although, judging by the appearance of the deceased’s skin, it would had to have been very soon after the girl’s expiration.” He was probing the lesions with his fingers, eyes bulging behind those glasses as he studied them. “I don’t think this is the work of anyone who works in the pathology or medical field. These wounds were not made by any instrument I’ve ever used to take blood.”

“Why would someone want to take her blood anyway?” Richards sounded bemused.

“Maybe she was a forced donor?” Marks speculated.

Still looking at the wounds, Shultz added, “They kind of look like the puncture wounds you see from a dog bite, from its canine teeth.”

Marks was taken aback. “Are you saying a dog bit her?”

Shultz shook his head. “No, merely stating a similarity to that kind of a bite, only a dog bite would produce puncture wounds from both its upper and lower jaw, so there would be at least four lesions. As would be the case with most bites, human included. They do very much resemble puncture wounds from two very sharp teeth, though.”

The autopsy continued for some time. When the gruesome procedure was finally over, everyone stripped out of their protective clothing and gloves and washed up in the sinks. Marks was feeling more confused than ever. He needed to locate this suspect and get some definitive answers.

Shultz said to him, “We’ll get toxicology reports done and tests on the little amount of blood I managed to collect. Even though all tests have yet to be concluded, so far I’ve discovered nothing else to indicate the deceased’s cause of death.”

“So it could be the blood loss after all,” Marks stated, a hunch telling him that’s what the final conclusion would be in the end.

Shultz nodded and dried his hands. “It could be. But let’s just wait for all the test results to come back first, Detective. By the way, I don’t want to release the body to the family until the results are in, in case we need to run further tests on the organs.”

Marks nodded his understanding and immediately wasn’t looking forward to the call he’d have to make to Amanda’s parents. They wanted their daughter released sooner rather than later, and in one piece.

Marks left the morgue a few minutes later and stepped out into a downpour.

The storm had arrived.

Fourteen

Night had come early with the thunderstorm.

Ryan was sitting out on his balcony in the gloom with a beer. Chelsea hadn’t come home yet. The wind was howling from the opposite direction, blowing the rain away from the balcony rather than towards it. Every now and then sheets of hail would fall from the heavens and hammer to the ground below. Lightning flashed every few seconds, followed by booming claps of thunder. Ryan quite enjoyed storms so he was relishing sitting out there watching the light show.

He wanted to call Selena and talk to her about his experiences with Gordon Wells today, but he was waiting for the worst of the storm to pass first.

Lightning shot down from the black sky and struck the ocean just offshore. More hail swept through on the wind, peppering cars parked down on the street and those that crawled slowly along the highway. Thankfully they were only small stones and wouldn’t cause any real damage.

Half an hour later things started to settle down. The wind had died off, the rain had eased to a steady drizzle and the thunder and lightning were moving out to sea. Ryan figured it was time to give Selena a call, so he pressed her name in the Contacts list on his iPhone and waited for her to answer. She never did. Instead, he got some impersonalized voicemail message, after which he left a brief message asking her to call him back when she had a chance.

Chelsea arrived home not long after the rain had all but stopped. Ryan went inside when he heard the front door open and cornered his sister in the kitchen. When she saw him she raised her eyebrows in some semblance of a greeting gesture.

“Work again today, I see,” Ryan said and put the kettle on to make a coffee.

“Yep.”

“Have you thought any more about school?”

“Yep.”

“And?”

“And, nothing. I told you the other day I was quitting and taking on this job fulltime.”

“What does Emma think about you quitting?”

“Same as you, that I’m crazy.”

“Has she tried to talk you out of it and finishing your HSC?”

“Not recently. I haven’t even seen her since Monday night.”

He considered pushing the issue, but refrained. He’d give Emma a chance to talk sense to her. Obviously she hadn’t had an opportunity yet. Or maybe she wouldn’t bother because he’d rejected her yesterday? Time would tell.

His mobile phone rang just when the kettle reached its boil. Chelsea took a container of chicken and a Coke from the fridge and disappeared to her room. To avoid further awkward conversation, no doubt. Ryan stepped out on the balcony and answered the call. It was Selena.

“Any developments?” Selena quizzed once the mandatory pleasantries had been taken care of.

“I’m not sure yet, but I have a hunch about something. I should know more by the end of tomorrow. He’s definitely up to something in my opinion. Just his body language today, the way he kept telling me how he likes to work alone. And, he sent me home an hour early, insisted I leave at four.”

“That does sound odd,” Selena agreed.

“What does Gordon do with the invoices when they come in from deliveries?” Ryan asked. “Does he pass them onto you? Do you pay them, or do you have an accounts manager that takes care of that?”

“I pay them. Why?”

“Say an invoiced delivery came in today. When would you see it?”

“He brings them up to my office at the end of the day - his day - on Mondays and Thursdays.”

“Okay. So today’s would be in your office at the end of tomorrow. I might not have to wait that long. I should be able to get a look at them tomorrow.”

“Ryan? What exactly are you thinking here? What’s with all the interest in the invoicing?”

“I think he might be pulling a scam there somewhere, but I need another day to confirm it,” Ryan said, feeling quite upbeat about the assignment now. “As soon as I know anything for sure, I’ll let you know.”

“Okay. I’d appreciate that. Just note, though, that I won’t be contactable tomorrow before six in the evening. Call me then.”

The conversation ended on that note and Ryan went back into the kitchen to make that coffee.

*  *  *

The very first thing Gordon Wells did when Ryan arrived for work the next morning was offer him a cigarette, which Ryan refused. The pair stood out in the morning sun while Wells chugged on his smoke. Ryan was content just to inhale passively.

In the aftermath of the storm last night the temperature had cooled a little and today was a lot less humid. The sky was clear and blue with just a few white fluffy clouds to break up the monotony.

“We’ve got a busy day today,” Wells commented as he puffed. “There’s a few deliveries comin’ in this morning and around lunch time, then this arvo we have a lot of stocking up to do upstairs. Thursday nights get quite a crowd, or so I’ve heard. Not into clubbin’ myself. Too old for that shit.” He flicked a stem of ash onto the pavement. “How bout you?”

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, I like clubs.”

“You’re young, see. All those big-titted bimbos go for guys like you. Doubt they’d look twice at me.” He grinned a little wickedly. “Not unless I pulled out a big wad of cash. That seems to change their minds some.” His expression went serious again. “Not that I have big wads of cash...Not yet, anyways.”

Ryan was itching to get into the office and see if his theory was correct. Finally Wells finished his cigarette, and just when Ryan thought they were about to go in, the man lit another one.

“I’m going in,” Ryan said and took a step towards the storage room.

“Can’t. Door’s locked.”

Ryan tugged at his ear. “Well, can you open it for me?”

“When I’m done smokin’ this.” He held up his cigarette and shot Ryan a look filled with obstinance. “What’s ya hurry, anyway? Nothing’ much to do in there just yet.” Wells fished a twenty from his pocket and nodded across the mall at McDonald’s. “Why don’t you go grab us a couple of coffees from McCafe. My shout. I’ll have a flat white with two sugars.”

Feeling like an apprentice, Ryan went to McDonald’s and bought coffee. He decided he might as well go a flat white himself. When he got back Wells was inside, stuffing papers into the filing cabinet. He locked it and slipped the key into the pocket of his shorts.

They sat on alcohol boxes with the roller door up, drinking coffee while awaiting the first of the day’s deliveries. Ryan had just drained the last of his coffee when they heard, rather than saw, a truck pull up in the loading bay.

“Can you drive a forklift?” Wells asked Ryan.

“No.”

Wells reluctantly put down his unfinished coffee and climbed aboard the little Toyota. He fired it up, adjusted the tines, then zipped out through the open doorway and disappeared to the right.

While Wells was busy unloading the truck, Ryan ducked into the office and made a quick search of the desk. Yesterday’s invoices weren’t there. He then tried the filing cabinet. Even though he’d seen Wells lock it, the thing was old and he thought he might be able to shake the drawers loose. That wasn’t the case. The cabinet may be old, but it was built like a safe. When he heard the cellarman returning with the pallet, he went back into the storage room.

Wells brought the forklift to a stop just inside the room, cut the motor, then got off and lowered the door.

The pallet was a mix of different products, none of which was alcohol. It was all stock like glasses and straws and other bar accessories. The pair spent half an hour unloading the pallet and stacking the items in their appropriate locations on the shelves. No sooner were they finished and another delivery truck arrived.

Once more Wells went out with the fork to collect a pallet stocked with boxes of various spirits. When these were put away, they took a lunch break before starting on the task of restocking the night club.

Throughout the day Ryan never got to sight the new invoices, but he made sure to keep a mental total of all the alcohol that had come in on that second pallet. He had no proof yet, but his instincts told him his theory would be proven right come tonight.

*  *  *

He called Selena Thorne about two hours after he arrived home. Once more Wells had insisted he leave at four instead of five. Ryan didn’t bother arguing the point this time.

“Did Gordon leave the invoices in your office?” he asked her the moment she answered her phone.

“Yes, he did.”

“Mind if I come in and take a look at them?”

“By all means.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

Ryan took a shower, had a shave, sprayed on his best cologne and dressed smart-casual in designer jeans, white long-sleeve shirt and brown boots. As he walked down the hallway and passed his sister’s open bedroom door, he wondered where Chelsea was. Working again? He hadn’t seen her since he got home. Maybe, hopefully, she was hanging out with Emma and having her mind set straight.

As he strolled into town he relished the fact that the night was considerably cooler than it had been in recent times. Not much chance of working up a sweat on the walk in.

He arrived at Bliss just after seven. The doors were open but no one was outside. Too early. Inside he nodded at one of the security staff. So far only one customer patronized the place. Bar staff were getting things ready behind the bar for a big night ahead, and waitresses were busy making sure tables were stocked with fresh coasters. The DJ was playing music at a low volume. He had his headphones on and seemed to be experimenting with a bit of ad-lib mixing.

Selena was dressed in black again. When she spotted him she came out from behind the bar and asked him to follow her to the office. Ryan tailed her behind the bar and through a storage area full of cartons. They passed a cold room, then entered an open door. The club owner closed the door behind them and seated herself at a desk. Ryan took a seat on the opposite side of the desk and glanced about.

There wasn’t much to the room, apart from the desk and chairs, a filing cabinet and a laptop computer. At the end of the desk were a couple of plastic trays stacked one on top of the other. In the corner behind him was a decorative artificial palm tree, the fronds hanging over him and tickling the back of his neck. He moved his seat forward just a little and out of its reach. From one of the trays Selena took the invoices from the past three days and handed them to Ryan. He rummaged through them until he found the two from yesterday. A huge grin split his face.

“I was right,” he said and slid one of the invoices to the centre of the desk so he could point some things out to Selena. She studied it with her dark eyes. “How closely do you keep an eye on these?”

She shrugged. “I just glance them over briefly and pay them.”

“You don’t take notice of the unit price? Or the number of items ordered?”

“Not really.” She leaned forward with her elbows on the desk and clasped her gloved hands together. Ryan caught a whiff of her delicious perfume. At the same time he idly wondered why she always wore gloves. Did she have scarred hands or something? “So what exactly is Gordon doing?” she asked.

“He’s creating new invoices, passing them off as the originals. And doing a good job at it, too. He’s even doing the folds the same way the originals were when sealed in the plastic shipping envelopes.”

“Explain it to me,” Selena said, still not seeing it. “What’s he changing?”

“This was the first delivery yesterday,” Ryan said enthusiastically. He always got excited when he felt like he was getting somewhere with a case, no matter how small the case may be. “There were sixty-four cases of VB on the pallet when it came in. I helped Gordon unload it and I counted them. This invoice says there were only sixty cases delivered, yet the grand total down the bottom is the same amount as the original.”

Ryan showed her the second invoice, the one for Smirnoff Vodka. “This one says ten boxes were dropped off when it was actually twelve. Once again the grand total is the same as the original invoice.” He sat back in his seat, satisfied. “He’s siphoning off alcohol from each order, redoing the invoices so that the amounts match up with the stock that’s left on the floor down there. So what he’s doing is decreasing the number of items delivered, then increasing the cost per item so it all adds up to the original invoice amount.”

Selena frowned and let out a long sigh. “So he’s selling off my alcohol as a sideline business for himself?”

“It sure looks that way. Either that, or he’s a very heavy drinker.”

“So that’s why he’s been sending you home an hour early. It gives him time to change the invoices.” Surprisingly she smiled then. “That’s quite clever, actually. Not that his exploits deserve praise. Quite the contrary.”

“So, what do you plan to do?”

“Get rid of him. I’d like some proof first, though.”

“That’s easy enough to get. Just call or email the liquor companies and get them to email through copies of the invoices.”

“Do you want to take over his job?”

“No. Thanks anyway, but it’s not for me.”

Selena smiled again. “I was only kidding. I have a more important assignment for you, which I will talk to you about in a couple of days. But right now I need to pay you.”

She opened a drawer in the desk and withdrew a bundle of fifty dollar notes that was held tightly together with a rubber band. Selena peeled off twenty notes and handed them to Ryan, who immediately slipped them into his wallet. It always felt good to get some cash.

When he got up to leave, Selena said, “Tell the barman to pour you a drink. I’ll call you in a couple of days about that other job I have for you. Right now I’m going to send some emails, then sit here and stew for a while.”

Ryan stepped out of her office and silently closed the door. He’d really like to see her outside of this club.

Fifteen

Four uniformed police officers converged on Orchid Avenue from different directions. Patrol cars blocked off access to each end of the street. They had just received a tip off from a member of the public that someone fitting the suspect’s description was standing outside a popular night spot. He was smoking a cigarette and looking at something on his mobile phone when the officers approached him.

“We need to see some identification,” Sergeant Snyder, the most senior of the officers, requested in an authoritative tone.

The other three policemen surrounded the man. The suspect eyed them warily as he slowly reached for his wallet and handed it to the officer in charge.

“Why?” he wanted to know as his ID was checked. “What’s the deal?”

“Is this your current address?” Snyder interrogated, examining the young man’s licence. When the man nodded, Snyder added, “Mr Nathan Woods, we’d like you to accompany us to the station to answer some questions.”

“About what?” Nathan suddenly became very feisty in both his attitude and body language. He tensed as if getting ready to make a run for it. “Am I under arrest?”

“We would just like to ask you some questions.”

“And what if I refuse? I haven’t done anything.”

“No one says you have, but we need to ask you some questions to assist us with our enquiries in a matter,” Snyder was patient. “If you don’t accompany us to the station willingly, then we do have the right to place you under arrest.”

“You can’t do that,” Woods said defiantly. “I know my rights.”

That last comment brought a wry smile to the sergeant’s face. “Had a bit of experience with the law, have we? Well then, you will know that we can arrest you if we have reason to suspect you have committed a crime. In this case, a serious crime.”

“Serious crime!” Woods spat. “Like what?”

“Is murder serious enough for you?”

“What? I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Woods stood there thinking over his options, his eyes darting about rather erratically. In the end his shoulders slumped and he resigned to accompanying the officers to the Surfers Paradise Police Station.

Detective Marks was waiting for him in the interview room, having been informed immediately about the tip off. He’d also just been told that the CCTV footage collected from around town for the night in question had drawn a blank. Surfers Paradise needed more cameras in streets that were just outside the main hub.

Snyder ushered Nathan Woods into the room, where the young man checked out Marks, then reluctantly sat down at the table.

“Am I under arrest?” he asked the detective.

“Not yet,” Marks said whilst massaging his goatee and sizing up the guy. In front of him on the table was a copy on the police artist’s rendition of the man suspected of murdering Amanda Simms. The photo of Amanda was also on the table. A video camera in the corner of the room was recording the interview.

“Do I need a lawyer?” Woods said, his voice taking on a slightly higher pitch as his nerves started to get the better of him.

Marks looked him squarely in the eyes. “I don’t know. Do you?” He pushed the picture of the suspect across the table so Woods could see it. “An uncanny likeness to you, don’t you think?”

Woods looked at it briefly, then shook his head vigorously. “That’s not me, man. That could be anybody. Plenty of guys look like that.”

“But not many have eyes that look like yours,” Marks said.

“What? Blue eyes!” Woods was incredulous. “Yeah, really uncommon that is.”

“It’s the shade of blue that’s uncommon. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of comments from adoring females about how unique your eyes are.”

Woods didn’t respond, but the look on his face told Marks that it was true. He now pushed across the photograph of Amanda.

“Recognize her?”

“Never seen her before. Why?”

“She was murdered by this man.” Marks tapped the artist’s rendition firmly with his index finger.

The young man shook his head in disbelief. “This is a joke, man. I didn’t kill anyone.”

“A search of your records is being conducted as we speak. In a few minutes an officer will come in here with your rap sheet. Anything you want to tell me about it before I see it?”

Woods shrugged. “So I’ve been done on possession a few times. So what? That’s not even close to murder.”

“Killers all have to start somewhere. So what drugs were you busted with?”

“A bit of speed once, some cocaine another time. The last time I had three pingers on me.”

“Ecstasy?”

“That’s what ‘pinger’ usually means on the streets, Detective.” Marks’s title was spoken with an edge of contempt, not respect.

“Where were you last Saturday night, say between the hours of ten PM and two AM on Sunday morning?”

Woods shrugged, sat back and folded his arms. “Out and about.”

“In Surfers?”

“I’m always in Surfers on a Saturday night.”

“Selling drugs?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Were you out with anyone? Can someone verify your whereabouts?”

Again the young man shrugged. “I don’t know. I was here, there and everywhere. I was drinking with a mate at The Avenue until about ten. After that I just went club hopping.”

“So, after ten o’clock you didn’t spend any time with anyone who could vouch for you?”

“I guess not.”

Nathan Woods didn’t look happy about having to admit that.

A constable came into the room and furnished the detective with the rap sheet for Nathan Woods. Marks quickly scanned it and smiled. He nodded, satisfied.

“So you were telling the truth about your convictions. The outstanding traffic offences is an interesting addition. We can arrest you for those unpaid fines.”

Woods slumped in his chair with a sigh while Marks left the room. He found Sergeant Snyder in the tea room making coffee for himself and a few others.

“Would you care for a brew, Detective?” Snyder asked.

Marks shook his head. “If I have any more coffee today I’ll have an aneurysm. Listen, I want to get a line up organized as quickly as possible. I need Rebecca Winston brought in and a waitress from Night Beats Night Club named Sharon, if you can locate her. If not, Rebecca Winston will do. Also, I’d like this guy DNA swabbed.”

“Right on it, Sir,” Snyder was agreeable.

Marks was about to walk out, but paused in the doorway. “Sergeant? If we don’t have enough time to hold him before we get this line up organized, charge him over his unpaid traffic fines.”

*  *  *

“You were right,” Emma said to Chelsea. They were sitting in Charlie’s Cafe, drinking thick shakes and nibbling on potato wedges with sour cream. “Your brother is a loser.”

Chelsea had finished work half an hour ago and had called Emma to see if she wanted to catch up.

“Why the change of heart?” she asked. “A few days ago you sounded like you wanted to jump into bed with him.”

Emma shrugged and looked away. Chelsea saw her friend blush slightly. It was a bit of a giveaway on her pale skin. She smiled in disbelief, shaking her head ever so slightly at the same time.

“You didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” Emma still refused to make eye contact.

“I told you not to go there, Emma. You said you wouldn’t. That’s so gross.”

Emma finally made eye contact. “Nothing happened. He turned me down.”

“When was this?”

“Tuesday. After school. I dropped in to see you, but you weren’t there.”

“So you decided it was a good opportunity to hit on Ryan.” Chelsea shook her head again.

“I’m sorry. I feel really stupid now.”

“Good. Don’t do it again. Promise me, Emma.” Chelsea glared at her friend until Emma nodded, then she relaxed a bit. “Okay. I forgive you...Just.”

“He wanted me to try and talk you into staying at school,” Emma said, changing the subject.

“You can’t. I’ve already made up my mind on that.”

“Well, I’m finishing.”

“That’s your choice, Emma.”

“I still think you’re crazy, girlfriend.”

“That’s your choice, too.”

“But there’s only about three weeks left now.”

“Old news. I don’t want to talk about that any more. Instead, tell me about all the hot guys who are going to be at your party tomorrow night.”

*  *  *

The line up took place several hours later. Snyder and his team had been unable to locate the waitress named Sharon as she was not at work and not contactable on the phone number the club manager had given them. However, they had managed to bring in Amanda’s friend, Rebecca Winston.

The procedure was to be recorded on video. Rebecca was brought into the viewing room, where she would be able to see the suspects anonymously through a one way mirror. A police officer not involved in the case was present to conduct proceedings. Marks was waiting outside the viewing room and watching proceedings on a monitor. He was now drinking that coffee that was offered to him hours earlier.

Six men of similar appearance, build and height were ushered into the line up area, where they all stood facing forward with their hands clasped together in front of them.

“Take your time,” the officer in charge said to Rebecca.

Rebecca carefully studied each man in turn, then slowly shook her head.

The officer said, “Go over them one more time, just to be sure.”

Rebecca did as she was asked, then said, “It’s none of them.”

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“I’m one hundred percent positive. He’s not there.”

“Okay. You’ve done really well, Rebecca. Thank you for coming in.”

Rebecca was ushered out through another door where she wouldn’t come into contact with Detective Marks. On the opposite side of the viewing room, Marks was spewing.

“Damn it!” he spat and paced the floor in frustration. He lashed out and kicked the end of a wooden desk and heard something splinter. “Fuck!” He looked at Snyder. “I want an undercover operative stationed in Night Beats all weekend, in case this guy shows up there again.”

Snyder nodded and asked calmly, “What do you want us to do with Nathan Woods, Sir?”

Marks waved a hand irritably. “Let him go.”

Sixteen

It was lunch time Friday. Marks was sitting at his desk about to bite into a ham and cheese sandwich when he got a call from Scott Richards of the CSU.

“We have some results back from Wednesday’s autopsy on Amanda Simms,” Richards reported.

“Great,” Marks said with enthusiasm. “What have we got?”

“That’s just it, we’ve got nothing. The toxicology report was clean, just traces of alcohol. No drugs or poisons or medicines. Nothing untoward or out of the ordinary. All of the organs were normal, too.”

“So the coroner’s final conclusion?”

Richards said simply, “She bled to death.”

“Back to where we started.”

“Yep.”

“So,” Marks began, then bit into his sandwich and continued on with his mouth half full, “somehow the perpetrator sucked all the blood from her system through those two wounds on her throat.”

“It sure looks that way, David. As strange as that is.”

“Any idea how?” Marks wondered and took another bite.

“Well, there are plenty of gadgets out there, modern and otherwise, that can be used to extract and collect blood. But its more the exit points that are a mystery. Dr Shultz seems pretty convinced they were made by teeth of some sort.”

“The mystery deepens,” Marks groaned.

Richards chuckled. “I know how you Homicide Detectives hate mysteries.”

“I just like solving them quickly.”

“Good luck with that. Listen, I’ve gotta run. Word is you should be receiving some results today from the SOCO work at the crime scene. QHSS will most likely fax or email them through to you sometime this afternoon.”

“Thanks, Scott.”

Marks hung up and finished off his sandwich. QHSS was the Queensland Health Scientific Services, which usually handled biological exhibits delivered by the SOCOs. He just hoped something useful came of that.

He was still feeling pissed off that Nathan Woods had proven to be innocent. Marks really wanted to get this guy in custody. For all he knew the suspect could be a serial killer and may be planning to kill again. For all intents and purposes he was not known to Amanda Simms before that fateful night, which means it was highly unlikely that it was a crime of passion, or revenge, or any such thing like that. It seemed like it was totally random and Amanda was the unfortunate victim. Above all, though, he wanted answers; and it seemed like the only way he was truly going to get the answers he desired was to apprehend this guy.

Marks got his phone out and scrolled through his Contacts list. He thought about calling his wife. They had barely seen each other for days. By the time Marks got home at nights she was already in bed asleep, and he was gone before she got up in the mornings. They’d become so distant and it was only likely to get worse. He was ‘married to the job’, as many coppers’ spouses attested to. More often than not it was true. Part and parcel of the trade.

He fingered his goatee and eyed the cold cup of coffee sitting on his desk amid the rubble of paperwork.

Maybe police were better off being eternally single? It was extremely difficult to hold down a steady relationship when the hours were often long and anything but steady. Much of the time it could be a 24/7 occupation. The only real likely alternative was to date a fellow police officer. At least they would be more understanding and tolerant of how the job goes and what it entails.

Marks was just about to get up and make himself a fresh coffee when his landline phone rang. He snatched it up, thinking it might be a lead.

But the news wasn’t what he’d been hoping to hear.

*  *  *

Marks had to walk a fair way into the forest before he arrived at the crime scene. Once again it was cordoned off with the black and yellow tape looped around trees, only this time it was a much larger area. The SOCOs were hard at work processing the scene and gathering evidence.

A uniformed police officer approached him and Marks clicked on his voice recorder.

“We already have an ID on the victim,” the constable said to Marks. “He’s a sixty-two year old male named Toby Matthews. Lived alone in nearby Canungra.”

“Anything else?” Marks raised an eyebrow.

“Not yet, Sir.”

“Who found him?”

“A park ranger, Sir.”

While he waited for the SOCOs to finish, Marks briefly interviewed the ranger. The man had been doing some routine observation work when he stumbled across an illegal campsite and discovered the body. The interesting thing Marks did find out was that the victim had been brutally decapitated.

The forensics team completed their work and Marks was allowed to enter the crime scene, where he met up with Chris Saunders.

“Talk to me, Chris,” Marks said briskly.

“Bit tougher this one, Detective,” Chris said, running a hand through his hair. “This guy’s been here for three or four days at least. That storm the other night unfortunately washed away a lot of the evidence.” He glanced down and kicked at a stone. “No doubt we would have gotten some great footprints in this loose soil if not for the rain.”

Marks scoped the area, where he saw a small tent, the remnants of a campfire and the body of the deceased.

“Cause of death?” he quizzed.

“Most likely decapitation. It’s quite macabre, really. Looks like his head either rolled into the fire when it came off, or was placed in the fire. It’s been roasted beyond all recognition.” He nodded to his right. “Come check out the body.”

A body bag and a stretcher were lying on the ground nearby, waiting to transport the victim to the waiting van and then on to the morgue. Flies buzzed about the bloated corpse, especially around the fleshy neck area. Toby Matthews was fully clothed, wearing Ruggers shorts and a button up khaki safari shirt.

Chris Saunders knelt beside the body and looked up at Marks. “I don’t know who did this, Detective, but the head looks like its been twisted so violently that it’s literally been torn away from the neck. It certainly hasn’t been cut with anything.”

“Where is the head?”

“It’s already been bagged and tagged.” He signalled Marks to squat down for a closer look at something. Chris pointed at the mushy stump of a neck. “This is interesting. There’s only one this time, but there may have been one on the throat section still attached to his head. We’ll never know now because it got fried.”

When Marks looked closely he saw the same lesion that had been on the throat of Amanda Simms.

“Can you tell if there was much bleeding from the victim when decapitation occurred?” He was wondering if this victim was also unnaturally devoid of blood before he’d lost his head.

“Once again, difficult to say because of the recent rain. We did run some tests on the soil and blanket near the stump. They showed no signs of blood, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t any before the storm hit. It’s just too difficult to draw any firm conclusions.”

Marks stood up. “I understand. You may as well bag him up.” He looked around, taking in the array of plain clothes and uniformed police officers, as well as the SOCOs and a few probing members of the media. “Has anyone informed his next of kin yet?”

The officer who had approached Marks when he first arrived on the scene said, “So far we haven’t been able to locate anyone, Sir.”

Marks nodded. “Keep trying.”

*  *  *

When Marks arrived back at his Southport office, a fax was waiting for him from QHSS. He sat down at his desk and read it with interest.

Tests had been run an various items taken from both the crime scene in the forest, and in Amanda’s bedroom. No useable fingerprints had been found, nor any hairs or fibres. It would still be some time before a DNA profile was established.

“Is there anything useful here?” he grumbled to himself.

He flipped to the second page and his eyebrows raised. Tests performed on the semen found in Amanda’s vagina indicated the presence of a mystery virus. Below that there was a similar entry regarding swap tests taken from the two throat lesions. Once again the presence of the same mystery virus.

“So what exactly is a mystery virus?” he wondered out loud.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number at the top of the fax. When reception answered he introduced himself and asked to be put through to a Dr Jenkins, the pathologist who had performed the semen and swab tests.

“Detective Marks,” Jenkins greeted him in a bright tone. “You’re calling about the results on the Amanda Simms case, I presume.”

“You presume correctly,” Marks said and smiled. “You should become a detective.”

“No thanks. Working all those ridiculous hours and the frustration of trying to catch the unsavoury characters of the world. Not really my thing. Anyway, back to business. What would you like to know?”

“The mystery virus,” Marks said. “What is it?”

“If we knew that it wouldn’t be a mystery,” said Jenkins pointedly. “It’s nothing we’ve ever come across before, so it’s either very new or extremely rare.”

“What does it do to the carrier, those infected with it?”

“That’s what we’re still working on. I’ve got some great minds analyzing it as we speak. You’ll be the first to hear our conclusions, Detective.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Appreciate it.”

Marks hung up the phone and sat there massaging his chin and thinking hard. This case was making less sense the more he delved into it.

Seventeen

The night was fine and clear, the ambient temperature pleasant and perfect for a party. The Community Centre was basically a large rectangle of a building set amidst parklands on three sides and a large car park out the front. Right across the road was the beach, where a full moon was hovering above the dark water, casting a silvery glow.

Chelsea’s taxi pulled up outside the entrance door just before eight o’clock. She paid the driver and got out. Tonight she was dressed a little more conservatively in her best blue jeans, tight-fitting in all the right places, and a comfortable red top with short sleeves and a light sheen. She wore three inch heels made of a lustrous black leather. The tiny handbag she had slung over her right shoulder was shiny red to match her top. Chelsea didn’t hold back with the make up, however, and had the foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow and lipstick all plastered on rather generously.

People were still arriving and others were milling about out front of the building. Chelsea spotted Emma’s mum and suddenly she felt nervous. She knew a lot of these people, and some of them were school friends. Was she going to get badgered all night long about why she’s quitting school? Talking about that was the last thing she wanted to do tonight.

Coming from inside were the sounds of a band warming up and doing some last minute sound checks. Pink, red and blue balloons filled with helium decorated the doorway. Two burly security guards dressed all in black manned the door to keep those uninvited away.

“Name?” one of the guards asked Chelsea. He looked to be of Maori descent and spoke with a New Zealand accent.

“Chelsea Fox.”

The guard had a clipboard with a list of invited guests on it and he marked her name off. The other guard then wrapped a green plastic band around her wrist.

“That’s to show you’re meant to be here,” he explained. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

The first guard asked, “Can I see your ID, miss?”

Chelsea rummaged around inside her bag and handed him the driver’s licence she’d only recently obtained. He studied it, then gave it back.

“Sorry. I can’t give you a bar stamp because you’re not eighteen, hey.”

“That’s okay.” Chelsea put her licence away.

Emma’s mother spotted Chelsea then and she came up to give her a warm hug. “I’m so glad you came,” she said beaming, her teeth large and white in her tanned face.

“I wouldn’t miss my best friend’s eighteenth for anything,” Chelsea assured her. “Where is the birthday girl, by the way?”

“She’s inside hanging out near the bar, I suspect. Go on in and find her. Have a good time tonight, Chelsea.”

“I will,” Chelsea said and stepped inside the hall. One down and no mention of school. Good.

So far there were about sixty guests inside, plus band members and catering staff. Chelsea said hello to some school friends, but didn’t linger. One asked where she’d been, but Chelsea brushed her with a vague answer and hurried off. She found Emma where her mum said she would be, at the bar. She was currently drinking a glass of champagne. A barmaid, dressed in black pants, black apron, white top and black bow tie, stood behind the makeshift bar handing out alcoholic drinks to those that had a stamp indicating they were of legal drinking age.

“Happy birthday, Emma!” Chelsea gave her friend a tight hug.

“Thanks. I can’t believe I’m finally eighteen.” She held up the champagne. “No more sneaking drinks.” She moved in close and whispered in Chelsea’s ear, “Just get yourself a Coke for now and I’ll sneak you a real drink a bit later.”

Chelsea did so and stood beside her friend drinking it and surveying the scene.

About the place there were some tables and chairs for those who wanted a seat. At the far end was a raised stage where the band would play. There was also a DJ to pump out the tunes when the band took a break. In front of the stage was plenty of open floor space for dancing.

“Is Dean not coming?” Chelsea asked Emma.

“Dean’s away in Canberra for the weekend.” Chelsea’s face must have dropped because Emma added, “Don’t look so sad about it. I told you, forget Dean in that way. Look around. There are heaps of cute guys here.”

When Chelsea properly took in the growing crowd she realized her friend was right. There were heaps a guys there, and some nice looking ones at that. One guy in particular caught her eye. She’d never seen him before. He was standing with a school friend called John. The stranger was quite tall and very slender. He had short black hair and very dark eyes, from what Chelsea could see from a distance. The young man was dressed in black jeans and a black, long-sleeved shirt without buttons down the front. The skin of his handsome face was very pale, but looked as clear as a baby’s. Totally unblemished. His facial features were strong, with prominent cheekbones and square, masculine jaw. He looked to be a couple of years older than Chelsea was.

“Who’s that guy?” Chelsea wanted to know, elbowing Emma in the side and nodding in the stranger’s direction.

“Oh, that’s John’s new friend, Travis,” Emma explained lightly. “John asked if he could bring him along. Apparently Travis is quite new in town and doesn’t know many people.”

“Does he go to our school?”

“Well, it’s not your school any more. But no, he doesn’t go to school. I’m not sure what he does.” She turned to Chelsea and grinned. “Maybe you should go talk to him and ask him yourself.”

“I might just do that soon.”

The band fired up with a recent rock tune, which magically seemed to bring dozens of people over to the bar. Emma’s dad came up and wrapped his bear-like arms around his skinny daughter. Then he gave Chelsea a hug as well. He smelled of Hugo Boss.

Trays of finger food started doing the rounds. Chelsea helped herself to a piece of battered calamari and several spring rolls which were way too hot to eat yet. She held them in the palm of her hand on a napkin while they cooled down.

For the next half an hour the band played a mixture of recent songs, as well as some classics from the past few decades. After that they had a break to eat and drink and the DJ took over proceedings. He pumped out the latest dance tracks, filling the dance floor with teenagers. Chelsea and Emma went out for a dance and were soon joined by their friend, Rachel

Rachel was as skinny as Emma was and had long, mousy-brown hair that never quite looked like it had been brushed. She was considered a bit of a Plain Jane amongst her peers, but was best known for having a big heart and a kind word to say about everybody.

“Hi, Chelsea,” Rachel greeted. “Haven’t seen you around school lately. Have you been sick?”

Chelsea shook her head and replied in a loud voice, “I quit. I’ve got a fulltime job now.”

Rachel looked surprised, but didn’t judge. “I hope it really works out for you. We miss you at school, though.”

As they danced Chelsea noticed the new guy, Travis, standing by himself just to the edge of the dance floor area. He had no drink in his hand and just seemed content to watch everyone having fun. He saw Chelsea looking his way and he smiled. She felt her heart flutter. It was a beautiful smile and made him look all the more handsome.

When the band began playing again Chelsea, Emma and Rachel went to the bar for drinks. Emma ordered another champagne, while both Chelsea and Rachel were forced to stick to soft drink. Coke was the beverage of choice. More trays of food were brought round and the girls helped themselves to mini pies, chicken nuggets and calamari rings. Travis was standing nearby with John now. Chelsea saw the tray of food being offered to them. John dug in but Travis refrained.

Weird, Chelsea thought. Doesn’t the guy eat or drink?

After finishing her food and Coke, Rachel went back out to dance. When Emma’s aunty came over to strike up a conversation with her niece, Chelsea decided it was time to go talk to the mystery man.

She adjusted her hair, ironed out some imaginary wrinkles on her top with her hands, took a deep breath and nervously approached John and Travis. The new guy saw her coming and offered her a welcoming smile. Chelsea felt herself melt. John smiled as well, but it didn’t have nearly the same affect on her.

“Hi, Chelsea,” John said.

“Hi, John.” She gave him a quick hug. “Who’s your friend?”

“Travis, this is Chelsea, a friend from school.”

Travis didn’t extend a hand to her. Instead, he just nodded, smiled and stared at her with those beautiful dark eyes. There was certainly an air of mystery surrounding this guy and it was accentuated by those eyes that were so hard to read.

“Hi,” he said, his voice deep and friendly.

“Hi,” Chelsea said, then turned to John. “How do you two know each other?”

“We met in town about a week ago. He’s a few years older than us, aren’t you, Travis.”

When Chelsea shot Travis a questioning look, he said, “I’m nineteen.”

“And you’re not drinking?” Chelsea raised an eyebrow. “God, I’d be at the bar chugging them down if I could.”

He smiled yet again. “I don’t drink.”

Chelsea looked at John, who concurred. “No, he doesn’t drink alcohol. Travis is a little unusual.” Instinct must have told John to leave the two alone for a bit so they could chat, because he suddenly excused himself and went out onto the dance floor.

“I hear you’re new in town,” Chelsea said.

He nodded. “We moved here a few weeks ago, maybe a month ago.”

“From where?” Chelsea was curious.

“Western Australia, just outside of Perth.”

“Did you come here with your family? Why did you leave Perth?”

“The answer’s yes to your first question. And the reason we moved?” He shrugged. “We were all just sick of it there. A bit bored, I think. It was time for a change.”

“And do you like it here on the sunny Gold Coast?”

“It’s beautiful. What’s not to like? We love it here so far.”

“Whereabouts are you living?”

“Out west a bit.”

That’s a vague answer, she thought. “So, you’re too old for school. Do you have a job or something?”

He nodded and briefly gazed into her eyes. Chelsea felt her heart skip again. “I work part-time, and I also study.”

“What do you study?”

“I’m studying genetic engineering and medicine.”

Chelsea was stunned. “God, you must be like a genius or something to do both.”

He grinned and shook his head. “Genius? No. I just have a huge interest in genetic engineering and pathology. I go to night school, but I’m on a break for a few months at the moment.”

“Why?”

“Why am I on a break?”

“No. Why do you go to night school?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I just prefer it.” Quickly he scanned her form with his eyes, where they came to rest on her neck. “That’s a cute mole you have there.”

Chelsea suddenly felt embarrassed and covered the mole with her hand.

“Don’t hide it, I like it,” he assured her.

She slowly removed her hand. His gaze lingered on her throat a moment longer, then he looked into her eyes, his dark and dreamy. Chelsea felt glued to them, like she was powerless to break eye contact. She had the weird sensation then that her thoughts were being pulled from her brain one by one until it was nothing but an empty void. Then suddenly she snapped out of the trance, or whatever it was, and blinked a few times.

“You’re very pretty,” he told her. “Stunning eyes.”

“So have you,” she heard herself say. She then cleared her throat and asked, “Will you dance with me?”

“Sure, but I must warn you I’m not very good.”

“That’s okay. Neither am I.”

They got out on the floor near Rachel, who shot Chelsea a look of approval. The DJ had taken over again and was playing some tracks that really had the place cranking. Travis started off a little awkwardly, but soon relaxed and got into a bit of rhythm. Chelsea felt compelled to stare into his eyes virtually the entire time. She tried to arrest herself and look away, but found it impossible to do. She was mesmerized by them, and by him. There was just something about him, something completely different to any other guy she’d ever met. She had no idea what it was, but it was definitely there.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” she told him and meant it. She enjoyed watching him move his slender frame about the floor. He appeared tall and gangly as if he should be a little uncoordinated. He was anything but.

Travis just smiled and nodded, scanning her all over with his eyes again. Once more they seemed to hesitate on her neck for just a brief moment. Then he was looking into her blue eyes again, the smile never slipping from his face.

Emma came onto the floor then and danced up beside Chelsea. She whispered in her friend’s ear, “You like him.”

Chelsea gently nudged her away and nodded at the same time.

“What?” Travis wanted to know, his eyes searching Chelsea’s, the smile still in place.

Chelsea just grinned and felt herself redden in the face.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m going to go get a drink. You coming?”

Travis followed her to the bar, where Chelsea got another Coke and one for Travis as well. Rather than actually drinking it, he seemed content to just hang onto it.

Chelsea eyed him quizzically. “What? You don’t drink liquid of any kind?”

Travis looked lost for words for a second, then he smiled again and said, “Of course I do.” He took the smallest of sips. “See.”

“You’re unusual, Travis, but I quite like you. You’re different and that appeals to me.”

Chelsea was surprised at how open she was being. Although she was very forward most of the time with most people - especially her brother - she was usually quite the opposite around a guy she fancied. It generally took her a while to open up and admit that she liked somebody. But here she was telling that to a guy she hardly knew and had only met less than an hour ago.

Emma suddenly appeared beside her with her handbag slung over her shoulder. She grabbed Chelsea by the arm. “Come with me, girlfriend,” she whispered. To Travis, she said, “I’ll bring her back in ten minutes, I promise.”

Travis just nodded and smiled his charming smile.

Emma led Chelsea down beside the stage, where they exited through a fire escape door and out into the night. From there Chelsea was literally dragged behind a small grove of trees. Emma rummaged around in her handbag and produced a small bottle filled with a clear liquid.

“Give me your Coke,” she said and Chelsea obeyed. Emma then proceeded to pour a sizeable nip into the cup and handed it back.

Chelsea sniffed the cup and asked, “What is it?”

“Bacardi. Enjoy.” She grinned. “I feel half pissed already. Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me.”

“Narcissist,” Chelsea said and smirked. She drank some of her drink and sighed with satisfaction. “Yummy. I was getting sick of plain old Coke.” She then lit a cigarette.

“Give me a sip.” Emma took the cup from her and tilted it to her lips. She handed it back and said, “I think you like Travis.”

“He seems nice.”

“And he’s hot.”

“In an unusual sort of a way. But I like that. You know me. The stranger the better.”

“Weirdo.”

“Am not.”

For the next few minutes they chatted about guys while finishing off the Bacardi and Coke and sharing the smoke. When the cup was emptied they got stuck into the remainder of the bottle, drinking it neat. By the time they were done Chelsea was feeling a nice warm buzz seeping through her veins and entering her brain.

“I feel good now,” she said and got up. She held out a hand and helped her friend to her feet. “We better get the birthday girl back to her own party.”

“You just want to see Travis,” Emma said and smiled knowingly.

“That too,” Chelsea freely admitted.

The fire escape door worked on a one-way system and could only be opened from the inside, so the girls were forced to have to go back in through the main entrance at the front. As they walked around the corner of the building they saw car after car entering the car park.

Emma stopped in her tracks. “Who the hell are all these people?”

The cars parked here, there and everywhere. It was all haphazard. Car doors burst open and guys and girls ranging in age from about fourteen to twenty starting filing out and heading towards the entrance to the hall. The two security guards came together, their big frames effectively forming a bit of a wall between the door and the advancing crowd.

Chelsea said, “Gatecrashers.”

The rebels started yelling abuse at the men on the door. Wondering what the ruckus was about, people from within the hall began coming out to see what was going on.

“Let us in or we force our way in,” one of the youths threatened the guards. He swayed as he stood there and was obviously drunk.

“Take your friends and get the hell out of here before I call the police!” the Maori guard warned. His advice, however, fell on deaf ears.

Some of the youths, mostly the guys in the group, started to push their way past the guards and on into the hall. Invited guests from within were still coming out at the same time and it didn’t take long before scuffles broke out.

“I think you needed a lot more security,” Chelsea said to Emma a moment before her friend strode purposefully towards the entrance. Not one to back away from a confrontation herself, Chelsea followed Emma into the melee.

From just inside the doorway, Chelsea heard Emma’s father demand, “What’s going on? Who the hell are you?”

“Fuck you, old man,” someone rudely responded.

Both security guards and several of Chelsea’s male school friends were by now engaged in fist fights and wrestling matches. In no time there was blood everywhere; on the ground, covering clothing, gushing from facial wounds. In the confusion people seemed to lose track of who they were even fighting against. Chelsea saw John throw a punch at one of his school mates by accident; a totally reactionary response when he was bumped into. The Maori guard knocked out one of the bigger intruders with one punch square to the face. Blood exploded from a shattered nose and the guy dropped to the ground amid a throng of feet stomping all around him and over him.

Emma was thrashing about with some feral girl. The girl had a hold of a clump of Emma’s hair with one hand while swinging punches at Emma’s face with the other. When a second girl came in and attacked Emma from behind, Chelsea rushed to her aid and landed a blow on the second girl’s cheek. The intruder staggered backwards, tripped on something and toppled over.

Someone slammed into the back of Chelsea then and she went flying into a group of guys fighting nearby. A punch hit her in the temple and she immediately saw stars. Her hair was seized from behind. Chelsea wrenched free, losing a clump of hair in the process, and turned on her attacker. To her surprise it was a male of about sixteen, his eyes dilated and scattered-looking, like he was on speed or ice or something. He was about to strike her a blow to the face when Travis came from nowhere, grabbed him from behind, flipped him upside down and speared him into the bitumen head first. Travis then hauled the girl away from Emma. Another feral entered the fray. Travis easily dodged a swinging arm, drove a shoulder into the youth’s ribs and sent him flying through the air, where he landed on one of the parked cars. The car’s alarm system was triggered and started to screech and wail, adding to the confusion and decadence of it all.

Travis spent the next few minutes going after every intruder he could lay his hands on, subduing them and dispelling them with relative ease.

When the sounds of approaching sirens could be heard, many of the gatecrashers fled. The car park was a congested hive of rumbling engines and squealing tyres. Others ditched the cars and made a run for it. The stubborn ones stuck around and continued to cause trouble.

Chelsea, a little battered and bruised herself, put her arms around Emma. She was bleeding heavily from cuts to the face and Chelsea managed to get her inside where she dabbed at the blood with a pile of napkins.

At least five patrol cars showed up, and two ambulances arrived a few minutes later. Arrests were made and ambulance officers treated the wounded that remained.

All the while Chelsea searched for Travis, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Eighteen

Michael realized now he’d made a mistake by hunting in town. He’d drawn too much heat and it was risky for him to go back there. He wasn’t so much afraid of being caught, but more concerned about being exposed for what he really was. From now on he would be forced to be more discreet.

He thought he spied something down on the ground some fifty feet below, so he swooped down and landed on the dirt with a thud, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust.

It was only a wombat.

Tonight he’d decided he might make a return to animal feeding, just until the heat died down a bit. It wasn’t his preference, would much rather feast on a human, but maybe it was the wise course of action for now. It would be hard, though. He now had the taste for human blood again and was craving some badly.

But even though he was targeting an animal right now, a wombat was never his meal of choice. He preferred kangaroo. The blood was much richer and the supply a lot more plentiful than that of a wombat’s.

He eyed the wombat a moment as it slowly walked away from him into the forest. Strangely it didn’t seem afraid of him. Maybe it sensed it wasn’t in any danger.

Michael stayed on the ground for now to hunt. He crept as silently as he could through the woods, using his superior eyesight to guide his way, keeping his ultra-keen ears open to alert him to any sounds, near or far, that might give away the presence of a kangaroo. It had been four nights since his last feed and he was ravenous. The more he fed, the more his appetite became insatiable. He was fighting hard to keep it in check. If he went on a killing spree, the heat on him would quickly rise to boiling point.

It was very, very hard to do, though. The lust for human blood was virtually all-consuming now. For the most part he could think of nothing else.

He’d enjoyed his game with the old man four nights ago, but his blood had been a bit thin and not totally satisfying. The young woman’s, though, had been totally divine. She had been a sumptuous meal, healthy and fresh. He wanted to dine on more like her. And he would, in time.

Michael scanned the forest as he moved slowly between the trees and around the undergrowth. A large lizard scurried out of his path and rattled its way through dead leaves, desperate to conceal itself.

Don’t worry, lizard, he thought. I’m not after you.

After walking a few more metres, he paused to listen.

Thud...Thud...Thud. Silence. Thud...Thud...Thud...Thud.

Michael homed in on the direction of the sound. It had definitely been a kangaroo and a good-sized one, judging by the loudness of the thuds. He swept stealthily through the woods, keeping his eyes and ears open. The beast was obviously stationary at the moment, for he heard no more indications of movement.

Again he paused to listen and heard a faint chewing sound. The kangaroo was close by, he realized, just behind a thicket of bushes only a few metres away. It was feeding on leaves.

Moving in a crouch, the vampire rounded the thicket and came eye to eye with a Big Red. The animal stopped mid chew and stared at the intruder, sizing him up.

And then it was off, bounding powerfully away from Michael through the woods. He gave chase, sidestepping obstacles as he went. With his superior speed he caught up to it in no time and latched onto the beast from behind. It hopped madly and thrashed its small head from side to side. Michael buried his fangs into its neck and quickly sucked the life out of it. The kangaroo trembled, bounded awkwardly for a few more paces, then crashed to the ground and lay still. It was dead.

Michael got off it and stood up. He dusted the dirt from his black clothing and wiped the blood from his chin. He took a deep breath of the fresh night air and stared up at the full moon.

That meal was good, but it wasn’t nearly sufficient. He really needed human blood.

*  *  *

Ryan was up watching late night TV in the living room when Chelsea arrived home in the early hours of the morning. He turned and saw cotton wadding taped to her forehead, scratches on her cheeks, bruises on her face and arms and blood on her jeans. There may have been blood on her top as well, but it was harder to tell when it was red anyway.

He leaped out of his seat. “What the hell happened to you?”

He came over to her and lightly touched her face. Chelsea pulled away from him.

“I’m all right!” she snapped.

“What happened?” he asked again.

“A bunch of people gatecrashed Emma’s party. It ended up in a brawl.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“That’s a really dumb question, Ryan. It was an all-in brawl. Of course other people were hurt.”

It had been a stupid question, he realized.

He asked, “Is Emma okay?”

“About the same as me,” Chelsea said, her tone softening just a little. “Wasn’t a great way to celebrate her eighteenth, though.”

“How did the gatecrashers find out about the party?”

“We don’t know. Someone must have texted them or something. A few of them got arrested. There were cops everywhere in the end, but most of the losers got away. One of them was taken to hospital with a fractured skull. Serves him right.”

Ryan shook his head. He never understood why some people only sought entertainment in ruining things for others. It sucked, but it was a way of life that was becoming more and more prevalent all the time.

Chelsea stood there thinking. “I was having a good time up until that point.” Ryan wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t immediately pull away. “I’m going to take a shower and go to bed,” she said.

Ryan let her go and watched her disappear into her room. As much as she seemed to hate him sometimes, he loved her. She was his little sister.

*  *  *

Once again Michael was airborne, searching for a lone target of the human variety. Several bats flew beside him and together they were birds of prey. The full moon cast its subtle light onto the ground below, creating spectral images out of the trees. A road flashed by beneath him, and then he was flying over forest once more.

This kind of remote hunting was interesting in its own way, but he would prefer to be in a club picking up a hot girl, having his way with her sexually, then feeding on her blood to top off a great night.

More bats joined him until they formed a V around him. Michael no longer felt like their company, so he hissed loudly and sent them flying off in all directions. Alone again, he hovered over some parkland to the west of Nerang. Just maybe some bum was asleep on a park bench or something?

He dropped to the ground and did a pirouette. All he saw was grass and trees. No potential food sources. With a breeze blowing his dark hair back from his face, he started combing the park on foot, panning his head left to right.

Michael felt buoyed by an air of superiority that always surrounded him and emanated from within. He was untouchable. Who or what was going to challenge a vampire of his abilities? Nothing on planet earth. He was lord of the jungle, king of his domain. Compared to every other living creature he was like a god, and he loved the sensation of absolute power that knowledge instilled in him.

Still, he preferred being anonymous and didn’t want to advertise his presence. Being apprehended by the police, even though he could easily escape, wasn’t a good idea. The prospect of being endlessly hunted wasn’t one that really fit into his free-and-easy lifestyle. No, far better to remain a mystery; a creature of the night that swooped in, claimed its prey, then disappeared back into the darkness like it was never there.

As he rounded a grove of trees he saw someone lying on the ground beneath a willow tree. The figure was curled up in a blanket despite the warmth of late spring in the air. The person wasn’t moving and Michael assumed they were asleep, or drunk, or both. As he neared the figure he saw it was a man with majorly unkept hair and beard. Not the tastiest looking morsel he’d ever seen by a long stretch. Lying on the grass beside him was an empty bottle of port.

Michael stood there for some time just staring down at the forlorn, slumbering figure of the drunken homeless man. Such a waste of life. Michael would be doing the guy a favour by ending his life tonight. Obviously he had nothing to live for.

He grinned sadistically in the darkness then, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight, the fangs already starting to protrude. He’d momentarily surprised himself just now. He’d actually felt some semblance of compassion for the man he was about to kill.

“Interesting,” he whispered and dropped to his knees. The guy stirred, but didn’t awaken as Michael tugged back the blanket to expose his hairy, greasy throat. The man reeked of body odour. “Hmm.”

Michael bent down and latched onto the homeless man’s throat. The guy was so drunk he never even woke up. The vampire knelt there, hunched over his victim until he’d bled him dry. When he was done he wiped his mouth clean on the blanket, then tilted his face skyward, where the moon painted his pale skin silver. He breathed deeply of the night air, looked back down at the dead man, then scooped him up into his arms, blanket and all. He glanced all around and saw no one. He was all alone. No one knew he was there. No one would miss the homeless bum he now held. Get rid of him where he’ll never be found and no one will ever know.

He rose into the sky and flew out west, where the forest was thicker and uninhabitable for miles around. There he buried the body in a natural ditch, covered it with dirt and rocks and fallen logs.

This kill would always remain a secret.

Nineteen

Sunday morning was cloudy and windy. Ryan was trying to read the paper out on the balcony, but the annoying wind kept blowing the pages about. In the end he took it into his bedroom and spread it out on the bed. He perused the sport’s pages first, then spent a few minutes going over the finance pages, figuring he needed all the help he could get when it came to that subject. Finally he turned to the news section at the front, read a little about the upcoming council elections, a fatal shark attack in South Australia, and a short filler piece about the brawl at the Broadbeach Community Hall on Friday night. It failed to tell him anything he hadn’t already heard from Chelsea. An update to a news piece from last week caught his attention.

Ryan read through the piece on the Amanda Simms murder, learning that the cause of death had been due to a mysterious loss of blood. Authorities were unable to pinpoint the exact cause of the blood loss as there were no apparent life-threatening injuries to the victim’s body. Amanda would be buried on Wednesday.

Interesting, Ryan thought.

He put the newspaper aside and sat down at his desk, where he started rummaging through a never-ending pile of bills. First one, car registration, due in two weeks. Next, power bill, due in four days. Phone bill, due last Friday. He’d meant to pay that one already with Selena’s money, but had forgotten. Credit card statement, minimum payment due by the end of the week. One day he’d get that card paid off and never use it again. Sounded like an early New Year’s resolution.

With a sigh, Ryan placed the bills in order of due-by date, with the phone bill top of the list. He then checked his mobile, making sure he hadn’t missed a call from Selena Thorne. It had now been three days since he’d seen her and had yet to hear anything regarding this new job she had for him. He not only really needed the cash, he was also intrigued as to exactly what it might entail. He had no other jobs on the books as yet and things were looking rather grim work wise.

Surely he would hear from her soon.

*  *  *

Emma had a gash on her face that had been sealed together with surgical glue. There was a dark patch of purple below her left eye. Scratches covered her cheeks and neck and there was even a large bruise on her right shoulder.

“We must look really glamorous,” Chelsea commented.

They were sitting outside a popular takeaway shop that overlooked the beach. Each had a Coke in front of them and the remnants of hamburgers.

“Happy birthday to me,” Emma said and smiled a smile that looked more like a grimace.

“Have you heard any more about John?”

Emma nodded and sipped from her straw. “I spoke to his dad this morning. He’s got a fractured left hand.”

Chelsea made a face. “That sucks. What about your dad? I saw him into it.”

“His right eye’s a bit puffy. Mum ended up knocking out the guy that hit him.”

This bit of news brought a grin to Chelsea’s face. “Good on her.”

“Thankfully the police had the sense not to charge anyone from the party. We were all just defending ourselves. Maybe Mum and Dad should have hired about twenty security guys? Those two we had did pretty good, though.”

Chelsea nodded. “So did Travis.”

“Did he? I didn’t see.”

“Yeah,” Chelsea was adamant. “He cleaned up about ten of them all on his own. He was like Superman or something.”

Emma looked dubious. “He’s a bit skinny to be that strong, isn’t he?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Well, he was. I saw him. Do you know what happened to him?” Emma shook her head. “When the cops came he disappeared. I don’t know how to get in touch with him.”

“Didn’t you get his phone number, or give him yours?”

“No.” Chelsea felt like kicking herself. Why didn’t they exchange numbers? “Somehow we just didn’t get around to it. We probably would have by the end of the night if the fight hadn’t happened. Stupid bogans.”

“So, you seem pretty keen on Travis,” Emma said.

“Yeah, there’s just something about him I really like. I really wanna see him again. Maybe John has his phone number?”

“I’ll text him.” Emma got out her phone. After sending the text she sat back with a satisfied smile. “I kinda like helping play cupid.”

Chelsea went into the takeaway and got another couple of drinks. By the time she returned, John had replied to Emma’s text message.

She shook her head. “He says he doesn’t have it.”

“Does Travis have John’s number?”

Emma shrugged. “How’s that help you?’

“He might call John and John can pass on my number to him. They must get in touch somehow if they hang out together.”

“Good point.” Emma sent John another message and he responded less than a minute later. “He says ‘yes’.”

“So Travis has his number?”

“I presume that’s what he means by ‘yes’, Chelsea.”

“And he’s going to pass on mine if Travis calls him?”

“Yes, girlfriend. God, you’ve got it bad for this guy, haven’t you.” It was a statement and not a question. “What happened to your infatuation with Dean?”

“You said not to go there, so I’m not. Dean’s a mate. Travis is...”

“Is what?” Emma grinned cheekily.

“Hot. Mysterious. Sexy. Charming...Different.”

“And let’s not forget he’s also Superman,” Emma pointed out.

“That too,” Chelsea said and drank some Coke.

She gazed out over the wind-swept ocean. It looked grey and gloomy in the overcast conditions. Still, there were plenty of people scattered about the beach even though the weather sucked. She wasn’t that big on the beach herself. Sure, she liked it on occasion, but she didn’t go much for all the sand and salt. She wasn’t a water person, either.

“I wonder why he disappeared like that?” she added after a long pause.

“Maybe he’s got something to hide?” Emma raised her eyebrows. “He might have a criminal record or something. Who knows? Or he might have thought he’d get arrested because he was involved in the fight.”

Chelsea glanced around them, then looked down over the mall, the boardwalk and the beach once more. Had she been hoping to spot him somewhere just now? She saw no one milling about that closely resembled Travis. Perhaps she would take a walk up town tonight, see if he was about. Thoughts of being a stalker entered her mind then. She wasn’t sure what to do. Wait to hear from John, maybe?

“Did you meet anyone new at the party that you like?” she asked Emma, deciding to give her friend some consideration and not just think about herself and Travis.

Emma shook her head. “No. There was no one there that I didn’t already know anyway. I’m not in any hurry.”

“Neither am I,” Chelsea said a little brusquely.

Emma raised her eyebrows again. “I never said you were.”

“Sorry. I don’t know why I just snapped at you. I think I’m just tired.”

“From the party?”

“That, and work, and Ryan bugging me about school.” She paused, her eyes becoming watery as she reminisced. “I still miss my parents, Emma.”

Emma placed a reassuring hand on Chelsea’s arm. “Of course you do. I wish I could have met them.”

“You would’ve liked them. They were like your parents. Really cool.”

Emma smiled. “So you think my parents are cool?”

“They are.”

“Yeah, I guess they probably are pretty cool when I really think about it.”

“They put on a great party for you. And it wasn’t their fault that it got crashed by those idiots. Does anyone know how that group found out about it?”

“No. We’ll probably never know.”

Twenty

Ryan had just stepped out of the shower that night when he got a call from Selena Thorne, arranging to meet with him at a cafe in Broadbeach at eight-thirty.

He felt relieved after receiving the call. He so needed the work, for both the money and something constructive to do.

In his bathroom he sprayed on some Armani cologne, had a shave, trimmed a few errant nose hairs and gargled some mouth wash. Back in the bedroom he surveyed his wardrobe, opting to wear a black suit with a stylish black T-shirt, rather than a more formal shirt and tie. After all, it was just coffee. No point over doing it. Deep down he knew he wanted to impress, though. Maybe that’s why he’d chosen to wear all black. It was obviously Selena’s colour of choice for fashion. It suited her and, while he contemplated his reflection in the mirror, decided all black suited him quite well, too. The last thing he put on were his black boots and watch.

He hadn’t had dinner yet and figured Selena wasn’t planning on having a meal with him, so he went into the kitchen and snacked on some pieces of cheese, a couple of bits of fruit and a small glass of milk. It wasn’t much, but it filled the gap.

Before he left he rapped on Chelsea’s closed bedroom door and heard her music drop a few decibels.

“I’m going out for a bit,” he said through the door.

“Okay,” she replied and the music went back up.

Down in the basement car park Ryan located his Ford and climbed in behind the wheel. He drove up a winding driveway and out through the security gate that opened automatically from within. He headed south on the Gold Coast Highway and arrived at Broadbeach less than ten minutes later.

Sunday night was fairly busy without being crowded. Broadbeach was a popular destination for restaurant goers and cafe junkies. Ryan had to drive around for a bit before he found a parking spot that wasn’t blocks away from the cafe. He eventually found someone vacating one in a side street and he pulled in after them. When he was out of the car he checked his appearance in a nearby shop window, nodded with satisfaction, then strolled casually along the main street. He checked his watch and discovered he was twenty minutes early. With time to kill he decided to go for a walk through the mall.

There were plenty of people in the mall, and some tasty looking women among them. He thought it would be nice to spend some time with a woman he liked. And he was just about to, he reminded himself. Ryan didn’t know if Selena was that way inclined towards him. After all, it had been all about business so far. He definitely sensed a hint of chemistry there, though. Or maybe it was just one-sided? Time would tell. One thing he definitely didn’t want to do was blow a good business deal because of a desire to have some female attention. That would just be plain stupid.

After walking for ten minutes he turned around and headed back towards the cafe, passing a couple standing in the middle of the mall smoking cigarettes. He breathed deeply of their excess smoke as he walked slowly by. He still craved the damned things, but the urges were not as strong now and were thankfully becoming less frequent. Just maybe he could do it this time.

The night was warm, but not humid, so he hadn’t worked up a sweat beneath his jacket by the time he arrived at the cafe. A glance around the place told him Selena hadn’t yet arrived, so he took a seat at a vacant outside table. A waitress appeared almost immediately and Ryan quickly told her he was waiting for someone first before he ordered.

Selena showed up five minutes late. She was wearing a black evening dress similar to the one she’d worn the first time he’d met her in Bliss. Thinking about it now, this was the first time he’d seen her outside the club. That’s what he’d wanted. She smiled when she saw him. Ryan stood up as she approached the table and she extended a gloved hand to him. Ryan was still curious about those gloves. He shook her hand and they took their seats. Again the same waitress swooped on them.

“I’ll have a flat white coffee,” Ryan said, then looked at Selena.

“Just an iced water for me,” she told the waitress.

“Anything to eat?” They both shook their heads and she hurried off.

“You not having a coffee?” Ryan inquired.

“I don’t drink coffee,” Selena answered. “Haven’t done so for ages.”

“But you used to?”

She nodded. “A very long time ago.”

Ryan smiled. “You say that as if you’re really ancient, but you couldn’t be any more than about twenty five at the most, I reckon.”

“Twenty seven, actually. You’re twenty five.”

“How’d you know?” Ryan was surprised.

“Lucky guess,” she said easily and adjusted her position in the seat. “How was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” he replied, and for him it had been. Chelsea’s weekend, however, had been rather different.

“Well,” she smiled, “that’s better than it being stressful. The club was so busy on Friday and Saturday nights.”

“That’s really good. You not working tonight?”

“Oh, I will go in after we’re done here, but tonight won’t be anywhere near as busy. I needed a break from there and thought it might be nice and more casual to meet up here in Broadbeach.”

“How did you go with the Gordon Wells situation?” Ryan wanted to know.

“He’s gone and I already have a replacement. When I heard back from the liquor companies and they furnished me with copies of the invoices you pointed out, I had Gordon come in on Friday night, showed him the proof of the error of his ways and sent him packing.”

“You didn’t bring in the police? After all, he was stealing from you, and who knows how much he’d actually pilfered before we caught him.”

Selena vigorously shook her head. Ryan couldn’t help but admire the clear, unblemished skin of her long neck as she did so. He found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to run his lips and tongue over it.

“I’d rather deal with things my own way, Ryan. If I can resolve a matter without involving the authorities, then I would prefer to do so.”

“Same here,” he agreed entirely. “That’s one of the reasons I’m a private detective and not an official one.”

“And the very reason I hired you for the job in the first place.”

The waitress materialized beside them and placed a tall glass of iced water with lemon slice in front of Selena. Ryan’s coffee was laid before him and even came with some miniscule, crunchy chocolate biscuit which he devoured in one bite. Ryan added a sugar sachet to his coffee and stirred it with a spoon, totally destroying the lovely leaf pattern the barista had created from the milk froth and crema. He took a sip. Perfect flavour and temperature.

He watched as Selena slowly ran her gloved fingers up and down the tall glass of water. Ryan felt his hormones stirring in the presence of this woman. True, she was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. It wasn’t just an obvious chemistry for him either. There was something else to her, something intangible that he had never sensed before. The detective in him wanted to know what it was.

“So, down to business,” Selena said, her hand still lightly touching the glass as she looked into Ryan’s eyes.

Ryan was finding it hard to concentrate. As unprofessional as he knew it would be, he was really fighting the urge right now to leap across the table and plant a wet kiss on her succulent lips. Her eyes were mesmerizing, and every time he locked onto her gaze he felt like he was slowly being drawn into them like whirlpools. It wasn’t like a hypnotic thing, just captivating in some way and very hard to look away from.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Business. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Yes,” she said and smiled warmly.

This is all a bit weird, Ryan thought. Both of them seemed a little preoccupied with whatever the vibe was that was happening between them. He knew she could feel it too. Or maybe he was just hoping? No, he was pretty sure when it came to things like that.

Selena opened her small black handbag and withdrew a slip of paper from it. She placed it on the table and slid it across for Ryan to take a look at.

Written on it was a name.

“Marlon Becker,” Ryan read it out. He looked at Selena questioningly.

“You’ve never heard of him?” she asked.

“Should I have?”

“Probably not. Anyway, Doctor Becker is a scientist who specializes in a number of fields.”

Ryan sipped his coffee. “Such as?” He noticed Selena still hadn’t touched her water.

“Biochemistry, pathology and hematology,” she answered.

“Sounds like a very smart and extremely busy guy,” Ryan quipped.

“And a brilliant scientist, so I’ve heard.”

Ryan raised his hands. “So, what does the good doctor have to do with anything?”

“I want you to investigate him.”

“Investigate him,” Ryan repeated. “That’s a very broad term, Selena. You need to be a little more specific.”

“Of course,” she apologized. “I don’t want you to delve into his personal affairs or anything like that.” She leaned her elbows on the table and looked him hard in the eyes. “I want you to look into what he’s currently working on, and his recent research and developments; particularly any areas pertaining to blood.”

Ryan scowled. “Blood?” He took a deep breath. “What’s this all about? Why do you want this information?”

“That’s not your concern,” she returned rather sharply. “If you take on this assignment, I assure you I will compensate you very well.”

“Okay,” he said, a little taken aback by her tone. “But it sounds like I could be performing a few illegal tasks to get you the information you want.”

Selena shrugged and managed a wry smile. “Isn’t that pretty much what PI work entails?”

He considered her words and nodded. “Sometimes, yes. So where do I find this Doctor Becker?”

Selena took a folded sheet of paper from her bag and handed it to him. “There are some details on there.”

“And how do you propose I go about obtaining the info you want?”

“You’re the detective, Mr Fox. That’s for you to figure out.”

Mr Fox? Getting formal all of a sudden. Ryan was a little bemused about her change in attitude the last few minutes. She’d become defensive for some reason. He didn’t think he had offended her in any way, so he deduced it had to have more to do with the information she was seeking, rather than the questions he’d asked.

Ryan finished his coffee and perused the sheet of information she’d given him. He then pocketed it and said, “So, what’s the deal financially?”

This brought a genuine smile to Selena’s face. Again she went to her handbag.

“I have three cheques here. One will be given to you upfront for expenses. The other two you will receive once I’m satisfied I have what I want from your enquiries.”

She slid a cheque over to him and Ryan examined it.

“Thirty thousand dollars!” he said, surprised by the amount.

“If you find that’s not enough to cover expenses, let me know and I’ll make certain you get more expediently. This is very important to me and, while I don’t want you to be frivolous, I do want you to do whatever it takes to accomplish the task to my satisfaction.”

Ryan nodded. “And why two other cheques?”

“One is your fee for completing the job, and the other is to assure your confidentiality and loyalty to me.”

Selena spread both cheques out on the table in front of herself so Ryan could see the amounts.

When he saw the figures written on them, he whistled in astonishment.

Twenty One

Detective Marks had just left the morgue, where he’d sat in on the early morning autopsy of Toby Matthews. Dr Shultz had examined the body and the charred remains of Mr Matthews’ head. His official cause of death was decapitation. Once again very little blood was found in the body, but Shultz said it was virtually impossible to determine whether the blood loss had occurred before or after the head was severed. The single lesion on the remains of the ragged neck had also been closely scrutinized. Once more the doctor’s findings were inconclusive. However, he was getting some tests done on organ and urine samples.

Marks drove back to his Southport office, trying to determine in his own mind whether there was a connection between the death of Amanda Simms and that of Toby Matthews. Apart from that one suspect lesion on the neck, there weren’t really any similarities. The Simms girl had been picked up in a night club, taken back to her home, had sex with the perpetrator, either consensually or otherwise, had been murdered in her bedroom and her body dumped. Matthews, on the other hand, was obviously a male, had been out camping, and had most likely suffered death through decapitation.

There was one thing Dr Shultz had confirmed, though. He was certain that Mr Matthews’ head had not been severed with any sort of instrument, sharp or not. The poor man’s skull had been violently ripped from his body. Literally. Who would have the strength to achieve that? Maybe it wasn’t a man? Possibly an animal? No, there were no animals around the area that could perform such a monumental task.

But neither could a human being, he reminded himself.

As he waited for a traffic light to turn green, Marks cranked up the car’s air conditioning. It was a hot, humid day with a forecast for thunderstorms either late this afternoon or this evening. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. That felt better. Maybe he’d move further south, to a cooler climate.

Last night, for the first time in over a month, he’d made love to his wife. It was a strange experience, not like what he’d expected after such a long stretch of abstinence. It hadn’t felt like making love at all. Even the purely physical side of it was largely unsatisfying. It had felt awkward, but not like when two people first get together and are trying to lose their inhibitions. It was the opposite of that. He wasn’t sure how his wife felt about it, but to Marks it had almost seemed like he was doing something wrong by having sex with his wife. It was a bizarre feeling.

He’d realized then the state of their marriage was way worse than he’d thought it was. Now he was certain a divorce was imminent. They were too far gone. Thankfully they’d never had children to further complicate things.

Marks ran a hand over his bald head and planted his foot when the lights changed. The Ford lurched forward and he sped all the way back to headquarters.

In the lunch room he made a strong coffee, which would do nothing to help calm his nerves. And he was edgy. He loved his wife, but he was no longer in love with her and he knew she felt the same way he did. It was a shame, but it happens in the world every day. People just have to settle their affairs and move on with their lives. As difficult as that might sometimes be.

Adding to his frustrations was a lack of solid leads in the two murder cases. There was nothing tying the two victims together to confirm, or even suggest, that they were committed by the same killer. But Detective Marks had strong instincts, and his gut was telling him it was the same guy. If his superior asked him for proof of that assumption he wouldn’t be able to provide it, but he knew it was true. The task now was to find this guy and prove, beyond doubt, that he’d killed both Amanda Simms and Toby Matthews.

And to catch him before he killed again.

That was currently his greatest fear. If he was right, then he had a serial killer on his hands.

Marks was sitting there staring into his coffee when the telephone rang. He awoke from his stupor and snatched it out of its cradle.

“Detective Marks,” he said into the receiver.

“Good morning, Detective.” Marks recognized the bright tone and knew who it was even before he introduced himself. “It’s Dr Jenkins here from QHSS. I have some new information for you.”

Marks sat upright, suddenly very alert. “Okay. What have you found out?”

“We have some results regarding the mystery virus, and we’ve managed to obtain a DNA profile on the killer.”

“I’m listening.” Marks felt his heart race.

There was hesitation on the other end of the line.

“Is it possible for you to come visit me at my Brisbane office? I’d really prefer to go through these results with you in person. Maybe together we can make some sense of them. Because, quite frankly, Detective, in my twenty five years in the industry, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

*  *  *

The very first thing Ryan did that morning was bank Selena’s expenses cheque. He even paid a hefty fee for an express clearance on it. He would have the funds in twenty-four hours and really couldn’t make much headway on Selena’s assignment until then.

On a visit to the post office he sorted his phone and electricity bills and his credit card bill. The car registration could wait a few more days.

He went to the Coffee Club in Cavill Mall and ordered a cappuccino, which he took to an outside table by the low-rise barricades that were plastered with Coffee Club advertising. After spooning the chocolate-coated froth off the top, Ryan took a sheet of paper from his back pocket and spread it out on the table, smoothing the creases out of it with his palms. He took another sip of coffee and read.

Doctor Marlon Becker, age forty five. Emigrated from Germany ten years ago. Renowned biochemist, pathologist and hematologist. Also a part-time lecturer at Sheldon University in Brisbane. Works at the Research Institute for Blood Disorders in Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne. Single with no children.

There was no residential address, contact phone number or email address included, but they wouldn’t be very hard to dig up.

It wasn’t much to go on, though.

Ryan sat back with his coffee in hand and gazed absently about the mall. What was Selena’s interest in this scientist and his work? And why did she get so defensive with him last night? His mind lingered back to the two cheques he was yet to receive. If he got her what she wanted - whatever that was - and honored their confidentiality agreement, then there was a further two hundred grand coming his way. He still couldn’t believe how much she was willing to pay him for this gig. Whatever the good doctor was up to, it was obviously of extreme importance to Selena Thorne.

They had parted ways soon after Selena had presented him with the expenses cheque and told him what his assignment was. Things had started off with a bit of chemistry, but that had all vanished quickly as soon as they’d got down to business. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was married or not, or whether she had a partner. He’d never confided his romantic status - or lack of it - to her either. Maybe he had the attraction thing all wrong. For her it may just be purely business and nothing more. Some people flirt just to get what that want. But it was more than flirting. There was something there, some vibe between them that wasn’t deliberate on either side.

Anyway, he told himself, he had to forget about that now and focus on the job at hand. Harboring romantic thoughts about her like a delusional adolescent male wouldn’t achieve anything. Get the job done, get her what she wants, collect those two juicy cheques, then see what happens. Maybe they could go on a real date or something? Dinner, drinks, a movie. Something normal. Get to know her without any business involved.

He recalled that gloved hand slowly and somewhat seductively sliding up and down the tall glass of water. In body language terms that could mean something. Another thought entered his head then and pushed the previous one out. She never did drink any of that water. Maybe she just wasn’t thirsty and only had it there out of politeness so he felt like he wasn’t drinking alone? Who knows? And what was with those gloves all the time?

There was something intangible about Selena Thorne that was very unusual, and he had a feeling he would soon discover what that was.

*  *  *

Marks drove to Brisbane that afternoon. The drive from the Gold Coast took less than an hour. Once again he had the air conditioning cranked full blast. Storm clouds were accumulating on the western horizon, congregating around the tops of the mountains and preparing for an onslaught.

He turned off the Pacific Motorway into Kessels Road and drove into Coopers Plains on Brisbane’s south side. A few minutes later he pulled into the parking area of QHSS headquarters. He straightened his tie and jacket when he got out of the car, striving to look respectable despite the uncomfortable weather. Marks headed into the building, told Reception he had an appointment with Dr Jenkins and was asked to take a seat until he was called. Before he did he poured some chilled water from a dispensing machine into a small plastic cup. He gulped that down and immediately poured another. Just as he selected a magazine to mindlessly leaf through, the receptionist told him to go on through the Jenkins’ office.

Marks dumped his empty cup into a waste basket and walked down a wide corridor. Jenkins’ office was second on the left. He paused outside the closed door, knocked twice, then entered.

Dr Jenkins was seated behind a large desk covered with computer monitors. The walls were adorned with certificates, diplomas and awards of all kinds. The ducted air conditioning hummed quietly and the room was pleasantly cool.

Smiling, Jenkins rose from his chair and shook the detective’s hand with a firm grasp. The doctor was a few years older than Marks, maybe mid-thirties. He had a full head of blond hair that was spiked up with product on the top, giving him the appearance of a thirty-something adolescent. The man looked for all money like Dexter Holland from The Offspring; a band Marks had been a fan of in his youth. He was wearing a white shirt over a trim frame, and a red and navy tie that was fastened with a perfect knot; something Marks wasn’t very adept at himself. Both men took a seat and Detective Marks waited for Jenkins to fill him in on what he’d found out. He switched on his trusty voice recorder.

“Would you like a coffee?” the doctor offered, obviously procrastinating for some reason.

Marks shook his head. He checked his watch, wanting to get business dealt with and be back on the Coast before the storms hit. He didn’t fancy driving in the midst of a thunderstorm and he didn’t want to wait around for them to pass, either.

“I’m not sure how to put to you the results of our research,” Jenkins said eventually after staring at a sheet of paper for an eternity.

“Just lay it out on the table,” Marks said.

Jenkins nodded and adjusted his already-perfect tie. “Okay.” He leaned forward, elbows on the desktop. Marks, meanwhile, was busy stroking his goatee. “Have you ever heard of a disease called Porphyric Hemophilia?”

“No. Should I have? Obviously it’s quite rare, as you said in our phone conversation last Friday.”

“It is, and it’s very unusual. We don’t have much information on it, I’m afraid.”

“Doctor? I don’t mean to be rude,” Marks interjected, “but it seems like your hedging here. Just get to the point and we’ll work it out from there.”

“Okay,” Jenkins said with a firm nod. “My team managed to track down a scientist who has encountered this virus, disease - whatever you want to label it - before during his time in Europe. His name’s Doctor Becker and he’s a very gifted hematologist, currently working in Melbourne on a research project.”

“So he’s a blood doctor.” Marks was familiar with the term.

“That’s right, among other talents.”

“So what is this disease you mentioned? What does it do?” Marks wanted to know.

“That’s the tricky part. Even Doctor Becker was rather reluctant to elaborate after admitting he had seen it before in Germany. Which is where he’s originally from, by the way.”

Jenkins paused again to study the sheet of paper in front of him.

“Doctor?” Marks prodded.

With a resigned sigh, Jenkins said, “Dr Becker refers to it as a vampire disease.”

Detective Marks nearly choked on his own tongue. “What the...? A fucking vampire! Is that what you’re telling me here?” Marks shook his head in total disbelief.

Jenkins held up his hands defensively. “I’m just telling you what he told my team. I’m not for one second suggesting we have a vampire out there committing murder and sucking the blood from its victims. They’re a myth.”

Or are they? Marks wondered, thinking about the lesions on the throat of Amanda Simms, the lack of blood present in the body with no apparent reason for its absence. Surely the legend couldn’t be real. He posed a question to Jenkins.

“Was this Doctor Becker stating he’d had dealings with actual vampires in Europe, or just stating he’d seen the disease before?”

“He never said he’d encountered vampires, no. What Becker explained in his report to me was that people who suffer Porphyric Hemophilia have an extreme deficiency in their red blood cell count and therefore need a direct way, or source, of fulfilling that inadequacy.”

“By sucking another person’s blood?” Marks couldn’t believe two sane, professional adults were sitting here having this absurd conversation.

“Or animal blood,” Jenkins said. “This is not to suggest that people with the condition are the walking dead with superhuman strength and abilities like we see in the movies. They could just be normal people with a genuine medical condition that is so rare virtually no one on the planet has any solid experience with it.”

“No one except Doctor Becker.” Marks played with his goatee some more, thinking. “I’m going to need some time to mull that over, Doctor, so let’s move on to the DNA profile you have on my suspect. You said you’d never seen anything like it before.”

Jenkins nodded. “That’s right.” Again he went into hesitation mode.

“Come on, Doc,” Marks urged.

“I won’t get all technical on you here, Detective, but to suffice to say the DNA profile we created on your suspect isn’t entirely consistent with that of a human being.”

Marks shook his head in bewilderment. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It appears to be some sort of a hybrid pattern,” Jenkins explained. “You see, pure human DNA consists of forty six chromosomes, or twenty three pairs. Our subject in question has a count of fifty.”

“And can you explain that?”

“Frankly, no. Not yet, anyway. The only way he could have a different chromosome count is if he is either a hybrid, or he isn’t human at all.”

“Are we back to the vampire theory again?”

“I never put that forth as a theory at all, Detective.”

“So, are you basically, in layman’s terms, telling me that the perpetrator I’m looking for is not a person at all?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what I’m telling you. I’m just giving you the results of our studies. I did warn you on the phone earlier that this case was highly unusual.”

Marks nodded. “Okay, thank you, Doctor. Can you arrange copies of your information?” He stood up. “And can you also give me contact details for this Dr Becker? I may want to get in touch with him myself.”

“Will do.” Jenkins printed off copies for Marks of everything he requested. “Thanks for coming up.”

They shook hands.

“Let me know if you come up with anything else,” Marks said and left the room.

*  *  *

The drive back to the Gold Coast was uneventful. The thunderstorms, although building rapidly, were still quite a distance off and there was no immediate threat. The humidity, however, had risen markedly. If that were possible. Marks had the windows closed and the air con up full again. With the afternoon sun beating down on the car, the climate control struggled to keep things all that comfortable inside the cabin.

Marks had the radio on at a low volume, his mind going over everything he’d just discussed with Dr Jenkins. None of it made any real sense. In fact, nothing about these cases made logical sense at all. He didn’t feel like he was getting anywhere, and the results he’d just received weren’t going to really help him any. There was no point running a DNA profile match through the national database when the profile didn’t even match up to that of a person in the first place. And this virus, disease, whatever, what was that all about?

Could it be that someone, some freak, was masquerading as a vampire and committing these murders? But that didn’t add up either, not with the forensic evidence he had now.

His mind thought back to the camp site where Toby Matthews’ headless body was found, the cranium ripped off in such a violent manner. That feat didn’t match the abilities of a human being either.

He sighed and turned off the M1.

Maybe he would get in touch with this Dr Becker himself and see what the man had to say. Just possibly he could shed some light on things.

Twenty Two

Ryan was in his room sitting in front of the computer. Chelsea was out somewhere, probably hanging out with Emma. Emma had proven fruitless when it came to his plea for her to convince his sister to stay in school. That didn’t look like it was going to happen now.

To take a break from the glare of the screen for a moment, he looked out through the open doors and stared at the nightscape of Surfers Paradise. He had all the lights off and the only light source in his room was coming from the computer monitor.

He raised his arms and stretched, yawning at the same time, then refocused his eyes on the Google search results page he’d been looking over.

He clicked on a promising link and scanned the page that opened, finding something useful at last. It was a mobile phone number for Dr Marlon Becker. Ryan scribbled it down on a notepad and sat back to contemplate it. What should he do? Call the number and say what? Hi, I’m a private detective and I’ve been hired to learn what you’re currently researching or working on. Could you please fill me in with all the details.

That wasn’t going to work.

Ryan opened another page that gave some details on Becker when he was in Germany. Thankfully the page was written in English and didn’t require translation. The gist of it was that Becker was brilliant in his chosen fields of science from an early age. He was at the forefront of some groundbreaking research into some common blood diseases in the 1990s and had received many accolades for his work. It mentioned his emigration to Australia a decade ago, but failed to offer any reasons as to why he left his home country to relocate here.

Twenty minutes later Ryan stumbled across another snippet of information that may be helpful. Apparently the good doctor was currently working out of the Melbourne branch of the Research Institute for Blood Disorders.

Ryan made a note of that on his pad, including the address. It looked like a trip to Melbourne might be on the cards. He wasn’t sure if that was where he’d find the information Selena wanted, but better to start where the man was currently located, he figured.

Somehow he would need to get an appointment with Dr Becker so he could at least meet the man and work out his next move from there. What were the chances he could just call up the Institute and request some face time with the guy? Probably pretty slim without a credible premise for such a request.

He’d have to come up with one and set the wheels in motion tomorrow morning when his money was cleared.

*  *  *

Chelsea was sitting down on the beach with Emma. She’d just finished work and the pair were chilling out with some Vodka Cruisers - purchased legally by Emma now that she was eighteen - and cigarettes. Drinking alcohol on the beach was outlawed and attracted hefty on-the-spot fines if caught, so they sat in the darkness of the dunes away from the Cavill Mall spotlights. Out to sea lightning flashed intermittently.

“Have you spoken to John today?” Chelsea asked. “Was he at school?”

“He wasn’t at school, but I called him this afternoon to check on him.”

“How is he?”

“He’s fine and will probably be back at school tomorrow.” Emma puffed on her cigarette and washed it down with Vodka Cruiser. She looked at her friend in the darkness and grinned. “Just ask what you wanna ask, Chelsea.”

Chelsea puffed on her own smoke. “Has he heard from Travis?”

“No, he hasn’t. As soon as he does he’ll pass on your phone number to him.”

“It seems like weeks since your party,” Chelsea mused. “Not three days ago.”

“I know what you mean. That night seems so surreal now. Did your brother give you the third degree about it?”

“No, not really. I’ve hardly even seen Ryan this past week anyway. Which is probably just as well. I don’t wanna hear any more about why I’m not going to school and all that bullshit. I’m an adult now. I’ve got my own life and he just has to accept that I can make my own decisions. Right or wrong they’re mine to make. He should focus on fixing his own crummy life. He’s got nothing and is nothing.”

“Well,” Emma said and lay back on the sand. It was still damp from this afternoon’s storm. “There’s certainly no love lost between you two then.”

“Absolutely none.”

Chelsea’s phone rang and she couldn’t pull it from her pocket fast enough.

“Hello?” she said tentatively, not recognizing the phone number that flashed up on screen.

“Hi. Is this Chelsea?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Travis. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met the other night at your friend’s birthday party.”

“Of course I remember you!”

“Well, I was wondering, if you’re not too busy tonight, whether we could meet up and, I don’t know, hang out?”

“Sure. I’m in Surfers now if you want to meet me here.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you outside McDonald’s at nine.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Chelsea grinned and said to Emma, “That was Travis.”

“No kidding,” Emma retorted. “And you played so hard to get.”

“Do you think I should have put him off?”

“No. You go for it, girlfriend.” She checked the time on her phone. “That’s only half an hour away. I’ll hang out with you ‘til then, then I’ll be off.”

They both lay back and watched the light show over the ocean, drinking vodka and smoking cigarettes until five minutes to nine. After dusting the sand from each others’ backs, the pair left the beach and Emma walked with Chelsea to McDonald’s.

“Have fun,” Emma said and shot Chelsea a wink. Then she was off, walking quickly down the mall.

Chelsea sensed, rather than heard, someone come up behind her. She turned and looked up into the smiling face of Travis. Immediately she felt herself start to melt. It was exactly the same as it had been on Friday night. It wasn’t a one-off. He still had that affect on her. His face was unblemished, the pale skin showing no signs of bruising at all from Friday night’s battle.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.” She felt her voice catch in her throat and feared if she said something more just now that it would come out sounding like a croak.

“Let’s take a walk,” he suggested and led the way across The Esplanade and onto the boardwalk.

They headed south at a slow, leisurely pace.

“I’m glad you called,” Chelsea said. “I really wanted to see you again.”

“Me too. Lucky John had your number.”

“Why did you disappear the other night?” Chelsea wanted to know.

He shrugged. “Too many police. I just didn’t want to get involved.”

“You looked pretty involved to me. Thanks for looking out for me, though.”

Travis turned to her and smiled. “Anytime, Chelsea. I couldn’t stand by and let someone hurt that pretty face of yours.”

She returned his smile. “Charmer.”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Is that what you’re like with all the girls? Lay on the charm to win them over?”

“Not all the girls, no. Only the ones that mean something to me. I save it for the special ones.”

“Oh, yeah. And how many of those have you got on tap at the moment?”

“None that I know of, but hopefully one soon.”

“If you’re lucky you might be able to charm me,” she said rather cockily.

They paused and stood leaning against a railing, looking out over the dark water. Lightning still flashed occasionally way off on the distant horizon. More and more stars were appearing as the belt of cloud gradually receded out to sea.

“So, what have you been up to the last few days?” Chelsea asked him. “Anything exciting?”

Travis shook his head, his dark eyes somehow gleaming in the shadows of night. “Not really. Just been lying low and taking it easy.”

“How did you do what you did?”

He turned to look at her, resting his right elbow on the rail. “What do you mean?”

“The other night at the party, taking out all those guys so...easily. You’re incredibly strong, and fast.”

“I don’t know. Technique. The speed’s a gift, but I think the strength is just technique.”

“No, I think it was a little more than just good technique. That was pure strength from what I saw. And I saw it all.”

He shrugged and said rather obliquely, “I am what I am.”

“What does that mean?” She took her cigarettes from her bag and extracted one from the packet. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I don’t mind.” He stared into her eyes a moment, then looked back out to sea. “I like you, Chelsea, but if you really knew me you may not like me.”

“As much as I enjoy a mystery,” she said, exhaling smoke into the night, “what are you really talking about?”

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

Chelsea sensed a sadness within him then and wondered what it was about. Did he have some dark secret he wasn’t yet willing to share? He sure talked and acted like he did. She decided not to push it just yet, even though curiosity was getting the better of her and nagging her to ask questions. She finished her cigarette in silence and flicked the butt over the fence, where it disappeared amid a thatch of sea grass.

“Want to take a walk down there?” Travis nodded toward the waterline.

“Sure.” Chelsea took her shoes off and carried them in her left hand as she followed Travis down onto the soft sand. When they reached the hard sand near the water’s edge, she asked, “Do you like the ocean?”

“It’s okay. I’m not big on the beach in the daytime. I prefer it at night.”

“Why?”

“It’s cooler. I don’t like the sun.”

Why did she constantly get the feeling he was trying to tell her something without actually coming right out and saying what it was? She was being surprisingly open with him, but felt she wasn’t getting the same in return.

They waded through ankle-deep water, heading north now. Chelsea really wanted to reach out and hold his hand as they walked, but refrained from doing so.

“I usually try to keep away from girls,” he told her.

Chelsea frowned in the darkness. “Why would you want to do that? You’re not gay, are you?”

“No, I’m not into men. I like women. It’s just hard for me.” He glanced at her. “But when I met you the other night I felt like I just wanted to be around you and keep seeing you.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” she pointed out.

“That depends.”

“On what?” She lit another smoke, the flame from the lighter momentarily illuminating their faces.

“On how well you handle the truth about me.”

“God, you love being mysterious, don’t you,” Chelsea said, starting to feel a little frustrated now. “Just talk to me, Travis.”

He stopped walking and said, “Kiss me.”

“Really? Okay. Now you’re being more direct. I like that.” Chelsea tossed her cigarette and slowly moved her face in close to his. When her lips made contact with his lips, she froze. Literally. She pulled her mouth away and touched his face with her hand. “You’re so cold,” she said, completely dumbfounded. “How? I mean, why are you stone cold?”

Travis looked away and took a step back. Chelsea went to reach for him, but he just retreated further.

He said, “If I tell you the truth, you either won’t believe me, or you’ll want nothing more to do with me.”

“Travis, enough of the vague talk.” Before she said the next words, Chelsea made a concerted effort to keep her voice calm and soft. “Just tell me. Please.”

“I’m not what you think I am,” he said, still sounding ambiguous. “I mean, I look like one of you, but I’m not.”

“Travis!”

“It’s hard to just come right out and tell you, Chelsea. Just give me a moment and let me tell you in my own time.”

The silence stretched out over a period of minutes. To Chelsea it seemed more like half an hour. She waited, smoked a cigarette and waited some more.

“I’m a vampire,” he eventually blurted out. “There. I’ve said it.”

Chelsea was on the verge of bursting into a fit of laughter, but when she saw the deadly serious expression on his face she managed to choke it back.

“Did I just hear you right?” she said.

“You don’t believe me, I can tell.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “apart from being cold and mysterious, you haven’t really shown me much proof.”

“There was the fight the other night. Remember? You saw what I can do.”

Chelsea lit another smoke. “So, are you like the vampires in the Twilight movies?”

He shook his head adamantly. “No. Not like them. They’re fiction. I’m dangerously real, Chelsea.” Travis turned to her and, even in the darkness, Chelsea could see the intensity in his eyes. “Touch me again,” he said.

She did, placing the fingertips of both hands either side of his face. Chelsea kissed him once more, this time knowing what to expect and not pulling back. The kiss lingered. Gently she removed her lips from his and said, “Am I in danger being around you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

She grinned. “Do you want to suck my blood?”

“Don’t joke about it, Chelsea,” Travis was firm. “That is what we do. So far I’ve managed to stay away from humans and have only fed on animals, but there may always be a first time.”

Chelsea was feeling somewhat uncomfortable now. Mixed emotions flooded through her body and mind. His revelation hadn’t changed her mind about him. She was still just as drawn to him as she was before, maybe even more so now. However, she was finding it difficult to fight off a feeling of trepidation that was seeping into her; a fear of the unknown. Deep down she actually believed what Travis had just told her.

“How many of you are there?” she asked.

“There are a few of us,” he was vague again. “I have an older brother. He’s gone rogue. He’s got a taste for human blood again. That’s why we left Perth. Michael was attracting too much heat. Now he’s started all over again here.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Chelsea wanted to know, her mind fuzzy with confusion and the internal struggle to process what she was hearing.

He cupped her face in his cold hands and stared deeply into her eyes. “Because I trust you. Don’t freak out, but I’ve looked inside you and I know I can trust you.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When did you look inside me?”

“At the party, just before we went out for a dance.”

Chelsea recalled the sensation she’d had the other night, where it felt like her thoughts were being plucked from her brain one at a time.

“So you can read minds,” she said, feeling a little violated.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again to you, I promise.” He sucked in a deep breath. “We all have powers, many of them the same. Some of us have different gifts to others. My brother Michael has it all. There is nothing he can’t do. He’s the only one of us who can fly and he has incredible strength.” Travis looked hard into her eyes again. “You can’t tell anyone about us, Chelsea. Promise me.”

His eyes had her trapped. “I promise,” she heard herself say and meant it.

“I’m lonely, Chelsea,” he went on, satisfied that he had her loyalty. “I want a companion. When I met you I just knew you were the one I was looking for.”

“What does that mean exactly? What sort of companion does a vampire have? Do you mean you want a girlfriend?”

He smiled then and lightened the mood. “Of course that’s what I mean.”

She pursed her lips. “Well, you might take a bit of getting used to, but I’m game to try if you are.”

He held her tightly in his arms then. For Chelsea that was a surreal experience. While she loved being held close to his slender body, the distinct lack of warmth emanating from him was a little unnerving.

Could she get used to it? She sure hoped so, because she really liked this guy.

Twenty Three

Kelly held the torch while Paul wrestled the punctured tyre from the front, left-hand side of the old station wagon. A moon had risen in the sky, adding a bit more light to see by.

The pair were backpackers from the UK and were travelling around Australia together. The plan was to do this trip for a year, then head home, finish their degrees and get married. So far they were only two months into their adventure.

They’d come to grief on a lonely stretch of country road west of the Gold Coast. Somewhere down the road Paul had managed to drive right over a pot hole. The tyre had burst and he’d very nearly lost control of the vehicle, narrowly avoiding crashing into a grove of gum trees. As the pace of the car slowed he’d managed to wrestle the station wagon into submission and pull safely to a stop on the side of the road.

He dumped the wounded wheel on the dusty ground beside him and picked up the spare. Thankfully it was full of air. The last time he had a flat tyre back home his spare had been flat also. That would not have been a good scenario out here in the middle of nowhere at night. He positioned the wheel over the four protruding bolts and finger-tightened the wheel nuts into place. The plan was to then lower the jack and tighten the nuts with the wheel brace.

Paul was just about to lower the car to the ground when he heard something in the bushes just off the shoulder of the road. He stood up.

“Hand me the torch,” he said to Kelly.

She said, “It’s probably just an animal.”

“Maybe, but I think I might go check just the same.” He took the torch from her and aimed it into the bush. There was a shallow gully just off from the roadside. “Wait here.”

Paul moved off, guiding his way with the beam of light. His boots crunched on gravel with each step until he was off the shoulder and stepping his way through long grass and around small shrubs. He paused when he reached the edge of the gully and played the light all around. Hearing nothing and seeing nothing, he glanced back towards the car. Kelly was standing there with her bum leaning against the passenger door, the vehicle still raised off the ground by the jack.

There was a rustling sound in the bushes on the gully’s other side. Paul shone the torch beam over there and saw the branches of a tree quivering. Apart from that nothing else moved.

He stepped down into the gully. A rock gave way beneath his foot and he went tumbling down to the bottom. He sat up, a cloud of dust rising around him. He felt a pain in his shoulder blade where a stone had bruised him during the roll.

“Are you okay, Paul?” he heard Kelly call out to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Paul stood up, dusted himself off and started scaling the other side of the embankment. When he reached the top he paused to shine the light around. Again he listened, and once more his ears were greeted with dead silence.

“Can we just get out of here?” Kelly moaned, her voice more distant now as he ventured further away from her.

Soon, Babe, he thought.

Paul stepped into the forest and continued his search. He didn’t really know why he was bothering. Curiosity was getting the better of him. It was his nature. Hell, they were here on the adventure of a lifetime and he wanted to explore the country, day or night. If there was an unusual animal out here somewhere, then he wanted to see it.

He glanced behind him, but Kelly and the car were now obscured from view. When he was deeper in the forest he thought he better give up the hunt and make his way back. He hadn’t seen a thing and hadn’t heard the animal for a few minutes now. It was probably long gone.

With a resigned sigh, Paul turned on his heel and tracked back the way he came. He broke free of the trees and carefully traversed the gully, not wanting to fall this time. When he came up the other side he shone his light towards the car. The car was where he’d left it, but Kelly was nowhere to be seen.

He didn’t panic right away. She’d probably just gotten bored and wandered off somewhere. Or maybe she went to take a leak.

Again his shoes crunched gravel as he stepped onto the shoulder of the road. He shone the light all around and inside the car. She wasn’t in there. Paul stepped onto the road to check the other side of the vehicle.

There she was lying sprawled out on the bitumen, her long, dark hair splayed out like a fan. Blood leaked from two puncture wounds on her throat.

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

He dropped to his knees and touched her face, then felt for a pulse on her wrist. There was one there, but it was very faint. He put his ear close to her nose and mouth and heard shallow breathing. Paul tried to wake her, but she didn’t respond.

Now panic was starting to get a hold of him. What had happened while he was out there exploring the woods and nature hunting? Who or what had done this to Kelly?

Paul shone the torch on the two wounds on her throat. She looked like she’d been bitten by something and his first thought was a snake. He knew from prior research that Australia was crawling with venomous snakes. Maybe one had bitten his girlfriend? But even that didn’t make sense. Why had it bitten her on the neck? Why not the ankle or the leg? Surely she wouldn’t have been lying on the road at the time.

Before attempting to pick her up and put her in the car, Paul checked her for any sign of other injuries. From what he managed to see of her torso and limbs there weren’t any. The only wounds she had were the bites on her throat.

He opened the rear door, then grasped Kelly under the armpits and half dragged her to the car. Once he’d managed to get her upper body onto the seat, he went round the other side and dragged her all the way in while leaning through the other door. He closed the door, being careful not to bang her head, then went back around to the roadside, tucked her feet inside the car and closed that door as well.

Moving at high speed he released the jack, quickly tightened the wheel nuts, then tossed the jack, tools, and punctured tyre into the back. He needed to get her to a hospital, and fast.

It struck just as he was about to climb in behind the wheel.

Paul was grabbed from behind in a grip so powerful he could barely twitch a muscle. What felt like two needles jabbed into his neck. There was a disgusting sucking, slurping sound and he literally felt the life being drained from his body with each passing second. His vision faded and his eyes closed. Then he passed out.

Twenty Four

Detective Marks sat by himself at a restaurant in Broadbeach. He’d gone home earlier to find a note from his wife saying she’d gone to Brisbane for a while to spend time with her parents. Reading between the lines she obviously needed time away from him.

How long was a while? he wondered.

He looked out over the street. Things were pretty quiet this late on a Monday night and he’d only managed to order a meal just in time before the kitchen closed. He was one of only four people remaining in the restaurant.

His steak arrived. It looked like a tender and juicy cut. On the side there was a small jug filled with mushroom sauce and he drowned the meat with it, finishing off by pouring the remainder over the vegetables. He wasn’t even sure if he was hungry, but he knew he had to eat something. Seeing Linda’s note had left a gaping hole in the pit of his stomach. As much as he knew their relationship sucked right now, and had done for quite a while, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. True, he was a hardened Homicide Detective, but even Homicide Detectives were vulnerable in their personal lives.

Marks sliced off some steak and put it in his mouth. The moment he chewed the succulent meat he realized he was famished. He got stuck into the meat and vegetables and very soon his plate was empty, bar the used cutlery and a toothpick. He took the last swallow of water from his glass and sat back feeling comfortably full.

His mind went back to the murder cases. So far there had been no more possible sightings of their suspect. It was like the guy had vanished off the face of the earth. Tonight his picture had been splashed across the six o’clock news nationwide. Hopefully that would yield some results.

Vampires. What the fuck was Jenkins on about? Sure, the doc hadn’t said categorically that they were dealing with some mythical undead creature of the night, but what had all that meant? What was this disease?

He considered calling Doctor Marlon Becker in Melbourne for further information and insight on the matter, but he wasn’t quite ready to travel down that road of possibility just yet. He’d put a rush on all test results from this morning’s autopsy, and anything the SOCOs had found at the Toby Matthews’ crime scene. Hopefully he’d hear the results of those sometime tomorrow.

Marks sat there for a few more minutes, absently massaging his chin. He then rose from his seat, paid the bill and walked back to his car, thoughts of Linda and their failed marriage at the forefront of his mind.

*  *  *

Michael stuffed Paul’s limp body into the passenger seat. He then got in behind the wheel and started the car. As he drove down the road he marveled at how well the old beast of a vehicle handled, and it had more power than it looked like it should possess.

Paul and Kelly were still alive, and he’d left them that way deliberately. He’d only sucked some of their blood and hadn’t drained them to the point of death. Michael had never planned to kill them. He wanted to reproduce more of his own kind and start his own coven. In time the disease his fangs had injected into them would transform the British backpackers into immortal beings just like himself. Very soon he would have two willing playmates to go on the hunt with.

He couldn’t wait.

*  *  *

“Is that why you don’t eat or drink anything?” Chelsea asked Travis. They were still down by the water’s edge, sitting on the hard sand and just listening to the gentle roll of the swells. “Because you’re a vampire?”

“We don’t need to eat or drink.” He paused. “Except for blood. We can eat food and drink water and stuff. Our bodies just pass it through. But we don’t need it to sustain ourselves.”

“You breathe air obviously.”

“We need oxygen in our blood just like you do. We don’t sleep. Once again we can, but we don’t need to.”

“Can you go out in daylight?”

He shook his head. “No. Daylight would kill me. Which sucks, because I used to enjoy going out in the sun. Now I live in a night realm of endless darkness.”

She lit a smoke. “What do you do when it’s daytime then?” She puffed on it and exhaled a cloud of smoke while awaiting his reply.

He turned to her with a wry smile. “Hide out. The house we live in has blacked out areas where no light can get in, so we’re quite safe. At night we can open up those areas and enjoy a bit of view. What you can see in the dark, anyway. My vision’s pretty good, way better than it was when I was human.”

“And when was that?” Chelsea wanted to know.

“Quite a while ago now. I’ll tell you all about that some other time; about how I came to be what I am today.” When she sat there in silence for a bit, he added, “Feel free to keep asking me other questions, though.”

“Can you...?” Chelsea hesitated. “Can you be intimate with a girl like humans can?”

That brought a smile to Travis’ face. “You mean am I able to have sex? The answer is yes.”

“With a human? Or does she have to be a vampire too?”

He sighed and pondered that one. “I’ve never done it since I’ve been a vampire. I could have sex with a human, but I’m just not sure how dangerous that would be. There would be no problem doing it with another vampire.”

“You live forever, don’t you? Or is that just a myth?”

“We can potentially live forever, but we can be killed.”

“How?”

“I don’t really want to get into that just now, Chelsea.”

“I wasn’t planning on killing you,” she said with a nervous giggle.

He looked into her eyes and smiled that charming smile. “I know. We can talk about that another time too.”

“I’m just really curious about it all. I’ve never met anyone like you before. I can’t help asking lots of questions.”

“It’s okay,” Travis assured her. “I don’t mind. As I’ve done so far, if I don’t want to answer something yet, I’ll let you know.”

“Can I become like you?” Chelsea immediately posed another question to him.

“Do you mean, is it possible?” She nodded. “Yeah, it’s quite easy, really. You just have to be bitten by one of us, but not killed. Then you will turn into this.” He pointed to himself.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“How long does it take to be transformed?”

“It depends on the person. It could take a day, or it could take a week.”

“Will you bite me and change me?”

“No.”

“Why not? I might want you to.” She grinned in the darkness. “I’d love to be immortal and have all these amazing powers like you and your brother have. Hopefully I’d be able to fly.”

“Being a vampire isn’t all wonderful, Chelsea. It has its drawbacks, like not being able to go out in daylight for one. Constantly fighting the urge to murder humans just to stay alive for another. If I could go back to being human I’d do so in a split second.”

“But if you had a lifelong companion, whom you loved by your side, we could live for all eternity in pure happiness. Truly together forever.”

He shrugged, then nodded. “Maybe. But it’s not something I’m willing to do for you right now. You need to give it some very serious thought first.”

She said, “I will.” Chelsea drew on her smoke and flicked the butt onto the beach, where sparks exploded and danced across the sand. “So, you’ve never killed anyone?”

“No. But like I said earlier, it’s not guaranteed that I won’t. As much as I’m able to stay alive on animal blood, a vampire’s natural craving is for human blood.”

“But you could get it from the blood bank, couldn’t you? You don’t necessarily have to kill for it.”

“The blood bank doesn’t just hand out plasma bags. And it’s not like you can just rock up and buy a few. The only way would be to steal it. Easier just to feed on animals. It’s not good to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Your brother, what was his name again?”

“Michael.”

“Yeah, Michael obviously doesn’t care.”

“But he should. Michael’s out of control. He’s on a power trip. I’m actually a little scared of him these days. There’s no telling what he’ll do. He’s unpredictable. And that’s dangerous for all of us.”

“Can I see your fangs?” Chelsea asked hopefully. “I’m sure they look really cool.”

Travis shook his head while Chelsea lit up another cigarette. “That’s not a good idea.” He paused. “Think of it this way. When a human being gets sexually aroused, they’re usually on the verge of doing something sexual. Right?”

Chelsea nodded. “I guess.”

“Well, it’s kinda the same when I feed. The fangs come out when I’m on the verge of feeding and am really, really hungry. If I was to get myself into that state here with you now, then there’s a real danger I won’t be able to stop myself from feeding on you.”

“I think I understand. But maybe I can see them when you’re about to feed on an animal?”

“We could do that.”

“When?”

“I don’t know?”

“Well, are you hungry now?”

He thought about it. “A little.”

“Then let’s go,” Chelsea urged.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Travis stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. She brushed the sand from his butt and he returned the favour. Hand in hand they walked up from the beach and Travis led the way to where his car was parked.

“That’s so beautiful!” Chelsea said as she admired the black BMW convertible. “How’s a nineteen year old vampire afford one of these?”

“Luck. I come from a wealthy family originally. Even some of us vampires like money and what it can buy.” He opened the door for her. “Hop in.”

Chelsea did and Travis climbed in behind the wheel. He fired it up and sped down the road. Chelsea was loving the feel of the wind in her hair and the freedom of no roof. This was all so surreal, she thought. The night of the party and tonight. Her sudden relationship with Travis, all the vampire talk, coming to grips with it all. She was loving life right now and Travis had become the full focus of her attention.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” she asked him.

“To my hunting ground.”

They headed north-west, onto the M1 for a bit, then cut through Oxenford and went further west until they reached the semi-rural area of Guanaba.

“Is this where you live?” Chelsea asked.

“Around here, yes, but I won’t take you to my place tonight.” He glanced over at her and grinned. “We’re going hunting.”

“This is exciting.”

Chelsea undid her seatbelt and stood up, where she clung to the top of the windscreen and let the full force of the warm night air blast her face and upper body.

While she was recklessly doing that, Travis slowed down and eased gently around bends and corners. He turned off onto a dirt road that cut a path through forest on either side. A group of bats feeding on berries by the side of the road flew off in all directions as the car drove by. It left behind a trail of dust in its wake. Travis eased on the brakes and brought the BMW to a stop in a clearing, then cut the motor and got out. Rather than open the door, Chelsea leaped over it and onto the ground.

“What will you try and catch?” she asked him as she came up by his side and slipped an arm around his waist.

“A kangaroo, hopefully,” he told her and held her close to his cold body.

“You’re going to kill a poor kangaroo?”

“It’s better than killing a person.”

“That depends on who it is,” Chelsea grumbled, and for some reason her brother immediately came to mind. She quickly dismissed that thought. What a horrible thing to think.

Travis shot her a look that she couldn’t read in the darkness. “Let’s find us a kangaroo,” he said. “We have to move really quietly, though. I’ll guide the way because I can see better than you at night.”

He let go of her then and she followed closely in his footsteps, trying to tread as silently as she could on the uneven ground. It was hard to do when there were twigs and dry leaves scattered all over the place. Every so often Travis would stop walking and pause to listen. Each time Chelsea heard nothing, but Travis seemed to be homing in on some distant sound that her mortal ears were unable to detect. After a while she could hear what he was hearing. It was the distinct hopping sound of a kangaroo. It would only bound for a few paces at a time and then stop.

“We’re getting close,” Travis whispered so quietly his voice was barely audible.

He moved in a crouch now and Chelsea emulated his example. Her heeled shoes were not the best for travelling through this sort of terrain and in the crouch position, it was even harder to keep her footing. She was worried she would twist an ankle. Travis suddenly stopped right in front of her and Chelsea slammed into his back.

“Ouch,” she said as her nose was squashed.

“Be very quiet,” he warned, holding up a hand.

He then pointed off to the left. In the darkness Chelsea could just make out the familiar shape of a small kangaroo. Or was it a wallaby? She never could tell the difference. It appeared to be feeding on leaves or something from a small bush. Travis turned towards her and opened his mouth. The sight of those two razor-sharp fangs startled her and she fell back onto her arse.

Travis was off and Chelsea immediately heard a scuffle. She got to her feet and moved toward Travis as he wrestled the struggling roo under control. When he saw her out of the corner of his eye, Travis bared his fangs and plunged them into the neck of the hapless animal. It was all over within seconds, the young vampire having completely drained the kangaroo’s blood supply. It went limp and flopped to the ground like a stuffed animal when Travis let it go.

Chelsea wasn’t sure what to make of what she’d just witnessed. A big part of it totally freaked her out, but another, deeper part of her had actually enjoyed watching Travis suck the blood from that animal. She smiled in the darkness and Travis smiled back at her, his fangs still protruding from the upper jaw and his chin dripping with warm blood.

“That’s what I do,” he said and wiped his face clean. “I generally leave the carcasses behind for other animals to feed on.”

Arm in arm they walked back to the car. Travis drove her home then, leaving with the promise of seeing her again tomorrow night. All night long Chelsea’s sleep was disturbed by weird dreams, some quite pleasant and some nothing short of terrifying.

Twenty Five

Ryan awoke early the next morning. The money was in his account so he booked a midday flight to Melbourne. He also arranged an overnight stay in an inner-city hotel, with the option of an extension if he required one.

He had breakfast of sausages and eggs and even made some for his sister, just in case. After packing a small suitcase, Ryan woke Chelsea up and told her he was going away for a day or two. She was in a strange sort of a mood and he struggled to figure it out. In the end he gave up trying and went downstairs to wait for the taxi.

The taxi was late, but he’d allowed plenty of time to get to the airport before the flight. Congestion was high heading south on the M1 due to constant road upgrades. The construction had been going on for years. Surely one day it would be finished.

The plane was on time and roughly two and half hours later he was landing at Tullamarine Airport in Melbourne. Once he had his suitcase, he located a taxi outside the terminal building and gave the Indian driver the address of his hotel in the city. It took a while to get there as traffic was heavy and the airport was located a fair distance away from the heart of the city. The taxi double parked outside the Concord Hotel in Lonsdale Street and Ryan quickly paid the driver and got out.

The sky was overcast and threatened drizzle. It had been some years since he was in Victoria’s capital and he couldn’t say he was glad to be back. Melbourne wasn’t really his kind of place. Great for boutique shopping, cultural events and dining out, but just the shades of grey that made up the city depressed him. Everyone looked like they were in a mad hurry to get somewhere. There was stress on the faces of people who passed him in the street and it just had a vibe that he didn’t like. He much preferred the relaxed atmosphere and sunshine of the Gold Coast. It was more him.

Each to their own, he thought and entered the hotel lobby.

Once he’d checked in a porter took his bag from him and showed him to his room. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and his room ended up being located down the far end of a hallway carpeted in plush red pile. The door was opened via a plastic access card. Ryan’s bag was placed inside, he was handed the card, then the porter left him to it.

More red carpet of a slightly different design covered the floor of his small, but comfortable room. There was a double bed decked out in red and white with black trim, a desk with internet access and phone, two bedside tables with touch lamps, and a tiny bathroom with mini spa bath, shower cubicle and mandatory toilet. The view out the window overlooked the building next door, which pretty much blocked the view of everything else bar the grey sky. There was air conditioning and heating, as well as a fan and television. Tourist paraphernalia was neatly spread out in a fan pattern on the desk, beside which were some telephone books. Next to that was a kettle, mugs and a basket of coffee, tea and sugar. The small bar fridge under one end of the desk held some little containers of long-life milk and a few local beers and designer water.

Ryan made himself a coffee, then sat down at the desk and took out his pages of information that he had on Dr Becker. He skimmed through them, picked up the phone and dialed the Research Institute’s main phone number. He decided to just try the direct approach first.

When the phone was answered by Reception, he said, “Hello. I’d like to make an appointment to see Doctor Marlon Becker, please.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor Becker doesn’t take appointments,” came the curt reply from a woman who sounded like she was in her fifties.

“But he is working there at the moment?” Ryan probed.

“Yes, he is. He’s here doing research. But he’s not a physician, you know. He doesn’t see patients.”

“I’m not a patient. I’m a med student interested in learning more about his work.” Ryan was just winging it at the moment. “I’m a huge fan of his.”

“Well, in that case you would need to send him an email, at which time he will get back to you of his own accord. But I warn you, he’s extremely busy and rarely gives anyone an audience.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Ryan hung up.

Well, that was useless, he thought. An email. Hmm. How long would he have to wait for a reply on that? Not an option.

Maybe he didn’t need to meet face to face with Becker anyway? Maybe all he needed to do was get inside his office for a looksee?

But how?

He didn’t imagine he could just wander freely about the Institute. And even if he got inside, would Becker’s office be accessible?

Ryan had a few ideas formulating in his mind, but what he really needed to do was team up with a useful friend he had down here in Melbourne, someone who was adept at gaining access to restricted areas. He made a call and arranged a meeting at Southgate for six o’clock.

*  *  *

Marks never went home last night. Just something about hanging out in an empty house didn’t appeal to him right now, so he’d stayed at his office overnight and got a few hours sleep on a small couch he had tucked away in a corner.

He’d awoken early and spent a few hours listening to the various interviews and conversations he had stored on his voice recorder. He also went over all the paperwork and details pertaining to the two murder cases.

At least it all took his mind off Linda and his seemingly-failed marriage.

He had a coffee in front of him and he took a sip. Having finished with his perusal of all the case materials, his mind was now lingering on his wife. He knew, deep down, that it was over between them. Really it had been for some time. Neither of them had wanted to admit it and do something about it, though. Until now.

How come it was almost invariably the woman that made the first move towards a break up? he wondered. The detective in him didn’t have the answer to that question. Matters of the heart weren’t his forte. When it came to figuring out how relationships worked and how to be a good husband, he felt he was all at sea, drifting about like a rudderless ship.

Marks slowly shook his head, then ran a hand over the smooth skin of his bald scalp. As per habit he toyed with his goatee as he rued the fact that his eight year marriage was washed up. He absently sipped some coffee and let his tired mind wander wherever it wanted to go.

The phone rang and snapped him out of it.

“Hello? Detective Marks.”

It was Scott Richards from CSU. “All test results on Toby Matthews were normal,” he reported. “Sorry I don’t have anything more useful for you, David.”

“That’s okay. Thanks for the update, Scott.”

No sooner had Marks hung up the phone and a fax came through from QHSS. It was the results of evidence gathered by the SOCOs at the Toby Matthews crime scene. Marks wasn’t expecting much, given the fact that the rain had washed any superficial evidence away. As he read the document his presumptions proved correct.

Damn!” he spat and tossed the fax onto the floor.

He was getting frustrated. These cases and his personal life were both going nowhere at the same time. Things sucked right now and he needed to get out and clear his head.

Marks left his office and decided to go for a long drive. He didn’t care where he went. Anywhere would do.

*  *  *

It was just starting to rain lightly as Ryan left the hotel and walked south through the streets of Melbourne’s CBD. Southgate wasn’t far, only about three city blocks and then a crossover of the Yarra River via a pedestrian bridge. Although the scene was gloomy, it would still be daylight for about another hour.

Southgate was a complex of shops, restaurants, cafes and bars that overlooked the river. Being a Tuesday evening the place wasn’t particularly busy. Thankfully the rain had remained very light and Ryan was only a little damp by the time he arrived. He found his friend waiting for him at a downstairs bar. He was seated at a long bench, on a stool in the corner. In front of him were two bourbons, one of which was awaiting Ryan’s arrival.

Jack Jones was often the subject of good-natured ridicule because of the commonness of his name. He always took it in his stride, as he did with most things. Ryan knew him from the Gold Coast, where Jack had lived until recently. He was somewhere around thirty with dark brown hair that always looked a little unkempt; especially around the ears and the fringe. Jack was fairly short and Ryan towered over him by at least six inches. What he lacked in height he made up for in muscle, though. He was built like a Pit Bull, with barely an ounce of fat on his body. However, it wasn’t his brawn that Ryan required, it was his brain and expertise. While not a criminal in the strict sense of the word, Jack had an uncanny ability to be able to break into things and gain access to places people were not supposed to be able to gain access to.

The pair shook hands just as the drizzle turned into a torrential downpour. There was an overhang above them and a neatly-trimmed hedge dividing the bar from the footpath. For the most part, just so long as the wind didn’t change direction, they were out of the rain. There was the odd bit of overspray that came in, but nothing to be concerned about.

“Long time no see,” Ryan said as he took a seat. Jack slid the bourbon in front of him and Ryan immediately took a long sip. It was ice cold and the perfect balance of bourbon and Coke.

“So, what brings you to Melbourne?” Jack asked. He glanced out at the rain. “The weather?”

“Hardly.”

Ryan filled him in, giving him only the bare essentials in details. No reason for Jack to know more than he had to. Not that Ryan knew that much about it himself.

When Ryan was finished, Jack lit a cigarette and offered him one. Ryan hesitated a moment. He hadn’t smoked a cigarette for about five days now and was doing well. However, there was always something to be said for sharing a vice with a colleague. Somehow it helped maintain trust and a rapport, so he accepted. Jack lit it for him and Ryan just let it smolder between his fingers for the time being.

“So,” Jack said. He inhaled on his cigarette and blew smoke out into the rain. “You don’t even really know what you’re looking for exactly.”

“No,” Ryan admitted and finally took a drag on his smoke. It tasted like charcoal in his mouth, but he still enjoyed it.

“Even if we manage to get you inside, how do you know you’ve found what you’re supposed to find?” Jack wanted to know. He took a sip of his drink and eyed Ryan expectantly.

Ryan shrugged. “I don’t think my client even knows exactly what she wants me to find. For some reason she’s very interested in this scientist’s latest research on blood disorders. Or recent research. I guess I just collect what I can and hope it’s enough.” He drew on the cigarette again and started to get head spins. “I’m just winging it on this one. If what I get is not enough, then I guess I’ll be coming back for more.”

“I can get you access,” Jack assured him. “But you know I don’t come cheap.”

Ryan nodded. “I have money. My client is making sure I can cover whatever expenses are necessary to get the job done.”

Jack frowned. “I wonder why your client could possibly want to gather research on blood disorders? Seems like a weird topic of interest. Unless she has a disease, or knows someone who has a disease, that she hopes to cure. Sounds like she can afford it, going by you.” He stabbed out his cigarette in an ashtray and immediately lit another. He nodded at the pack. “Help yourself whenever you want.”

More bourbons were ordered and Ryan smoked a second cigarette. The rain continued to hammer down on the pavement outside the bar. The inclement weather rendered the cityscape solid grey, the monotony broken only by the yellowish, murky glow of lights that now burned in the buildings as night fell. They ordered some bar snacks, Ryan desperately needing something in his stomach as he was starting to feel seedy from drinking and smoking with no food.

“I’ll work this all out tonight,” Jack said and stuffed a potato wedge smothered in sour cream into his mouth. He chewed away happily and washed it down with more bourbon. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning sometime and we’ll meet up and go over the plan.”

“Sounds good,” Ryan said with a nod and lit his third smoke.

“But I’ll need my fee transferred into this account tonight.” Jack scribbled his bank details on the back of a coaster and handed it to Ryan. “And tomorrow we’ll get your client what she wants.”

Twenty Six

Selena Thorne paced the floor of the living room. Michael sat in a chair, watching his older sister with interest. The specially-fitted blinds that kept out the daylight had been raised now that night had fallen over their Guanaba home.

“You have to get rid of them,” she said, her tone icy.

“No!” he snapped. “They’re mine!”

Selena stopped pacing and fixed Michael with a hard stare. “I’ve told you before. No pets. The more of us there are, the harder it will be to stay under the radar.”

He smirked. “Is that why you insist on running a night club?” he scoffed. “To stay under the radar? That gig doesn’t exactly keep you out of the spotlight.”

“It helps me to feel normal.”

“And feeding on humans does that for me,” he retorted.

Selena stood in front of him, hands on hips. “And look where that’s got you. Now you’re forced to hide out because you have the police on your tail. Your behaviour threatens to bring us all down.”

“You can’t keep telling me what to do, Selena.”

“Yes, I can. I’m older than you.”

“So what? You’re not my boss. Jeez, Sis, you’ve gotten so boring lately. We used to go hunting together.”

“That was a long time ago, Michael. Things have changed. I want a more normal life now, a peaceful existence. Can’t you understand that?”

“Actually, no. I can’t. You are a vampire, or have you forgotten that significant little fact?”

She lifted her head high and proud. “I haven’t forgotten, but I’m not like you.”

Michael grinned, his eyes burning with an intense fire. “That’s right. You’re not like me. So far I’ve only listened to you out of respect for my older sibling, but things are changing, big sister. I’m growing bored with your ways. I’m looking for excitement. A rush. After all, what’s the point in having all these wonderful powers if I’m not going to take full advantage of them?”

“I know how powerful you are, Michael,” Selena conceded. “You have more gifts than Travis or myself. But I’m not afraid of you and I never will be.”

Michael leaped out of his seat, blood red burning in his eyes now, replacing the stark blue. He moved up close to his sister until his face was only inches from hers. The pair were virtually the same height and were glaring at each other eye to eye.

“Well, maybe you should be afraid of me. I can take you down any time I want to,” he challenged.

“Don’t be so sure of that.” Selena’s gaze didn’t falter. Her black eyes burned into her brother’s until the red vanished from them and they’d returned to their usual intense blue colour. “You may have more strength and power than me, you may be able to fly, but my mind will always be stronger than yours.” She poked a gloved finger into his chest with such strength that he staggered back a pace. “That’s why I lead and always will.” She raised her head high again.

“Your days just might be numbered, Sis,” Michael threatened, his voice taking on a low and deeper tone.

Selena shrugged that last comment off. She had to leave for work. She pointed at the floor. “Get rid of those two down there. We can’t have them here.”

*  *  *

Emma rang while Chelsea and Travis were driving south along the M1.

“You wanna catch up tonight?” Emma asked.

“Maybe later,” Chelsea said, sounding noncommittal. “I’m with Travis right now. We’re just going for a drive.”

“O...kay,” Emma said slowly. “Sounds like things must be going well between you two. We’ll have to get together and you can tell me all about it.”

“Sure. I’ll call you later.”

Chelsea hung up and tossed her mobile into the back seat. Right now she was feeling carefree with the wind in her hair and her unique man behind the wheel. She didn’t care about much else and wasn’t in any hurry to ditch Travis and meet up with her best friend. After all, this was new and exciting. She could see Emma anytime.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked Travis.

“I don’t know. I’m just driving wherever.”

“Do you mind if I smoke in your car?”

He shook his head. “I don’t care. Go for it.” When he saw her struggling to light her cigarette with the wind billowing around them, he added, “If you can get the thing lit.”

After much frustration, Chelsea managed to light her smoke after bending forward in her seat. She exhaled smoke into the night and smiled. She felt like she was high on something, but she wasn’t. Just life. It was the most buoyant feeling she’d experienced since before her parents died.

Fuck Ryan, fuck Emma and fuck the rest of the world! She was about to embark on a new life and she didn’t need anyone but Travis.

Twenty minutes later they ascended a hill and ended up at Point Danger. It was a grassy headland with footpaths and lookouts that had fantastic views of the ocean. Travis brought the car to a stop right at the edge so they had an uninterrupted view of the water. It was dark, but Chelsea could still see the waves crashing against the rocks down below, and the sound of the surf reached her ears. There was a light breeze that was enough to keep the night air pleasant. A few other cars were parked about the place, but not many of them. Light poles were positioned here and there along the pathways, casting a subtle glow to see by without being overpowering.

Chelsea lit another cigarette and got out of the car. She walked over and leaned against the railing of a lookout. Travis joined her and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she commented idly as she smoked and took in the view.

“The night’s not the only thing that’s beautiful,” Travis said, offering her one of his most charming smiles. She returned the smile, but at the same time her expression was dubious. “You’re right,” he said. “That sounded a bit lame.”

“But I liked it anyway,” she assured him. “You always say and do the right things, Travis.”

The breeze picked up and she shivered a little. It made her think of something.

“Do you feel the cold or the heat?” she asked him.

“I do, but not really. If that makes any sense.”

“You mean you sense the temperature, but you’re neither uncomfortable whether it’s cold or hot?”

He nodded. “That’s pretty spot on.”

“So.” She faced him. “Are you ready to bite me and turn me yet?”

“No. You haven’t really made up your mind.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.”

“By reading my mind?”

“No. I said I wouldn’t do that again.”

“Then how do you know I’m not ready?”

“My instincts tell me you’re not. Trust me, when you’re really, truly ready, I’ll know.”

“Okay.” Chelsea flicked her cigarette down the cliff and watched it float all the way to the rocks below. “If you won’t turn me tonight, will you be willing to tell me how you became a vampire?”

Travis pondered that request long and hard. Eventually he nodded.

“There’s not that much to tell,” he said. “But I guess it’s only natural that you want to know. After all, you are my girlfriend.”

Chelsea was stunned by that last admission. “Am I?”

“If you want to be.”

“Yeah,” she said eagerly.

She kissed him and used her tongue for the first time with him. Travis reciprocated and it took her a moment to get used to his tongue being so cold. It was an unusual sensation to say the least, but somehow she really liked it. She was a bit weird, she knew, and always was attracted to people and things that were different.

“That was nice,” he whispered when the kiss finally ended.

“Yep.” Chelsea smiled and drew her pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She lit one and said to Travis, “You were about to tell me a story. Remember?”

“Okay. It happened about ten years ago when we were living in Melbourne. We were out on a camping trip with our parents north-west of the city. I was going to uni at the time, Selena was managing a popular night club and Michael was busy spending our parent’s money living the lifestyle of rich kid and playboy. Nothing much has changed, really.

“Our parents made a lot of money from some very successful investments in Australia and overseas. All during the tech boom. They retired on the money and shared a lot of it between us kids.”

“When I met you at the party that night,” Chelsea cut in, “you said you were going to night school studying medicine or something. Was that true?”

“To a point. I do study a bit of medicine and genetic engineering, but not officially.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m studying for my own benefit, looking for some answers to some things that I won’t get into tonight.”

“Okay, continue with your story. Sorry to interrupt.” Chelsea lit yet another smoke and waited for Travis to pick up where he’d left off. She was chain smoking tonight, but she didn’t really care. And Travis didn’t seem to mind at all.

“It was a fairly remote area. We thought there was no one around for miles. And there wasn’t, as far as people were concerned. But there was something else lurking in the forest out there. Actually, there were two of them.

“They came for us in the middle of the night when we were sleeping. I think they attacked our parents first, but I can’t be sure. Michael, Selena and I were sharing a tent while Mum and Dad slept in their own tent. All I recall of that night is waking up with someone hunched over me, someone very cold and incredibly strong. I tried to get free, but there was no way. The thing opened its mouth and let out this nasty hiss. It scared the hell out of me. Then it latched onto my neck and I felt two sharp pricks of pain as its teeth sank into my flesh. I didn’t know they were fangs at the time. It was only later I realized that.”

Chelsea had barely puffed on her smoke. She was too busy staring intently at Travis while he related his tale.

“I felt the creature sucking the life out of me. I could literally feel the blood leaving my veins. The other one was attacking Selena at the same time. Michael was going from one to the other, trying desperately to get them off us, but they were way too strong for him. I passed out pretty quickly and I guess they set upon Michael then.”

“So, they hadn’t wanted to kill you three. They’d wanted to turn you,” Chelsea said. “But what about your parents?”

“They were dead.” Travis’ eyes took on a distant look as he recalled the sad memory of that fateful night. “We only found that out a few days later after we’d turned. They had us holed up in this old farm house with all the windows blacked out and boarded up. After we’d come through the turn, none of us knew what had happened to us. It was all really confusing and just didn’t seem real at the time.

“The vampires explained to us what they were and what we’d now become. They were two young guys, maybe late twenties. They wanted to expand their coven so they used us as recruits. They took us out to feed on animal blood the next night. Hunting seemed to come natural and none of us had any qualms about killing an animal and drinking its blood. It was like we’d been doing it all our lives.”

“So,” Chelsea said, dropping her expended cigarette butt onto the nearby grass. “How did you find out about your parents?”

“We asked about them. They lied and told us our parents were still alive and staying in another house not far from there. We presumed they’d been turned into vampires as well. The next time we went out hunting, which was about a week after we were first attacked, Michael stumbled across their bodies. They’d been bled dry, dragged well away from the campsite and left to rot in a ravine.

“Michael found Selena and I in the woods and told us what he’d discovered. He was furious. We all were. These guys had murdered our Mum and Dad. We all swore vengeance that night, but even though there were three of us against two of them, we knew they had more developed abilities than we did. Or so we thought. Michael didn’t seem fazed by that. He was quickly adapting to the lifestyle and fast becoming extremely confident. I don’t know, it was weird. Michael had always been a confident, outgoing guy, but this was different. It was like he was taking on a Superman persona and believed he was invincible.”

While Travis paused to suck in some fresh night air, Chelsea sullied it by lighting up yet another smoke.

“Did you kill them?” she asked.

Travis shook his head. “I mean, yes, but I didn’t. It was Michael and Selena that did the damage, but mostly Michael.

“The three of us confronted them back at the farm house after we’d fed on kangaroos and renewed our energy. At first they both denied it, but they couldn’t keep up the ruse for long. After a few minutes they admitted to killing them. They wanted young blood in their coven, they said, not middle-aged. I was just standing there in the centre of the room when both Michael and Selena went for them. Michael had unbelievable strength. He grabbed one of the vampires, literally threw him through a wooden wall into the next room, went in after him, had him pinned on the floor and ripped off his head. Selena was struggling with the other one and couldn’t overpower him. Michael came to her aid and did to him what he’d done to the first one.”

“Ripped his head off?” Chelsea said and drew on her smoke. “Cool.”

“You sound impressed,” Travis noted.

“It is impressive. The more I hear about this the more I want to become one of you.”

Travis didn’t look so sure. “We’ll see.”

“So what happened next?” Chelsea wanted to know, feeling ripples of excitement course through her body.

“We stayed at the farm house for like a month feeding on animals and trying to figure out what to do with our new lives. We knew we couldn’t go out in daylight anymore, but in the end we took a chance and drove back to Melbourne. Our car was still at the campsite. It was winter, so there were plenty of hours of darkness. We got to our house about two hours before dawn and quickly blacked out the windows of some rooms with paint and materials, anything we could find. Bit by bit each night we made the home more light proof. We could still access money when we needed it no problem. There was no need to touch our parents’ finances. We each had plenty ourselves; more than we knew what to do with as humans, let alone as vampires.

“About twice a week we would all drive out of the city and go hunting for food. This satisfied everyone for a time, but Michael was changing in attitude and started to really lust after human blood. Both Selena and I were constantly talking him out of attacking people. We didn’t want to draw heat on ourselves and have to forever hide out like vermin in a hole. In the end he stopped listening to us and went out for his first kill. After he got a taste for human blood, there was no stopping him. He went on a killing spree throughout Melbourne. He wasn’t even careful about it, or choosy about his targets. If he had have done things the right way he may have been able to avoid detection altogether. But he was stupid. He brought so much heat from the police that we ended up fleeing to Adelaide.”

“Did Michael go with you?”

“Yeah. He seemed to learn his lesson after a while and stuck to animal feeding. It took a bit of time to get set up in Adelaide, with an appropriate house and selling the Melbourne one. These things are all quite hard to do when you can’t venture out in daylight. But there are ways; especially if you use humans to do the chores for you.”

“So you had friends who knew what you were?”

He shook his head. “No one knew what we’d become. Anyway, things were quiet there for a long while, and for a few years we lived in peace. But then Michael started getting restless again. He killed a bum in a park one night and got the taste for it once more. He was a bit smarter this time. He chose someone who wouldn’t be missed and hid the body when he was done. He even managed to talk Selena into going hunting with him a few times.”

“So she’s killed people as well?”

“Yes, but only a few, and only ones that wouldn’t be missed. She ended up feeling really guilty about it and stopped doing it. I think deep down she wanted to keep feeding on people. She had a taste for it by then, but she really wanted to try and live a more normal life. Anyway, as far as I know she’s never killed again.

“Michael started going out to clubs, womanizing like he used to do in his former life as a playboy. One thing led to another. It went from just having sex with girls, to fucking them and then killing them. He started getting careless and again the heat was on. That’s when we moved to Western Australia and lived just outside of Perth. Same story there. We lived quietly for about five years, then Michael started up again.” He looked at Chelsea and placed a cold hand on her shoulder. “That was when we decided to move to Queensland, and it only took Michael a week or two to stuff it up here. He’s already killed at least two people that I know of, and I know the police are on his trail. I doubt they’ll ever catch him, though.”

“I won’t tell anybody,” Chelsea assured him.

“I know you won’t. I trust you, Chelsea. That’s what Selena and I are most worried about; being found out and hunted down because of what we are. I doubt whether the cops in the other states have just forgotten about the killings. They’ll all put it together sooner or later if Michael keeps it up.”

“It’s a wonder the police haven’t caught him by now,” Chelsea said.

Travis shrugged. “Even if they did they wouldn’t be able to hold him. He’s got super strength and he can fly. How are they gonna keep him locked up?

“No, the big danger is exposure; people finding out what we are. Then they’ll just want us dead. I don’t want it to come to that. That’s one of the reasons I’m not keen to turn you, as much as I’d love to have you with me in that way. We may be eternal as in we don’t die a natural death, or from disease, or most accidents, but there are ways to kill us.”

“Decapitation,” Chelsea said.

“That’s one way, but there are a few others. Anyway, that’s enough talk for now.” He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close to him. “I think it’s time you kissed me again.”

*  *  *

Michael was down in the basement of the house, where he’d set up two camping bunks side by side. On each bunk lay the English backpackers he’d attacked last night. Sometimes it took longer to make the transition from human to vampire, but generally it was around twenty four hours. If they were true to the norm then these two should start to turn sometime tonight. Michael couldn’t wait to have two more vampires to go hunting with. The pair would be totally under his command and he salivated at that thought as well.

Tonight was not going to be a pleasant night for them, though.

After idly watching the pair for another half an hour, Michael noticed a change in them. He leaned over the nearest bunk and listened to Kelly’s breathing. It was labored now, coming in short, ragged breaths. Sweat beaded on her brow. In fact, her entire body was covered in a sheen of perspiration. Although she appeared hot, she was shivering. The start of the turn was often like a fever. The pain would set in soon, followed by the overwhelming sense of loss as human life and spirit fled the body and the eternal living corpse remained. It was the realm of the undead. Once embraced, in Michael’s opinion, there was no better life than that of a vampire. He had embraced it fully. For Selena and Travis it had been a constant struggle that they’d never quite come to terms with. Maybe that would change and they’d eventually come around to his way of thinking.

After all, they were vampires.

Twenty Seven

Paul felt like he was somehow asleep and awake at the same time, trapped between two worlds; one of consciousness and one of unconsciousness. He tried to force his eyes open, but no matter how hard he tried, the eyelids wouldn’t budge. It was as if they’d been glued shut.

He couldn’t quite get his breath. The air was rasping in his throat like it was mixed with drops of water. He was panting like a dog. Something was tickling his face all the time, frustrating him, and in his delirium it took his hazy brain quite a while to figure out what it was. It was sweat, running down his face in rivers.

His body started to tremble and he was suddenly very cold. Paul didn’t know where he was or what was happening to him. Why couldn’t he wake up? Why did he feel like he had a major fever? Was he sick? Did he have malaria or something? And where was Kelly? Was she with him? He couldn’t sense her presence and his inability to come to his senses was annoying the hell out of him.

Paul heard himself grunt loudly as he tried to force himself to wake up. Now he was hot again, burning up, the sweat leaking from his pores incessantly. He could feel something soggy and wet beneath his body. A mattress, maybe. It was drenched. Clothing clung to him like plastic wrap. Where was the air conditioning? Was he in the tropics?

Then his arms were wrapping tightly around his own torso as he felt a series of bone-deep chills ripple through his body. He shuddered some more as he curled up into the fetal position. The sweat dried up momentarily as the cold set in. He felt tears streaming from his closed eyes, but he wasn’t crying.

His body convulsed as if he were receiving electric shock therapy. His hip bounced off the bed, then all his limbs shot straight out, muscles flexed and rigid. They suddenly relaxed before tensing up all over again.

An eclectic potpourri of emotions flooded through him. Happiness, sadness, lust, anger, love, hate, vengeance, bitterness, warmth, emptiness, compassion, jealousy, outrage, calmness. He couldn’t keep up with them and had no idea what he was feeling in the end, so he just went with the flow, still drifting in and out of consciousness.

And then the pain struck.

Paul felt like he’d just been bowled over by a train. Every muscle in his body burned with a searing fire. It felt like his ligaments were all being stretched beyond breaking point. His muscles were tense and loose at the same time. It didn’t make any sense at all. Then the joint pain set in. He had the semi-conscious sensation of being over a hundred years old. His joints felt riddled with arthritis of the most acute nature. He tried to straighten his legs, then tried to bend them at the knees. Nothing moved. It was like the joints had been fused.

His heart pounded in his chest, slamming against the ribcage. A thousand pulses beat throughout his body. Once again his breathing was shallow and ragged. He just couldn’t seem to draw a decent breath. The fever seemed to have passed, but the pain hadn’t. It wasn’t as bad as when the first wave hit, but tension and agonizing cramps still racked his body periodically.

Now he was overcome with the devastating sense of loss. Had someone just died? He felt grief-stricken, an emotion he’d never really experienced in life before; especially not to this extent. Paul couldn’t shake it, it was all-consuming.

The realization struck him then. It was suddenly so very clear. Someone else hadn’t died. It was he that was dying.

“Fuck!” he managed to say through clenched teeth and a constricted throat.

Paul tried to fight the sensation of life fleeing from his stricken body. He was rapidly losing the battle. His human spirit was being sucked from his mind along with his mortality. He was utterly powerless to stop it. It was the way it was meant to be and there was no denying fate and the claws of death.

His periods of semi-consciousness were becoming less frequent as time went by. He was being drawn into a deep black hole, a bottomless void.

Is this what death felt like? he wondered.

Consciousness was fading fast now, his mind was drifting, floating through that dark cloud of nothingness. Deeper and deeper and deeper...

Suddenly he was face to face with the most grotesque being he’d ever witnessed. Its head was bloated and seemed to be covered in giant-sized pimples and warts. Some oozed bright yellow pus. There was a slit of a mouth in the globulous face. That mouth opened and the forked tongue of a snake darted out. It slithered all over Paul’s face and he felt himself scream, but no sound came out. He was terrified and tried to cry out again. The tongue retreated back into the mouth. The lips now curled into a hideous smile. Once again the mouth opened, wider and wider. Paul felt like he was being sucked towards that gaping mouth until his entire head was inside. He waited for it to bite his head clean off.

But then it was gone and he was floating through white space. There was nothing else around him, just stark white light. Even when he closed his eyes the light was just as bright. Paul could feel himself spinning though the void, totally weightless. Gradually the white gave way to shades of grey. The grey became darker and darker until everything was black once more.

His feet suddenly hit solid ground and he found himself standing all alone in a forest at night. Moonlight filtered down through the trees, casting the area in spectral, ghostly shadows. The tree branches moved as if alive and he could have sworn he saw the trunks closing in on him. He took a few steps forward and the forest opened up into a moonlit clearing. It was like he was standing under a spotlight in the clearing’s centre. All around the edges was dark forest. Pairs of red eyes peered out at him. There were dozens of them, all watching him, sizing him up as if waiting for their moment to strike.

Paul found himself frozen to the spot. He could no longer take a step, nor move a limb or twitch a muscle. It was like he’d been paralyzed from the neck down. The only part of him that had any mobility at all was his head. He twisted it left and right, watching the eyes watching him. Those eyes started to grow bigger as whatever lurked in the forest starting merging all as one toward the clearing.

Paul held his breath. He was still unable to move, though he was desperate to turn and run. But he was powerless. All he could do was stand there, rooted to the spot and await whatever fate had in store for him.

They crept insidiously into the clearing, some walking tall with arrogance, others stooped and moving with an awkward gate. One looked like a zombie, its limbs bent at bizarre angles, the rotting flesh falling off its body with every labored step. Another smiled a wicked smile, its teeth bared, two long fangs protruding from the upper jaw. Paul swore he could see blood dripping from those fangs.

He felt tendrils of fear crawl all over his skin. Still he couldn’t move. The creatures, at least twenty in number, moved slowly closer. One darted up to him and punched him in the stomach, then quickly retreated to the pack. It did it again, taunting him.

Paul’s head spun around. It kept going, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees. That was impossible, he knew, but somehow it had just happened. With the pirouette he realized there was no escape behind him either. He was surrounded by at least fifty of them. Some were zombies, others vampires. One young woman looked like some sort of a witch. It was like he was caught up in an outlandish fairytale, only it was more like a nightmare and he couldn’t wake up.

I can’t wake up because I’m already dead, he thought. But if he was dead, would he be seeing everything he was seeing now? Maybe this was hell and his destiny was to be tortured by these repugnant creatures for the rest of eternity?

He could do nothing but stand there and wait to be torn to pieces. Paul just hoped it was over with quickly.

That annoying little zombie rushed in first and sank its sharp teeth into his thigh. Paul felt the flesh rip away from the bone and he screamed in agony. A vampire latched onto him from behind and plunged its fangs into the top of his shoulder.

One by one the creatures came in for their piece of the action. Another zombie took a bite out of him, ripping away Paul’s right cheek. He felt blood gushing from the wound like a geyser. It sprayed crimson all over the face of another vampire that was moving in for a bite. Instead of attacking him, the vampire was content to just stand there with its mouth agape, letting the blood pour down its throat.

Paul could do nothing to stop the assault. His entire body remained paralyzed except for his head. And that was like some cruel joke. He couldn’t ward off his attackers, but he was given a panoramic view of them and was able to see every single one of them moving in for the kill.

What had he done in life to deserve such torture? He hadn’t been a bad person. Why had his soul been doomed to endure this?

The assault continued. Bit by bit his hapless body was torn to pieces until he was just a gore-covered skeleton standing in the centre of the clearing. Eager tongues licked the blood from his bones. There were constant, disgusting sucking and slurping sounds as the undead fed on whatever it was that he’d become.

Then suddenly every one of them was gone, retreating into the forest with the sound of rustling bushes. All fell silent. There was nothing left of Paul now. He was just a skeleton with two eyes that still worked.

As he stood there, paralyzed, butchered and all alone, he felt the final threads of life ebb from his being.

Twenty Eight

“Welcome to my world,” Michael said with a beaming smile.

Paul and Kelly had completed the turn now and were awake. Both lay on their respective cots, clothing and bed linen drenched in sweat.

“That was really tough, I know,” Michael said. No one understood the process of the turn and the agonies to be endured better than he did. “But I assure you the worst is now over. You are probably both feeling a bit weak and giddy right now, but that’ll pass.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Paul wanted to know.

Michael beamed again. “Your creator. You don’t remember last night when your car had a flat tyre? You were chasing something around the forest. That was me. I attacked you, I bit you and now I’ve turned the pair of you into marvelous, all-powerful immortal beings like myself.”

Neither Paul nor Kelly could comprehend what this stranger was on about at first, but then both of them started to recall the events of last night. Paul nodded slowly. He got off his cot and nestled in behind Kelly, protectively wrapping his arms around her.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Michael assured them. “Why would I do that when I’ve gone to all the trouble to turn you two into vampires?”

Paul scowled. “Into what?”

“Think about it,” Michael crooned. “Look deep inside yourselves and you will see the truth of what you’ve become.” Michael started pacing the floor, a dim, bare bulb dangling down from the ceiling providing the only light in the room. “But don’t fret. You’re both going to relish this new life I’ve bestowed upon you. You’ll see. In a few days time you’ll be thanking me. Trust me.”

“Trust a guy who tried to kill us,” Paul scoffed.

“Believe me, if I wanted you dead, I would have killed you last night..” He started pacing again and smiled. “Well, that’s a bit of a paradox, because technically you two are dead. Dead in the human sense, anyway. But you’ve been reborn to a better life and a richer existence. Once again you can trust me on that.”

Kelly and Paul were sitting up now, the sweat in the clothes starting to dry out. Both of them appeared much calmer and more relaxed as they came to terms with things and their racing minds settled down into regular thinking rhythms.

“I’m really hungry,” Kelly said softly. “But I don’t feel like eating food.”

Michael nodded knowingly and squatted down in front of the pair. “You need blood, Kelly. And Paul, so do you. Let’s go out into the forest so you can have your first feed. You’ll both feel much better after you do.”

*  *  *

Chelsea and Travis were in the back seat of the BMW. They were still parked up on Point Danger, only now the car park was empty apart from themselves.

They were tonguing furiously. Two sets of hands were running rampant, exploring various body parts as they kissed passionately and unabated. Chelsea felt incredibly turned on. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in this situation. Although not an experienced lover, she was no virgin.

She pulled her mouth away from Travis’ and sighed heavily. Her eyes were half closed with desire as Travis continued to explore her body. When he slipped a hand beneath her underwear, she reluctantly closed her legs tightly together and gently pulled his hand back out.

“Are you worried I’ll hurt you?” he asked her.

Chelsea nodded. “A little. You might lose control in the heat of the moment. As much as I so want to do it with you, I think it’s too risky.”

Travis nodded. “I understand. I think I said something like that to you last night.”

Chelsea sat up and adjusted her clothing. “If you turn me, Babe, then there’s no danger.”

He nodded again and pondered her words for quite some time.

“I’ll think about it,” he said finally.

*  *  *

Michael, Paul and Kelly were out in the forest. Paul was feeling much better now and the more time that went by the more he was starting to embrace his new life as a vampire.

“Kangaroos are best,” Michael whispered as they moved stealthily between the trees. He paused to listen. “This way.”

Paul and Kelly tailed him through the woods, letting him lead them to a food source. Paul was surprised how well he could see in the darkness. It was amazing. Everything was crystal clear. Although the scene still appeared gloomy to his eyes, he could discern shapes and objects ten times better than he could do as a mere human. And his ears were just as sharp. Every sound was amplified if he concentrated. His body felt extremely fit and lean and, apart from the deep-seated hunger than burned within him, he felt incredibly alive.

Kelly took his hand in hers. It was stone cold, but that seemed totally natural now. The skin of her face was paler, but that suited her somehow. She smiled at him as they continued to follow Michael through the forest.

A cloud drifted across the moon above, extinguishing its subtle light. It still didn’t affect Paul’s vision. Michael paused to listen and all three of them heard something hopping through the forest not too far away.

“Sounds like it’s only the one,” Michael said softly. “You’ll have to share it. I’ll capture it and hold it while you two feed on it.”

“I have a dumb question,” Kelly whispered. “How do we get our fangs to come out?”

Michael grinned. “It’ll just happen naturally when the hunger takes over. Trust me.”

They crept up to the edge of a small clearing and peered out from the cover of low-lying foliage. A large kangaroo stood on the other side, probing the bushes for food.

Michael sprang like a lion and leapt onto the marsupial’s back. It’s started hopping around in a mad panic with Michael trying to wrestle it under control.

“Come on!” he yelled. “I can’t kill it for you or the blood won’t pump through its veins.”

Kelly and Paul moved in as one. As soon as he sensed the heat of the struggling animal and smelled its blood, Paul felt the fangs drop down from his upper jaw. He acted purely on instinct and latched onto the animal’s narrow throat. His fangs pierced the furry flesh and found the blood supply. He started to suck, eyes rolling back in his head like a shark feeding. Paul sensed Kelly beside him doing exactly as he was. The blood was warm, viscous and tasty.

In no time the kangaroo had ceased its struggle for survival. It had no strength left. Michael had since let it go and was standing back to watch proceedings, a satisfied smile on his face.

The British backpackers drained the animal’s blood supply completely before stepping back and letting the animal drop to the dirt with a dull thud.

Paul felt incredible now, more alive than he’d ever felt in his life. Strength and euphoria pulsed through him. His head was so clear. His body felt like a supreme athlete’s. Beside him Kelly was sucking in deep breaths of the clean night air.

“I loved that,” she said. “I still can’t believe it, but I actually really loved that.”

“How about you, Paul?” Michael asked. “Did you enjoy your first feed?”

Paul nodded and grinned maliciously. “It’s a way better hit than any drug or alcohol I’ve ever had,” he admitted. “What’s it like to drink human blood?”

“Much more satisfying than that of a kangaroo,” Michael told him. “It’s a more potent hit.”

Kelly moved in close to her man and said to Michael, “When can we hunt some people then?”

Twenty Nine

Jack Jones called Ryan just before nine the next morning. Ryan was in his hotel room. He was already up, showered and dressed when he got the call.

“Meet me at Southgate again,” Jack instructed him. “There’s a cafe right next door to the bar we were at last night. I’ll shout you breakfast. Ten o’clock.”

“I’ll be there,” Ryan said and hung up.

He hadn’t yet eaten so breakfast would be good. At nine thirty he left the hotel and slowly walked the busy Melbourne streets en route to Southgate. The morning was sunny and warm, not a cloud in the sky. This place was famous for having four seasons in one day. Hopefully today would be a full day of spring weather.

His mouth tasted ashen from last night’s cigarettes. By the time he’d parted company with Jack he’d smoked five. Today he was determined to get back on track and refuse any tobacco smoking offers.

Jack was where he said he’d be when Ryan arrived right on time.

“I recommend the toasted chicken and avocado bagel, washed down with an espresso,” Jack said as Ryan took a seat opposite him at an outside table.

“I prefer milk in my coffee,” Ryan replied. “But the bagel sounds good.”

A waiter took their order after furnishing the table with plates, cutlery, glasses and a jug of iced water. Ryan poured himself a glass of the water and sipped it.

“What have you got worked out for me?” he asked Jack.

Jack slid a hand inside his jacket and laid some badges and ID cards down on the table. “Today we’re scientists.”

The coffees arrived, espresso for Jack and a flat white for Ryan. Ryan studied the cards as he idly stirred sugar into his coffee.

“Doctor John Stanton,” Ryan read from his ID card. “Where did you get this photo of me?”

“From your Facebook page,” Jack said simply.

“And who are you going to be?” Ryan said and picked up Jack’s fake ID. “Professor Robert Norton.”

“We probably won’t need to explain our credentials to anyone,” Jack said. “It’s more so we look the part and look official, so hopefully we can roam freely about the Institute.”

“Won’t we need some sort of uniform?”

“In my car.” Jack got stuck into his bagel as soon as it arrived. “I also have some toys that might come in handy.”

“Like what?” Ryan attacked his own bagel.

“Lock picking devices and scanners, if needed. Stuff to hack into the good doctor’s computer, if we get that far.”

“We have to get that far. That’s what I’m down here for.”

Jack shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of food before replying. “Well, it’s kinda hard to know what to get when you don’t really know what your client wants you to get.”

“Any research to do with blood disorders is what she’s most interested in.”

“She sounds like a weirdo.”

Ryan shrugged. “Well, she’s a very hot weirdo then.”

Jack smiled knowingly. “Got a bit of a thing for her, have we?”

“I don’t know.” Ryan shrugged again and sipped some coffee. “It’s probably not mutual.”

“Only one way to find out, mate. Hit her up when you get back to Queensland. She might be quite open to a bit of romance if you get her what she wants.”

“I don’t even know if she’s single.”

“I’m sure she’ll soon tell you if she’s not. A word of advice, though. Get your final payment from her and in the bank before you make a move. Because if it’s the wrong move for any reason, you don’t want her to muck you about with money owed.”

“Good point,” Ryan agreed.

They finished breakfast and headed for Jack’s car, which ended up being a maroon Mitsubishi Lancer. Jack got in behind the wheel while Ryan settled into the passenger seat.

“Where are we gonna get changed?” Ryan asked. “In a phone booth?”

Jack smiled. “Very funny, Ryan.” He edged the car onto busy St Kilda Road and headed south, away from the city centre. He lit a cigarette as he was driving and filled the cabin with smoke. “There’s a small shopping complex not far from the Institute. We’ll stop off there and use the public toilets to don our new apparel.”

“Is that where you go to hook up with male friends?”

“Very funny again, Ryan. I don’t personally, but you feel free if you get the urge.”

“No thanks.”

Once they’d parked in the shopping complex, Jack grabbed a sports bag from the back seat and led the way to the male toilets. The place was quiet and no one was inside. Together they went into the roomy disabled toilet cubicle and stripped down to their underwear.

“Apparently the uniform of choice at the institute is grey trousers, black shoes and a white lab coat. The shirt beneath doesn’t matter.”

Ryan dressed in the clothing Jack supplied for him. Everything fit close to perfectly. He pinned his ID badge to the left breast of his coat and hung his credentials around his neck where the lanyard held it about halfway up his chest. After studying himself in the mirror, he nodded with approval.

“I think we’ll pass,” Ryan was optimistic.

They exited the bathroom and headed back out to the car. Once underway again Jack took a left, traveled a few blocks, swung right, then pulled into a spacious parking lot that was three quarters full. He cut the engine and they sat there a moment. Jack then reached into the back seat and removed some very small electronic gizmos from a satchel. He stuffed them into the pockets of his trousers and looked at Ryan.

“You ready to do this.”

Ryan said, “Yep. Let’s go.”

The Research Institute was basically a large square of a building with four levels above ground and probably some basement levels as well. It was cement rendered and painted white, with much of the walls covered in glass windows.

As they headed towards the building’s entrance, Ryan adjusted his lab coat and ID badge, feeling just a little on edge. He was about to climb the stairs that led up to the huge glass entrance doors when Jack tapped him on the arm and indicated for him to follow. Jack went to the right, around the side of the building and headed for the back. He stopped at the corner, just before they ventured around to the rear of the building. He pulled his pack of cigarettes out, handed one to Ryan and lit one himself. Ryan hesitated when Jack held the lighter out to him.

“Apparently everyone ducks out the back for a smoke,” Jack explained. “We stroll around there with cigarettes just about done, we’ll walk on in. It’ll look like we’ve just been out for a smoke like everyone else.”

Ryan lit his cigarette and took the shallowest of puffs. Jack sucked hard on his, obviously enjoying the nicotine hit immensely. His burnt down nearly to the butt before Ryan’s was even half gone. It was enough, though, to carry out the plan of entry.

When they went round the back of the Institute there were indeed several doctors, scientists, professors, whatever, hanging about the back stairs puffing merrily away. One woman had a coffee in hand, one of the males drinking a Coke. Jack and Ryan just acted casual as they headed towards the stairs.

“Good morning,” Jack greeted the group and nodded. He tossed his butt into a large chrome ashtray that sat at the base of the stairs. Ryan followed suit and the pair walked up to the doors and stepped inside. Jack whispered to Ryan, “Easy as when you act like you’re meant to be here.”

“Where do you find out this information, like everyone hanging out the back smoking?” Ryan wanted to know.

Jack winked at him. “I have my sources, just like you do. You know how it is.”

Inside the air was cool, air conditioners working overtime to keep the temperature at around a constant twenty degrees. Without the lab coat on Ryan would be feeling a bit chilly. It was a welcome break from the warmth outside, though. There was a kitchen through a door on the left. Several people were in there either preparing a morning snack, or making coffee or tea. A doorway to the right opened up into a room filled with lounges, tables and chairs and coffee tables. Another group of workers sat on those lounges sipping beverages and chatting about all things scientific.

“Should we make ourselves a coffee?” Jack suggested.

“No. We don’t want to linger and risk getting caught up in conversations we know nothing about.”

“Good point.”

“Do you know where in this building Becker’s office is located?”

As they walked slowly down the hall Jack took a folded piece of paper from his back pocket and opened it up. “We have to go down to basement level two,” he said. “There should be some elevators just around this corner up ahead.” They went right and found themselves in a short corridor with elevator doors lining both walls. “Here we are.”

“I guessed that,” Ryan said and pressed the call button. While they waited he folded his arms and shuffled his feet, feeling a bit edgy again. He hoped the elevator was empty when it arrived. It wasn’t. The doors slid open to reveal a man in his fifties standing inside. He was staring down at a clipboard and glanced up when the elevator stopped on the ground floor.

“Going down, gents?” the man quizzed, his tone light and friendly.

“Yep,” Jack said and stepped inside without a moment’s hesitation.

Ryan followed him in and the doors closed with a gentle hiss. Jack pressed the button for basement level two. The scientist was traveling down to level three. Both Ryan and Jack turned to face the doors.

“How’s your day going?” the man asked them, hopefully just indulging in small talk.

“Good,” was all Ryan could think of to say without inciting further conversation.

“Making good headway on some important discoveries, I hope?”

“Always,” Jack replied.

There was a soft chime as the elevator eased to a stop. The doors opened. Both Jack and Ryan nodded farewell to the scientist and hurried off to the left.

“I’m glad we’re out of there,” Ryan said. “The last thing I want is to get questioned.”

“I know. You’ve said that already,” Jack reminded him. He eyed Ryan curiously and said softly, “You sure you enjoy being a PI?”

Ryan shrugged. “It’s a job, and it has its freedoms. I don’t like every part of it, though. Especially this kind of thing.”

Maybe he could buy himself a new career when he cashed Selena’s cheques, he thought as they purposefully wandered the hallways underground.

They passed labs on either side, the workers all going about their business and paying Ryan and Jack no attention whatsoever. That was good. The corridors were lit with stark fluorescent lighting. The walls were painted white, the tiles on the floor were white and everything looked rather sterile. Which was how it was meant to be. The air was filled with a cocktail of smells and Ryan couldn’t distinguish a single one of them.

“Do you know where we’re going?” he asked his friend.

“Of course.” They went left at the next intersection and Jack slowed to a crawl. He whispered, “His office is just over there on the right.”

Ryan looked across the hall where a white painted door was emblazoned with gold lettering that said Doctor Marlon Becker. The door was shut. It had no glass in it and there were no windows through which to peer into Becker’s office.

“I wonder if he’s inside?” Ryan said under his breath.

“One way to find out,” Jack said.

Ryan grabbed him by the wrist. “You can’t just go knocking on the door. If he’s in there and he answers, what are we going to say? We’ll just get thrown out of here for being imposters.”

Jack grinned and pulled one of his little electronic gizmos from his pocket. “Who said anything about knocking?”

He switched it on and a tiny screen lit up. Jack waved the gizmo over the door and then the wall, watching the screen the entire time. After about thirty seconds he nodded, seemingly satisfied.

“What?” Ryan said. “What’s that thing do?”

“It’s a very powerful infrared heat sensor,” Jack explained. “The office is empty. If there was anyone inside, patches of red and yellow would have appeared on the screen.”

He grinned again, causing Ryan to smile. “I’m impressed. Where the hell do you get this gear?”

“I have my sources.”

“And plenty of money, obviously.”

“That’s why you’re paying me so well to help you out. I have access to things that you don’t, or can’t afford.”

Ryan moved over to the door and tried the knob. Locked.

Jack nudged him aside. “Keep an eye out.”

He’d taken another device from his pockets. It was a small rectangular piece of equipment with a keypad, a tiny LCD screen, and had a swipe card attached to it that dangled from a retractable cord. Beside Becker’s door was a slot to swipe an access card. Ryan watched as Jack went to work with his machine. It appeared to scan the electronics of the slot until it came up with the correct code. When it hit pay dirt there was a tiny beep. Jack swiped the card through the slot and a green light appeared on a console just above it. He nodded to Ryan, who tried the doorknob again. It opened and they entered Becker’s office, quickly closing the door behind them.

The first thing Ryan noticed was the vast array of certificates, diplomas and accolades that decorated the walls. There had to be over fifty of them. He couldn’t work it out. The doctor resided in Brisbane and worked out of three locations for the Institute. Did he take his certificates and awards with him everywhere he went? Or did he just have so many that he spread them out through all his offices?

Apart from the accolades the room was furnished with an L-shaped, glass top desk with stainless steel frame. On the desk was a computer with several large widescreen monitors attached to it by electronic umbilical cords. There was the mandatory mouse and keyboard, several printers, a fax machine, filing cabinet and a potted plant in the corner behind the desk. How the plant got enough light to stay alive down here, Ryan had no idea. He also had no idea what sort of plant it was, but obviously one that thrived on artificial light rays. It sure looked healthy enough.

“I’ll go through the filing cabinet while you get to work hacking his computer system,” Ryan said.

The filing cabinet had two drawers and it wasn’t locked. He opened the top drawer and commenced sifting through the contents.

Jack, meanwhile, was busy hooking up another electronic device to Becker’s computer. He attached it via a USB port and programmed the machine to do its thing. Whatever that entailed.

Ryan just concentrated on his own task and let Jack handle all complex electronics. He pulled out a file that caught his interest and placed it on top of the cabinet, where he went through its contents one page at a time. He still didn’t really know what he was looking for, but just figured he would photograph anything that he thought might interest Selena. By the time he’d gone through the file he hadn’t had the urge to pull his camera out of his pocket. Ryan replaced it and kept searching. In the end the top drawer proved to be full of paperwork that was irrelevant to the task. He quietly closed it, squatted down and opened the lower drawer.

“I’m in,” Jack announced, an edge of excitement to his voice.

“Awesome. Just copy anything and everything and we’ll sift through it once we’re out of here.”

Ryan felt tingles of nerves travelling through him. He had a feeling that what he was after would more likely be on the computer somewhere than in this filing cabinet. However, he continued to diligently go through the bottom drawer until he was sure there was nothing there. Just as he closed the drawer and stood up, Ryan heard footsteps approaching down the hallway outside. He held his breath and so did Jack. The footsteps didn’t slow and continued on past the door to Becker’s office. Ryan exhaled and sucked in some air as relief swept over him.

“How much longer?” he said to Jack.

“A couple more minutes.”

Ryan tried to wait patiently for Jack’s device to finish downloading files. He paced the floor, feeling agitated. With nothing to do himself, that couple of minutes really crawled by.

“Done,” Jack announced and quickly detached his device and pocketed it.

“Finally.” Ryan let out a sigh of relief.

Jack said, “It didn’t take that long.”

“It seemed like a long time.” He nodded towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Ryan paused with his ear against the door. When he heard no footsteps in the corridor outside, he opened it and cautiously peered left and right. All clear. He stepped out, followed by Jack, who closed the door behind him. Ryan let Jack lead the way back to the elevators, where they rode an empty one up to the ground floor. The pair exited the building the way they’d come in and quickly made for the car park.

“Hopefully we’ve got what you need,” Jack said and started the car. He got out his pack of cigarettes. “Smoke?”

Ryan waved him away. “No thanks.”

Thirty

Ryan was on a plane late that afternoon heading back to the Gold Coast. Over lunch he and Jack had quickly perused the files Jack’s device had downloaded from Becker’s computer. There was definitely some useful information on there. Jack made copies onto a USB stick for Ryan and, at Ryan’s request, deleted everything from his device.

The plane landed at Gold Coast Airport around four thirty and by the time he’d hailed a taxi and ridden all the way back to Surfers Paradise through peak hour traffic, it was nearly six and twilight was setting in.

He entered the foyer and pressed the call button for the elevator, which he rode to the twentieth floor. When he entered his apartment the first thing he saw was Chelsea standing out on the balcony. He dumped his bag on the floor and went out to her.

“Since when did you start smoking?” he demanded and took the cigarette from her.

She scowled at him and said defiantly, “Since when did you become my parent?”

He stabbed the cigarette out in an ashtray. “Smoking’s bad for you, Chelsea.”

“Just following the example of my big brother. You smoke. Or did you forget?”

“I’m trying to quit. Since when do you copy what I do anyway? You usually try to do the exact opposite.”

“And I am still.” She grinned without humour. “You’re trying to quit so I’m taking it up.”

Ryan shook his head. He could never win a verbal battle with his sister.

“You go to school today?” He asked the question but already knew the answer.

“Nope. I’m never going back. I’m loving my life just as it is. I even have a boyfriend now.”

“Really? Who is he?”

“You don’t know him. He’s new in town. He’s nineteen and really cool.”

“Well, being cool is the most important thing,” Ryan said sarcastically.

“Something you wouldn’t know about,” Chelsea said and lit another cigarette. She inhaled deeply and deliberately blew a dense cloud of smoke in Ryan’s face. He waved it away.

“When do I get to meet this boyfriend?”

Chelsea shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe you will, maybe you won’t. We’ll see.”

“Why are you such a smart-arse to me?”

“Just seems to come naturally when you’re around.”

Ryan shook his head. Chelsea always managed to frustrate him.

“What are you doing tonight?” he wanted to know.

“I’m meeting up with Travis.”

“Is that the boyfriend?”

“Well done, Mr Detective. You figured it out all by yourself.”

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno. Probably for a drive in his car. We haven’t made plans.”

He was direct. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Chelsea’s features darkened. “That’s none of your business, Ryan!” she snapped. “Do I ask you who you’re sleeping with?”

“No, but I’m an adult.”

“Well, so am I.”

“Not quite. You’re only seventeen.”

“Old enough to do what I want. And I’m not jail bait anymore.”

“So you are sleeping with him.”

“I didn’t say that. I wouldn’t tell you if I was or I wasn’t. You should know that by now. I don’t communicate with you, Ryan, except to argue with you.”

“So it seems, Chelsea. Though why we can’t be civil to one another, I don’t know.”

“You do know. I’ve told you why I’m bitter towards you.” She blew more smoke in his direction.

When the haze cleared, Ryan looked over the myriad of highrise buildings, where numerous lights now burned in the windows. Beyond, the ocean was a deep shade of navy blue, matching the colour of the darkening sky. Stars were already visible to break up the monotony.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” he said eventually, still looking out towards the sea.

She shrugged and continued to smoke.

“I didn’t kill them, Chelsea. You know that. I know you blame me because they were rushing down to see me, but I didn’t kill them. It was an accident.”

“We’ve been through all this before, Ryan.”

Ryan stared hard at his sister a moment. “I know.”

And then he walked away and went into his bedroom. He took the USB stick from his pocket and started his computer. When it was up and running he plugged in the memory stick and copied all the hacked files to his hard drive. He then busied himself reading through some of them. Even though it was all written in English, it may as well have been another language as far as Ryan was concerned. He couldn’t comprehend any of it. If he wanted to decipher it, then he would need to employ the expertise of someone in the know.

He sat there staring at the computer screen and tugging at his ear. He was curious as to what this was all about. Sure, he could just give Selena the files and, if it was what she was looking for, collect his money. But he was a detective by nature and that meant he wanted to know answers and to understand.

Ryan quickly typed up an email, briefly explaining what he wanted to know and sent it off to a friend of his who worked in pathology. He didn’t attach any files at this stage and even offered to pay her to look over them and explain them to him in layman’s terms.

After removing the USB stick from his computer, he sat there and contemplated calling Selena Thorne. Before doing that he decided to take a shower and freshen up a bit. That was followed by a shave and a splash of cologne, after which he dressed in charcoal jeans and a white button-up shirt.

It was approaching seven o’clock when he picked up his mobile phone and called Selena’s number. He arranged to meet her at Bliss in an hour, then hung up. She’d sounded quite excited that he had some information for her, and he found himself feeling excited on two counts: He was about to see her, and he was about to get paid.

Before leaving to head up town, Ryan checked his emails to see whether he’d had any reply from his friend yet. There was nothing but a couple of bits of junk mail.

In the kitchen he grabbed a snack. While he was eating Chelsea came out of her room dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved red top. She walked out the front door without saying a word. Obviously off to meet the boyfriend. Ryan headed downstairs soon after and took his time walking into town. The night air was humid and he didn’t want to work up a sweat. As he strode along the mall he adjusted his hair and clothing, something he did again as he climbed the stairs to Bliss Night Club.

It was only early and a Wednesday night, so the place was all but empty. He approached the barman and was told Selena was in her office. Ryan went round behind the bar, through the storage area and knocked on the office door.

“Come in,” Selena’s silken voice answered.

Ryan entered and closed the door behind him. Once more Selena was dressed in black, only tonight she had her hair tied back in a ponytail with a crimson ribbon. The splash of colour looked good on her. She stood up from her desk and greeted him with a bright smile. He shook her gloved hand and took a seat opposite her. From a pocket in his jeans he removed the memory stick and laid it on the desk. Selena picked it up and examined it a moment. Then, without a word, she plugged it into her computer and downloaded the files from it. Ryan sat there patiently while she perused the files, which took quite a while. Eventually she nodded.

“Did you make copies of these?” she interrogated.

“No,” he lied and hoped she didn’t see through him.

“Did anyone else make copies?”

“No.” That part was true. “Is it what you were looking for?”

“I think so,” she said, her brow furrowed. “But I’m no expert on this sort of thing. I’ll need to have someone else look it over first before I can confirm that.”

“And payment?”

“Once I’ve confirmed it’s what I need, then payment will be made in full.” She looked hard at him across the desk, her dark eyes very intense. Ryan found he couldn’t look away. “If I need more information, then I’ll need you to go and get it for me. Either way, once I have what I want, you’ll get paid.”

“When will you know?”

“I should know by tomorrow night.”

Ryan nodded. He could wait until then.

The urge to ask her out on a date flashed through his mind, but he refrained from voicing the invitation. Jack’s words echoed in his brain, suggesting he wait until after he’d been paid. It was the best idea. He could wait a bit longer for a date, too, he decided. He looked for bulges on her fingers beneath the gloves, any telltale signs of a ring on her wedding finger. There didn’t appear to be rings on any of her fingers. Didn’t mean she was single, though. She may have a boyfriend. Should he ask her? Not yet. Too obvious.

“I’ll be in touch when I’ve had this information looked over,” Selena said in a tone that suggested it was time for Ryan to leave.

He said goodbye and left the office and the club. He walked over to the beach and stood there staring out over the dark ocean for a few minutes. That vibe that he and Selena had shared on their first few meetings seemed to have disappeared now. Suddenly she was all business and it showed in her demeanor. Maybe asking her out was a bad idea.

But then again, what did he have to lose?

Thirty One

After sitting at a cafe with a coffee for a while and people watching, Ryan went back home and immediately checked his emails. The reply he was waiting for was there.

Ryan had had a brief fling with pathologist Angela Cartwright several years ago after seeking her assistance on a case he was working on at the time. It was a very casual affair and didn’t last very long. However, they’d parted company on amiable terms and had remained friends.

He shot off another email to her, this time attaching Becker’s files, and hit send. Angela replied again ten minutes later and said she would be in touch probably sometime tomorrow to let him know what it was all about. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see what her interpretations were.

With nothing much else to do right now, Ryan went into the living room and switched the TV on.

*  *  *

Marks was at home sitting on his leather couch. All the lights were off bar the soft glow emanating from the bulb in the range hood above the stove. In his hand he held a glass of scotch. Ice cubes rattled as he brought the glass to his lips and took a long swallow. His mind was by now a little fuzzy from the alcohol and that’s exactly how he wanted to feel. Sure, he knew getting drunk wouldn’t take away his problems, but at least it would ease the pain temporarily.

Linda had called him a few hours ago. Her mind was made up, she’d said. There was no longer any future together and she wanted a divorce. She was even kind enough to let him stay in the house for now while she stayed in Brisbane.

“Thanks a fucking lot,” he grumbled and drank more scotch. “Bucket loads of fun sitting here all by myself in a house full of memories.”

He drained his glass and went into the kitchen to pour another.

*  *  *

Chelsea and Travis were parked in a car park at Main Beach. They sat there looking out over the ocean. There was a light breeze that carried the scent of salt on it. Chelsea breathed deeply and thought again about how wonderful she felt. She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a while, just letting herself get lost in the moment.

Travis’ phone rang and he answered it. There was a brief exchange of conversation and then he hung up.

“We’ve got to go,” he said to Chelsea.

“Go where?” she groaned and didn’t move. “I like it here.”

“I have to drop into Bliss and pick up something from my sister,” he explained. “It’s important.”

“What is it that’s so important?”

“I’ll explain later.” Travis started the car and followed the beach road back into Surfers. Fortuitously he found a convenient parking space not far from the night club. He cut the motor and got out. “Just wait here for me,” he told her. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Okay,” she reluctantly agreed. “But hurry back.”

“I will.”

Chelsea lit up a cigarette and smoked it while she waited. Two guys slowly walked past along the footpath in front of her. When they saw her sitting in the BMW all alone, they paused.

“Hey, gorgeous. Wanna come party with us tonight?” one of them asked her.

“Fuck off!” she said and flicked her expired cigarette at them.

The guys were just about to come out with a return response when Travis appeared beside the car.

“Is there a problem?” he said to them, his voice calm, but stern.

Both the guys sized him up, hesitated, then shook their heads.

“No problem,” the first guy said and they continued on.

“Stupid drunks,” Chelsea spat. “I’m glad you came back when you did.”

“So am I.” He got back in the car and started the engine. “Wanna come for a drive to my place?”

Chelsea grinned. “Sure.” Then her features darkened and the smile slipped from her face. “Will your brother be there?”

“I don’t know.” He drove onto the highway.

“Weren’t you worried that he’s dangerous?”

Travis nodded. “It’s okay, though. He won’t touch you if you’re with me. He’ll respect that. Trust me.”

“I do trust you.”

*  *  *

Michael left the house and followed a pathway downhill through the woods. When the ground leveled out it opened up into a bit of a clearing. An old barn stood in the clearing, trees growing all around the back of it and plants nestling against the shelter of its wooden walls.

He’d blacked out a section of it inside beneath the loft for Paul and Kelly to hide in during the daylight hours. He’d told Selena he’d gotten rid of the British backpackers, but he could tell she didn’t really believe him. Michael entered the barn through a side door, stepped around some old bales of hay and opened the door beneath the loft. Even though it was dark inside, he could see clearly.

Paul and Kelly were gone.

He slammed the door shut and raced outside, where he stood still as a tree and listened intently. When he heard nothing, he took off from the ground and searched from the air. He had to find them before they did something stupid.

*  *  *

Paul had Kelly’s hand in his as they made their way through the forest.

“How good do I feel?” he said.

“I know. Me too. I’ve never felt so alive before. I’m buzzing.”

Paul laughed. “Even though technically we’re supposed to be dead.”

“Only in the human sense.” She stopped abruptly, dragging him to a halt. “Kiss me,” she demanded in a playful way.

Paul grinned. “With pleasure.”

Their lips and tongues met in a cold, but lively embrace. Paul felt himself getting aroused and wondered what it would be like to have sex together as vampires. They hadn’t tried it yet, and obviously they were still capable of doing it.

Kelly broke the kiss and breathed heavily, “I want you.”

Headless of the dirt on the ground, dead leaves and insects, the pair stripped off their clothing in a mad hurry and indulged in noisy sex that was way more aggressive than they’d ever experienced before. No matter how vigorous they were, there was no pain, no injuries. Just pure lust and exquisite pleasure. When they were done they both lay back on the ground, staring up at the stars through the tree branches, panting heavily.

“That was so awesome,” Kelly said, smiling with satisfaction.

“The best ever,” Paul was adamant.

“I’m hungry now, and not for kangaroo blood.”

Paul stood up, dusted himself off and held out his hand to Kelly. Once she was on her feet the pair got dressed, kissed heatedly again, then continued journeying through the forest.

“We need a real meal,” Paul said to her.

“Do you think we should wait for Michael to take us out to feed?” Kelly pointed out. “He might get angry.”

“We don’t need Michael to hold our hands for us. We’re capable of feeding without him.”

“But still...”

“Forget Michael, Kelly. You and I are a team. Not us and Michael. Let’s just do our own thing our own way.” He glanced at her as they walked. “Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

They emerged from the woods onto a road and they followed it south. After walking for about five minutes they spied lights approaching up ahead. The headlights cut through the trees as the vehicle swept round a bend. Paul dragged Kelly into the middle of the road and they stood there like statues, blocking the way. The car finished negotiating the bend and came straight for them, headlights on high beam and very bright, but not affecting their vision. When the driver of the car saw them, she slammed on her breaks and swerved. The car skewed off to the left, skidded in the dirt and stalled. The girl behind the wheel panicked when she saw Kelly and Paul approaching her. She tried to get the car started, but it resisted.

Paul went round to the driver’s side, wrenched the door open, ripped the seatbelt from the woman and dragged her screaming and kicking out of the vehicle. Kelly slapped her hard across the face to subdue her while Paul held her. Red welts rose on the pale skin of the woman’s cheek. When she continued to struggle Kelly slapped her again. The woman slumped in Paul’s arms, barely conscious now.

Paul grinned, exposing his fangs. “You ready, Babe?”

Kelly nodded.

She opened her mouth and plunged her fangs into the hapless woman’s throat, sucking on the warm blood. Paul did the same, exhilarating in the sensation of human blood filing his veins. Together they fed on her until every drop of blood had been drained from her body. When they were done, Paul let the lifeless corpse flop down on the roadside.

He grinned sadistically, his face covered in gore. Now he felt more invigorated than ever, stronger than he was before. He had a taste for human blood and he liked it very much.

Thirty Two

Travis drove the car up a sloping, winding driveway. He came to a stop outside a two story home that was made of timber. Pressing a button on a remote, he engaged the automatic garage door motor. When the metal door lifted, Chelsea saw a red Mercedes coupe parked in the three car garage.

“Michael must be home,” Travis said rather grimly. “That’s his car.”

He came to a stop beside Michael’s Mercedes and cut the motor. Chelsea followed him through a door that led into the living area.

The living room looked normal enough with lounge, armchairs, television and stereo equipment. A wooden coffee table rested on a rug between the lounge and armchairs. Branching off from the living room was a dining room with a seven piece wooden setting. A modern kitchen was to the right of the dining area.

“The kitchen doesn’t get used much,” Travis commented and glanced all around. He shrugged. “Maybe Michael’s not home.”

He led the way up a carpeted staircase. Chelsea tailed her boyfriend down a short hallway and followed him into his spacious bedroom. Travis closed the door while Chelsea looked around.

The room had large glass windows that overlooked the forest. Special blinds had been installed, made of some thick black material. There were runners going down each side of the window and another across the bottom.

Travis noticed her examining the blind. “Makes the room light proof during the day,” he explained. “We have them installed all around the house, plus special frames around the doors.”

“It must suck not being able to go out in daylight,” Chelsea said.

“I’m working on it,” Travis said. “Look.” He pulled the memory stick from his pocket and held it up. “I have to go over some things tonight for Selena. Sorry to be boring, but I really have to do this. Feel free to have a sleep for a while if you like. I don’t know how long this will take.”

Chelsea nodded. “That’s fine. I just love being in your company no matter what we’re doing.”

Travis smiled, sat down at a desk and plugged the memory stick into his laptop. Chelsea reclined on the double bed. It was soft and comfortable and she soon found herself starting to doze.

*  *  *

Marks was awoken from a drunken slumber by his mobile phone ringing and vibrating on the coffee table beside him.

“There’s been another murder, Sir,” he was told by a sergeant at headquarters.

Bleary-eyed and struggling to focus, Marks got to his feet, went over to the kitchen bench and scribbled the details down on a scrap of paper. He then splashed handfuls of water over his face in the kitchen sink, drank down a quick cup of coffee, grabbed his voice recorder and cars keys and stepped out onto the driveway. Once inside his blue Ford Falcon, Marks started the engine, switched the headlights on and sat there letting the car idle a moment.

Although not blind drunk, he was still feeling a little intoxicated and really shouldn’t be driving anywhere. After all, he was supposed to be a law enforcement officer. He picked up his mobile phone and contemplated calling another detective to go to the scene. In the end he changed his mind, put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.

He headed west past Nerang and out towards Beaudesert. Not long after he passed through Mount Nathan he spied the group of police and emergency vehicles up ahead. Lights flashed and people milled about everywhere. Portable floodlighting had been set up to illuminate the area. As Marks pulled to a stop behind an ambulance, he saw several flashes over near a rust-coloured sedan as a forensic photographer documented the crime scene in pictures. The detective got out of the car, took several deep breaths of the fresh night air to clear his head, popped a mint into his mouth, then wandered over to the crime scene tape.

He was glad the SOCOs hadn’t finished yet. Gave his mind a chance to sharpen up a bit before he started chatting with Chris Saunders and viewing evidence. He paced around for a while, trying to avoid engaging in any conversation with anyone. Gradually the fog in his mind dissipated and, by the time the SOCOs wrapped it up, he was feeling almost sober.

Chris spotted Marks and indicated with his head for the detective to come on over. A police constable held up the tape for him and Marks passed under it. He made his way over to the car and Chris Saunders. The body of a young woman lay on the ground beside the vehicle, her green eyes open and lifeless. Chris squatted down and gently closed the woman’s eyelids. Marks knelt down beside the body and Chris immediately pointed something out to him.

“See here, David,” the SOCO said, pointing to the woman’s throat. “Those same puncture wounds that we found on the first victim.” He shook his head. “Only this time there are two sets. They really look like bite marks this time, too. If you look closely you can even see imprints of teeth from the lower jaw. Both bites are different, indicating they were inflicted by different perpetrators.”

“Do they look human to you?” Marks quizzed while examining them closely.

Chris nodded. “Kinda. Except I don’t know any human eye teeth that would be long enough to penetrate the flesh so deeply.” He shook his head again.

Marks stood up abruptly and felt his head spin. “I want a rush put on the results of the swabs on those wounds.” He ran a hand over his bald scalp and sighed heavily. Gradually the blood filtered back into his brain.

“You don’t look so good, Detective,” Chris noted. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. I’ve just had a rough couple of days.”

“With the murder cases?”

“No. Personal.”

Chris smiled wryly and nodded as if he understood.

“What?” Marks said.

“It’s woman troubles, isn’t it. I know that look on a man’s face,” Chris assured him.

Marks stroked his goatee before replying. “My wife and I are getting a divorce.”

“But she’s the one who wants it. Right?”

Marks nodded. “Something like that. Hell, I’ve known for a while that it hasn’t been good between us, but just hearing that she wants a divorce sounds so final.”

“Divorce usually is, I’m afraid to say. Sorry to hear that, David. You’re a good man.”

“And Linda’s a good woman. I’ll catch you later.”

He turned and walked away. Once again the constable held the tape up for him so he could pass under without having to bend too much. He didn’t know if it was a mark of respect, or whether he was starting to look old.

Tonight he felt old.

*  *  *

Michael was waiting for them when they returned to the barn. The moment they walked in the side door he stepped out from under the loft. Without a word he backhanded Paul across the face and sent him flying through the air. Paul crashed into a pile of hay and came up spluttering. Kelly wasn’t spared his wrath. Michael picked her up and threw her into a wall. The entire building shook from the impact.

“How dare you defy me,” Michael said with menace. Paul and Kelly slowly, and rather unsteadily, got to their feet. “You’ve been out feeding, haven’t you?”

“Only on kangaroos,” Paul lied.

“Bullshit! I saw the police out at a crime scene not far from here. A young woman, reddish-brown car on Beaudesert Road. Sound familiar? That was you two.” He glared at each of them in turn and repeated, “How dare you defy me.”

“We’re sorry,” Kelly said earnestly, scared to death of Michael.

“Yeah, we’re sorry,” Paul offered, but didn’t sound anywhere near as convincing.

“Was it just the one?” Michael kept Paul locked with his intense gaze.

Paul nodded. “Yep. Just the girl.”

“I can read minds, Paul, and you’re lying.”

*  *  *

Marks was halfway home when the report of another murder victim came over the police radio. He did a U-turn and sped back in the direction he’d just come from.

He arrived on the scene twenty minutes later. Two patrol cars were there already and as he came to a stop on the side of the road, other emergency vehicles, more police and the SOCOs started to arrive, fresh from the last crime scene. The small truck with the floodlights arrived and soon the entire area was illuminated with bright light.

The victim was a male motorcycle rider. The bike lay on its side half buried in bushes. A helmet rested on the dirt just off the shoulder of the road. The dead man was prone at the edge of the forest.

Before the SOCOs took over and booted everyone out of the cordoned off area, Marks managed to get a look at the dead man’s throat. He saw two distinct puncture wounds there before Chris Saunders gently nudged him aside.

Marks remained at the scene until the SOCOs had finished their work. Meanwhile, he had officers combing the area and canvassing any nearby residences, probing for information and clues.

Two murders in one night occurring within several kilometres of one another. What the hell was going on?

*  *  *

When Travis had finished going through the information Selena had wanted him to look over, he woke up slumbering Chelsea by lying on the bed beside her and taking her into his arms.

Chelsea felt his cold lips touch hers. She was still half asleep and felt incredibly relaxed. She kissed him back, then opened her eyes. He smiled at her.

“You finished?” she asked him.

“Pretty much.”

“Good. So now it’s me time.”

“It sure is.”

She glanced over at the window and saw that it was still dark outside. She asked, “What time is it?”

“After two in the morning. Plenty of time yet before I have to close that blind.”

“Good. Come closer,” she urged and their lips locked and eager tongues embraced.

Chelsea felt herself getting aroused very quickly. Travis had that affect on her, despite his lack of physical warmth. It was such a strange and surreal experience being intimate with a man who wasn’t hot-blooded in the literal sense.

Their hands roamed everywhere, probing particular body parts. Travis undid Chelsea’s jeans and started tugging them down her thighs.

“I can’t,” she said, stopping him.

Travis was disappointed. “But I’m so desperate to be with you in that way.”

“Then you know what to do, Travis.” She looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Turn me. Right now.”

Thirty Three

Marks slept in his office on the couch and he awoke just shy of eight AM. He utilized the communal restrooms to freshen up, then went to the kitchen to make himself a coffee.

“You look like hell, Detective,” said Anita the cleaning lady.

“Thanks for pointing that out.”

Marks made his brew and took it back to his office, avoiding engaging in conversation with anyone and ignoring the stares he attracted because of his disheveled appearance. He seated himself at his desk and rummaged around through the mess of paperwork that cluttered it while he drank his coffee. He wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, but when a printout caught his eye he picked it up, glanced it over and let out a huge sigh. He snatched up the landline phone and dialed a number from the sheet.

When it was answered, he said, “I’d like to speak to Doctor Marlon Becker, please.”

“Doctor Becker’s not in right now,” came the reply from the receptionist. “Can I take a message.”

“Yes. This is Detective David Marks from Queensland CIB. I need to speak with the doctor concerning some information that may or may not be relevant to some cases I’m working on at the moment. Can you please get him to call me ASAP?” He gave the receptionist both his landline number and his mobile number.

“Thanks, Detective. I’ll certainly pass that on.”

Marks put down the phone and sat there pondering last night’s murders. Two bites, different perpetrators for each bite. Possibly even different to the Amanda Simms lesions.

Whatever was going on, there was definitely more than one of them out there.

He hoped Becker had something tangible and useful for him when he called.

*  *  *

Angela Cartwright called Ryan at midday.

“Doctor Becker’s research is very interesting,” she told him over the phone. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask how you got hold of these files or why you want this information.”

“I wouldn’t tell you anyway,” Ryan replied, smiling into the phone.

“Can you come see me this afternoon? If you can get here soon, I have some free time to go over this with you.”

“I’ll leave right now,” Ryan said. “See you shortly.”

He drove the short distance from Surfers paradise to Southport. Traffic was fairly heavy, making the trip take far longer than it should. Ryan pulled into the car park behind where the pathology lab was located. He entered the building through a rear entrance and knocked directly on Angela’s office door.

“Come in,” she said, her tone always friendly and inviting; something that had attracted him to her in the first place. When he laid eyes on her he was reminded of the second thing that had attracted him.

She was seated cross-legged at her desk, slender legs clad in black stockings that tucked into red high heels. Angela was a brunette and wore her hair quite short, just below the ears. She’d always maintained the same hairstyle for as long as Ryan had known her. And why wouldn’t she? It really suited her. Her eyes were dark and framed with long lashes, accentuated by the application of thick mascara. Her plump lips were painted scarlet red, and a layer of light foundation gave her face the appearance of having been airbrushed. She wore a white top and black skirt that rode most of the way up her thighs when she was seated.

She watched him enter, her eyes looking over the top of her reading glasses. Something about those glasses added to her sex appeal as well. Ryan still felt an immense physical attraction for this woman, but he was planning never to go there again. She was a good and useful friend. He wanted to keep it that way.

She stood up to greet him. He took her hand in his and they kissed each other on the cheek.

“Take a seat,” she offered with a smile.

Ryan sat on the opposite side of the desk, her large computer screen to his right a bit and not blocking his view of her.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said, returning her smile.

“It certainly is.” She fixed her gaze on him for a moment longer, then turned her attention to the computer screen. “I know you don’t understand scientific terminology much, Ryan, so I’ll try and make this as plain and simple as possible, so hopefully you understand.”

“Ouch,” he said and smiled again.

“I wasn’t putting you down,” she said with a sideways glance, her dark eyes sexy above those glasses. “I figure you, or your client, was looking for something a little out of the ordinary in Becker’s research. Am I correct?”

Ryan shrugged. “I’m not really sure what she’s after. I’m not certain she even knows.”

“Okay.” Angela nodded. She adjusted her glasses. “Well, a lot of this material seems like fairly everyday sort of research, and much of it’s not directly related to Doctor Becker himself. So I’ll focus on his specific research only; the stuff he’s been working on alone. It’s quite unusual and I find it a little hard to digest.”

She paused and Ryan waited. He eventually held up his hands in supplication when she refused to speak. “Well? What have we got there?” he prompted and tugged at his ear.

Angela shook her head while staring at the monitor. “It’s really weird stuff, actually.”

“Angela. Stop procrastinating and just tell me what the good doctor’s been up to. I need to know. Don’t ask me why. It’s just a gut feeling I have.”

She finally looked his way and spoke. “The main focus of his solitary research seems to be based on a serum or antidote he’s been developing. And he’s been working on it for quite some time, too, by the looks of it.”

“What’s the serum for?” Ryan wondered.

“Well, that’s the weird part.” Angela hesitated again. “From what I can gather, and it’s pretty plain to me, he’s been developing,” she looked up at the ceiling, “how shall I put it?” She looked at Ryan. “He’s been working on an anti-vampire serum.” She giggled incredulously.

“A fucking what?” Ryan wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not. “Are you having me on?”

She shook her head adamantly. “No. That’s what he’s creating.”

“And has he managed to make some of this vampire potion?”

Angela looked back at the computer screen and performed a few mouse clicks. “It seems that he has, yes. He calls it APHV, which stands for Anti Porphyric Hemophilia Vaccine.”

“Okay,” Ryan began. “So humour me here a little. What exactly is this antidote supposed to do?”

Angela sat back and kept her eyes locked on Ryan’s. “Two things, actually. For one, if a person is injected with the serum, it renders them immune to the bite of a vampire.”

“Meaning what?”

“I assume it means that the recipient can’t be turned into a vampire if bitten and contaminated with the vampire’s virus.”

“Okay. And what’s the second function of the magic potion?”

“According to Becker it can turn a vampire back into a human being again.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “So, what do you make of all of this?”

“It’s a fairytale. This Doctor Becker - as brilliant as he seems to be and highly respected in his fields of expertise - is living in a fantasy world. We all know there’s no such thing as a vampire, Ryan. Don’t we?”

“Well, I’ve never met one.”

He wondered about that a moment. Is this the information Selena was after? And if it was, what did it mean to her? He thought about her hands covered in gloves all the time. She shakes hands. Vampires are supposedly cold. Can’t feel that her hands are cold because of the gloves.

No. That was ridiculous. Selena Thorne wasn’t a vampire. Or maybe she was delusional and just thought she was? Possibly she dwelled in the same world of fantasy and fiction as this Doctor Becker obviously did?

“Anything else of interest?” he asked Angela, breaking from his thoughts.

“I don’t think so. Feel free to call me anytime if you want to ask me further questions.”

“What do I owe you?”

She shook her pretty head. “Nothing. Seeing you again is payment enough.”

Thirty Four

Marks was in his office finishing off his lunch when the landline phone rang loudly to the left of him. He washed a mouthful of chicken curry down with some coffee and answered the call.

“Detective Marks here.”

“Good afternoon, Detective,” came a booming voice with a foreign accent. “This is Doctor Marlon Becker calling from the Research Institute for Blood Disorders here in Melbourne. I believe you wanted me to help you with some enquiries?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Marks said quickly. “Thanks for calling me back, Doctor. It’s most important.”

“What can I help you with?”

Marks explained the current spate of mysterious murders that had been happening on the Gold Coast the past week and a half. He then went on to document the lesions on the victims’ throats.

“You had dealings recently regarding this strange virus with a Doctor Jenkins of QHSS in Brisbane. He said his team identified the virus through yourself.”

“That’s right,” Becker affirmed. “It is the Porphyric Hemophilia disease.”

“Which is apparently,” Marks hesitated and took a deep breath, “a vampire disease.”

Now there was hesitation on the other end of the line.

“Doctor Becker? That is what you told Doctor Jenkins’ team, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” Becker finally spoke again. “Don’t think me crazy, Detective, but vampires are a real species.”

Marks forcibly stifled a frustrated sigh. “And you know this how, Doctor? Have you encountered one?”

Again hesitation. Then, “Yes.”

“When and where?”

“It was many years ago when I still lived in Europe. Vampires killed my friends.”

Marks was struggling to believe it, but tried his best to give Becker the benefit of the doubt. After all, there had been some strange and unexplainable findings in these cases so far. And he was getting nowhere fast with his investigation. He decided he’d better keep an open mind.

“Okay. Tell me the story, Doctor Becker,” Marks suggested. He put the phone on loudspeaker and activated his recording device, then sat back in his chair to listen.

It happened in Germany’s Black Forest more than a decade ago. Marlon Becker and some associates had been enjoying some time out after a conference in Stuttgart. They were camping beside a river just on the outskirts of the forest. A fire was burning nicely in the centre of their small tent city. One of the associates had even brought along an acoustic guitar so they could have a sing-along. Aided by the consumption of Schnapps and bottles of Becks beer, the atmosphere was relaxed and merry. They were even toasting marshmallows like school kids on a summer camp. Everything was going so well until midnight.

The group soon became aware that something was lurking in the woods, stalking them. It was evident after a few minutes that there was more than one unknown creature out there just beyond the firelight of the campsite. There were two, perhaps even three.

Becker thought they might be wolves, but that assumption was soon dispelled when they all heard a series of sharp hissing sounds. Wolves weren’t known to make a noise like that, and there was never any howling or growling. Also, every so often they heard rustling sounds in the trees above them. Wolves weren’t known to climb high into the trees, either.

The five in the group huddled close to the fire, their nerves on edge, not knowing what was out there or what to expect. Becker took a piece of flaming wood from the fire and bravely moved over to the edge of the forest, trying in vain to discover what was stalking them. It was as he stepped into the woods that the first attack came.

He heard the initial commotion rather than saw it. The creature had attacked the camp from the opposite side to where Becker was exploring with his makeshift torch. He rushed back to find one of his colleagues lying on the ground. The man’s shoulder was obviously dislocated and he writhed around on the ground in severe pain. The only female in the group had gone to his aid and was trying her best to comfort the man and ease his agony.

When Becker queried what had happened, another man in the group had told him that a demon-possessed man with flaming red eyes had rushed into the campsite and knocked their friend to the ground. The possessed man had then disappeared up into the trees.

Nothing happened for another ten minutes or so, then the stalking started up again. Becker was sure now that there were three of them out there. The second attack happened soon after.

Becker was proven right when three men walked into the small clearing, all homing in from different directions. One had eyes that burned like fire, the second man’s eyes were black as midnight on a moonless night, while the third had the bluest eyes the doctor had ever seen on a man.

The men weren’t human. Simultaneously all three opened their mouths to expose long and lethal fangs protruding from their upper jaws.

The injured man on the ground was set upon first. At the same instant the red eyed one grabbed hold of the woman attending the wounded man and sank its fangs into her neck, where it proceeded to suck and slurp with the most hideous of sounds. Becker flailed madly at the creatures with his burning piece of wood. It had little affect on them, though.

A cold realization struck him as he fought to ward them off. A legend had come to life. The three were not demon-possessed men. They were vampires.

When the vampire attacking the woman was done with her, the thing seized her by the head and twisted it so ferociously that it ripped clean off her neck. It spun away in the dirt like a top. There was no blood. The vampire had already sucked her veins dry.

The man on the ground with the dislocated shoulder was now dead, as were his two other colleagues. That just left Becker all alone with the three creatures.

They formed a circle around him and ever-so-slowly closed in on him. Becker still had the piece of wood in his hands, but by now the flames had been extinguished. Still, he brandished it as menacingly as he could, hoping for a miracle and salvation from his impending fate.

Salvation did come, but not in a way he ever expected.

The vampire with the black eyes rushed him, hitting him in the chest and knocking him to the dirt. Becker felt all the air expel from his lungs and he lay there, with the thing on top of him, laboring for breath. His head spun, both from a lack of oxygen and from his head striking the ground when he fell. The vampire opened its mouth, its fangs covered in the fresh gore of his colleagues. A putrid stench wafted from its throat as it stared down at him with those dark and lifeless eyes. Becker tried to wrestle free of its powerful grasp, but he was pinned helplessly to the ground. All he could do was wait to meet his fate and take it as bravely as he could.

When he closed his eyes and prayed that his soul would go to heaven and not hell, he felt the vampire’s hot breath on the exposed skin of his throat a moment before the fangs pierced the flesh. The pain was like receiving two hypodermic needles at once. The thing hissed and sucked and he felt the blood starting to leave his body. But after only a few seconds of feeding the vampire let go of his throat, moved his head away, glanced at his companions, then stared down at the doctor with a bemused expression.

“Something’s not right with his blood,” the creature said to the others in a perfectly human voice. “I can’t drink it.”

“They fled into the forest then and never came back,” Becker said into the phone. “I still have the scars on my throat from the two puncture wounds.”

Marks was sitting at his desk in stunned silence, rubbing absently at his chin. He shook his head slowly, still not sure whether to pay any heed to the doctor’s tale.

“So, did you ever figure out why the vampire couldn’t drink your blood?” Marks eventually asked.

“My very first thought was I must have had a serious disease of some kind that I didn’t yet know about. No symptoms of any kind had manifested and I felt fine. Still, the very next day, after the police were done interviewing me, I had blood tests run on every disease known to mankind and put a rush on the results.

“I knew the legend stated that anyone bitten by a vampire who lives will soon turn into a vampire themselves, so I was expecting that to happen within a matter of days. It never did and there was absolutely nothing abnormal found in my blood. That got me thinking that maybe there was something to the biological makeup to my blood, rather than a disease, that rendered me impervious to the vampire bite. They wouldn’t drink my blood and I couldn’t be turned into one of their kind.”

“This is a very intriguing tale, Doctor,” Marks commented.

“It’s not a tale, Detective,” Becker said with a serrated edge to his voice. “Every word of it is the truth.”

“Sorry, Doctor. Please continue.”

“That was such a frightening experience that night that left four of my friends dead. I knew there was something special about my blood, so I was determined to find out what it was and replicate those properties into a serum that could be injected into others to render them safe from the vampire bite.

“Only problem was the vampires wouldn’t leave me alone long enough for me to fully focus on my research. They were as curious as I was as to why I was immune to them. They kept stalking me, making me nervous. I couldn’t concentrate. I was always scared and looking over my shoulder, afraid to venture outside after dark. They didn’t seem to want to kill me, or they would have already. They had plenty of opportunities. In the end I sold up everything and left the country, settling here in Australia, as far away from my enemies as I could get. Here I’ve continued my work and have made great progress.”

“So you’ve developed the serum?” Marks quizzed.

“Yes, I have.” Becker hesitated, took a deep breath, then said, “Detective? They are here in this country. Not the same ones that attacked and killed my friends, but others. And your murder cases are not unique. There have been similar cases over the past decade in Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth. All unsolved. I tried to offer my opinion to police in all cases, but was quickly dismissed each time as nothing short of a lunatic. Also in all cases traces of the Porphyric Hemophilia disease were present.”

“How much of this serum have you managed to develop?”

“Only some samples at the moment.”

“Well, put a rush on preparing some more. Just in case.”

“So, does that mean you believe me, Detective?”

“Let’s just say I’m trying to keep an open mind. This case is unusual and I’m open to all avenues of enquiry. Thank you for your time, Doctor Becker. I’ll be in touch.”

“You’re welcome,” said Becker. “And thank you for hearing me out.”

Marks hung up the phone and immediately got in touch with police in Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth.

Thirty Five

Ryan sat at McDonald’s eating a gourmet meal of burger and fries and washed it all down with some healthy Coke. He gazed across The Esplanade and down toward the beach. The sun had just been consumed by the mountains in the west, leaving the beach bathed in gloom. Twilight had set in.

He was a little worried about Chelsea. She hadn’t been home since she left last night to meet up with her new boyfriend, Travis. As rebellious and errant as she was in many ways, she usually always came home each night. Who was this Travis guy? Ryan really wanted to meet him. The protective big brother thing was coming out in him. He couldn’t imagine Chelsea bringing Travis over voluntarily just to meet her brother. She couldn’t give a rats what his opinion of anything was anyway, let alone his appraisal of her boyfriend.

He pondered his earlier conversation with the lovely Angela Cartwright. Vampire diseases, anti-vampire serums. What was that all about? Why was this Doctor Becker researching and developing stuff like that? And more pertinent to Ryan, why was Selena Thorne interested in this doctor’s bizarre research? But then again, maybe it was other research Becker was working on that she was interested in. No. His gut instinct told him it was all about the vampire stuff.

So who was Selena really? What did Ryan know about her? Not much, in all honesty. Why did she always wear gloves? Was he correct earlier in the day when he’d had the thought that she wore them so people didn’t notice her cold hands when she touched them? Possibly.

But vampires weren’t real, he reminded himself. They’re a myth. Selena was probably as much of a tripper as this Becker obviously was. She did seem a little eccentric in some ways. While she appeared normal enough on the surface, she was probably just some sort of delusional weirdo.

Ryan didn’t really feel like asking her out on a date anymore. After finding out about the vampire stuff, he really felt like he’d been turned off her in that regard. Vampires didn’t really turn him on. It was a buzz kill.

His iPhone rang and he pulled it from his pocket to answer it.

“Speak of the devil,” he said when he saw who it was that was calling him. He answered the call. “Hi, Selena.”

“Good evening, Ryan,” Selena crooned. “Are you free to talk a moment?”

“Certainly. How did we go? Did you get what you wanted?”

“I did, as a matter of fact. That’s why I’m calling. I have your money for you, ready to collect tonight.”

“Cool.” He glanced across the mall, where the stairs rose up to Bliss. “I’ll come in as soon as the club opens.”

“I won’t be in the club tonight,” she told him. “If you would like to come to my home, you can pick up your money here.”

“Sure,” Ryan agreed, though he felt anything but sure. “What’s your address?”

“I’ll text it to you as soon as I get off the phone.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you within the hour.”

After he’d ended the call he felt a little nervous. Something was gnawing at him, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Did he really believe Selena was a vampire? Not really, but he did sense she was up to something.

Her text came through with an address all the way out in Guanaba. Before he drove out there, Ryan went up to his apartment to get his gun.

*  *  *

“You’re a fool, Travis,” Selena said to her little brother.

“I love her.”

“Love her! You barely know the girl. How long have you known her? Seriously?”

Travis shrugged. “I don’t know. About a week.”

Selena snorted and shook her head. “A week.” She fixed her brother with her penetrating gaze. “You don’t even know what love is. Besides, you’re a vampire and she’s human. How can it possibly work?”

Travis looked away from her face and stared at the floor. “It can work.”

It dawned on Selena then. “You didn’t?” she said and he slowly nodded. “You’ve turned her?”

He shrugged again. “Well, she hasn’t turned yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

Selena sighed heavily, exasperated. “She’s your responsibility then, Travis. It’s up to you to keep her under control. I don’t want her out there running rampant like your brother and his two new pets are. We’re attracting far too much attention to ourselves. You got it?” She fixed him with a hard stare again, locking Travis’ eyes on hers. “You keep her on a very tight leash.”

“I will,” he promised.

Selena softened then. She could tell her little brother really did love this girl. He’d always been a bit of a romantic at heart. That was his weakness in her eyes.

“So what’s her name?” she asked.

“Chelsea.”

Selena nodded. “And does she have a last name? Do you know that much about her at least?”

He nodded. “Fox. Chelsea Fox.”

Selena’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say Fox?”

“Yep. Chelsea Fox. Why? Do you know her?”

“Does she have an older brother?”

“Yeah, she’s mentioned him a few times. I don’t think they get on very well.”

“Have you met him?”

“No.”

“Do you know his name? Is it Ryan?”

Travis smiled then. “Yeah, that’s it. Apparently he’s a private investigator. So you know him then?”

Selena nodded, her mind suddenly racing. “He’s the one I had go fetch Doctor Becker’s research files.”

“Small world,” Travis noted.

Selena was deep in thought and she mumbled, “Interesting.”

Ryan Fox may not be at the top of his game at the moment, but he was no idiot. She was sure he would have made copies of Becker’s files and had them examined by someone in the know, even if just to satisfy his own detective curiosity. Which would mean by now he would at the very least be suspect on her, who or what she was, and what she was up to. Even if he didn’t believe in vampires, he would now be very cautious.

She changed the subject. “Do you think you can do it, Travis? Do you think you can develop a vaccine that will allow us to go out in daylight?”

He slowly nodded. “I think I can, combining Doctor Becker’s knowledge with my own, but it will likely only be temporary. At least at first.” Travis shook his head then. “But why bother, Selena? Becker’s serum can make us human again, and we can go out in daylight whenever we want.”

“But what happens to humans at the end of their lifespan?” she pointed out. “They die, and I don’t want to die. I like being immortal. I like this lifestyle...to a point. The only thing that’s missing is being able to go out in the sun. How I long for that again instead of this eternal darkness.”

“Well, I’d like to be human again. I miss the pleasures of the flesh, like eating nice food, lazing on the beach, feeling the warmth of another person and being able to return it.”

“I really think you need to give that statement some serious thought, little brother, and think about all the negatives attached to being true flesh and blood. Besides, you’ve just turned your little girlfriend into one of us. We don’t even know if Becker’s potion does what he claims, anyway. It’s obviously never been tested on an actual vampire, so how would he even know it works?”

“Doctor Becker’s a very, very smart man,” Travis said.

“Look, I know you revere him and respect him, but it could be dangerous injecting yourself with his vaccine. It might very well just kill you. Permanently.”

“Yeah, I guess. I need to get my hands on some of his vaccine anyway, so I can develop what you want.”

Selena thought this over long and hard, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll arrange it. But you promise me that you won’t inject yourself with it.” She gave her brother the hard stare again.

“Okay. I promise,” he said.

*  *  *

Detective Marks had spent the rest of the day and early evening talking back and forth with detectives and forensic investigators in three other states, developing a profile and much bigger picture of who he might actually be looking for.

On his desk in front of him he had faxes and email printouts of material he’d had police in Victoria, South Australia and Western Australia send to him. Currently he was searching for patterns, anything that would offer clues leading to the identity of a suspect or suspects. He needed a solid and tangible lead to follow, a real suspect to target, and he needed it yesterday. Curiously, the same strange DNA pattern was present in one of the case files from Victorian police. The perpetrator who had killed Amanda Simms was definitely the same one that Victorian police had been seeking years ago.

Becker had been dead right when it came to the police. Any time Marks mentioned the doctor’s name it was met with derision. They all thought he was crazy with his constant vampire theories and they literally paid him no heed. Maybe that was the sole reason why all these cases - covering four Australian states now - remained unsolved?

Marks was determined to change those statistics and get all of these cases, current and cold, solved once and for all time.

Thirty Six

Ryan drove his old Ford up the winding, sloping driveway. It was lined with a mixture of gum trees, pines and palms and looked a little unkept. A three-car lockup garage appeared before him. The door was down so he pulled to a stop on the bitumen outside and killed the engine. Before he got out he double-checked the pistol in its holster beneath his left armpit. The bite of the cold steel felt comforting. He had a sports jacket on to conceal the weapon.

Feeling a little apprehensive, Ryan climbed a short flight of stairs and stepped onto a small verandah. The brown timber entrance door stood before him and he could see lights burning inside the house. He lifted his hand, hesitated for just a second, then knocked loudly on the door.

He only had to wait a few seconds before he heard footsteps approaching on the other side. A lock clicked, the door opened and swung silently inwards, revealing a very beautiful Selena Thorne standing there, smiling and dressed all in black. He noted she had the gloves on again.

“Thank you for coming all the way out here, Ryan,” she said sweetly. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but I was never going into the club tonight.”

“No problem,” he said, trying not to show the apprehension that had built up inside him. “Is Bliss not open tonight?”

“Oh, it’s open,” she assured him. “I just needed a break.”

Ryan glanced casually about, taking in the living area, dining room and adjoining kitchen. He saw the door leading into the garage and the staircase heading up to the first floor. His eyes paid particular attention to the unusual setup of the blinds.

“Nice place,” he commented lightly.

“Please.” Selena extended a hand to an armchair. “Have a seat.” Ryan sat and Selena seated herself adjacent to him on a matching lounge. She studied him a moment and then said, “I know I promised you your money tonight, but I’ve just found out that I don’t quite have everything I need.”

Ryan was at first bemused, then felt tendrils of distrust crawl through him like roots. “What do you mean exactly? You told me only an hour ago that I’d gotten you what you wanted.”

“I know, and I apologize, but I’ve only just found this out since our earlier phone conversation.”

Ryan sighed. “So what is it you need now, Selena?” He offered her the hard stare that she usually gave others.

“The good doctor has developed a certain vaccine that I need to acquire. It’s called APHV.” She studied him again and Ryan could feel the thoughts in his mind being sucked out as if an invisible vacuum cleaner had somehow been attached to his brain. “I know you’ve heard of it, Ryan. You’ve seen Doctor Becker’s files and you’ve had an expert explain them to you. There’s no point denying it. I can read your mind.”

She was smiling curiously at him, and something about the smug look on her face made him feel like drawing his gun and shooting her in the head.

“That won’t do you any good,” she said. “I can’t be killed by a bullet. You know what I am, so just admit it and accept it.”

“I suspect something,” he said slowly, “but you might just be totally delusional.”

“You want proof?” she challenged, her voice now taking on the same hard edge it had that night at the cafe in Broadbeach.

“Sure,” Ryan was skeptical. “Why not?”

As he watched his eyes widened in fascination. In an almost imperceptible way Selena’s facial features altered. Her eyes seemed to vibrate, then roll back in their sockets. Her eyelids closed, and when she opened them again she was staring right at him, the black irises now having taken on a slightly golden sheen. They were a cocktail of both life and venom. Her lips parted as if to smile and she exposed two long, razor-sharp fangs. Selena opened her mouth wide and hissed at him. Ryan sank back into the chair in an involuntary action. His head spun and his nerves tingled with adrenalin. Now he did reach for his gun, unsnapped the clip and withdrew it from the holster.

“What the fuck are you?” he said, holding the gun in both hands and aiming it in her direction.

“You know what I am,” she said calmly. “And I already told you. That gun will do you no good at all against me.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t try my luck and shoot you anyway.”

Ryan was trying desperately hard to stop his hands from shaking and hold the pistol steady. Most of all he didn’t want Selena Thorne the vampire to know he was deathly afraid.

“I don’t want to kill you, Ryan,” Selena assured him. “Right now I need you.”

“What’s to stop me just saying I’ll do what you want, then walk out of here and you never see me again?”

“You could do that.” Selena’s fangs slipped back into her jaw and her eyes returned to their usual ebony state. “But I can always find you at any time.” She stood up. “Follow me and I’ll show you a much better reason for compliance with my wishes.”

He tailed her upstairs and down a short hallway, where she paused in front of a closed door. Selena knocked lightly and the door opened.

“This is my brother, Travis,” she said and Ryan took in the appearance of the tall and gangly youth. “And lying asleep on the bed there is his girlfriend, Chelsea.”

Ryan looked and his heart leaped into his mouth. He couldn’t believe this. His sister was asleep in a house full of vampires.

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded. He still held the gun and once more he had the urge to shoot either Selena or her brother in the head.

“Nothing. She’s just sleeping.” Selena nodded at Travis and he closed the door again. Ryan followed her back down to the living room “You want her to stay okay, I presume, being your sister and all.”

“So now you’re threatening me to get what you want,” Ryan spat. “Wouldn’t it have been easier all round just to pay me to do it like we’d already agreed?”

“Come, Ryan. I know you’re not that stupid, and I definitely know I’m not. You know all about us now, whether you’d shown up here tonight or not. I can’t just pay you some money and hope you’ll go away quietly. I’m not a fool.”

“Then why involve me in the first place?” he wanted to know.

“Unfortunately we vampires are restricted to night time. The legend is true that we can’t go out in daylight or it will kill us.” She sat down on the lounge. Ryan remained standing. She looked up at him and smiled. “Kind of makes it hard to get certain tasks done when you can only move around at night. I’m sure you understand.”

“So you always planned to hold me to ransom with my sister,” he said flatly.

“Not at all. Chelsea was an added, last minute bargaining chip. Until yesterday I had no idea my little brother was even dating anyone, and I only found out tonight that she was your sister. How fortuitous for me.”

“Either way, my sister or myself was going to end up dead so you could achieve your goals. What do you want with this serum anyway?”

Selena told him and Ryan gave her the same argument that Travis had.

“That’s enough with the questions,” Selena dismissed him. “You have until midnight tomorrow night to bring the vaccine to me or...” She paused dramatically. “I’ll let you guess the rest.”

Thirty Seven

The car swerved hard to the left as Ryan took a bend way too fast. He was majorly pissed off right now. He knew this was all too good to be true. The amount of money offered should have been the first clue to that.

His mind was racing, both with anger and confusion. Tonight he’d discovered that vampires were no longer a figment of the imagination of fiction writers and movie producers. They weren’t a myth, nor an urban legend. They were real and his sister was caught up in the midst of them. All he could think about was saving Chelsea.

“Damn you, Chelsea!” he said and angrily thumped the steering wheel with his fist. She was a smart girl and should have known better. Then again, he hadn’t picked that Selena was what she was, either. He was older and should have been wiser.

Enough with beating myself up, he silently chastised himself. It wasn’t going to achieve anything, and it certainly wasn’t going to do his sister any good.

Ryan braked hard as he came up to a sharp right-hand turn. The car skidded and slewed around the bend. He accelerated out the other side and sped along a straight stretch of road.

And who was this punk, Travis? Where the hell did he magically appear from, and why, out of all the girls on the Gold Coast, did he happen to choose Ryan’s sister to go out with?

Too many questions and not enough answers. Wasted thinking in the end. Focus on what had to be done and what he did have control over, he told himself.

A thought occurred to him and he slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop on the side of the quiet road. He whipped his phone from his pocket, searched his recent calls list and pressed on the number of Angela Cartwright. Hopefully he wouldn’t be interrupting her during an awkward moment at this time of the evening. But what real choice did he have anyway? He needed to ask her something and he didn’t have much time.

“Ryan!” she said brightly into the phone. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

“Hi, Angela. Sorry to interrupt your evening, but I really need another favour as soon as you can. I’ve got a bit of an emergency. I’ll explain later.”

“You need more info from Becker’s files?” Angela deduced.

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble. I can access them all here at home. What do you need to know?”

“That vaccine, whatever it was called.”

“APHV.”

“That’s it. I need to know where Becker has some samples of it. I need to get my hands on some.”

“You’re going to steal it?”

“If I can. I have too. I don’t have any choice. Like I said, I’ll explain it all another time.”

“Okay. I’m on it. I’ll call you back when I know something.”

“Thanks, Angela. You’re a good friend.”

“A friend who’s been waiting ages for you to ask her out on another date,” she confided openly.

Her candid admission took Ryan by surprise. “Really? I thought you were happy with the friends thing?”

“I am, but it’s not totally satisfying. When I look back I realize you and I had a good thing going. I think it might be worth rekindling and see if it goes to a deeper level.”

He smiled despite his current predicament. “I’m very tempted. We’ll see. I’ll have to get back to you on that one as well, once I’ve sorted this mess out.”

“Okay. I’ll hang up now and get you what you need and call you back. Bye.”

Ryan tossed the phone down on the passenger seat, gunned the motor and sped off. As he rounded another bend, he didn’t see the large pothole until it was too late. The left front tyre collected it flush and burst on impact. The steering wheel was wrenched from his grasp and the car went out of control, running off the road and down a ditch. It only stopped when it crashed headlong into a tree.

Fortunately Ryan had his seatbelt on, but the collision still caused his head to bang hard against the driver’s side window. His eyes spun around like tops and his neck twisted at an awkward and unnatural angle. Just before he passed out, the last sound he heard was steam hissing from the busted radiator.

*  *  *

Travis sat on his desk chair intently watching the bed. He was totally on edge and nervous about the events that were due to unfold. It had started just a few minutes ago. Tonight was not going to be a pleasant night for Chelsea.

He leaned over the bed and listened to her breathing. It was now quite labored, coming in short, ragged breaths. Beads of sweat leaked from her brow. The bare skin of her arms was also covered in a sheen of perspiration, and Travis knew from first-hand experience that that would be the case all over her body.

Although she appeared hot, she was shivering. The start of the turn was often like a fever. The pain would set in soon, followed by the nightmares and sense of loss as the human spirit fled her body.

At that moment Travis wished he could undo the process he’d set in motion. If he had Becker’s serum he’d probably inject it into her right now and hopefully stop the turn. She was going to go through hell over the next hour or two and there was not a thing he could do to make it any easier for her.

An hour later and the nightmares started. Chelsea’s eyes were shut tight, but Travis could see her eyeballs moving rapidly around beneath her eyelids. Strange sounds and gibberish came from her mouth. She tossed and turned, shivered and shuddered. Every now and then her body would suddenly go tense, as if zapped with high voltage electricity. It would then relax before being jolted stiff as a plank again.

The sweat never stopped. It poured from her face now and Travis was there with a towel to mop up the worst of it. He could feel heat radiating from her. That meant the human life had not yet left her body.

Occasionally she broke into a coughing fit. Her eyes fluttered open several times, only to clamp tightly shut once more as the field of bad dreams enveloped her. Her body was wracked with pain and she kept contracting into the fetal position. Her facial features were contorted into a portrait of sheer agony. Travis watched as the colour gradually drained from her skin until it was left a whiter shade of pale. The human life force had left her now. The nightmares and fever were rapidly subsiding. Within another half an hour all the symptoms had vanished completely. Even the wound on her neck was completely healed without a trace.

It had taken several hours for Chelsea to turn, but it was finally over.

*  *  *

Ryan awoke to the sound of his mobile phone ringing. He opened his eyes and immediately felt dizzy. Coagulating blood ran down the right side of his face from a gash on his temple. His head ached and so did his neck.

He unsnapped the seatbelt, groaned as he moved his stiff and painful body, and searched the car for his phone. It was no longer on the passenger seat where he’d left it, but it was still ringing. Sounded like it might have fallen down the side of the passenger seat. Ryan leaned over and felt for it with his hand. By the time he’d retrieved it, the caller had given up.

A message saying there was one missed call appeared on the screen. Ryan accessed his recent calls list and saw it was Angela that had been trying to call. He sighed with sudden exhaustion, slipped the phone in his pocket, creaked the car door open and fell out onto the ground.

How long he’d been out to it, he didn’t know. He sat up, took a few deep breaths, then got unsteadily to his feet. The sensation of vertigo gripped him and he held onto the side of the car for support until it had passed. That took a little while. His head still throbbed and his neck was extremely stiff whenever he tried to turn his head in any direction. When he felt like he could stand without falling over, Ryan walked around the front of the car. It was now shaped like a V, with the trunk of a gum tree smack bang in the middle of it. He was lucky he hadn’t been killed, he now realized. It was his own fault for driving like an idiot.

He looked up at the black sky and saw lightning flash way off in the distance. A storm was on the way.

What to do?

He pulled out his phone and called Angela back.

“Are you all right? I tried calling you before. I have that information you wanted.”

“Are you busy, Angela? I’m so sorry to ask, but I’m in a bit of a bind and really need just one more favour.”

“You’re pushing your luck now, Ryan,” she said, but he could tell by her tone that she was smiling on the other end of the line.

Ryan filled her in on what had happened and did his best to explain where he was located. “If you could pick me up that’d be awesome.”

“Of course I will. Stay put and I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll leave right now.”

“Thanks, Angela.”

“Do you want me to call a tow truck for you?” she suggested.

“No. I’ll sort that out tomorrow or sometime. Right now I just need to get out of here.”

“I’m on my way.”

*  *  *

“How are you feeling?” Travis asked Chelsea.

She was now awake and sitting up in bed. The sweats were gone, as was all her body temperature. She was as cold as he was.

“I feel okay,” she said softly. “I think.” Her head hurt and she voiced that.

“It’ll pass in a little bit,” her boyfriend assured her.

“I feel really hungry, but I don’t want food.” She looked at him, feeling confused. “Does that make sense?”

He smiled. “It certainly does. You need to feed. You need blood, Chelsea.”

For some strange reason that proposition didn’t turn her stomach or make her nauseous. In fact it had the opposite affect on her. It awoke in her a deep craving for exactly that. Warm, fresh blood.

“Can I feed now?” she asked hopefully.

Travis was still smiling. “Of course. I’m a bit hungry myself. We’ll go out and hopefully find us a nice juicy kangaroo.”

Selena was watching TV down in the living room when they walked by, through the kitchen and exited the house through the back door. Selena just glanced at Chelsea with a knowing look and a slight smirk.

The first thing Chelsea noticed when they were outside was lightning flashing above the nearby hills. The distant rumble of thunder reached her ears. It was dark out, but everything was surprisingly clear. She was feeling good, apart from the gnawing urge to drink some blood.

Travis led her past an old barn and into the forest and it wasn’t long before he’d picked up the scent of a large animal. Chelsea, being a novice at this, was happy to let him trek the animal and capture it for her. While she followed Travis through the forest she practiced tuning into her newly-enhanced senses. Everything was amplified if she wanted it to be; eyesight, hearing, sense of touch, smell, and especially her instincts and intuitive faculties. It was like being human in a way, only everything was increased tenfold.

With a rapid motion that rendered him a blur, Travis darted off and launched himself into a swan dive. Chelsea heard, rather than saw, him crashing to the ground. As he wrestled with the beast it started to grunt and squeal and she realized he’d nabbed a pig. She rushed to his side. She’d been hoping for kangaroo, as he’d told her it was the richest and most satisfying blood next to human, but the pig would do. She just needed to feed and feed now.

He held it still for her. His hand clamped its jaws shut, reefing the head back to expose the throat for her. His other arm was wrapped tightly around its bulbous midsection.

Chelsea didn’t really have to do anything. It all happened naturally when the lust for blood overcame her. She felt the fangs start to extend from her upper jaw and it was an awesome sensation, one of pure power.

She knelt to the ground and buried those fangs into the beast’s throat without hesitation. The sharp points easily burst through the pig’s soft flesh. Blood rushed into the hollow tubes within her teeth and she sucked hard. Aided by the animal’s slowly fading heartbeat, the blood pumped out of the pig and into Chelsea’s body.

Within minutes it was all over. The pig was dead but Chelsea was very much alive.

“You’re now truly one of us,” Travis said with a smile.

Thirty Eight

It was nearly forty five minutes later before Angela found Ryan and picked him up. She drove him back to his Surfers apartment and joined him upstairs for a drink.

While she made some bourbons, Ryan went into his bathroom and cleaned the blood off his face. He checked the wound and decided it didn’t need a doctor’s attention. It would heal fine on its own, but probably leave a scar. He took a quick shower, letting hot water run over his stiff neck to try and loosen it up a little. It did help. After spraying on some cologne, he dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt, then padded barefoot back out to the living room.

Angela, dressed in tight black jeans and a red top, was standing out on the balcony taking in the view by night. She had her drink in hand as she leaned on the rail. Ryan’s bourbon was waiting for him on the outdoor table. He picked it up and took a sip. It was ice cold as it slid down his throat. Combined with the warm bite of the bourbon it was a unique and pleasurable sensation.

When Angela took a seat beside him, Ryan said, “I think I’d better tell you exactly what’s going on, though I doubt you’ll believe it at first.”

Ryan went on to relate the tale to Angela from start to finish. He filled her in on Selena Thorne and all his dealings with her, his troubles with Chelsea, and finished off with tonight’s events that led up to him finding himself crashed in a ditch. To Angela’s credit she didn’t interrupt him once. She just listened patiently and let him talk it out. Even when he told her that vampires were a real entity, she didn’t scoff or ridicule and barely raised a dubious eyebrow. She was all class and he appreciated that.

Ryan went to get fresh drinks. When he brought them back outside and had gotten comfortable in his seat again, he looked at Angela and said, “So, what do you think about all that?”

Angela didn’t reply for a moment. She sipped her drink while she absorbed everything he’d just narrated to her.

“If you’re thinking I don’t believe you, you’re wrong,” she said eventually. “I know you’re not a liar and you’re certainly not delusional. If you’d said all this took place after your head knock, I might have been a lot more skeptical.” She sighed and took another sip of bourbon and Coke. “I’m having difficulty letting it truly sink in, though, I must admit. Who would have thought that these creatures really do exist?”

“Oh, they do. There’s no doubt now, and my little sister’s caught up with them all. I’ve got to get her away from them. I really need to get my hands on this serum, or vaccine, or whatever label you want to put on it.”

“Even if you do, surely you’re not just going to hand it over to this Selena woman?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. All I know is that I should get some anyway. That’s what my gut is telling me to do and I always follow it. So, did you find out where I can get some samples?”

Angela nodded her pretty head, her dark hair floating about her face as a light sea breeze gently caressed its way across the balcony. “There’s some in cold storage in Brisbane.”

“Brisbane,” Ryan repeated. “That’s good. Much closer destination than Sydney or Melbourne. Does it need to be kept refrigerated?”

“Only for long storage,” she told him. “It doesn’t need to be kept constantly chilled to a certain temperature.”

“What’s it made of, do you know?”

“I kind of do, but if I explained the intricacies of it to you it would just go straight over your head.”

“Fair enough. I guess I don’t really need to know anyway, I just need to know that it will do what Becker claims it will do.”

“So Becker’s not as insane as we first thought,” Angela noted.

“No. It ends up he’s the sanest of the lot, and everyone else is either just too stupid or narrow-minded to lend him an ear.”

Angela went deep in thought for a minute of two and, during the stretch of silence, Ryan occupied himself by drinking his bourbon. By the time he’d drained his glass she finally spoke again.

“I think I might be able to help you get your hands on Doctor Becker’s vaccine,” she said. “Whether you can pull it off is on your capable shoulders, but I just might be able to get you an in.”

“Any help would be greatly appreciated.”

“Why don’t you just go to the police?” she suggested.

He held up his hands. “And tell them what exactly?”

She thought about that a moment, then dropped the idea. “Okay. We’ll go with your plan. But you can’t let on at any time, even if you happen to get caught, that I helped you with this. Okay?”

“My lips are sealed. I solemnly swear.”

“I could think of better things to do with your lips,” she said, her own lips curling into a cheeky and seductive smile.

Ryan grinned. “I can’t say I’m not tempted. I’m just worried about ruining our great friendship.”

“I know. I’ve thought about that too, believe me, but I’ve also often wondered if you and I could have really made something of us; something beyond friendship and lust.”

“True romance?” Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” She fixed him with her sexy gaze. “I think we have all the necessary ingredients to have something really special.”

“I’m not playing hard to get,” he assured her. “Really, I’m not. Just let me get this current problem dealt with first and then we’ll talk.”

She nodded. “Okay. I’m happy with that. But at the very least, after all the help I’m giving you, you owe me a couple of nice dinners. And maybe throw in a show at the casino for good measure while you’re at it. Maybe by then you’ll see what a great match up we really are.”

*  *  *

Selena moved stealthily through the forest. Silent movement was one of her gifts and it helped her to keep a tail on her brother and his new friends without being detected.

She didn’t trust Michael, felt she barely knew him anymore, and she certainly didn’t trust his playmates. They’d only just settled here and she so didn’t feel like going through the hassle of having to pack up and move again. That process was difficult enough for humans. It was much more of a drama for a vampire, especially when one was restricted by daylight. Everything had to be planned to perfection and the timing had to go like clockwork. On top of everything else, the use of humans to help was always required, and that risked exposure.

“I don’t want to sneak around and pick off fuckers that nobody’s gonna miss.” It was Paul’s voice, with its heavy British accent, that Selena could hear. “We’re vampires. We rule the world. We should be going out there and kicking their arses and letting them know who’s boss.”

“Shut up, fool!” Michael snapped. “Or I’ll shut you up permanently and take your cute little girly friend for myself.”

“You wouldn’t,” Paul challenged.

“I could and I would. Isn’t that right, Kelly?”

Selena heard no response from Kelly. The girl was probably way too afraid of Michael to open her mouth. Her boyfriend was really pushing it with her brother, though. Michael was right. The guy was a fool.

“Why are you in charge anyway?” Paul wanted to know.

The guy just doesn’t know when to shut up, Selena thought as she crept through the forest about forty metres behind them.

“Because I’m your maker,” Michael said, surprisingly calmly. “Everything you can do I can do ten times better. The strong are always in charge. That’s just the way it is and the way it’s always been. So either live with it, or die by my hand. Your choice.”

Michael must have finally got his point across, for Paul didn’t utter another word for the next twenty minutes.

Selena maintained her distance the entire time, moving silently as always, but keeping the trio in her sights at all times. She was careful not to rustle any bushes as she swept through the forest like a spirit in the night. Her eyesight was superb, even better than Michael’s. She just wished she’d been given the gift of flight like he had. That ability would be magnificent.

The three up ahead crossed a road and walked down a rutted dirt driveway. Lightning flashed, illuminating the trio like three ghosts in the dark. Thunder cracked nearby. The storm was almost upon them now. A stiff wind picked up as Selena darted across the lonely road. She crouched behind a clump of shivering bushes, looked ahead, then moved quietly along the driveway, keeping to the undergrowth along its left edge. The road curved gradually to the right. As Selena rounded the bend she saw a farm house. Out front was parked a four wheel drive utility with a cement mixer in the back. Beneath a carport rested a black Holden of some description.

Michael was standing on the porch, while Paul and Kelly lingered near the carport. No lights burned within the house. Those that were home had obviously retired for the night.

Selena sneaked behind a grove of trees just to the left of the carport and waited. She saw Paul sniff the air. He looked all around, but failed to spot her. Kelly just stood quietly at her boyfriend’s side. Michael was trying to pry a window open. It was old, made of wood and glass. It creaked and groaned and threatened to shatter.

“The hell with this,” he said and walked back to the front door. Standing about two feet away from it, he lifted his right leg and kicked the door in. It flew off its hinges and crashed inside the house.

So much for being discreet, Selena thought gravely.

Michael stepped inside. Paul and Kelly glanced at each other. Paul grinned, grabbed her by the hand and dragged her in.

“Feeding time!” he said happily.

When she heard a blood curdling scream come from within the house, Selena slipped in through the shattered front entrance way just as thunder cracked viciously overhead. The first heavy drops of rain fell from the night sky and pattered on the rusted tin roof. Wind tore through the valley and frequent lightning flashes lit up the windows. She slithered down a hallway, not needing to be as quiet now that her presence was covered by the sounds of screaming, struggling and the ravenous slurping of fresh blood.

“This is better than an orgasm,” Paul said as he stepped out of a bedroom, blood dripping from his chin and his eyes crazy with lust. “I want another one. How many live in this house?”

When he disappeared into another room, Selena crept forward and poked her head around a corner, peering through an open doorway that led into a bedroom. There the body of a teenage boy lay on the floor. Kneeling on the floor beside him was Kelly, her jaws clamped onto the throat of a lifeless young woman with fiery red hair. Kelly didn’t notice Selena. She was too intent on sucking every drop of blood from the corpse that she could.

Selena moved on, quickly ducking past the bedroom where Paul had gone to find another victim. She came to the end of the hall and went left. She found herself outside the master bedroom. Glancing around the door frame she saw her brother leaning over the bed. A woman lay there already dead and Michael was about to feed on her husband. He wasn’t moving. Presumably Michael had rendered him unconscious first.

“Come in and join me, Selena,” he said softly, as if he had eyes in the back of his head. He never turned around, but somehow knew she was there.

“You’re supposed to be discreet, Michael,” Selena snapped.

“I know why you’re here.” Now he did twist his head to face her. His jaw was covered in gore. When he smiled she saw blood dripping from his fangs. “I know why you’re here,” he repeated.

“Oh? And why’s that? Why am I here, Michael?”

“Because you want some of this action,” he said, a knowing glint in his blue eyes. “You crave human blood, I know you do. You’ve had it before. We’re like sharks. Once we get a taste, it never goes away.”

“That’s you, not me.”

“Stay in denial then. I know you want it.” He nodded down at the unconscious man he held in his arms. “Come and have this one. He’s young and nice and fresh. You’ll like him.”

Selena felt her mouth salivate at the thought of clamping her needy fangs down onto that exposed throat and sucking the blood from the man. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her fangs sprang to life. As if in a hypnotic trance, she slowly stepped over to the bed and dropped to her knees. Michael maneuvered the man until his neck was within her reach.

“Take a bite,” he encouraged his sister. “Just one bite won’t hurt. Just suck a little blood if you want and I’ll finish him off.”

Selena wasn’t even listening to him anymore. His voice was indistinct, like it was way off in the distance somewhere. She bent forward and savagely bit into the man’s exposed throat. Blood gushed from the puncture wounds and channeled up her fangs. She slurped loudly as she sucked hard, desperate now to get that precious human blood into her system as quickly as possible. It had been so long. Self-depravation was no longer a good thing. She needed this and loved it.

When she’d finished she tilted her head back and hissed, spitting blood all over the white ceiling above as the storm raged outside.

From this point on she would never be content to drink anything but human blood.

Thirty Nine

Once again Detective Marks had endured a sleepless night, and once more he’d spent the night in his office. He was up until four in the morning poring over case files from interstate, searching for clues; anything that would pinpoint possible suspects.

After five hours of fitful dozing on the couch, his mobile phone had rung, alerting him to a house of horrors in Eagle Heights. A multiple homicide. Five dead. Marks knew the SOCOs would be there for quite some time processing that scene, so he delayed his arrival on site until well after midday.

A small tent city had been erected on the property. There were police cars, ambulances and unmarked vehicles parked on every available bit of land. News crews and other members of the media waited in the wings to capture any snippets of footage or bits of information that they could. As soon as Marks got out of his car he was accosted by several eager journalists. He brushed them aside like annoying flies. Even if he’d wanted to talk, he had nothing to tell them. Right now they probably knew more about the situation than he did.

He adjusted his sunglasses as he weaved his way through the myriad of vehicles, tents, equipment and people. There were still puddles on the ground from last night’s thunderstorm and the air was thick with humidity. All the while he scanned for Detective Scott Richards of CSU. Richards had been the one who had made the call to him earlier. He spotted him standing near a carport, tall and lanky, his blond hair glowing in the afternoon sunlight. Today he was dressed very casually in faded blue jeans, button-up beige shirt and had trainers tied to his feet.

The two detectives shook hands when they came together.

“Very grisly scene inside, David,” Richards gave him the heads up. “Prepare yourself when you go in there.”

Marks nodded and played with his goatee. “You said on the phone there are five bodies. Is that confirmed?”

“Yep. Sure is.”

“An entire family?”

“Not sure yet. Looks that way, but until official identifications are made, I can’t be certain. At this stage it’s just conjecture.”

“Fair enough. How much longer do you think the forensics guys will be?”

“Hard to say, really. They’ve been at it for over four hours already. Come with me.”

Marks followed Richards around the side of the house and into a tent, where coffee and biscuits were served. He realized he needed both. He’d only had the one coffee some hours ago and he hadn’t eaten a thing. His stomach was growling like an enraged animal.

He threw down a quick coffee that was supplied in a small, white plastic cup and chased it down with several shortbread biscuits. Marks drank one more coffee, then left the tent just as Chris Saunders was exiting through the gaping hole where the front door had once been.

“What have we got?” Marks asked him, not bothering with the usual pleasantries.

Saunders looked tired, his eyes red and a little glazed. “Five deceased. Two teenagers, one male one female, a young woman, and what looks like a couple, or husband and wife, in the master bedroom.”

“Any similarities to the other cases?”

“Yeah, just about everything. Same throat lesions. One guy has been decapitated. The teenage girl had her stomach ripped open and the contents spewed all over the carpet. Very little blood, though. Seems like the blood was sucked from their bodies before any of the mutilation took place.”

“Can I go in?” Marks asked.

“Sure thing. I’ll show you through.”

With Detective Scott Richards in tow, Marks followed Saunders into the house. The other SOCOs were just finishing up processing the scene and packing up their gear. Saunders led the way into the first bedroom.

Two bodies lay on the floor and, as Saunders had already pre-warned, the girl had been disemboweled. Intestines lay strewn over the carpet like sausage. The first thing Marks did was check their throats, where there were indeed those all-too-familiar puncture wounds. They moved into another bedroom where a young woman was dead on her bed. There was light blood spray on the white wall beside the bed and some blood was left in a trickle pattern across the sheets. Marks checked her neck and nodded.

In the master bedroom things looked more macabre. The male victim’s head had been ripped from his body, very similar to the Toby Matthews case. Beside him on the bed, next to the wall, was a woman. Apart from a bruise to the left cheek and the wounds on the throat, she looked basically unharmed in any other way. In this room there was blood splatter on the ceiling, and Marks looked to Saunders for elaboration.

“It appears to have been sprayed up there,” Saunders said, “as if spat from someone’s mouth.”

Marks screwed up his nose at the morbid visual that statement gave him.

“Any prints?” he quizzed.

“Plenty. As you would expect with five people in the house. But we’ll check them all and run them through the database, as per usual.” Saunders looked at Marks in earnest. “The body count is mounting rapidly, David.”

“Tell me about it. It’s all on my shoulders and I can feel the weight of it, believe me. We just need a fucking break here.” A gut feeling had been gnawing at him since yesterday. “I think we’re on the verge of a breakthrough, though. I really think we’re getting close to nailing someone for these murders.”

*  *  *

The Brisbane subsidiary of the Research Institute was located on the south side of the city, right next door to the QHSS building. Ryan parked the rental car out of the way in a space around the side of the building. He got out dressed very similar to how he and Jack Jones had been attired when they’d infiltrated the Melbourne unit; grey trousers, black shoes and a white lab coat. Ryan pinned an ID badge to his coat and slung his make believe credentials around his neck.

Angela had been a great help. She’d supplied him with the clothing and ID, and had even managed to locate exactly where the APHV was kept in the building.

By the time everything was organized and Ryan had hooked up the rental car and driven to Brisbane, it was two in the afternoon as he walked across the car park and headed for the entrance doors. He went in the front way this time, not bothering with the cloak and dagger approach used down south with Jack.

There were two security guys in the foyer. One of them glanced briefly at the credentials that hung around Ryan’s neck, then turned away, seemingly satisfied that Ryan was meant to be there. Ryan skirted right around the curved reception desk and headed for the elevators, following the mental instructions he had burned into his memory. An empty elevator was already waiting for him and he stepped inside, riding it to the third basement level; the lowest level in the building. The ride was uninterrupted, and when it stopped and the heavy steel doors slid open, he walked out into a tiled corridor where everything was white and very sterile. Once again there was that strange potpourri of smells that he couldn’t distinguish.

No one was in the corridor, and the place was more of a storage level rather than a level in which doctors, scientists and professors actively worked on. Ryan followed the layout in his head and made for a room way down the back of the building. He arrived at a locked door with a small glass window set into it at eye level. Peering into the room he saw refrigerated cabinets and a stainless steel bench in the centre. From a pocket in his lab coat he withdrew a swipe card and ran it through the slot beside the door handle. A green light gave him the go ahead to open the door. He did so and stepped inside, where he was greeted with a cold blast of air.

Angela knew the vaccine samples were kept in this room, but she wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly where in the room they were, so it was a matter of opening each refrigerator and manually going through what was inside.

The first compartment yielded nothing, as did the second. However, when Ryan searched the third fridge he got lucky. It was as he was stuffing vials of APHV into his pockets that he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door.

*  *  *

Marks was still at the Eagle Heights crime scene when he received a phone call from a detective friend in Brisbane. He listened to the conversation on the other end with extreme interest, then got in his car and made a beeline for the motorway.

All the way to Brisbane he weaved in and out of traffic, impatient to get to his destination and see what this guy could tell him about his cases. By the time he skidded to a stop outside the precinct it was after four in the afternoon. The sun was slowly dropping towards the western horizon and twilight would be settling over the area in just on two hours from now.

*  *  *

Ryan was led into an interview room, where he waited for five minutes before a detective, dressed in clothes that looked like they had been slept in, entered the room and took a seat on the opposite side of the large scarred wooden table. The overhead lights reflected off the man’s bald head.

“I’m Detective David Marks,” the bald man introduced himself. “I’m a Homicide Detective for Gold Coast CIB.” He glanced at some notes he’d spread out in front of him. “And you are Ryan Fox, a local private investigator down on the Coast. Is that right?” Ryan nodded. “Is that why you’re up here breaking into science labs? Are you currently working a case?”

“That’s correct,” Ryan said. He was sizing up Detective Marks. He knew the man was the one in charge of investigations into the recent spate of murders on the Gold Coast. He was trying to decide how much the man knew and whether he could trust him enough to enlist his help. Time was running out. It would be dark soon.

“I’m curious,” Marks said. He sat there stroking his goatee as he spoke. “Why were you trying to steal vials of APHV? You must have had a reason to go after that specifically. Was it a client request?”

“It was,” Ryan admitted, “but I don’t know if I can tell you the story. I doubt whether you would believe me.”

“Don’t be so sure about that, Mr Fox. I don’t think anything would surprise me anymore.”

Ryan decided he had no choice but to tell the detective everything he knew. If he didn’t, they would just keep him locked up overnight at the very least. Then there would be no chance of saving his sister. At least if he confided in Marks there was some semblance of hope.

For the next half an hour Ryan filled Marks in on everything he knew, from the start of his association with Selena Thorne, right up to why he was there in Brisbane stealing APHV. He related the story as quickly as he could. When he was done, Marks sat there staring at him with what looked like an expression of immense satisfaction. Ryan hadn’t been expecting that response.

“Okay,” Marks said with a nod. “Now I’d better tell you what I know.”

Forty

“We’re running out of time,” Ryan protested as he watched the sun dip behind the mountains in the west. He was being driven back to the Gold Coast in Marks’ Falcon. Detective Marks had arranged for Ryan’s rental car to be returned to the nearest depot of the rental company.

“If we’re going to save your sister, Ryan, then we’ll need some help. I don’t think we can do it with just the two of us.”

“Your superintendent is never going to give you the resources you want when you tell him why,” Ryan was adamant.

Marks seemed to mull this over.

After hearing everything Marks knew and they put both lots on information together, the detective released Ryan from the custody of Brisbane police and together they’d gone back to the Research Institute to retrieve Becker’s serum samples, as well as some handy little injector guns.

By the time they arrived at Marks’ Southport precinct, twilight was almost succumbing to full dark. Ryan checked his watch and saw that it was just shy of six thirty. Five and a half hours until Selena’s deadline.

“Wait here,” Marks said to Ryan. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where am I gonna go?” Ryan was incredulous. “I need your help.”

Ryan then sat in the car for an excruciating half an hour before Detective Marks finally returned. The expression on the man’s face didn’t fill Ryan with a warm and fuzzy, positive feeling. Marks climbed back in behind the wheel and let out the longest sigh Ryan had ever heard in his life.

“No go,” the detective said, his eyes looking very tired. “He won’t give us any manpower. Now he just thinks I’ve lost my mind or something, cracked under the pressure of a heavy caseload. But I’m allowed to make as many arrests as I want. Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be an option.”

He sat there pondering for a bit while Ryan wriggled around in his seat impatiently. Marks eventually pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up outside a house in suburban Arundel. A tall and lanky blond man came scurrying across the lawn and climbed into the back seat.

“Ryan,” Marks said. “This is Detective Scott Richards. He’s agreed to help us out.” Marks drove off. “You’re not going to believe this, Scott, but I’ll tell you anyway.”

As the car made its way west of the Gold Coast and out towards Guanaba, Marks and Ryan filled Richards in on everything that had happened and was likely about to happen. As expected Richards didn’t look like he believed the part about vampires, but to his credit he was still enthusiastic about lending a hand.

They made a pit stop at a local hardware store that was open until late. There they purchased some lengths of wooden doweling, a small saw, some rubber mallets and three very sharp knives. Out in the car park the three set to work cutting the dowel into fifteen inch lengths and whittling the ends into sharp points.

“That’s how you kill a vampire, isn’t it?” Marks said. “A wooden stake through the heart?”

“Do they have hearts?” Richards wanted to know.

“Good question,” Ryan said.

Marks opened the boot of his car and emptied the contents of a small sports bag. He then filled it with the stakes and mallets. The knives were kept on their persons. Marks then opened another bag that held the two injector guns and seven vials of APHV.

“Anyone game to inject themselves with this stuff?” he asked the others. Richards immediately shook his head and Ryan was reluctant to say the least. “Yeah, I’m not keen either,” Marks admitted. “For all we know it could be lethal.”

“So, what else kills vampires?” Richards said.

Ryan shrugged. “Garlic maybe?”

“I think that just repels them,” said Marks.

“Mirrors,” Richards put in.”

“I don’t think so,” Ryan said. “In movies I think vampires just have no reflection in mirrors.”

“So how do we know a stake through the heart will kill them?” Richards was curious.

“I guess we don’t until we try it,” Marks answered honestly.

Richards said, “We have guns.”

“I don’t think guns will kill them,” Ryan responded.

“But they might help slow them down,” Richards insisted. “Do you have a gun, Ryan?”

“I do, but not on me.”

“I also heard somewhere that if you rip off a vampire’s head it will die,” Richards went on.

“Any of us strong enough to do that?” Ryan pointed out.

Marks said, “They’re supposed to have super human strength or something. Is that right, Ryan?”

He shrugged. “The hell if I know? I do know that Selena Thorne can read minds. I’d assume they’re capable of all sorts of things that we aren’t.”

“Fire’s another thing,” Richards piped up after searching his memory. “Intense fire.”

“For what?” Marks demanded.

“Killing a vampire.”

“I’ve heard they can heal themselves really quickly,” Ryan said. “Like if you cut them or something, the wound heals up right before your eyes.”

Marks sighed. “We don’t know any of this for certain. All of these ideas are based on what we’ve all seen in movies or read in books. Fiction. If these things are real like Ryan and Becker claim, then who knows what can really do them damage and what they’re immune to?”

“I don’t see why we can’t just inject them all with the vaccine,” said Richards. “Make them all human again.”

“We don’t know how many there are,” Ryan said. “And I don’t think it’ll be that easy to just walk up to one of them and hit it with the injector gun.”

“And we only have seven vials,” Marks reminded them. “I’m going back into the shop. We need a bit more gear.”

The three emerged from the hardware store for the second time twenty minutes later. Now they were armed with drums of methylated spirits, butane lighters with long stems that were used for lighting barbecues and fires, three small, but high-powered LED torches, a can of petrol and a small chainsaw. Once back at the car Marks filled the fuel chamber on the little garden chainsaw with petrol and sealed it off with the cap.

It was now closing in on eight o’clock and Ryan was keen to make a move. As both Marks and Richards removed the clips from their guns to ascertain they were full of bullets, Ryan urged, “Can we get going now?”

“Sure thing.” Marks said.

He slammed his clip home and holstered the pistol. Richards did the same. Ryan wished he had his own gun with him. He took the chainsaw from the boot and nursed it on his lap as he sat back in the car. Marks resumed his position behind the wheel while Richards contorted his tall frame into the back seat.

The Ford continued west, heading towards Guanaba and the Thorne residence. Once they reached the general vicinity, Ryan guided Marks to the house.

It was as the car slowly snaked its way up the winding driveway that the attack happened.

Forty One

“It was a moment of weakness,” Selena said to her brother while she paced the living room.

Feeling quite relaxed himself, Michael watched her from his position on the lounge. “But the hunger’s still there for you. You know it is.”

“I’m not going hunting with you again, Michael. I’ve had my moment of madness and now I’m really regretting it.”

Michael leaped up from his seat and stood in front of her, staring at her eye to eye. “But you loved it. Admit it. How good do you feel right now because you’ve fed on a human again after all this time?”

Selena knew her brother was right in that regard. Tonight she felt better than she had done in years; stronger, more alive, more alert, and the deep-seated craving for more human blood was definitely there. She was trying desperately to resist Michael’s temptations to hunt more humans. She really didn’t want to go there again. It was like trying to quit a bad habit. You try so hard, but every now and then you falter. The main problem was, the underlying urge never really went away completely. It just lay dormant.

“I’m not going with you again, Michael,” she said firmly, staring hard at her brother.

“Since when did you become so self-righteous, anyway?” he wanted to know. “Last night you threatened to kill Travis’ girlfriend. He told me.”

Selena shook her head. “I never said that. I just hinted at it. I was never going to kill her. That was just a threat to make sure I got what I wanted. It’s you who is the killer. You and those two stupid English backpacker pets of yours.”

“At least they’re willing to go hunting with me,” Michael pointed out. “You’ve gotten really boring, Sis.”

“You just like having control over them,” Selena said. “Something you don’t have over me.”

Michael didn’t deny this. Instead, he said, “And you like having control over Travis and his little squeeze, making sure they stay as boring as you are. You’ve always had too much influence over our little brother.”

“Well, I’m a better role model for him than you are.” Selena raised her chin proudly and defiantly. “Being the eldest I’ve always been in charge since the loss of our parents.”

“No. You just think you’re the boss. Not anymore, Selena. I’m taking over. From now on Travis and his girlfriend are going to do things my way.”

“Over my dead body.”

Michael smiled maliciously. “If you want it that way,” he challenged. He headed towards the stairs.

“Where are you going?” his sister demanded.

That wicked smile was still stitched across his face. “To get Travis and Chelsea. They’re coming out with me tonight so I can show them what being a vampire is really all about.”

*  *  *

They came out from behind the trees that lined the driveway and stood in the middle of the road, effectively blocking the Ford’s progress. Marks slammed on the brakes a moment late, taken completely by surprise at the sudden intrusion. The front of the car bumped into the young man and woman as it skidded to a stop. They staggered backwards, but remained on their feet.

In the illumination of the headlights the pair bared their teeth. All three within the car saw the long and lethal fangs.

“Let’s play with them for a while,” the man said, speaking in a British accent.

“What the hell are they?” Richards said from the back seat, his jaw having dropped when he saw the fangs and his eyes bulging from their sockets.

Marks sat there stunned, his foot remaining planted on the brake pedal while the car idled. “They really are real,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

“I told you they were real,” Ryan said while fingering the handle of the chainsaw.

“Back up!” Richards yelled from the rear, his voice filled with fear of the unknown.

Marks put the automatic into reverse and backed away from the two vampires. He’d traveled perhaps only twenty metres when the male vampire gave chase and leaped over the top of the car. He landed on the other side and let Marks run into him. The collision sent the vampire flying off to the left like a skittled bowling pin while the Ford veered off to the right and crashed into a clump of dense bushes. Marks put the car in drive and the back wheels spun, not getting any purchase.

“Fuck!” he spat and thumped the steering wheel. He turned to look at Richards. “Get out and push.”

Richards was extremely reluctant to leave the safety of the vehicle, but in the end he obeyed the command from a superior officer and opened the door.

Ryan looked all around them, trying to see in the darkness. The girl had vanished from view and so had the guy. The impact would have seriously injured a normal person, but where the male vampire had landed, there was now just bare grass. He was gone. But where did he go?

By now Richards was behind the car and pushing as hard as he could to free the vehicle from the bushes while Marks gunned the engine. It was all to no avail. The tyres just kept spinning and the Ford went nowhere.

“I’m gonna help him,” Ryan decided and flung his door open.

The male vampire came like a gust of wind in the night. He knocked Ryan flat on his face on the damp ground. Dazed, Ryan got to his knees and heard a cry of pain coming from behind the car. Next thing he heard Marks get out of the car and race around to his friend’s aid.

Ryan got to his feet, still in a daze. He could hear a scuffle taking place at the rear of the Ford. Bushes were being trampled, bodies were slamming against the car. And there was this relentless, God-awful sucking, slurping sound that made Ryan’s blood run cold with fear and dread.

He reached into the seat and grabbed the handle of the chainsaw. Armed with the lethal garden tool, he went round the back of the car and was stunned to see Detective Richards locked up in the powerful grip of the vampire. The vampire’s head was buried in the detective’s neck and blood was dripping to the ground. Ryan saw Richards’ eyes roll back in his head and he looked like he was dead.

Marks, meanwhile, was trying with everything he had to wrestle the vampire free from his policeman friend. He gave up on that, picked up a heavy stick from the ground and started beating the creature about the head with it.

Ryan wrenched the starter cord on the chainsaw and the thing growled to life. He moved in quickly, knocked Marks aside and touched the spinning blade to the back of the vampire’s neck. The vampire stiffened in surprise. The saw severed through sinews and bone with ease and the head fell to the ground. Still standing momentarily, the body twitched and convulsed, then toppled over, taking Richards with it.

Marks wrenched the vampire’s arms free from Richards and quickly checked for a pulse. Ryan stood there, waiting expectantly, the saw still buzzing at idle speed. Marks looked up and Ryan, his face ashen, and shook his head.

Detective Scott Richards was dead.

Marks got to his feet and stood there staring down at his friend. He then aggressively kicked the head of the vampire and it rolled off into the forest like a soccer ball.

Ryan did a pirouette, wondering where that female vampire had got to. He scanned the trees along the edge of the driveway, then the forest behind the car. It was quite dark out with just a sliver of moon in the sky. He saw nothing, no movement. He trained his ears, but heard no telltale sounds of her presence either.

“I’m sorry, Detective,” Ryan offered and shook his head.

Marks waved him away. “No time for morbid sentiments right now. Let’s get up to the house and find your sister.”

Marks opened the car’s boot and retrieved both the sports bag and the smaller bag containing the vials and injector guns. He slung the bigger, heavier bag over his left shoulder and carried the other in his left hand. As he and Ryan - who was still armed with the chainsaw - made their way up the driveway, Marks slipped his hand beneath his jacket. It emerged holding the gun in a tight grip. The detective flicked off the safety.

Ryan kept an eye out all around, scanning the darkness for signs of the woman. From behind them, somewhere down near the car, came a scream of what sounded like extreme aguish. It was high-pitched and definitely female.

Both men turned towards the sound, Ryan brandishing the saw while Marks held the pistol out in front of him. They heard the rustling of bushes and feet thudding over soft earth. There was a blur of movement off to the right. It came at them so fast that Ryan couldn’t even focus his eyes on it. Next thing he knew Marks was flat on his back on the ground with the vampire on top of him. The impact caused him to pull the trigger of his gun and a bullet shot aimlessly into the night sky.

The vampire savagely ripped into the detective’s neck, slashing it to ribbons with its fangs. Marks was writhing around on the ground, trying to push the thing off him. The creature had claws for fingernails and she dug these into the policeman’s abdomen, ripping the skin open like it was made of tissue paper. Entrails fell out through the gaping wound.

Meanwhile Ryan was inflicting his own damage on the beast with the chainsaw. He hacked into the woman’s back, sliced off her left arm, then attacked the head at an angle, sawing the skull in half. Blood was everywhere, both from the vampire and from Marks. By the time Ryan had killed the vampire, Detective Marks was already dead.

Ryan stood there covered in gore, breathing hard, the chainsaw gripped tightly in both hands and throbbing with power. Two of his team down and he hadn’t even reached the house yet.

He was now all alone in his quest and felt overcome with guilt for getting two police officers killed. He stood there motionless for quite some time before finally getting a grip and taking further action.

Ryan picked up the bag containing the vaccine. He didn’t bother with the other bag. There was no more effective weapon than the little chainsaw. He also snatched up the detective’s gun and jammed it into his waistband. Slowly and stealthily he continued up the drive, keeping to the middle so he would have more time to respond should he be attacked. The house came into view and he could see lights on inside.

Who would be there? What was waiting for him? Was he about to meet an untimely death like Marks and Richards just had?

He brushed those thoughts from his mind as he scaled the steps to the verandah. There he paused, not certain what to do next. Should he knock on the door, or find a way to sneak inside? He chose the latter.

Silently he went back down the stairs, skirted the garage and walked around the side of the house. There he had to dodge several rubbish bins and copped a slap in the face from a tree branch. Behind the house there was dense forest. Anything could be lurking out there in the darkness, watching him and waiting for the right moment to pounce on him. An icy chill crawled down his spine.

He spied a pathway leading downhill through the forest. Ryan ignored the path and walked up the back steps in darkness to a small landing. He reached out and grabbed the doorknob. Just as he started to turn it, the door suddenly swung inwards and there stood Selena Thorne. Her expression was nondescript and Ryan couldn’t read anything from it.

“Come in, Ryan,” she invited and stepped aside. “I knew you were here.”

Feeling like there wasn’t much choice, Ryan stepped into the kitchen, the chainsaw still on idle. He continued on into the lounge room and sat down. Selena joined him and perched herself on the arm of a lounge.

“You can turn that off,” she said, nodding at the saw. “I’m not going to hurt you. Where are your friends?”

Ryan briefly summed up what had just taken place down on her driveway.

“They’re both dead,” he said. “The detectives, I mean.”

“And Paul and Kelly?”

“Them too.”

Selena looked strangely satisfied with that news. “They are no loss to me.”

“Where’s my sister?” Ryan said, raising his voice a few decibels. “Where’s Chelsea?”

Selena sighed and looked kind of tired, if that were possible for a vampire. “She’s not here and neither is Travis. Michael took them out hunting. I tried to stop him, but I’m not match for him, unfortunately.”

Ryan held up a hand. “Back up a bit. What do you mean hunting?”

Selena sighed again. “Chelsea’s been turned.” She then went on to relate the events of the past few days, about how her little brother was in love with his sister and she’d demanded he turn her so they could be together.

Ryan rubbed a hand over his face and tried to digest the knowledge that his seventeen year old sister was now a vampire, out on the hunt for human blood.

“You can’t be serious,” was all he could think of to say.

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” Selena offered. “And I was never going to harm your sister. That was just an empty threat last night. I just really needed to make sure you would get me the vaccine.” She looked at the bag he carried. “I see you’ve done that.”

Ryan held the bag close to him. “I’m not giving it to you, Selena. I might need it.”

He expected her to fire up and demand he hand it over, but her response surprised him.

“It’s all irrelevant now, anyway.” She shook her head, her expression rather sad. Ryan almost felt sorry for her. “Everything’s a mess. Michael’s actions have destroyed all of my plans. He’s drawn way too much heat on us. Now I have two dead detective’s lying in my driveway.” She shook her head again.

“Selena?” Ryan said softly. “I need to find my sister. Can you help me find her?”

She looked at him, her eyes dark and moist. “I’ll help you. It’s the least I can do.”

Forty Two

Michael had one arm wrapped tightly around his younger brother, while his other arm held Chelsea. He swooped to the left and came down for a gentle landing on a lonely stretch of country road. He let the two go and stood there with his hands on hips looking all around.

“It’s a beautiful night for hunting,” he said happily, a smile splitting his face, his blue eyes bright even in the darkness.

Chelsea didn’t share his jovial nature. She was scared to death; of him and of what he wanted her to do tonight. She knew Travis was just as repulsed by Michael’s plan as well.

“I can’t do it,” Travis protested.

“Sure you can. You’re a vampire. It comes naturally. Surely you don’t want to spend the rest of your life feeding on kangaroos and pigs. There’s nothing better than human blood, little brother. As you are about to find out.” He grinned again. “And you know what the best part is?” He glanced at Travis and Chelsea in turn. Chelsea meekly shook her head. “Feeding on the fear of the one you are about to kill. That is truly exhilarating. Trust me.”

Travis shook his head adamantly. “It’s just not me, Michael.”

Michael turned his attention to Chelsea. “And what about you, delectable one? Aren’t you salivating at the mouth in anticipation of sampling the real stuff?”

“Not really,” she replied, her voice quietly spoken for a change.

The smile finally slipped from Michael’s face. “What’s the matter with all you people? We’re vampires. We kill people and suck their blood. I should have left you two wimps at home and come out hunting with Paul and Kelly. At least they know how to party. You two disgust me.” He eyed them with contempt. “And so does Selena.”

“You’re different to us, Michael,” Travis said, his voice edgy with nerves. “You’ve always embraced the lifestyle. Selena and I haven’t.”

“Selena used to.”

“But not like you. She’s always been on the fence. Me? I’m way over the other side.”

“That’s because you’re a pussy,” Michael spat contemptuously. “Too busy chasing love and romance instead of accepting what you really are.”

“I’m just not like you,” Travis reiterated.

“Well, tonight you two have no choice. Either you join me in the hunt, or I kill you both. Up to you.”

He turned his gaze away from them and looked off into the forest. Both Chelsea and Travis eyed each other nervously. They were both afraid of Michael and knew he meant what he’d just said. He would kill them in an instant if they didn’t do as he asked. If they didn’t comply, Michael would just get rid of them and turn some new people to have control over and indulge his sadistic nature.

Michael looked back at them and said, “Follow me.”

And they did as they were told.

*  *  *

Ryan sat in the driver’s seat and started the motor. Selena was behind the Ford and pushed as he gently applied pressure to the accelerator. The car lurched forward with a jolt, the tyres found some grip and Ryan edged onto the bitumen. Selena climbed into the passenger seat and together they drove down to the main road.

“How are we going to find them?” Ryan wanted to know, suddenly having a craving for a cigarette.

“I’ll find them,” Selena sounded confident. “And forget the cigarettes. They’ll kill you.”

Ryan wasn’t really surprised that she knew what he’d just been thinking. He turned right on the main road and headed southwest, following Selena’s directions. As they traveled Selena would get him to stop every now and then. She would then get out of the car and just stand on the side of the road with her eyes closed as if meditating. Ryan didn’t ask her what she was doing. He  just figured she must be tuning into some telepathic signal that he was unable to detect. One of the vampire gifts.

After the third time of doing this, Selena got back in the car and announced, “We’re getting close.” They drove on for a few more minutes. “Turn right just up ahead.” Ryan did, easing the car along a narrow, seldom-used stretch of road. “Stop here,” Selena said.

Ryan brought the car to a halt and Selena got out. When he joined her she held up a hand, signaling him to keep silent. Ryan took a deep breath and held it. He closed his eyes and listened intently. All he heard was a lizard scurrying across the leafy ground behind him and an owl hooting somewhere up in the tree tops.

Selena nodded toward the forest. “This way.”

Ryan retrieved the vials and chainsaw from the back seat of the car and followed the woman into the woods. Once amidst the canopy of trees he couldn’t see a thing. It was pitch black. Selena hooked an arm through his and guided him. No doubt she could see quite well with her superior eyesight.

“Do you think Michael will hurt Chelsea?” Ryan asked, keeping his voice low.

“I’m not going to lie to you. It’s possible. I wouldn’t put it past him hurting his own brother, either.”

Ryan gripped the chainsaw tightly. Regardless of the fact that he was Selena’s brother, he was determined to put an end to Michael if he somehow could. He knew that was going to be a close-to-impossible task.

Still Ryan couldn’t really see anything but the occasional dark shape that loomed before him. If it wasn’t for Selena’s guidance he would have walked straight into twenty or thirty tree trunks by now, not to mention obstacles on the ground that she helped him avoid.

The entire time they walked through the woods he ran every possible scenario through his head. Generally they ended up with him dead. In the end he decided his brain wasn’t going to be able to figure this one out on its own. He’d have to rely on his instincts. He knew from experience that his instincts wouldn’t let him down and they were dependable.

One thing he did have a strong feeling about was Selena. It was gnawing at him majorly. He knew that if she faced off with Michael tonight she was likely going to die. He didn’t really think she deserved that. It was Michael who deserved death. Tonight two innocent detectives had been killed in the line of duty, indirectly a result of Michael’s actions. Ryan also felt responsible for that.

By the time they reached the edge of a farm, he’d come to a decision. He was going to take a gamble because it felt right.

Selena let go of his arm as they paused, remaining in the shadows of the trees. Before them was a paddock where several cows grazed way off to the right. Ryan could just make out a farm house in the distance, partly obscured by palm trees growing all around it. To the left, nestled into the edge of the forest, was a huge barn. He could see dim yellow light seeping through the gaps around its large entrance doors, and another smaller door on the left hand wall.

“They’re in that barn,” Selena told him.

Ryan looked at her in the darkness. “Are you sure?”

She nodded.

Remaining just inside the tree line, the pair stealthily made their way left and followed the curve of the trees until they were directly behind the barn. Ryan listened, but couldn’t hear any sounds coming from within. Selena had her eyes closed. After a moment she nodded.

“All three of them are inside,” she reported. “Michael, Travis and your sister. I also sense another presence, maybe two.”

While she was tuning into whatever it was that she tuned into, Ryan had quietly removed one of the injector guns from the bag. It was already pre-loaded with APHV. In a rapid motion he put it to the bare skin of her upper arm and pulled the trigger. There was a sharp click.

“Ouch!” Selena’s eyes snapped open. “What did you just do?” she demanded.

And then her eyes glazed over. She dropped to her knees and would have fallen flat on her face had Ryan not been ready to catch her. He placed her cold body gently on the ground. She was unconscious, but still breathing steadily.

The next part of his plan he wasn’t so certain about. He replaced the used vial with a fresh one and made certain the other gun was loaded. After removing his jacket, Ryan placed the tip of the gun against his arm and hesitated. Marks’ words from earlier echoed in his head. It could be lethal. Also, he wasn’t sure what response he would have to the serum even if it was safe to inject. He figured it would have a different affect on him than it had Selena, as she was a vampire and he wasn’t. Hopefully it didn’t knock him out too. He needed to be awake, not in a coma.

Ryan pulled the trigger, felt a short, sharp burst of pain, then experienced the sensation of the fluid being injected into his arm. Now he waited, half expecting to feel suddenly drowsy and to pass out. A minute went by and nothing happened. He expelled the used vial and placed a fresh one in the chamber. It was as he did this that he noticed a change in him.

He could see quite clearly in the darkness and the forest was now alive with sounds he couldn’t detect before. Insects buzzing and little critters crawling along the ground. He took a deep breath, checked on sleeping Selena again, then stood up. His head felt so clear and his mind was extremely alert. Ryan flexed his muscles and felt strength surge through him like he’d never possessed before. He looked at the small drop of blood that had formed on his arm. It was the vaccine that had heightened all his senses and made him feel invincible. He wondered if it was a temporary side effect, or permanent. Then another thought dawned on him. If the serum could turn a vampire back into a human, then possibly it could turn a human into a vampire?

No. He was sure that hadn’t happened. He’d gone through no turn of any kind and his body was still putting out warmth. He was definitely still human and not a creature of eternal night.

With the chainsaw in his left hand, the gun in his right and the bag of vials slung over his shoulder, Ryan glanced down at Selena one last time before leaving the cover of the bushes and creeping up the side of the barn, where he paused outside the closed side door. Inside he could hear the sounds of feet shuffling. Ryan temporarily stuffed the gun back into his waistband and nudged the door open a few inches.

The first thing he saw were bales of hay stacked up to the left just inside the door. A bare light bulb hung down from the ceiling on a long cord. The floor was made of wood, carpeted with loose straw. Standing in the centre of the barn were Travis and Chelsea. Ryan’s heart stuttered when he saw his sister. Even from his position just outside the door he could see she looked different. Her eyes shone a weird shade of amber mixed with their natural blue, and the skin of her face looked extra pale. She was holding Travis’ hand and the pair looked very nervous.

Ryan got down low and edged his way inside the door, hoping like hell it didn’t creak and give him away before he was ready to announce his arrival. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins and he could still feel the effects of Becker’s serum. That was good. He’d need all the help he could get.

In a crouch he peeked over the hay bales and spied Michael. It was the very first time he’d laid eyes on the evil brother and something about the man/vampire looked menacing and very scary. On the surface he appeared normal enough, but there was something extremely evil emanating from within, like some sort of malevolent aura.

Kneeling on the floor, as if awaiting execution, was a middle-aged man dressed in a grey bathrobe. He had bruises on his face and blood dripping from a mouth wound. Lying motionless on the floor behind Michael was a woman, possibly the captured man’s wife. Ryan wasn’t sure, but she looked like she might be dead.

“This is how you do it,” Michael said, staring intently at Travis and Chelsea. “This is the last time I’ll show you. After this we move onto the next house and you two are going to feed.” He paused for effect. “And you know what happens if you don’t.”

“You won’t kill me,” Travis said bravely. “I’m your brother.”

“You don’t deserve to be called my brother, Travis. You’re a major disappointment. You always have been.”

Ryan placed the bag of vials on the ground and put the chainsaw on top of the pile of hay. He gripped the pistol in both hands and steadied his aim by resting his arms on top of a bale.

Michael grabbed the man by his thinning hair and latched his fangs onto the man’s throat. It all happened so quickly that Ryan barely had time to react. He fired the gun, striking Michael in the back of the head. The vampire flinched from the bullet’s impact, but didn’t let go. Ryan stood up and fired again, hitting Michael in the shoulder. A third bullet struck him in the head again. The vampire finally released his victim, but it was too late. The middle-aged man slumped down to the ground, dead.

With fangs exposed and dripping fresh blood, Michael glared at Ryan. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Travis and Chelsea hadn’t moved. They just stared at Ryan as if he was some sort of ghost that had materialized out of nowhere. Ryan flicked Chelsea a quick glance, but couldn’t read her expression. He returned his attention to Michael, who had blood streaming from the bullet wounds. Ryan fired at him a fourth time, then a fifth and a sixth. Michael danced under the impact of the bullets fired in quick succession, but he didn’t go down. When Ryan went to fire again, the gun just clicked uselessly. The magazine was empty. He tossed it aside, reached behind him for the chainsaw and pulled the cord. The saw roared to life.

Ryan stepped away from the door and moved courageously toward Michael. The vampire, blood still streaming from the bullet wounds, eyed him curiously as he approached. A sadistic smile curled the corners of his mouth. Ryan brandished the saw in front of him. For some strange reason he didn’t feel afraid. He kept his eyes trained on Michael. The vampire backed away from the body on the floor. Next thing Ryan knew Michael was up in the air, hovering just below the ceiling, floating effortlessly.

Chelsea and Travis still hadn’t budged. It was like they were transfixed and rooted to the spot. Maybe Michael had some sort of power over them? Ryan chanced at glance at his sister. There was fear in her eyes. That glance cost him dearly.

Michael was upon him in a flash. He moved so quickly that Ryan hadn’t seen him coming. The next thing he knew he was flying through the air, the saw falling from his grasp. He crashed into a pile of hay and a bale toppled onto his chest. He pushed it off and sat up. Michael was standing right in front of him, looking down at him like he was some annoying little insect that needed to be squashed.

He grinned, fangs still jutting down from his upper jaw. “I know who you are,” he said. “You’re Chelsea’s brother. Come to her rescue, have you?”

“Leave him alone,” Chelsea called out.

Michael turned toward her, which gave Ryan just the break he needed to grab the chainsaw. It buzzed on the ground to the left of Michael’s feet. He grabbed it, gave it a rev and swung the lethal blade in a wide arc. Michael sensed what was happening and put out a hand to ward off the blow. The saw sliced the hand clean off. Blood pumped from the stump. Michael swung viciously and his right fist connected flush on Ryan’s jaw. The strike was so hard that it should have shattered his jaw in ten places, or at least knocked him unconscious. Neither happened. Ryan was dazed and knocked flat on the ground, but he still felt surprisingly alert. He got to his feet and leaped up onto a pile of hay bales, a feat he would never have been able to accomplish before the vaccine injection. Miraculously the chainsaw was still held firmly in his grasp.

Michael came after him. He didn’t bother leaping, he just flew. Ryan jabbed at the vampire’s midsection with the blade, but Michael easily evaded the strike. Ryan tried again, and once more Michael ducked out of reach.

Trying desperately to act purely on instinct and not think clear thoughts that the vampire could read, Ryan took a chance and lunged forward with every ounce of strength he had. Michael reacted a fraction too late. As Ryan flew through the air, holding the chainsaw out at full stretch in front of him, the curved end of the blade caught the vampire in the abdomen, just below the sternum. The blade churned through flesh and bone and drilled a hole clean through him. Michael dropped to the ground, the saw still stuck in his body.

As Ryan fell, he narrowly missed landing on top of Michael. He hit to the ground with a thud just to the right of him. Quickly he got to his feet, placed a foot on Michael’s hip and wrenched the chainsaw free of the vampire’s body.

He could feel the effects of Becker’s serum beginning to wear off. Pain wracked his body now and fatigue was quickly enveloping him. To exacerbate things further, the saw was starting to sputter. It was running low on fuel.

He quickly touched the slowing blade to Michael’s neck and managed to cut halfway through it before the chainsaw died completely. Michael was weakened drastically, but still alive. Ryan could see the stomach wound healing rapidly before his very eyes. The bullet wounds were already completely gone, leaving nothing behind except the holes in his clothes.

Travis appeared beside his brother just as Michael started to recover. The youth grabbed Michael by the head, took a deep breath, then wrenched his brother’s head so violently that it ripped clean off his neck.

Michael was finally dead.

Ryan peeled his eyes away from the macabre scene when he sensed his sister approaching. She placed a comforting arm around her boyfriend’s hips. Travis still clutched Michael’s head tightly in his hands. Eventually he let it go and it dropped to the ground, landing with the sound of an egg shell cracking.

Chelsea looked at her brother, her eyes that surreal mix of amber and blue. She opened her mouth and hissed at him, lethal fangs protruding from her jaw.

Ryan was completely taken aback by it all, seeing his sister transformed into what she was now. At that moment he really feared she was about to kill him. He waited, all the superhuman strength in him now gone. He was a mere human again, standing in the midst of two live vampires.

For a while no one moved and not a word was spoken. Ryan could cut the tension in the air with the knife he still carried in his pocket.

Then Travis suddenly turned to him and said,” You have Doctor Becker’s serum, don’t you?”

Ryan nodded and walked over to the doorway. From the bag he removed both loaded injector guns. Travis took one from him and immediately injected himself. A moment later he was lying on the floor, out cold. Chelsea glanced down at Travis for a long moment, then slowly she extended her arm to Ryan so he could administer the dose.

With his sister now lying unconscious on the ground, Ryan had nothing else to do but wait for the transformation to take place.

Forty Three

Five days later

Ryan was sitting on the balcony of his twentieth floor highrise apartment. He had a coffee on the table before him and no cigarettes. The sky was rendered an attractive shade of cobalt blue as the sun dropped in the western sky.

He’d just gotten off the phone to Tessa, his real estate agent. His late parents’ Sunshine Coast home was now under contract. That was a huge relief. He’d also just arranged to have his stricken car towed to a wreckers. It was time for a new one.

His mind wandered back to the events of the other night and what had transpired between then and now.

The transformation in Chelsea and Travis had taken several hours. Both sweated profusely throughout the process and often appeared racked with pain and in the terrifying midst of unimaginable nightmares. The curious thing was, as each of them was on the verge of awakening, they both broke into beaming smiles before opening their eyes. It was like they had been reborn, and in a way they had.

Outside they’d found Selena wandering around aimlessly in the cow paddock. Travis had hugged his sister tightly and, to Ryan’s utter amazement, Chelsea had done the same to him. At first Selena wasn’t too happy about being human again, but when dawn broke and she felt the sun on her skin for the first time in ten years, her bitterness quickly dissipated as the endless night disappeared.

Last night Chelsea had brought Travis around for dinner and it had given Ryan a chance to get to know the young man a little better; and as a human, not a vampire. He could see his sister was very much in love with the guy. Chelsea still harbored some ill feelings toward her brother, but she had softened considerably and Ryan was confident they could soon be friends again like they used to be. However, she still refused to return to school, despite the fact that Travis pledged to go to university and further his studies in medicine and genetic engineering.

Of course there had been a number of interrogations with police regarding the events of the other night and the deaths of Detectives David Marks and Scott Richards. Ryan, Selena, Travis and Chelsea were all interviewed on a number of occasions. In the end, with some serious and animated input from Doctor Marlon Becker, the police decided that the four weren’t crazy and pinned all the recent murders - including those of Marks and Richards - on Michael, Paul and Kelly. Which, in the end, was exactly how it had been anyway, and DNA testing proved that. Apart from one moment of madness from Selena, they were all innocent. Selena was off the hook and Ryan was eternally grateful the police never found anything to charge her with.

Both Marks and Richards were to be honoured with State Funerals next week. Marks was also credited with solving the mysterious murders in Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth.

The story made national front page and headline news. Ryan was portrayed as some sort of hero. His phone had been running hot for days with offers of television appearances, magazine articles and even a book deal. His detective business had received a huge boost due to all the publicity. Calls from potential clients - both locally and interstate - were coming in all day long.

Right now Ryan was faced with a new dilemma and it made him smile. On his iPhone there were two recent text messages; one from Angela Cartwright and one from Selena Thorne. Both wanted to take him out to dinner.

Only problem was, which one was he going to choose?

THE END

Read the Sequel

Night Realm 2: Scarlett Dawn

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