I lit my cigarette. Again, another victim. Another lost soul.

The glow illuminated the dark alleyway, rain pouring down like there was no tomorrow. Police sirens blared in the distance as officers secured the scene, stringing crime scene tape across both entrances. This was the third murder in the same alleyway. We were officially dealing with a serial killer—a disturbed one, at that. Just my luck.

A man’s body was nailed to the wall by his arms and legs, his chest carved open and his head severed. His heart rested grotesquely where his head should have been. The head itself was missing. Either the killer had taken it as some kind of sick trophy or discarded it elsewhere.

Reporters clustered behind the crime scene tape, their camera flashes going off every few seconds. Some of them were trying to bait the officers into commenting on the murder. Of course, no one said a word. This wasn’t just any crime. This had all the signs of a vampire’s handiwork. That’s why we were called in instead of the regular police. Things had gotten serious.

“C,” someone called from behind me. “Sorry I’m late. West Antapolis traffic—you know how it is.”

I turned and saw Jane Howard approaching. I dropped my cigarette, crushing it under my heel. I could see a reporter with a bright yellow hood recording the crime scene while talking to the camera he had set up. They were everywhere…

“It’s okay,” I said.

Jane’s newly dyed crimson hair swayed as she walked, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets. She was the same age as me, and we worked together in the same department: Preternatural Affairs.

“Ugh,” she muttered, glancing at the scene. “What a sight.”

“Right?”

“What do we know about him?” she asked.

“Waiting on forensics to finish up,” I said. “They’re not too happy we’re here.”

“Who, the forensics?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you get paid double their salary and only show up for vampire-related murders,” she quipped. “Meanwhile, they have to deal with everything. I’d hate us too.”

Just four days earlier, we’d wrapped up a case involving a paranoid woman who killed her best friend for having an affair and threatening to tell her husband. Now, we were looking at a massacre. Life in West Antapolis had a way of kicking you when you were down. I hated this city with every fiber of my being. But, like the stink of its alleys, it clung to me. Even if I leave the city, the city wouldn’t leave me.

One of the forensic techs raised his hand and gestured for me to come over. I obeyed, weaving my way to the body. With each step, the scene became more gruesome. Blood still dripped from the corpse, and his skin wasn’t as pale as I’d expected. He hadn’t been dead long.

“Definitely a vampire attack,” the tech said, pulling off his gloves. “We found fang marks on his left arm, and all signs point to him being turned before he was killed.”

“How do you know he was turned?” I asked.

“He had late-stage cancer,” the tech explained. “Didn’t want to die, so he paid a vampire to turn him. But instead of keeping his end of the bargain, the vampire killed him… probably.”

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Jane folded her arms. “Some people are just idiots,” she muttered. “How do you know he had cancer?”

“His girlfriend’s here,” the tech said, nodding toward the opposite end of the alley.

“Alright, let’s go talk to her, C,” Jane said, already moving.

“You go,” I said. “I’ll examine the body some more.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t take too long.”

I grabbed a pair of gloves and slipped them on before walking up to the body. A small ladder, borrowed from a nearby store, had been placed next to the wall to allow the forensic team to examine the victim without taking him down prematurely. They wouldn’t remove the body until the cause of death and the details of how he was pinned to the wall were thoroughly documented.

Climbing the ladder, I turned on my phone’s flashlight and began examining the corpse. The skin had an unnatural quality—patchy, with areas that seemed darker or lighter than others. Something felt wrong.

There was a fang mark on his left arm, clear as day. It practically screamed vampire attack. I crouched slightly, checking his pockets, only to find them empty. I knew the forensic team hadn’t taken anything—I’d been watching the entire time. One button on his pants was undone, which struck me as odd. Either he hadn’t noticed it or he’d been in a hurry.

“Hmm.”

Raising the flashlight, I leaned closer to the heart resting grotesquely where his head should have been. The blood had a faint pinkish hue, further evidence that he’d been turned into a vampire before death.

Stepping down a couple of rungs, I grabbed the victim’s hand to examine his fingernails. Or rather, where his fingernails should have been—they’d been completely yanked off. My guess? He’d fought back, scratched his attacker, and the killer had removed the DNA evidence by ripping out his nails. This guy hadn’t gone down without a fight.

I sniffed the air. Something strong and chemical lingered. Lifting his hand closer to my face, I took another whiff.

Glue. And… wine. I could also detect something faint and unfamiliar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“Glue and wine,” I muttered. “Huh.”

“Oi, leave the body,” one of the forensic techs barked. “You can screw him after the autopsy.”

“Good. Can’t wait,” I replied dryly, stepping off the ladder.

“Damn weirdo.”

I ignored the remark and began walking toward the end of the alley. Over my shoulder, I saw two officers and three members of the forensic team struggling to remove the nails pinning the victim to the wall. Whoever had done this either wanted to send a message or was completely unhinged. In West Antapolis, it was hard to tell the difference between too.

Removing my gloves, I ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Jane, who was talking to a woman seated on the open trunk of a police cruiser. The woman held a bottle of water, sipping between shaky words. She looked pale and on the verge of breaking down.

“…and then,” the woman stammered, “they told me they found him here. Oh my god. Who did this? Who? Vampires?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jane said calmly. “Did your boyfriend have any enemies? Problems with bad people?”

“No,” the woman replied defensively. “He was an angel.”

“Where was he working?” I asked.

“He wasn’t,” she said, wiping her tears. “He was a translator for some couple online. They were shooting porn, and he was translating it into English.”

“That alone was enough to pay for his rent?” Jane asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He was living with me,” the woman replied. “The house is mine. No rent. God, is he really gone? Fuck… fuck. I want to see him. Please.”

“Did he drink?” I asked.

“Drink? Only water,” she said, her voice sharpening. “He didn’t like alcohol. Hated it.”

“Wine? Did he drink that?” I pressed.

“No!” she snapped, glaring at me. “What are you trying to imply, you fuckface?”

“No need to get aggressive,” Jane interjected, offering a strained smile. “We’re just trying to piece things together.”

I hummed thoughtfully, stepping back. “Do we have a search warrant for the house, Jane?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Helion just called me. We’re good to go, C.”

Helion was the district captain of Kiruha, the area where this murder had taken place. Before we could investigate anything further, we needed his approval, naturally.

“You got your car?” I asked. “I took the bus here.”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Leo and James are already headed to the house. We’ll meet them there.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Let’s go, then.”