The Rose Moon

Chapter One

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Wulff Vauer was about as socially skilled as a misbehaved donkey in a field full of award-winning ponies, but what he lacked in common sense, he made up for by being wicked smart.

Sitting across from me at my desk, he looked like he usually did – almost put together. The pressed navy blue dress shirt he was wearing complimented the hints of green in his hazel eyes, but somewhere along the line between waking up and arriving at the office, he’d missed a buttonhole, skewing the entire outfit. He leaned forward, elbows hitting the desk audibly, and I couldn’t help but stare at the way one side of his collar lifted while the other side pulled against his neck, the obviousness of it all entirely missed by him.

“Listen, Pipes,” he sighed, a whiff of morning whiskey on his breath, “this isn’t exactly an area I like to get involved in.”

“I’m not asking for you to get involved. I’m just asking for advice.”

Wulff’s left eyebrow shot up, and I could almost see the dollar signs forming in his eyes.

“Advice as a friend, Wulff.”

Most of Wulff’s information and assistance came at a hefty cost, and as his primary source of income, he wasn’t quick to give it up. I gave him my best don’t-you-adore-me-please-help-me puppy dog eyes and waited for him to make a decision. You never knew which way it would sway with him, but after a tense moment of fidgeting where he tried to pretend he was absolutely torn up by my request, he eventually conceded. Always an actor.

Wulff sucked air between his teeth as he leaned back again. “I’m starting to think I need to open a tab with you. Being your friend is getting to be expensive.”

His shirt collar relaxed against his thick neck as he lounged in the office chair, and my eyes immediately landed on the bright red scar on his neck that disappeared past his collarbone: a result of being my friend. A hot flare of guilt hit my stomach and started to warm my forehead and cheeks, but I kept my face neutral. There were a lot of memories between us, and most of them were bloody and conniving. Just how we liked it.

“You knew that when you met me,” I countered, and a small smile crept up on Wulff’s face, a slight tug as we both remembered the chaotic night our paths first crossed. He’d been holding a gun, and I’d squared off against him with a crooked machete gripped tightly in my non-dominant hand. That had been what impressed him – that I was literally in a knife versus a gun fight, but I was going to go down swinging.

“You’re fun at least,” he grinned, “always keeping me on my toes. All right, let’s talk vampires.”

By the time Wulff left my office, the sun had begun to glow bright orange and gold on the horizon, and I had a few half-assed strategies in place. He’d been hesitant at first to tell me what he really knew, but after a few steady hours of feeding him shots from a forgotten bottle of gin left in the bottom drawer of my desk, he was as chatty as could be.

“Vampires, vampires,” he’d slurred every time he started a new sentence, “they’re really not that organized. Even though they have a hierarchy of some sort, they also have a classic case of ‘I’m a vampire, and I do what I want’ rampaging through the ranks. Just because one Master vampire wants you does not mean the rest of the vampire world knows about it.”

I’d rubbed my hands over my face, trying to keep my dwindling patience in check. “Sure, point taken, but why would a Master vampire be interested in me? That’s what I really need to know.”

“Vampires, vampires, they always want to gain more power.” He’d hiccupped loudly and reached for his empty cup, tilting it towards his mouth but receiving no reward. “So, someone of your…potential…might be an interesting…potential.” He’d grinned, knowing his words were twisting together. “Think of it this way, Pipes. If I were a vampire, and I heard this little gal named Piper was starting to show some signs of being able to wield elemental magic, I would want to get my hands on her before someone else did. Even if it didn’t pan out, I could just kill her later, drink her blood, gulp gulp gulp.”

“Drink my blood, asshole.” I’d shoved the gin bottle towards him angrily, but I saw his point. Something as hard to find as an elemental magic user was an intriguing prospect, especially when that user could manipulate one of the few things that could kill a vampire: fire. But I still had my doubts. I hadn’t shown nearly enough power to be considered a potential candidate; hell, half of my spells went haywire and caused more chaos than good. I was just a hodgepodge witch who kept my head down and worked my many day jobs, not interesting enough to land on anyone’s radar, let alone a Master.

“You know what’s a really interesting thought, though?” Wulff had gone on, swirling the amber liquid around and around like a mesmerized dog.

“What’s that?”

“Who, besides the three obvious people who saw you do that little fire trick of yours, would have told a Master vampire about you?”

“Why is that important?” I’d fired back, feeling my defenses raise. “It doesn’t matter who told. It only matters now that the Master knows. It could have been a friend of a friend told a friend who told a cousin who told a vampire who told their master who knows the Master.”

Wulff grunted, clearly not taking my side. “You’re telling me that two days after your fiasco, you get a summons – albeit an improper summons,” he corrected before I could protest that the invitation I had received held no official sway over me, “from a Master vampire, and you’re not the least bit interested in which one of your supposed friends ratted you out?”

I’d blinked a few times, wanting to fire back again, but that was the thing about Wulff and the reason I’d called him – he often saw things no one else did and put together puzzle pieces that looked like they didn’t fit at first glance, but slid home when you least expected it.

We’d talked through the three people who’d witnessed the little fire trick of mine; Jammel, who I’d known since grade school and was now married to my sister; Partridge, who worked nights with me at the morgue staking potential Risers – people who died from vampire bites and may or may not come back from the dead; and finally, Cellia, my best friend who’d been with me through thick and thin. My sister also knew because of Jammel, Wulff knew because I’d told him directly, and Roster, my nighttime boss, knew because of Partridge.

Roster seemed the most suspicious as a vampire himself, but he hardly frequented the morgue or took any interest in my personal life. When Partridge had reported the damage that had taken place at the morgue – “some burns…here and there” – Roster hadn’t even actually asked what happened; in his short, unfriendly way, he simply told us to “clean it up by morning.”

It had just been happenstance that Jammel had stopped by to drop off my bag I had left at my sister’s, and Cellia had swung by on her way home because I hadn’t been answering my phone, and she was just dying to tell me about her new beau. Pat and I had been working a shift together, and we had all been standing in the middle of the reception room of the morgue like a crazy mish-mashed group of supernaturals, and after a random burst of emotion from being tired and hungry and annoyed all day, I had lit the place on fire…but it definitely made cleanup easier with more hands on deck.

Jammel seemed the next most suspicious in a non-direct way; my sister was the owner of Dark Night Bar, and Jammel frequently worked as the head bartender – and he could talk. I also waited at the bar on the weekends, which had me wondering if, in his excitement, Jammel had said something to a patron and if anyone morbidly curious had overheard. Wulff thought perhaps he just told someone with his incessant gift of gab, but I had my seeds of uncertainty that Jammel would tell someone he didn’t inherently trust. My sister didn’t marry an idiot, I hoped.

I had even pressed Wulff, claiming that it could have just as easily been him, but I knew he had no interest in the politics of vampires or getting me in trouble. He was the king of laying low and keeping the city’s secrets to himself until the right time, a smart move on his part and the only way to secure information as income. Besides that, we had an unspoken pact: I had killed for him, and he had killed for me. Therefore, our secrets were mostly off-limits – and I mostly trusted him. He may be a donkey in a field full of ponies, but he was a good, reliable donkey.

We’d gone round and round with no clear answers and finally had to move on to the reality of my newfound situation.

“All that said and done, Wulff, what am I supposed to do here? We’ve talked about how vampires organize. We’ve talked about who may have snitched. We’ve talked about how Master vampires differ from the bloodsuckers we stake from time to time. We’ve talked about magic users in the past and what’s happened to them.”

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands for a moment, overwhelmed as my mind tried to rush through every topic we had covered. I took a deep breath and tried to keep my mind organized with all of the information and precautions Wulff had suggested I take; I hadn’t written anything down, too worried that I would forget it somewhere and someone may stumble across it at random. It was a far from likely occurrence; the office of Richter & Shapiro Accounting was a quiet workspace, only bumbling with patrons during tax season, but a few agents like myself still came and went during the day, and my intrusive thoughts kept me on my guard.

Being an accountant was my least favorite job of all of the hustles I had going, but it was the most stable, so I did what I had to. Being a witch sounded like it should pay the bills, but for me personally, it really, really didn’t. My sister was a different story, using some of her influence to make the Dark Night Bar the success it was, but she had skills I could only dream of.

I had straightened my back and rolled my shoulders, mustering strength and trying to ebb my frustration away. “We’ve talked about places I can go, people I can talk to, places I can’t go, and people I can’t talk to, but I honestly just want to know. What – am – I – supposed – to – do?”

Wulff’s eyes had begun to redden at the outer corners with a dangerous combination of liquor and exhaustion, but there was a clarity to his gaze that let me know he was still in there, and he was still listening. There was less than a half-inch left of gin in the bottle, just enough to splash his tongue with, and at no point did he seem to realize I wasn’t drinking with him, or did he fix the annoying way his dress shirt was buttoned incorrectly.

“Vampires, vampires,” he said quietly to himself, his eyes locked on mine. I didn’t flinch, having stared down Wulff in more than one life-or-death situation, with him on both sides as the kill or be killed.

Wulff wasn’t a bad-looking guy, but he didn’t do much to present himself to his full potential. With grown-out dirty blonde hair and rich hazel eyes, he looked straight out of the 1920s as a prohibition gangster and had a wicked smile to boot. He was a hair over six feet tall, and even though he was soft in a few places, I knew the strength that was underneath that navy blue dress shirt. Not fully human and not fully a shapeshifter, he had been ousted by both the human and the supernatural community and landed amongst the riffraff like me. I’d grown to enjoy his company and lean on him over the years, but I never quite knew what was swirling behind his colorful eyes. You never knew who was going to name the right price with Wulff, and I was constantly aware of that fact.

“I think you better go and meet the Master,” he’d said finally, “but not alone.”

I had been half-expecting him to tell me to disregard the invitation, to take my life into my own hands, to not worry about some strange phenomena that had happened on a random Wednesday evening, but he hadn’t said any of those things. What I had desperately wanted to hear and what he actually told me were two different stories.

“Why?” I had asked without meaning to, my voice sounding a little thin and panicked.

Wulff sighed and ran his fingers through his greased-up hair, nearing his social limit with me. Still, he told me the truth and gave me a smile that was clearly mixed with emotion. “Pipes, you and I have done more than the average person when it comes to these spooky things. We’ve staked vampires for both money and fun –”

“Necessity,” I corrected, but he waved my comment away. I couldn’t honestly say I’d staked a vampire for fun, but Wulff was a different breed of savage when alcohol wasn’t quite giving him the release he was looking for.

“– and while you may be getting better with taming your magic, there’s only one thing I’m absolutely certain of here. You can’t beat a Master vampire.”

The rest of the conversation was full of me arguing that I could beat a Master vampire and Wulff being adamant that I couldn’t. He gave me all of the advice he could, including who he thought should come with me and what I should bring, but he also quickly dashed away any hope that he would come with me. As my only close friend with any kind of vampiric staking skill, I was definitely disappointed.

When he left, gently swaying from side to side as he began his walk home, I locked the glass office doors a bit quicker than usual, letting my eyes scan the parking lot for any signs of disturbance. Wulff’s home wasn’t close, but as a half-shapeshifter, he had the incredible stamina of a working ox and often ran to and from his destinations. I always suggested he should join marathons or even the Olympics, but to his credit, he knew he didn’t belong – too fast for the human leagues and too human for the supernatural leagues. I watched him disappear around a corner, and the feeling that I was alone sank in heavily.

The summons – as Wulff had called it – had shown up on my desk that morning in a plain white envelope with no signs of anyone having entered or exited the office. I had even checked the camera feed when I noticed it; one moment, my desk was clear, and the next moment the envelope was on it, appearing out of thin air. Most supernaturals hired or forced humans to do their mundane dirty work because they were easier to dispose of if something went wrong, but I didn’t know any humans who could move through walls and go undetected on camera. The Master had taken a few creative measures that made my skin crawl.

He'd also known I’d be in the office that day, which was not part of my normal routine. Work had been slow and I’d been working from home most days, but I had a client who insisted on meeting me to pick up hard copies of her paperwork. It worked for me since I likely wouldn’t be back in the office until the new year, and I had some things to pick up. So the Master vampire was also watching me, or had incredibly lucky timing.

I scanned the parking lot intently as my anxiety stacked up and my entire body tensed, but when my cell phone suddenly vibrated in my back pocket, I realized I hadn’t really been paying attention. My mind had been occupied with a thousand what-ifs and who-done-its, and my eyes had been on autopilot, watching everything and nothing.

I scrambled to grab my phone and made a less-than-happy face when Roster’s name popped up in all capitals on the screen, followed by a vampire emoji that had made me grin when I’d added it to his contact name.

“Hey Roster,” I answered breathlessly, my nerves running high.

Never one for preamble, he went straight into the reason he was calling. “We have five potential Risers showing up in about an hour. Bunch of teens. The usual. Need a babysitter.”

The usual. Those words made my heart drop. The youth had a nasty habit of getting lured to parties and indecent places that they had no business being in, thinking that they were going to get a taste of the dark side and ending up being tasted instead. Vampires weren’t notorious for their immense control, but the law was convoluted on whether it was really murder if someone willingly went into a vampire’s den. In my mind, teenagers shouldn’t die because of their ignorance, but the human police force wasn’t exactly equipped to take down the covens of ancient, unnaturally strong, sadistic creatures that were fans of draining blood. I couldn’t blame them – that’s why they called experts like me and Wulff from time to time.

“Partridge?” I asked.

“On his way. Need two. No friends, no fires.”

I cringed outwardly. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

The line went dead so fast that I had a feeling he was hanging up on me before I had even agreed to take the job. Oftentimes, I was impressed that he could even work a touchscreen phone. He wasn’t a particularly old vampire, but I had a feeling he had been just as stubborn and disagreeable during his human life. Turning into a vampire changed a lot about a person, but their personalities tended to transition with them.

When Roster hired me, he had already heard a few things about me and knew I wasn’t squeamish with a stake, but he never did answer any of my questions as to how he got into the morgue business. There were some laws and regulations set specifically for vampires, and Roster seemed to be one of the very few who followed them, but he often had nothing to say and no thoughts to share, so as far as I was concerned, he was an enigma. And I was his weapon.

I pulled off my blazer and set it on the back of my desk chair, straightening out the shoulders reflexively. There wasn’t enough time to head back home before heading towards the morgue, the two places in opposite directions from the accounting office, so what I was wearing would have to do. I frowned at my off-white button-up shirt, hoping tonight wouldn’t end in a bloody shower. The amount of stain remover I bought every time I picked up groceries had to have raised some clerk’s eyebrows.

Just before I left, I grabbed the envelope holding the invitation. I had read it over and over again, but something possessed me to read the words one more time, as though they may have changed in the last few hours I’d spent strategizing with Wulff:

To Piper Santis:

              Please be advised that I would like to meet with you.

              We will convene together on Saturday evening.

              11pm, Black Dahlia Tavern, Tarot Room.

              Your presence is highly appreciated.

~ Alaric Baldassare