It was winter and yet the rain had Great Kingston firmly in its grip that night, while Ryan merely used his hand to shield himself from the drips flying sideways. Hastily he got into the parked car at the side of the road and wiped his wet face. “There’s your stupid hoagie!” he cursed, tossing a paper bag to the driver’s seat.


    Gordon caught it and shoved his hand in hungrily. “Extra gravy, I hope?” he asked, looking at the juicy top, of the richly topped sandwich, which the detective bit into heartily. "Oh, come to papa."


    "Yeah, extra gravy!" grumbled Ryan, looking defiantly out the rolled-up passenger window. His mood had been tilting more and more for a few days now, but who would be surprised? "Will you get to the point?!"


    "Hey, hey, not so uptight," Gordon teased his sidekick. "Have you had a drink lately or why are you so pissed off?"


    "I don’t know," Ryan played the ignorant one, frustrated. "I’m chasing the street gang, you send me on an observation tour to uncover a possible affair. I catch the wife cheating, you have me break into a pawn shop to steal an ancient woman’s late husband’s jewellery. I have the jewellery and you say -I’m up for a hoagie-.


    The sauce spilled a little into Gordon’s beard as he chewed with relish. "I don’t see the problem?"


    "One week, one week I’m helping you now and every time it’s like, after that comes your real job!" complained Ryan, looking incredulous. "What comes after the hoagie? Burger King?"


    Gordon eavesdropped, not letting his guard down. Briskly he had devoured half the sandwich before placing it with the bag on the shelf between the seats. "Okay, I may have overdone it a little," the detective admitted. "But you’ve done a really good job and hardworking employees are in short supply, more than ever."


    "Eternal theme, for decades," Ryan agreed, expecting nothing more as he looked out the window again.


    "Alright plain speaking now: I didn’t keep you on tour just for that. I just needed more time to ask around. You may remember, but we’ve got some real shit on our shoe and I had to pull out some stops."


    "And what shit would that be?" squinted Ryan brightly to the side.


    The hitherto frugal Gordon turned serious. "Ever heard of the red artist?"


    "Red artist," Ryan repeated. Something rang a bell in his head. He considered and snapped his finger. "Isn’t that a fucking serial killer!"


    "And what a one! The police have been hunting him for nearly five months. There have been six victims so far and all of them were literally mauled, torn to shreds and the blood was spread in such big blobs on the walls that the media call him the red artist. That’s who we’re supposed to find and put out of circulation!"


    That got more than enough of Ryan’s attention, though not willingly. "I don’t understand? What does the Tenebrae have to do with a serial killer? Why should we take him out?"


    "There are tracks at the crime scene," Gordon explained, pulling his Black Pitch from his coat pocket. "Claws and heavy damage to the furnishings, which points to a vampire. Maybe one that can take the form of animals or real beasts with blood magic. It′s called animus helix."


    "Sounds like a vampire who is very strong."


    "Most likely," Gordon agreed, and he too was frustrated. "The police has no leads and I’ve heard from inside sources that no one wants anything to do with this case."


    "This isn’t shit on a shoe," Ryan deliberately understated. "This is our funeral."


    "That’s how I see it," Gordon joked with gallows humour. "Way out of our league, for sure, but we have to make the best of it."


    "What if it’s a werewolf?"


    At that, Gordon tightened up for a moment. "Little tip: never say that to other vampires. Werewolves are feared, even by them, and they take it more than seriously. However, werewolves normally stay in the wild and there’s only been one case in the Tenebrae in the last 50 years where one was up to no good in a big city."


    "You know all about it."


    "Thank you and you know what else? We’re going to the last crime scene now."


    "I’d rather not have known that now," Ryan grumbled as the car, which was Gordon’s second car, started to move.


    Ryan had driven past here often in the past, but this was the first time he had spent any length of time in one of Great Kingston’s better districts, which they called Silvertown. It was mainly characterised by beautiful and individual family homes and well-arranged shopping districts, but that was not where he was heading.


    Instead, he went to the wide Silver River that flowed through the middle of the area and gave it its name. With this magnificent view on the doorstep, high above the water it was teeming with lofts, once used to store building materials in the construction of the city, and later converted into beautiful, expensive flats.


    "Someone was murdered here?" asked Ryan, puzzled. "Without being caught?"


    "Which makes it even more concerning," Gordon noted as he parked the car. "Little crime and the police are there within five minutes at the latest for incoming calls."


    The lofts didn’t look to Ryan like you could just walk through the door there. "That’s with ID security. You wouldn’t happen to have a friend staying there?"


    "No, less complicated," Gordon said casually as he got out of the car. "I called all the residents last night and was able to make an appointment with one."


    For Ryan, it was just as much rain again. "How’s that?"


    "Well what am I?"


    "Pretty greedy."


    "Okay, that one was on the house," Gordon admitted to the aide. "I’m a private investigator and I said in all honesty that I was investigating the murders and I had a few questions"


    "And at this time of night?"


    "I don’t pick my hours and $500 does a lot, even to wealthy people."


    Ryan was amazed at the Tenebrae agent’s effort. "That’s a lot just to open a door."


    "It’s not my money," Gordon shrugged, because of course the vampires paid for everything. "It all goes on the expense account, right next to the hoagie."


    "Vampires are bloody generous, aren’t they?"


    "If you do your job well, then hell yes they are. Come on."


    "Maybe this vampire thing isn’t so bad after all," Ryan opined, lured for a moment by the prospect of money. Who didn’t like having a lot of it? And he thought so, as a formerly well-paid IT professional.


    Bluntly, Gordon pressed one of the buttons at the loft’s main entrance. "Who’s bothering at this hour?" came a slightly unfriendly voice from a young woman’s intercom.


    "Gordon Mitchell, private investigator," the freelancer introduced himself. "We were talking on the phone."


    "Did you bring the money too?"


    "It’s raining, so the green grows even in winter," Gordon said, pulling a folded bundle from his coat pocket.


    "Let’s get this over with quickly then," the woman replied and the door unlocked several times.


    It was immediately much warmer in the stairwell, though that mattered little to Ryan. The dry was more important to him. "Very sympathetic, your source."


    "I couldn’t care less about the girl," Gordon held his ground and called for a lift. "I just wanted to get in and I’ll distract her with my questioning. In the meantime, go down to the basement."


    "And ... do what there, exactly?" blinked Ryan in confusion. At least he had expected the whole thing to provide access to the victim’s flat.


    "They’re clamping down on the house server and searching everything for usable information," Gordon explained, pressing his Black Pitch into Ryan’s hands before stepping into the arriving luxury lift. "The victim’s name was Brad Sedrik, fifth floor. The police confiscated all his disks, so we’ll have to hope for back ups in the house server."


    "I don’t even know what to look for."


    "I never know either," Gordon smiled meanly as the doors closed. "That’s what makes the job so invigorating."


    "Asshole," Ryan grumbled, seeking out the nearby basement. It wasn’t locked, thankfully, and even if it was, he could have hacked his way in there, since there didn’t seem to be any surveillance inside the building.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The basement was nice and clean, but even with the lights on it was a little scary and there wasn’t even a map. Fortunately, Ryan found the right wiring harnesses to orient himself by and follow them to their source - the house server. He needed a password, but he knew the routine and a few tricks to get around this parental lock. "Let’s take a look," he murmured to himself and started using explicit keywords for the search. Quickly Ryan’s eyes were flooded with streams of files popping up, so he had to categorise everything, which made it considerably clearer. "Photos of family, friends and holidays," he guessed, looking at typical pictures. "Nice job." He was amazed, because the dead man had had files from his work at home and had been a senior head of a well-known chemical company when he was alive, but none of it seemed to matter: just loud numbers, a few project names and recorded business meetings. Maybe the killer had been a partner, I download the meetings.


    Suddenly something jangled very loudly and Ryan startled. Was that near or far? His new super-hearing made it extremely difficult for him to judge and so he listened for a few moments, but it remained silent. Meetings are a good approach, he thought, and returned to the search and without narrowing it down much, he downloaded all sorts of chat histories from emails and social media. To this he took the few deposits and withdrawals from his online banking, but there wasn’t much else relevant after that, pipes rumbled and Ryan slipped back out of the basement, looking nervously around.


    On the ground floor, Ryan had to wait a little while for his partner to return in the lift. "For a fake interview, that took a long time. I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes."


    "You’re really really fast," Gordon marvelled. "But I mean, you’re a vampire. What do you care about time? You’ve got eternity. So waiting doesn’t hurt you."


    "Yes, but it’s rather dull and you old connoisseur: can vampires die of heart attacks?"


    Curious at the question, Gordon smirked. "Why the question? Do you even have a heart?"


    "Mine definitely slipped down my pants in the basement," Ryan complained, handing the detective back his Black Pitch. "I think we have everything that might be of value."


    "Splendid, let’s get back to the detective agency then!" said Gordon, walking back to the car with his aide.


    At least the rain had eased off considerably as the old timer of a car drove through the streets of Great Kingston and the fine neighbourhood was behind it again.


    As he did so, Ryan noticed that Gordon had seemed unusually quiet and fixated on the traffic for some time, but he didn’t complain about the silence. This allowed him to be to himself and he looked out the passenger window. Not that he wanted to do this sidekick activity forever more, test or not, but he had to admit that it had helped him to do something and feel useful over the last few days. Just lying around in bed doing nothing would definitely have been the wrong approach and who knew: maybe this life as a vampire wasn’t so bad for him. With a passed test he would hopefully be free to do what he wanted and there were still those skills he could learn, after all. Blood magic, telekinesis, that animus something and who knows what else was possible. For a resourceful mind like Ryan’s, it didn’t sound too bad, except for never being able to see the sun or his family and friends again.


    Suddenly Gordon parked at the side of the road. "Hungry?" he asked out of nowhere.


    "Are you trying to sell me your blood or something?" retorted Ryan, further unwilling to think about drinking. "No need."


    Unfriendly, Gordon was, but the previously casual manner had disappeared. "Yeah, sorry about that. Completely forgot who was sitting next to me," he said. He and forget who sits with him? There was something funny about the private eye, but maybe he was just thinking about the next steps and was therefore a bit distracted. "I’m going to get breakfast first."


    Ryan laughed. "What a surprise," he commented, now seeing the lights of the fast food restaurant across the street and his eyes widened. It actually had the addition of Wendy’s +, which was why Ryan now had the chance even at 3am! "Wait!"


    Gordon had almost shut the door. "Huh? What is it?"


    "Bring me a Baconator, please," Ryan’s mouth watered inwardly.


    "Aha!" caught Gordon, loosened up. "Also almost forgot you can still taste. We’ve got a Baconator coming in."


    Fuck blood! Just that thought of a Wendy’s Baconator, was worth the effort of the last few days and Ryan was already licking his fingers for it.


    After a few minutes of waiting, a voice outside the car gasped painfully and a sound of scuffling mixed in, coming from one of the side alleys!


    Is someone being robbed?!, Ryan asked himself and got out. In the past he wouldn’t have done that easily, but with his new powers, who was going to stop him?! Not even four gang members had been able to do that!


    Sure enough, someone was leaning against a house wall in the far corners of the winding alley, being kicked repeatedly by a man dressed like a punk rocker.


    "Hey, you there!", Ryan made himself known undaunted.


    There was one more kick, then the punk stopped and spun around. "Well, look at you! I bet you’re here to help this idiot?!"


    On the ground lay a dark-skinned, poor-looking man, but Ryan could see there was nothing seriously wrong with him. "Correct motherfucker! Make a run for it or I’ll put you down!"


    The punk didn’t reply, but he had a sly grin on his face.


    Suddenly Ryan was grabbed from behind and dragged along so that he flew above the ground for a moment and then thundered himself back against the other wall of the house so hard that it cracked a little!


    The dull white eyes of a much smaller woman stared at him. "What were you two doing in that loft?!" she asked insistently, but she didn’t scream and she held the vampire by the neck with no problem.


    "W-what?!" gasped Ryan. How could this be!!! Was she a vampire too!!! "What are you talking about?!"


    "Let’s save the questions!" the punk said and joined in. Instantly, he and the woman started beating up the vampire.


    Meanwhile, the previously beaten man stood up and joined them. "Hey, there’s an extra reward for me, isn’t there?"


    "Shut the fuck up!" the woman growled in response to the question, fishing around in her victim’s pockets.


    Ryan took a good beating, causing a murderous rage to build up inside him, and suddenly he kicked out, knocking the woman off her feet! He caught the punk’s incoming blow more out of reflex than skill and recovered. No one had probably expected this reaction, which was why he was now able to give the punk a few good blows and hurl him into a couple of dustbins in a frenzy. "Was that a trap?!"


    This annoyed question was directed at the previous victim, who cowardly backed away. "Hey. Be cool!"


    Ryan was about to attack the man when his instincts warned him and he turned in a flash! The woman was back on her feet and he swung his fist, but a hardened blood shield formed against his attack and he hammered unsuccessfully against the barrier before it burst forward as a liquid wave!


    The lost balance was more than enough for the woman and she formed her right hand into claws with which she ploughed across the man’s face, sending him to the ground!


    The pain was bearable, but Ryan felt his face must be pretty torn up and he barely stirred due to exhaustion.


    "I told you to be careful with children," the woman complained, standing over the prone man. "Those impulse attacks are dangerous when they haven’t got a clue yet."


    Pissed off, the punk climbed out from between the barrels. "You were the first to get it, weren’t you?"


    "Because I relied on your cover!" the woman countered, searching Ryan again but finding nothing. "Dammit! The blood knight must have something!"


    "Figures," the punk complained. Chains rustled in the alley, which made him look around, but there was nothing to be seen. "Then kill the child so we-!"


    All of a sudden an ear-numbing sound banged through the alley, as if thunder had rumbled!


    The punk took a bullet in the shoulder with such ferocious force that it knocked him back! What’s more, it wasn’t just a hole in his flesh, it was a crater!


    Gordon was on the spot and aimed a powerful pistol at the punker! The next shot shredded his eye socket and the third turned him into glowing ash! "Don’t move!" the private eye warned the woman, taking one hand off the pistol grip.


    "Lapdog!" the woman grinned confidently and disappeared.


    Then Gordon straightened the arm of his free hand and a blade sprang out, with which he thrust absurdly fast.


    The woman appeared before him as if from nowhere, only to have the steel pierced through her neck. "Nrghr!" she gurgled bloodily.


    His aim was stuck and despite supernatural vampire strength, he couldn’t tear himself away from the detective, so all he needed was a loose shot that incinerated her too.


    "Son of a bitch!" the last of the raiding party yelled, pulling a light submachine gun from his inside jacket pocket.


    One-handed, Gordon shot his entire gun hand off and marched over to his sidekick. "You all right, kid?" he inquired without taking the gun from the squirming man who had been shot.


    "Two minutes sooner would have been really cool," Ryan groaned groggily, rubbing his mauled face.


    "Yeah, I had to wait," Gordon admitted. Apparently this was what he had wanted. "They’ve been following us for a while and it had to look convincing that you were just alone."


    "... Then an ambulance for once, please."


    "Oh shucks, it will be in a few minutes," Gordon assured his protégé, patting him on the back. Then he walked over to the wailing hanless man and braced his foot on his chest. "So you fuckers! What did you want from us!"


    The stricken man had tears in his eyes and held the bleeding stump of his hand. "It hurts so much!"


    "I can help with that!" said Gordon, pistol-whipping the man in the face. "Is the new pain distracting?!"


    "NO!"


    "Too bad!" the private eye shrugged his shoulder and pressed the barrel of his pistol against the wounded man’s cheek. "I’m not going to take my time! Who are you working for?!"


    Pain and terror made the obvious non-vampire sing like a bird. "The apostles man! The fucking apostles!"


    "DON’T STOP!"


    "PLEASE! IT HURT''S SO MUCH! A DOCTOR, PLEASE!"


    "Last warning or i’ll shoot your balls off!"


    The strength left the wounded man, which is why he spoke more softly. "I don’t know after all! I was supposed to keep an eye on the child and after I, nrgh! Saw you go into the loft and sent word, the apostles literally freaked out! That’s all I know, I swear!"


    "Yeah, sounds like apostles. Now all pain be forgotten," Gordon preached calmly and another blow was enough to kill the spy.


    Ryan’s face burned and throbbed, but with his fingers he felt his skin receding. "So ... I was the bait?"


    "Not at first," Gordon replied, searching the dead man from whom he casually swiped all cash and wallet "Since we were out tonight, I had thought someone was following us. However, I didn’t really spot these scumbags until after we left the loft."


    "Convincing all well and good, but a warning ... oh forget it, what are you doing there anyway?"


    "He doesn’t need his money anymore and robberies happen in these alleys."


    "Where you get your hand shot off ..."


    "This is Great Kingston," Gordon elaborated old-fashionedly and put his pistol away, collecting the fired casings. "I mean, we’re chasing a murderer who makes mincemeat out of people. What’s a lost hand in that?"


    "No hand."


    "That’s what I’m saying, now let’s get out of here before the finest are on the move."


    Ryan’s face began to heal properly without him having to do anything about it. "What kind of super gun is that anyway? And how did you manage that vampire? You were so fast I didn’t see you again."


    "I can tell you’re about to feel better," Gordon smirked wryly. Three murders? Probably a cinch for an agent of the Tenebrae, who got back in the car with his aide. "Special order. Explosive rounds and I have good reflexes, thanks to vampire blood."


    "Vampire blood? How?" asked Ryan as a delightfully delicious smell hit his nose. "You really did?"


    "Fresh and thick topped," Gordon grinned, reaching into the bag sitting in the footwell in front of him. "A Baconator."


    For the first time in days, Ryan felt an immense hunger pang and, without manners or restraint, bit into that delicious sandwich again and again!


    "And yes, I drink a bag of vampire blood every few weeks. It makes people stronger, faster and keeps us young," the private eye explained as he drove off. "Immortal or eternal life doesn’t exist for us, but I’m already 80 years old and could reach about 250."


    That sounded interesting, but then Ryan didn’t care, now that he could send his more sensitive taste buds on a fantastic journey and enjoy the reward of his exertions.


    Gordon looked very pleased as he watched his protégé eat. "But one thing’s for sure - if the Apostles are interested in this case, there’s a whole lot more to it and we’re now even deeper in the shit than before. Let me see if I can organise some reinforcements for us from the Tenebrae."