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Chapter -11- Superstitious

Friday, August 13 - 7am San Francisco, California ...

Reno rubbed his eyes and stretched. He eased down from the elliptical and reached for a gym towel. "What's the English word for being tired as crap?"

Wilfred folded his arms, bemused. "Knackered?"

"Yeah, that's it." Reno glanced at his wrist watch, an old digital piece with minor functionality beyond time and date. He buried his face in the towel again. "Friday the thirteenth. Awesome. They still make a big deal about that in the future, right?"

"It's the present for me," said Wilfred. "You sure you want to do this today?"

"Yeah. You said you wanted to do this before you got old and died, remember? So let's do it."

Wilfred shook his head with a wry grin. "This is such a bad idea."

"So? What's the plan?" Reno grinned in reply and hung up the towel.

"I accessed ViCAP. I printed out some files. I talked to my buddy in Cold Cases, and found someone who is suspected of being a serial killer but had a political tie, and his case was buried. This guy had a four year dry spell. Last month, two bodies showed up with his signature. Now, this guy doesn't leave very good evidence. There's nothing that forensics can work with, which is how the cover up was able to stick. He has an ability and that's what he uses to kill. Kind of hard to prove he's supernatural since he hasn't been caught, and since the Government either buries or hides the fact that supernatural people exist. But Lance Patterson messaged me this morning. And he gave me two different cases to work, both of which are far more serious than the cold case idea I had. Probably more dangerous than I'm ready to handle."

"And?"

Wilfred shrugged. "We have the go-ahead to play superhero. Are you sure you want to do this? You still have a lot of physical therapy left."

"I'm not running track," Reno said, "I'm throwing lightning bolts. This guy kills people with an ability? We've got to stop him. All I've ever known was the justice system. Whether I'm a cop or a freaking superhero, like Evan, the fact is ... I've only ever been able to do one thing, Wilfred."

"Fight crime, yeah, I know. It's not an investigation, Reno. We know this guy is responsible. We have proof with this last body. But it also proves he's using abilities to kill people. And now that USPRI is functioning on limited resources, and the current head of the EC elected to hide this crime ... Lance has the proof we need. That is, if you still want to do this."

Reno brought the towel over his shoulders. "I can't wait. So let me hit the shower and I'll meet you down by my car. Say, what can this guy do, anyhow?"

Wilfred frowned. "I'll try to explain it to the best of my ability."

"How about you keep it simple?"

"Reno, he can un-entangle himself from the quantum time stream."

"That's not simple," Nevada groused.

"We're all grounded to linear time, and move along with the forward time stream. This man can become un-entangled on a quantum level. He can move forward or slow his forward progression in the temporal..."

"That's _not_simple, Wilfred. Give it to me straight and simple."

"He can speed up or slow time around himself."

"Go on."

Wilfred frowned. He rolled his hand a bit, trying to think of a way to explain it. "This guy can experience the world in slow motion, making him run circles around us. Or, he can speed up time for himself, so that he appears to move in slow motion. This means he can do things we can't anticipate or react to, faster than we can handle him. It also means if he is waiting patiently for a target, he can remain in wait for days, even weeks ... and it only feels like five minutes to him."

"And you expect that I can stop this guy? You can't land a punch on a guy that can dodge a bullet."

"It doesn't matter how fast or slow time feels to him, Reno. Your ability moves faster than a bullet."

Nevada rubbed his chin. "I'm in over my head on this one. I already know it."

"You want me to tell Lance you're reconsidering?"

"Hell no. He's a serial killer? I'm all over this. What's his preference?"

"Preference?"

Nevada furrowed his brows. "Of target, Wilfred. Who does he like to kill? Brunettes? Tall people? Rich people? Most serial killers have a preference, else they're more of a mass murderer, killing everyone they can, all at once. Serial killers have a cooling-off period between kills, and they have target selection, else they'd just be shooting at everything that moves. So what's our guy like?"

Wilfred started walking with Nevada, out of the first floor gym, and down the hallway. "We'll have to look at the file. The only way we've linked him to all his kills is because he leaves a calling card."

Reno pushed a door open, leading to a shower hall, not far from the gym. He had a duffle bag on a locker bench, and pulled off his workout shirt. "I thought you said there was little or no forensic stuff to work with?"

"Nothing usable by traditional means. When this guy leaves a body, their cells are in a state of quantum flux. He likes to pull his victims out of the linear time stream, maybe to show people what it's like to be him, and then he kills them and leaves their body in a state of flux."

Reno rubbed his forehead, balled up his shirt and tossed it into a laundry shoot on the wall, across from the lockers. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"Let's say the M.E. does an autopsy."

"Uhm, okay?"

Wilfred turned away from Reno, facing the wall. "And the Medical Examiner makes an incision on this person's body. Well, if they were left in a slowed temporal state, the blood might take minutes or even an hour before it starts gushing, albeit slowly, out of their veins. Or, if the body is left in a heightened temporal state, the moment the M.E. makes that first slice, the blood gushes out so fast that the victim becomes bone dry ... exsanguinated even, and it only takes a matter of seconds."

Reno sighed and walked into the small shower hall, adjacent to the lockers.

Wilfred remained facing away. "Reno, we have other files we can pursue. I know you asked for a difficult case, homicide as your preference. I have one other serial killer case, but it's a bit more cut-and-dry."

"Yeah. Maybe the time-stopper guy can wait until I'm back at one hundred percent. I don't need to get myself killed. When was our time-stopper's last kill?"

"The body was fresh, found on Wednesday. But it was in a slowed state. So Lance used math to figure out the rate of decay, and placed the time of death at Monday night."

"Okay, well, it's Friday now. How long between this bastard's last kill, before Monday?" Reno turned on the shower and washed his face first.

Wilfred kept his back to Nevada, arms folded. "One month."

"Okay, so how long between deaths for the bodies he's left in the past?"

"Typically once every four to seven weeks."

Reno shrugged. "Okay, that's his cooling off period. We have time before he makes another move. What's the other supernatural homicide case?"

"The other one is a bit more straight forward. People drained of blood. A vampire rogue that has been draining their victims. Kalen Kincade is on the property. He could provide insight on how his kind operates, and probably help you catch them."

Reno reached for the shampoo, glad to need it again. "Let's do the vampire case first. It sounds like our time-stopper guy is in his cool-down phase. But vampire's gotta eat. And eating ... well, we've all gotta eat. So his cooling period will be fairly short. He'll kill again, and soon, so let's prioritize it by that. It's not that I want a challenge or not. Homicide cops are in the business of saving lives. We stop killers before they kill again. And, as a secondary function, we find and compile evidence to put away people who are trying to get away with murder. I know it seems like it would be the other way around but nobody becomes a homicide cop because they like doing paperwork. We all want the same thing, to stop killers one way or another. So, vampire-guy is the priority case. Call Kalen down here. I'll finish getting myself cleaned up."

"Alright, sounds like a plan, Reno. You going to be okay on your own."

"I appreciate it, but I never needed a baby sitter, Wilf. I handle my shit with lightning. I do the quick-healing thing. I'll be fine, man."

Wilfred headed for the door to the locker room. He paused, glanced over his shoulder and said, "Oh, and Reno, I have a badge for you."

Reno stepped back under the water and rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. He ran his hands through his hair, quickly, then stepped back from the water spray. "What's that? A badge? I don't need a fake badge, Wilf."

"It's not fake. You'll be operating as an USPRI agent, on behalf of the EC. So far as people think, you'll be operating as an FBI agent, trying to solve a serial murder case. But since our killers are supernatural, you'll operate under the authority of the Esoteric Council. You'll coordinate your operation and your investigation with Lance and his contacts. You'll have a badge, and legal boundaries, and an expense, and a budget. You'll be overseeing a legitimate investigation."

Reno grinned. "Right on. Inspector Nevada is back."

"Sort of. All your credentials will be as Nathanial Carrington. So ... Inspector Carrington."

"Oh. Well, okay. Anyway, go get Kalen. I'll finish up, here."

X

X

Friday, August 13 South Pacific ...

Conner twirled his cane and followed through with a sharp thrust towards a practice dummy. He arched his wrist, using the hooked end to snatch a wallet out of a jacket pocket, worn by the dummy. "And that's how you do it. I got the idea off this old video game that I played when I was a kid. It was some sort of '35th anniversary' remake of the game, and I fell in love with it instantly."

Sinopa folded her arms and shook her head. "I know the game. Your mother loved it when she was eight years old. I wasn't particularly fond of the message - stealing. But it was popular for obvious reasons. It was indirectly based on what your family did for a living. It amused me that the police officer in the game was a fox."

"I really loved that game. I'm the only one I know that does what the raccoon thief guy can do ... with a hooked cane, I mean." Conner grinned, pleased with his ability to mimic something he enjoyed from his childhood.

"You seem to have a plan in your mind, and plenty of time to accomplish all of our goals. So, what is on your agenda, young man?"

"I want to know more about this other family member." Conner shrugged a bit and with a sympathetic sort of tone, added, "What if we talk to him? I mean, you know, we could reason with him and try to get him to help us."

"How do you figure, Conner? You said he was into organized crime."

"Yeah." The boy sighed and pinched his lips together, shifting his expression to the far left side of his mouth.

"People like that have a self-important outlook on life. They live in their heads."

Conner glanced at his cane, giving it a slow twirl. The reddish-gold staff replied with a low whooshing sound. After a moment to think, Conner shrugged and asked, "What's more important? To be a crime boss? Or to save the world using your God-given gifts? If he needs to feel self-important, then I'll let him see how important this really is."

"All we can do is try."

"I know I'm just a teenager or whatever, but I'm basically in charge of the Parker family, now."

"So what is your plan, Conner?" Sinopa glanced around the training space inside the cavernous training room with the high ceiling.

"He's blood, I want to give him the chance to get the family together. We were nearly wiped out. Our legacy, our dynasty. We can restore it."

"You have a big heart and you're an optimist."

Conner used the cane to place the wallet into the inside jacket pocket, on the opposite side from where he snagged it. None of the bells sewn over the dummy's body made a sound. "I have to try. I have to talk to him. Will you go with me?"

"For mediation?"

"No, no. Show him that you can create fire. Let him know he's not the biggest fish in the sea; humble him. Then inflate him with a sense of self-importance by telling him we need all hands on deck to save the world from Aris freaking Falcon."

"We can try," she said. "When do you wish to leave?"

"As soon as possible."

"Hai. I will call Karla and let her know we are scouting for potential team members. Last I heard, Reno-san is training to prepare himself. We both know Tamamo-sama needs more time."

"Well, yeah, passports are not something you can rush. Certainly not nowadays."

Sinopa nodded in agreement. "What about bringing James-san with us?"

"After hearing how Dawn is doing, I encouraged him to go back and spend a little more time with her. We may eventually need her help, too. So ... but yeah, I'll train him, don't worry. Who knows? Maybe I'll train him alongside this other family member. Just gotta talk to the other guy first."

"Hai, very well. Are you sure it's wise you keep that 'key' to your vault on you at all times?"

"Definitely. It's not like I can be here to defend this place, and something tells me it doesn't matter how remote this island is, anymore; it's time to lock the door. So, yes. Yeah, I mean, it makes the most sense to keep it on me. Besides, I want to use it. Why would a musician keep an amazing guitar in a glass case and never play it? This cane is my guitar. I have to keep it close by at all times or I'm not much of a rockstar."

Sinopa shook her head with a wry grin. "Very well, Conner. Where is this distant cousin of yours, and when do we leave?"

"I'll get us to Hawaii, and we can fly out from there. Thanks for being supportive."

"Thank you for not having a temper about the situation."

"Yeah, I've been trying."

Sinopa folded her arms, her grin broadening into a sly, foxy smile. "Tamamo has helped you to stay relaxed. Whenever you spend a bit of time with her, you seem less aggressive afterwards. Perhaps you just needed her affections."

Conner turned away, beet red. "You're supposed to be my grandmother." He swallowed and swung the cane up, resting it over his shoulder. "That's kind of private, you know?"

"I have lived long enough to know when that sort of thing is happening. The meaning of life is the continuation of life. And that happens because we have chemical urges. And those happen because we live our lives by our hearts and desires." Every sentence she spoke caused her grandson to cringe a bit more.

"Okay, okay. Weird topic with female family members."

Sinopa turned away with a silent snicker. She brought her hand to her face to keep her laughter concealed.

"I'll lock the place down. Meet me outside?"

"Mm." She kept her back to him, muffling a giggle into her fist. Sinopa sauntered outside.

The crisp scent of ocean water filled the kitsune's senses. She headed down to the beach, and made her way to a jetty, where a deep-water pier was constructed just offshore.

Sinopa relaxed her body and hovered over the water, heading out to the pier, where a boat was moored. She calmly descended onto the deck and settled herself, waiting for Conner.

Moments later, the boy ran down the jetty, performed a somersault off the end, and landed on a pile sticking out from the water. He darted from pile to pile, out to the pier, and flipped down onto the boat's aft deck. He wore a canvas guitar bag over his shoulder with the cane inside. "Alright, let's get underway then, gran!"

Sinopa smirked. "You're finally calling me something other than my name? Why the change of heart?"

"I guess I'm finally starting to accept it?" He smiled a bit and climbed a ladder up to the bridge. A moment later, the engine rumbled to life.

Sinopa walked around the sides of the generous sized boat, not quite as large as a yacht, and waved her hand at each mooring line. The rope fizzled to ash, burned away in mere seconds. She continued around the boat until each line was clear of their metallic cleats. Sinopa returned to the aft section and called up to the bridge. "We are ready, Conner!"

"Okay, thanks!" He put the engine into gear and eased into the throttle. The boat began to move forward, clearing the dock, and leaving the island behind.

The sun came up over the eastern horizon.

X

X

Friday, August 13, 2049 - 4pm PDT San Francisco, California ...

Kalen Kincade adjusted the lay of his jacket. He opened a door to the sub-level and held it for Reno and Wilfred. They passed through first, Kalen followed. A sign on the wall had an arrow, pointing towards the extravagant car garage.

"So," Wilfred began. "Vampires aren't allergic to garlic, but it still bothers you?"

Kalen shook his head. "I can smell blood in a fairly crowded room. When a man becomes a vampire, he undergoes changes to his physiology. One of which is an increase in his sense of smell. Olfactory senses increase by a factor of approximately ten."

"Now that is fascinating." Wilfred grinned. "So you become human sharks with panache and petticoats."

"And don't forget tact," said Reno, teasing Wilfred over the man's lack of refinement - a trait Kalen exuded. "Class, couth all in one fang-y package."

"Give it a rest, Nathan." Wilf smirked.

Kincade turned to Reno and said, "I find it extremely disconcerting to call you 'Nathan' or even 'Detective Carrington' in public, Reno. I understand Karla was being emotional - even sentimental, when she legally made that your name. However, I worked with Nathanial for a number of years. It's going to be difficult for me regardless of how much the two of you look alike."

Reno rubbed his face. "What?" He ran his hand back through his short, dark hair, stole a glance at Wilf, who shrugged. Nevada frowned and stared at Kalen expectantly. "Well?"

"You didn't know you're related?"

Nevada replied with silence and raised brows. Wilfred said nothing.

"Karla never told you?" The vampire glanced back at the two mortal men. He sighed through his nose.

"Uh, no? And for the record, I didn't really see the resemblance, man. He was pretty damn old, though."

"Reno, he was somehow related to your folks. I'm not sure which side, maternal or paternal, but his line of work made him a target. Both respected and feared."

Nevada frowned thoughtfully. He wondered what kind of danger his folks were in, growing up. He wondered if that was why they let him and his brother move away from them and why they gave him and Vincent different last names. "So that old man had people who wanted to kill him?"

Kalen nodded. "That's why he convinced your mother and father that they should move out to the middle of nowhere in California. They were safe from the crazy kind of people that The Reaper attracted. Consider this: you've got his power."

"I touched him before he died. I had to give him CPR, but he was way too old. I was told he somehow transferred his power to me on his death bed."

"Hmm," Kalen said with a shake of his head. "And you believed that? Have you ever heard of anyone gifting someone else an ability? That's a myth, young man. Regardless, Nathan was good to your family. He kept an eye on your folks and even helped them work out their differences when they were falling apart. Nathan's marriage counseling resulted in Vincent's birth."

"You and Karla both knew this? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Kalen shrugged with a frown. "I always thought she told you. Knowing her, she probably thought _I_told you. No one hid it from you on purpose. Plus, Karla had a few memories taken from her in 1999. Heaven knows she became a bit more boisterous, and her sense of humor became more childish after that. Regardless, there's a good chance she simply forgot."

"So I gave CPR to some sort of crazy old great uncle or grandparent, back in 2023, and they died right there. I couldn't save them. And all along, I never knew I let a family member die...?"

"I am absolutely positive you are ... were related, Reno. And now, for you to assume his identity, it's a bit strange for me."

"Are you kidding?" Reno said with a roll of his eyes. "C'mon man. You drink blood to stay alive. Karla has sex to stay young. But taking someone's name is strange?"

"I knew him closely. We worked together."

"You never told me what you guys did together."

Kalen eased his hands into his jacket and opened second sub-floor basement door, leading out to the car garage. "Reno, we killed people by the dozens. Entire cult groups of fanatics who wanted to use their powers to overthrow the Esoteric Council, or expose themselves to the rest of the world. The four of us would go into a warehouse, surrounded by three hundred people, and kill them all."

"Jesus Christ," Wilfred and Reno replied in near unison.

"I often find myself wondering if one or two of them got away, and that's who we're up against, now. Aris Falcon was very organized and had help from someone."

"How do you mean?" Asked Wilf.

Kalen frowned again. "What if I wasn't thorough enough to have stopped it before it turned into the mess we narrowly survived in 2023? What if it was a survivor who helped kill our kind? A threat I thought I eliminated but didn't? Gentlemen, the Four Horsemen were only dispatched to stop the most dangerous of supernatural enemies. To miss even one target could have caused all this mess."

"You can't do that to yourself," said Wilfred.

Reno decided to take the subject in another direction. "So there were four of you? Who?"

"Yes. Ethan Sandusky, Michael Richter, Nathanial Carrington and myself. We were affectionately referred to as the 'Four Horsemen.' Most of us have code names, like The Reaper, and The Judge. We killed people who would ruin things for the masses. We told ourselves we were saving the world. And maybe, a few times, we did. In our own way. Nathan was the leader of the group. Everything hit the fan when he was too old to stop it, but he still tried. And he died because he did it alone. Michael and Ethan died in 1999. Nathan was old and frail. I was ordered to watch over the remaining scholars of the Kincade family; I blame myself for Nathan's death. And once Carrington was gone, Aris Falcon and his people took their attacks to the next level."

"Jesus. Well, look, I've been practicing. I'm not as good as the real Nathan Carrington, but..." Reno trailed off and held his hand out. A bolt of lightning formed, and arced into a shape. It resembled a reaper's sickle."

Kalen replied with a wan smile. "I haven't seen that in a long time, Reno." The trio walked through a row of cars.

Nevada approached his car, the blue mid-1960's Chevelle, at the end of the car deck in the first row, closest to the rolling door. "You know, I nearly died in this room."

"That would have been tragic." Kalen glanced at the floor then back up and said, "Your power is extremely rare. And powerful. What happened?"

"A guy who worked with me ... Evan's dad, actually ... he had a shotgun to my head, and they had Topaz face down on the floor. The guy was given the order to blow my head off. He hesitated. Topaz broke away from the others, took a weapon, disarmed her attackers and killed almost all of them. Jerry let me live, so we let him live. He was Evan's _step_father, actually. Anyway, the guy left the state and never looked back."

"Fortunate." Kalen approached the passenger side of the Chevelle and let Wilf into the back, first. The vampire eased into the passenger seat. "You know this car is one of the oldest cars still on the road? It's over eighty years old. What happens if someone steals it?"

Reno smirked, opened the driver door and dropped into driver seat with a giddy grin. "They won't get very far. It runs on water and electricity. I'm the electricity. Sure, I could juice up this thing and it would last for a little while. Evan actually drove it down I-10. But like I said, they wouldn't get terribly far without me in the car."

"I see."

Wilf reached for a seatbelt in the back seat then frowned, remembering the car didn't have any. "Well, Nathan, where to?"

Reno started the engine. He adjusted the rearview mirror, his seat, and pulled the door shut. "Watch this." Nevada reached his left hand out the side window and opened his hand. A thin bolt of electricity arced across the room, connecting with a panel on the wall adjacent to the rolling door. It hummed to life and lifted. "We start by following the leads and see what forensic evidence we can get off the bodies currently in the morgue. They all have bites I assume? And they've all been drained of blood, right?"

"So we're told," said Wilfred.

Kalen added, "The local law enforcement officers have been out in force but it continues to happen. The media has been referring to the slayings as 'vampire attacks'."

"Yeah," Wilf mused. "Sensationalism, right?"

Kalen continued. "But it's been assumed by medical examiners that the bites are created for effect, and the bodies are being drained in another way. After all, people who conduct autopsies have little room for imagination, or sensationalism," he glanced at Wilfred, then back to Reno, "due the nature of their profession."

Reno eased into the accelerator and charged the steering wheel with a jolt of raw electricity. "How's the M.E. assuming the blood is pulled from the vics? By hanging upside down or something?"

Kalen waved with his left hand to accentuate his explanation. "The various M.E. reports in Lance's file suggests some victims were strung up, others were not. The inconsistent reports have hindered the case. Some examiners say that the only way to drain the victims so quickly is to have the bodies strung up. Other M.E.'s from kills outside the city, say the evidence isn't substantial to prove the bodies were strung up in such a way. The three of us know it was a legitimate vampire. Lance told the global Esoteric Council that he would take care of San Francisco's pest for them. They didn't ask how."

Reno smirked. "Giving me a badge and some sort of bullshit title isn't going to go very far."

"Reno, your credentials are legitimately part of a very small investigative agency backed by Government funding. USPRI. Remember your little friend with the short temper? She worked for them until Lance found a way to run the group. He's close with the director."

"Samantha?"

"Mm, I believe that was her name, yes."

Wilfred chimed in. "I can't remember if I've met her, personally."

"Growing old sucks, huh?" Reno grinned at the aging man, then continued, directing his next question back to Kalen. "And Greg Watson, right?"

"Good, you know the name of your missing director. Word has it that Lance put the man into hiding." Kalen held his hand up, palm outward. "You didn't hear that from me, officially. That comes from my own sources."

"So, officially, I work for USPRI now?" Nevada asked, pronouncing the word to sound like 'osprey.' Reno stopped the car just outside of the rolling door and waited. A moment later, it automatically closed. Satisfied the car garage was secure, he eased into the accelerator and came around the bend, from the side of a rather high hill. "I feel like that place is the Batcave or something."

"Reno, do you even know what the acronym stands for?"

Nevada rolled his eyes, picking up speed. "United States Paranormal Research and Investigations or something."

Kalen withdrew credentials from his jacket's inside pocket. The vampire glanced at the temporary badge he'd been given for this case. "They're part of Homeland Security. The FBI was rolled into that division while you were missing in action. So we have FBI badges. They are certainly not fake. You even have a paper trail with the FBI, showing that you're an investigative agent."

"Shit," Reno said with a grin. "Special Agent Nevada."

"No, special agent Carrington," Kalen corrected.

"Well, yeah. True. And you're what? An agent too? What about Wilf?"

"No. No on both accounts," Kalen said. "I'm considered a consultant in the case. I do not have a badge, or arresting power. I have a lanyard and fangs."

Reno chuckled, picking up speed on a slope, leading down into town. "Alright, so I'm Agent Carrington and you're simply Mr. Kincade. I won't mess it up. But don't start calling me by his name all the time. Just on the job or whatever. I'm not trying to _be_this guy. He died. It sucked for everyone. I'm not his replacement."

"Fine with me, agent."

Wilfred shifted his weight in the backseat. "So what about me?"

Kalen replied with a shrug. "Nothing official. I will see what I can do next time I speak to Lance."

Wilf frowned. "Alright."

Reno stole a quick look in his rearview then cut a sidelong glance to Kalen. "I don't suppose you'll be helping me with the case after this one."

Kalen folded his arms, leaning back into the comfortable seat. "The man who has been abusing temporal abilities? No thank you. I can fight, but I wouldn't stand a chance against a man like that."

"Rufus said you're not an offensive fighter; you're a defensive fighter. But you're telling me the exact opposite. You said you're some badass that wipes out entire rooms of supernaturals. So what's the deal?"

Kalen shook his head. "I'm not that person anymore. And I don't have a team to help me." The vampire sighed. "Reno, I'm the last one alive, and I was the weakest link. The way I see it, you'll need Karla to help you with the other case. You'll need _several people_especially suited for that sort of thing - your own team."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Karla has a family member named Raul. He is much better with temporal control than the man killing people. Raul can stop time and move through it. He's related to Karla. She'll find a way to get a hold of him. Then you'll need the help of another man named Trajen. That man's ability is to manipulate reality with augmented illusions."

"I knew a guy named Trajen years ago."

Kalen shrugged. "Did he sell information to the highest bidder?"

"Actually, yeah. Club owner downtown. There was a fire there and the club was burned out. Not much more than a shell was left. I was brought in to do an investigation on a death caused by the fire. I've known Trajen for a while."

"Mm, good. You'll have better luck finding him. Raul and Trajen are the only two men with any hopes of stopping a time bandit."

Reno offered a moue of disgust. "Please don't tell me you just called him a time bandit."

Kalen shrugged again. "I haven't thought of a clever name yet. It will come to me, and you'll be the first to know, Reno."

Wilfred glanced out the window then leaned forward over the backrest of the bench seat. "We're outside and it's daytime. You're not going to burst into flames are you?"

Kalen smirked. "If I die, there might be some measure of chemical reaction with oxygen that causes me to burst into flames - yes. The sunlight irritates my skin and it's lethal if I'm gravely wounded and left in the sun. But I will be fine for our investigation."

"Good." Reno glanced at the recently installed HUD showing in his windshield. It had a GPS turn-by-turn interface. He pointed to the glovebox. When Kalen opened it, Reno grinned, and said, "See that keypad right there? Punch in the address on the file folder. We're going to start this case with the boring parts first - questioning the M.E.'s who have dealt with some of the bodies. I've got to establish the facts about the victims before I can try and figure out how the suspect thinks. So far, the victims don't have very much in common. There's no pattern."

"Yes, there is."

"Oh?"

Kalen nodded. "He or she has a taste. The suspect prefers people related to humans with clout. A mafia leader's wife was killed. The child of a congressman was killed. The husband of a senator was killed. The child of a prestigious CEO was killed. However, some of the victims - just a few - have nothing in common."

Reno moved the Chevelle out onto a surface street, heading towards downtown. "They're the most recent to be murdered, right?"

"Good, you've read the case file."

"No, not yet," said Reno. "But it makes sense."

"Nothing about this makes sense, Reno."

Nevada shifted his weight as they drove towards downtown San Francisco. "Yeah it does. It suggests two possibilities. Maybe this guy is more than just one guy. _OR_it means that he started with specific guidelines for his kills ... but now he's expanding his taste, so to speak."

"Why?" Kalen asked.

Wilfred jumped in. "Why? Because some people can't stop. They make an exception at one point, like maybe a witness. Or because they're in the mood to kill but can't find someone that meets their original criteria. Suddenly, they make two exceptions to their criteria. Sometimes, these people stop giving a damn who they kill. Not totally sure but I think that's rare, actually."

Reno shrugged. "I won't know for sure until I've seen what the latest victims have in common with each other. Then I want to compare those deaths against the victims who were attributed to our killer during his early kills. There's a lot of possibilities and I want all the facts,nyou know? Like I said earlier, boring police work comes before the glory work."

"Very well, Reno."

Wilfred sighed in a faux melodramatic way. "You know you just said it's going to be boring on Friday the thirteenth. I'm not superstitious but if there were a cosmic force that jinxes people, you've basically just put your foot in your mouth."

"Meh." Reno grimaced.

Kalen glanced back at Wilfred. "Are you here for fun? Just curious."

Wilf grimaced. "Kind of. I used to work with Reno, man. I was a medical examiner and I did some consulting to help the suits make educated guesses. Worked my way up from a forensic pathologist to head M.E.m and for the record, I have a major in quantum physics."

Kalen furrowed his brows and turned about in the car seat. "How does a physicist become an autopsy grunt for the police?"

"You don't publish enough papers in one field, you fall back on another to placate a girl who finds death fascinating. Don't look at me like that, she was smart and attractive."

"Dare I ask what became of her?"

Reno touched Kalen's knee and shook his head.

Wilfred leaned back in the rear seat with a shrug. "Cocaine. Her heart couldn't ... it was pretty hard on me. I stayed on the career path with forensics to help the police. It felt like that was the only way I knew how to help get that shit off the streets. If you ask me, God made that plant to help humans heal cuts and scrapes, not to blow up your heart trying to chase your first high."

"I'm sorry," Kalen said in a somber tone. "I've also lost people to something that should have been beneath them."

"Call Lance, and put my name on some sort of paperwork. I don't care what his connections are, just have him pull strings."

Reno glanced in the rearview at Wilfred. "What's your angle, man?"

Wilf shrugged. "I'll get a rental car and start hitting all the M.E.s' offices, so we can compile information. You guys can start combing the streets, talking to whoever. So far as I'm concerned, blood is sort of like an abused prescription substance. Kalen, here, has been responsible with it. This other vampire has been abusive with it, and, like many drugs, substance abuse can sometimes lead to innocent bodies in back alleyways. So I want to help. I want to contribute to this team more than just by going along for the ride."

Reno nodded with a wan smile. "Make the call, Kalen. Wilf helped me discover my powers. He helped me with cases. He won't get in our way ... he can help."

"Damn right I can."

Kalen shrugged and fished out his phone from his jacket. "Alright, gentlemen. Stay quiet while I call Lance Patterson. Wilfred, is your comprehension of quantum physics enough to help with the second case as well?"

Reno smirked and said, "Kalen, he rebuilt the car you're sitting in. He directed Evan and Johann to use their abilities; they created all sorts of shit for this car to be badass. It runs on water."

Wilfred folded his arms with a grin. "And it shoots lightning, and has a modified rail gun. Plus, the frame is ultra-compressed carbon fiber. It's basically a diamond-armored frame. In late 2024, I gave Steve Milford the grand tour. I'm told he's some sort of genius inventor guy for the E.C. Or something. He was impressed."

"I still am," said Reno with a grin. "I can't wait to use this thing more often."

Kalen held his free hand up and gestured for silence. "Lance, it's Kalen. We need your help. Wilfred Greg requires a more active role in helping us. He'll need paperwork and official credentials..."

X

X

Friday the 13th, 5:30pm San Francisco, California ...

"Indeed, that was nothing resembling a TV show," Kalen mused with a thoughtful tone. "Perhaps writers of those shows would benefit from attending autopsies before writing scenes such as what we've just witnessed. Although I have to admit, your elderly friend is quite knowledgeable."

Reno opened the driver door of the Chevelle and dropped into his seat. "There's no damn way you're squeamish. You drink blood."

"And I've seen my fair share of internal organs and intestines." Kalen slid into the passenger seat. "Vampires drink quickly. The typical vampire who wishes to kill at a rapid pace will sink their fangs into the carotid artery and suck until the victim expires. A vampire wishing to end the life of a victim faster than such will snap the neck of his victim, then bite while the heart is still beating. But most vampires conceal evidence of their bite. They avoid arteries if they want their victim to live. Our saliva can heal dermis."

"That's the technical term for flesh, right?"

"Yes, Reno." Kalen reached for a seatbelt that didn't exist. "Mm, historic cars. Funny how we grow used to modern amenities." He turned to Nevada and added, "There will be a mark. The initial bite will be somewhat visible. Mostly, however, the marks seen after a bite are from where blood is collecting internally beneath the area of the puncture. Vitamin K in our saliva helps to coagulate the victim's blood quickly. The bleeding beneath the skin is brief. There was no healing to the flesh on the neck of that cadaver. Not even partial healing."

Reno put the car into gear and pulled out of the lot. "So our bad guy was careful not to slobber on his victims?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Have you ever placed your lips on a woman's neck, mouth open, and not left some sort of saliva residue, Reno? Even if it's faint, the taste of blood causes a vampire to salivate."

"Don't tell me we're dealing with some sort of freaking vampire knock-off from some third world country's mythology."

Kalen replied with a wry grin. "While possible, the bite pattern is consistent with my kind. The autopsy concluded that rapid exsanguination occurred, starting while the victim was alive, and ending after the victim expired. It's a traditional vampire, Reno."

"So is our bad guy deformed? Or maybe he has a birth defect with the saliva thing?"

"Mm, possible, but I've never heard of something like that. However, I do have a possible lead."

Reno cut the wheel, made a U-turn at the first intersection, and went through a red light, back the other direction. "I'm listening."

"A few months ago ... in fact, it was the day you arrived at a hospital in DC, I was on my way to that same hospital with a blood sample to verify a recently-created vampire. I went over there because they are so far removed from the system that I could run tests without the results winding up in a computer network. Bribe money goes a long way over there."

"Alright, I'm following you so far. Where was the sample from originally, and what did you find?"

"Reno, it was a vampire's blood, but it didn't come from any known vampire family on record. I verified the results with all the known families on file, saved to a flash drive. Natalia keeps tabs on everything she can. Knowledge is power. Regardless, this vampire was killing people as if for sport. The sample came from Lance. I'm not sure how he came by it."

Reno rolled his eyes. "Of course not."

"It was somewhere in California, however. I reported my findings and heard nothing else for months."

"This sounds like a stretch, Kalen."

"There are approximately fifteen vampires left in the world after Falcon's people marched on supernaturals like Sherman to the sea. Since 2023, less than five new vampires are known to have been created. Suddenly, an unknown rogue shows up, biting and draining people. Not long after, a vampire starts killing methodically in similar fashion, but with a few different tricks. With all due respect, Reno, it sounds like a lead to me."

"Well if this freak - no offense to you - has been killing, and he's upping his game, that begs the question: What about the kills between February and August? Was there a quiet period? Did they leave the country for a while?"

"And how the hell has he not been caught yet," Kalen said with a frown. "It seems highly unlikely, even with so few supernatural people left in the world."

"Everyone leaves evidence at some point. We'll find this guy." They continued back through the city. Reno hit the turn signal and headed for the interstate. The Chevelle veered off the surface street, down an on-ramp, beneath an overpass, and onto the freeway.

The cacophony of a body slamming into the windshield caused Nevada's breath to catch in his throat. He stomped the breaks on instinct and veered hard to the right. The Chevelle hit the gravel on the side of the road and performed a half-spin.

The car slid to a halt, facing the interstate, perpendicular, on the side of the road. Seconds later, another car entering the highway swerved to avoid a dead body in the street.

Reno silently thanked Evan for creating such a resilient windshield panel. He put the car into 'park,' swung the door open and ran out towards the body in the street.

Kalen came with him. They approached it on either side. Another car came down the on-ramp, swerved away from them, honking its horn, and flew by on the opposite shoulder.

"C'mon, it's Friday rush-hour traffic," Reno quipped. He took the body by the ankles.

Kalen put his hands beneath the dead body's arms and lifted. They carried it off to the shoulder, adjacent to the Chevelle. Kincade grimaced and said, "Vampire bite on the throat. It's fresh, still bleeding. He can't be far if he's throwing bodies at us from the overpass."

"It means he knows we're after him," Reno sneered. "He knows what we look like. He's mocking us."

"Should we fan out and search for...?"

"No," Reno snapped. "This is him being sloppy. He threw a body at us, Kalen. Is there any spit on the neck?"

Kalen eased the body down adjacent to the idling Chevelle. "If there is, it was washed away by the blood, here."

"How can you be so calm about blood?" Reno grumbled in disgust. "Fine. Can you smell each other? Like in the movies? Can you vamps sniff each other out if he's close?"

"I'm afraid not. You would need Rufus for..."

"Yeah, figures. Goddammit. Okay, I'll call the cops. We're going to have to report this. Cops will need a statement and then they'll canvas the area. God this is so messed up. I can't believe he's throwing bodies at us."

Kalen frowned. "So much for boring."

"We're going to find this egotistical bastard," Reno muttered, adding, "So help me God, we're going to catch him." He pulled out his cell phone and called Lance Patterson's number. "Kalen, you call the cops, I'll let Methos know what just happened."

"Call him Lance. He hasn't gone by Methos in quite a while."

"Yeah, I know - Lance Patterson. I actually liked his old name better. It suited him."

"Part of changing one's name every so often is to avoid attention to the fact one doesn't age."

"Yeah, yeah. I get it," said Nevada, rolling his eyes. "Just call the cops from your phone. You got it?" said Reno, putting his cellphone to his ear. It rang. He waited. A voice answered on the other end. "Hey. It's Inspector Nevada." He paused and sighed, listening to Lance on the other end. "Sorry, right. It's Agent Carrington calling. Look, boss, we got a problem..."

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Next chapter: https://www.sofurry.com/view/747142