Bloody Civilian

Chief Laughlin approached the microphones with a heavy stride, his shoulders slumped under the mass of the grim news. About fifteen reporters sat before him, pens poised, camera flashes lighting up the room. The silence was taut, broken only by the occasional click of a camera or cough from the audience.

"As you know, on November 18th, 26-year-old David Hannaby was murdered," Laughlin announced, gripping the podium with white-knuckled hands. "This happened only a week ago."

Cass stood behind him with other officers, forcing herself to meet the cameras' unblinking gaze. This was the part of her job she hated most—the press conferences. The scrutinizing looks, the shiny faces of reporters hungry for a scoop. It made her feel like a spectacle. It didn't help that she'd been dealing with David's distraught parents all morning, their grief still echoing in her mind.

"A criminal investigation is well underway," Laughlin continued. "We've received a few helpful tips and are interviewing witnesses. Unfortunately, we can't say when we'll make an arrest."

A reporter stood, recorder aimed at the Chief. "Is there any evidence of foul play? Could this be a personal vendetta?"

Cass swallowed a sigh. Speculations already. David had been a quiet, shy, graphic design student—hardly a profile that screamed 'targeted by a jealous rival.'

"The investigation is still underway," Laughlin said, sticking to the script. "We can't answer that yet."

The murmurs grew louder. Cass thought about the interviews she'd conducted with David's three flatmates. They'd described David as increasingly paranoid over the past month, convinced someone was watching him. Tucker, his closest friend, had hinted that David might have been seeing someone in secret, but he'd never shared a name. And there was the peculiar detail: David didn't have a great relationship with his parents— he hadn't visited Havenfield in years, so why had he come back now?

Another reporter jumped up. "Chief, can you confirm that Havenfield is safe?"

"Havenfield has been free from violent crime for years," Laughlin replied, his voice losing some of its firmness. "We don't have reason to believe others are at risk."

"But this isn't an isolated incident," another reporter cut in, her tone sharp. "Just a few weeks ago, Simon McMichael was also brutally murdered. Are the two cases connected?"

Laughlin hesitated, and Cass inwardly winced. The reporters seized on his uncertainty, their questions blending into a cacophony of panic-inducing headlines. 'Was a serial killer on the loose in Havenfield? Could residents feel safe?'

Cass stepped forward, her voice slicing through the noise. "Two murders don't make a serial killer, Miss...?"

The reporter glared. "Sawyer. Sasha Sawyer, Havenfield Gazette."

"Right," Cass said, unfazed. The Havenfield Gazette was small pickings. With the way Sawyer carried herself, you'd have thought she was a CNN reporter. "Detective Cassandra Pratt. I'm leading this investigation. Our department is working tirelessly, but we won't jump to conclusions. David Hannaby's death is a tragedy, and we're committed to finding those responsible. In the meantime, we urge residents to take precautions and support each other."

Chief Laughlin signaled the end of questions, and Cass felt a flicker of relief as the reporters filed out. Her bones felt heavy like lead. Was Havenfield safe; how the hell was she supposed to know? 

Laughlin's hand tapped her shoulder twice in that strange, solid way that old, rugged men only knew to show support.

"I'm counting on you, Cass," he said, his tone grim.

"I won't let you down, Chief," she replied. She'd become so adept at lying through her teeth.

As she exited the room, the reporters' relentless questions echoed in her head. 'Could Havenfield residents feel safe? Was there a serial killer?'

She shook off the tension and made her way to the department, hoping to find some solace in caffeine.

The Havenfield Police Department was only two blocks away from Town Hall where the meeting was held, still, Cass had to field off a gaggle of reporters, get in her car and battle another batch of them outside the department. By the time she got into the building, her exhaustion was renewed. Just what she needed.

"Good afternoon, Detective Pratt," came a familiar voice.

Cass looked up to see Esther Daniels, the department's longtime receptionist, smiling warmly. With her salt-and-pepper hair in a bun and purple, cat-shaped glasses perched on her nose, Esther was the embodiment of a kind old woman, the type to slip gumdrops into her pockets or knit blankets for your cat.

"You look exhausted, dear," Esther remarked, her tone full of concern.

"Long day," Cass sighed, resting her head against the marble countertop. "Press conferences, witness interviews, hours of CCTV footage… I just need coffee."

"Just your luck," Esther beamed. "I ordered coffee and donuts from that new place downtown. The delivery person should be here any minute."

As if on cue, the smell of frost and decay hit Cass like a punch. Her senses sharpened, dread coiling in her stomach. She turned toward the sliding glass doors just as they opened to reveal another vampire.

The woman entered with the easy confidence of a runway model, balancing a coffee tray on a box. Dressed in baggy beige jeans, a black crop top, and a flannel shirt, she looked more like a rebellious college student than a bloodsucker. Her gaze locked onto Cass, and a mischievous smile curved her lips.

Cass's jaw tightened. First Uriel, now this? The universe seemed hell-bent on ruining her week.

"Hey! If it isn't Law and Order," the vampire called out cheerfully, her voice laced with mockery.

Cass bristled. "Do I know you?"

The vampire clutched her chest in mock offense. "Harsh, Detective Pratt. But fair." She set the coffee and donuts on the desk, then extended her hand. "I'm Lyra. I run Nightshade Sip. My brother, the CEO, mentioned you might show us around town."

Cass's stomach dropped. 'So Uriel has a sister.' None of the articles ever mentioned her but it made sense that a man like Jriel would want to keep his private life separate from his professional life.

"Oh, how lovely!" Esther exclaimed, clearly thrilled by the idea. "It's just like our Cassie to be so welcoming."

Cass shot Lyra a warning look, but the vampire only grinned wider. "Actually," Lyra drawled, "my brother came home smelling like her perfume. Pretty sure they've got a little something going on."

Esther's eyes went wide with excitement. "Cassie! You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!"

"I don't," Cass said quickly, her cheeks warming. She glared at Lyra, who looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Esther leaned in, whispering to Lyra conspiratorially. "Do you have a picture? I'd love to see this young man!"

Lyra pulled out her phone, showing Esther a photo of Uriel. The older woman gasped. "Oh, he's handsome! Cassie, you should seize the opportunity!"

Cass clenched her jaw. She had no intention of 'seizing' anything when it came to Uriel Serpov.

"But you'll show them around town, won't you?" Esther urged, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

"Yeah," Lyra added with a smirk. "We'd be very grateful."

It was just her luck that this was what she'd been saddled with. Two weeks ago, she was trailing the prime suspect in a supermarket robbery case. Now she had a potential serial killer hiding from her and not one, but two very smug vampires gallivanting around her town. Who knew what the vampires would do when they were hungry. How they would feed.

Briefly, the image of Lyra biting down on Esther's papery jugular with a cool smirk on her face as she sucked her dry flashed through her mind.

The image sent a shiver down her spine.

"Listen... Lyra, was it?" Cass said with a sigh. After a day of relentless work, she was sure the weariness she felt was on full display. "I've got some work to catch up on. Let's talk some other time, plan that... tour I promised." 

She scrawled her number on a Post-it and handed it to Lyra, praying the vampire would just leave. "Here. Text or… whatever."Or don't. Please don't. "Or whatever."

Cass was fully prepared to make her triumphant exit after that, but Esther spoke up.

"I almost forgot!" The old woman picked up a cup of coffee from the tray on her desk and extended the box of donuts to Cass. The smell of freshly baked goods weakened her knees. In all the excitement, she'd forgotten how hungry she was. "I ordered a Ristretto for you; I know you like your coffee bitter."

Cass took the paper cup from her, pleased to find that the heat of it singed her fingers. "Thank you."

"Also, have a donut or two," Esther shook the box invitingly, her smile wide. "You've got to try them, Cassie, simply divine."

"The secret ingredient is love," Lyra quipped.

Esther laughed. Lyra laughed. Cass wanted to scream.

"Come around the shop sometime," the vampire added, tilting her head to look at Esther. "If I'm at the counter, I might just accidentally drop an extra bun in the bag for you."

Esther pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes becoming big and watery. "Bless your heart."

Cass almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. Did Lyra even have a heart? She concentrated on listening to the sounds around her—officers arguing about a football game, the copy machine buzzing, the sound of Esther's soft breathing amplified in her ears, her own heartbeat—and yup, no heartbeat from Lyra.

The vampire gave her a skeptical look, and Cass shook her head. She was done here.

Plucking two donuts out of the box, she turned around and started making her way down the hallway. She could feel Lyra's gaze on her, laser-focused and burning a hole through the back of her skull, but Cass didn't even dare turn around.

She wasn't even halfway to the end of the hall before someone grabbed her arm.

No, not someone. It was Lyra, the way every individual hair on the back of her neck rose up was a dead giveaway.

Cass whipped around just in time to be pulled into a tight but careful hug. Tight, in the sense that she was literally trapped. Careful, in the sense that, in all the movements it took for Lyra to grab her, her coffee cup remained in her left hand, undisturbed.

The chill of Lyra's skin seeped through Cass's jacket, numbing her to the bone. Cass tried to pull away, her free hand twitching at her side, but the vampire's grip held firm. The instinct to fight surged, but for once, her training felt useless. She was a cop, damn it. Yet here she was, trapped, powerless against something that defied every rule she knew.

Cass's vision blurred slightly as panic set in, a sharp ringing filling her ears. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst, each beat a painful reminder of just how fragile she was in the vampire's grasp.

Lyra's cheek brushed against hers, unnervingly soft despite the cold, and Cass fought to keep from trembling.

"Lone wolf, all alone in the big city," Lyra whispered softly into her ear. "No houses to blow down?"

 Cass's voice was barely a whisper when she managed to stutter, "Screw you."

She looked around frantically for help. Two officers were coming down the corridor. She opened her mouth and... no sound came out. The scream caught in her throat, choking her. She coughed. The men walked past, their footsteps fading into the distance. They didn't even glance in her direction; and why would they? Pressed against Lyra's chest, they looked like two best friends enjoying a heartfelt reunion and not prey trapped in the claws of a predator.

"Your heart is beating so fast," Lyra said with a dark chuckle. "You scare easily. I wonder why my brother didn't get rid of your pathetic ass."

"Let me go," Cass managed to stutter.

"I will, in a minute," Lyra's eyes narrowed, the playful gleam in them hardening. "I'm not as merciful as Uriel, Ofitser. You're a loose end that needs to be cut off. Uriel may find you amusing, but to me, you're an anomaly… a liability." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "People who dig too deep into our business don't last long, Ofitser."

So Uriel Serpov was in town for a reason. Figures. The murders may not have been by their hands but she suspected Havenfield wasn't their vacation spot.

"What is your business here?" She spat out the question.

Lyra chuckled, the sound sending another sick shiver crawling down Cass's spine. "Officer, we're just hard working business owners." Then her eyes narrowed, her playful demeanor evaporating as she leaned in closer. "Stay in your lane. I won't hesitate to snap your fucking neck if you step out of line."

Cass's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her ears. But just as quickly, Lyra's expression shifted back to a grin, the playful gleam returning to her eyes. "But hey, no hard feelings, right? We're all just trying to have a little fun."

The sudden change in tone left Cass reeling, unsure if she should be more terrified or enraged.

"Well then," Lyra said, turning around on the ball of her feet. "See you later!"

Lyra strode down the corridor while Cass's nerves spasmed. Her hands shook as she made her way back to her office, her appetite for coffee and donuts gone. She forced her hands to still, unclenching her fists with deliberate slowness. She couldn't let the others see her rattled; not here, in her own station. But as she steadied her breath, she couldn't shake the sensation of Lyra's icy grip or the way her threat had wound around her heart like a constrictor.

Once inside her office, she locked the door and stared at her reflection in the small mirror on the wall. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with lingering fear.

"Get it together," she whispered, clenching her fists. But the doubt gnawed at her, relentless. What if she wasn't enough? What if the next time she faced one of them, she didn't get away?

The image of Lyra's mocking smile was burned into her mind and she shook her head, tearing her gaze away from the mirror, focusing instead on the task at hand. She had a killer to catch. And maybe—just maybe—doing that would remind her of who she really was.