Fallen Angels Read online

  Mr. Stringy made a quick, stabbing motion. Enoch's coat was brand new, cashmere. Now it had a hole in it. So did his shirt. The knife slid into Enoch's shoulder, aimed down toward his heart. When it came out, there was no blood, no wound, and the man blinked in surprise. Mr. Cap pulled back his fist and punched Enoch, hard, in the face.

  Now he was pissed. "You should have stopped while you were ahead." Enoch grabbed Stringy by his collar and heaved him into the air. A gift to the heavens, if they noticed or cared. Just a little toss. The man landed with a thud on the small lawn of the church. Enoch could hear him gasping. Good, he'd live.

  When Enoch turned to Mr. Cap, the man gripped his gun with both hands. "I wouldn't do that," Enoch warned. Cap pulled the trigger, close range. The bullet hit Enoch in the forehead. A hole opened, hesitated until the bullet was spit out, then closed.

  “Holy shit!”

  It soon would be. Enoch grabbed Cap's shoulder, raised him off the ground, and threw him against the brick wall.

  Stringy pushed himself onto his elbows. “Don’t kill me! We didn’t mean it.”

  Enoch had been sent here to protect human lives. But these guys were scum. "If I see you again, you won’t like it.” Even angels had limits.

  The man wobbled to his feet, went to his friend, and pulled him up. Bracing each other, they stumbled away, going in the opposite direction of Enoch.

  Enoch was aggravated with himself. A bad call. He should have smacked their heads together until their brains were scrambled and then given them to Danny. This way, he couldn’t have them arrested. If they blurted that they’d stabbed and shot him and nothing happened, Danny just might believe them. But now, they were still on the streets--dangerous idiots. He’d keep his eye on them.

  Grumbling to himself, he hurried to meet Danny. He was crossing the railroad tracks when he noticed a thin, pale woman walking in the same direction the two men had gone. She leaned into the wind, her head down.

  “Two guys just tried to jump me!" he called to her. “They're armed. They went toward the all-night Laundromat up there. You might want to go another way.”

  She stopped under a street light and lifted her head to look at him. Her skin was opaque like alabaster, her eyes feral yellow. Long, straight hair--silvery white, like the moon—lashed her face. It was dry and brittle. Her eyes had dark hollows under them. But nothing could detract from her beauty. Her face, her figure… Then Enoch noticed the tears. They glistened on her cheeks. A sad vampire? What the hell was going on tonight? Were the planets aligned wrong? When he took a step closer, she put her head down and kept walking.

  Enoch had to fight the urge to follow her. What could make a vampire cry? She looked tired, defeated. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He’d lost too much time already. Danny wouldn’t wait for him forever.

  Ten minutes later, Enoch reached the middle entrance for the newly renovated knitting mill. Danny’s unmarked car was parked outside and two police cars sat nearby. A cop stopped him at the door, securing the scene.

  “I’m Enoch Smith.” “Smith” proved anonymous enough for his liking, so he’d adopted it.

  The cop nodded. “Danny’s waiting."

  None too patiently, he'd bet. Enoch climbed the stairs to the third floor. When he reached Unit 3, another cop motioned him inside. The condo was smaller than Enoch expected--a large room that served as a living room/kitchen and a short hallway with two doors on the right, a third on the left. He peeked into a small bedroom and a bath on his way to a spacious bedroom with a balcony. Danny, lost in thought, was looking out the French doors at the courtyard below when Enoch entered the room.

  “You took your time.” Typical Danny. He motioned toward the dead woman on the double bed. Her nightgown lay in a tangle on the carpet. Enoch took a deep breath. She looked so young. Her head was shaved clean. Strands of long, blond hair lay on the sheet that was pulled up to her shoulders. Enoch stepped closer and noticed that she had no eyelashes or eyebrows either.

  “He shaves their entire bodies,” Danny said. “Everything. Arms, legs, pubic area. We’re keeping that quiet. Sort of obscene.”

  The girl’s nose had been painted black, and her eyes were rimmed with white paint. Two flannel ears were glued onto the side of her head.

  “What kind of ass makes a clown puppy?” Danny said, his voice harsh.

  Enoch took a minute to collect himself. He shouldn't have come here. He should have known better. After all the deaths he'd seen, they still bothered him. Mortals were so fragile. And the deaths of young people were the worst of all.

  Danny was testy. Who could blame him? “The last girl was shaved too, and then he put an orange, curly wig on her head.”

  You're only a consultant, Enoch reminded himself. Don't get involved. “He must have a clown fetish.”

  “That narrows it down.” Sarcasm. Danny was struggling. He gave Enoch a look. “As far as we can tell, we got nothing, just like last time. With Luci, there were no prints, no DNA, no leads. Nothing. If you can give me a starting point, it might make a difference.”

  Enoch walked to the edge of the bed. Don't look at her. Don't get too close. But he did. So young. He narrowed his eyes, looked for anything and everything. Nothing. Not one clue.

  "You got anything?" Danny asked. "It might save the next one."

  There couldn't be a next one. Damn. If he used his gift… it would be another step. How much would that cost him? Did the price matter? If he didn't help, and another girl was strangled, could he live with himself? Words tumbled out, words he shouldn't have said. “I'm not much of a psychic, but sometimes, I can touch a murder victim and see the next person the killer will attack…if there’s going to be a next victim. It’s the only flash I get--just the next body, but it might give you something to work with.”

  “And you learned this…?”

  “When my parents were murdered.” A convenient lie. He'd spent centuries perfecting this gift, and he still didn't have it right. “I just want to warn you. This usually bothers me. I might be piss poor company.”

  “You? Imagine that.”

  Enoch ignored Danny’s taunt. The girl--so young, so pretty--didn’t look to be more than twenty. Helping Danny find her killer was a price he was willing to pay.

  “Liza Marsdale. She’s a college student,” Danny said, reading Enoch’s expression. “Studying to be an elementary school teacher.”

  The good thing about killing vampires was that they turned to dust, and the ones Enoch hunted deserved to die; whereas, humans were a vulnerable lot. He couldn’t help but think of the potential stolen, of the dreams unfulfilled. He could tell by Danny’s face that his friend was feeling the same.

  Danny looked away as Enoch laid a hand on the girl’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

  It took a minute, but the image came. A young woman propped on a canopied bed. Wavy dark hair hacked off. He paused, waiting for more. In his mind, the dead woman opened her eyes, rimmed in clownish black circles. She stared hard at him and began to speak. A red ball perched on the end of her nose, and a tiny straw hat with a daisy on top tilted on her head, held in place with an elastic band under her chin. “Katy Torrence,” she said. “I have an apartment above the bar. I should have put a deadbolt on the door. I thought I was safe.” Then she closed her eyes.

  A hot, fiery sensation burned Enoch’s palm–not pain, but the heat of emotion seared-flesh. He jerked his hand away and took a minute to compose himself.

  "Well?" Danny prodded.

  “Katy Torrence."

  "You got her name?" Danny made a note.

  "She lives above a bar. He kills them because he hates them. It’s a strong hate that’s burned into their skin.”

  “Did you recognize the bar?”

  Enoch frowned, trying to remember where he'd seen it before. He was sure it was somewhere in this area. When he tried to describe it, Danny said, “On Wells Street, not far from here, open till they serve breakfast. Let's go. Let's see if Katy's work
ing and warn her."

  What was Enoch thinking? If he went with Danny for this, he'd be knee deep in Danny's case. Not good. Not good for anyone. But it was too late, Danny was ready to go.

  "Did you get anything else?" Danny asked.

  "The faster the vision comes, the less time between murders. This came fast.”

  "Come on then."

  "I shouldn't. I'm not a cop. Don't you have a partner?"

  "I'm a detective. I can fly solo, but Derek and I work together sometimes. He's busy on another case. This isn't an interrogation. Just giving the girl a warning. You're the one who saw her. Come on."

  He shouldn't. But what could it hurt? He'd see if the girl in his vision matched the name he gave Danny.

  They walked outside into the wind. Danny hunched big, beefy shoulders and led Enoch to his car. It was a short drive to the bar. It wasn't until they were smashed into a booth, facing each other, that each of them took a deep breath and relaxed a little.

  Chapter 2

  Danny looked around the bar, surprised. For early in the morning, the place was doing a respectable business. Most of its wooden booths were taken, and a decent number of customers balanced on stools at the bar. Breakfasts and beer were being served in equal numbers.

  Danny inhaled the smell of bacon and eggs and his stomach rumbled. Enoch noticed. "I'm hungry too. Let's eat."

  Danny had learned early on that Enoch always picked up the tab. When he protested, his friend said, "I have enough money to do whatever I want. I don't think about it. And I like to pay, so let me." It was an arrangement that Danny could get used to. When the waitress came, he ordered the special. So did Enoch. And they both ordered beers. The perfect way to start the day—clogged arteries and alcohol.

  That business out of the way, Danny ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. A bad habit, but it was better than fidgeting. It used to make his mother nuts when he drummed his fingers on the table or clinked his spoon on the rim of his coffee cup. "This is the damnedest case.”

  "You'll catch the guy," Enoch said. "You know what you're up against now."

  Nice sentiments, but Enoch had no idea how hard it was to catch a clever killer. How could he? He was a civilian. “When I was called for Luci Jurgenson," Danny told him, "I thought it had to be a jealous boyfriend or some loony who’d fallen in love with her. She was a waitress, and men hit on her all the time according to friends. I thought maybe one of them decided that if he couldn’t have her, nobody could. It happens.”

  “And now?”

  “We have a serial sicko on our hands.”

  The waitress came with their orders, and Enoch waited to answer until she left. “Something has to connect the two women. You'll find it."

  Now maybe. Before, he'd been going in the wrong direction. “There was no physical evidence. Nothing. So I did the people trail. Everyone I questioned had alibis, or I couldn’t find a motive."

  "And now?"

  Danny poked the yolks of his sunny side up eggs and mixed them with his hash browns. "Maybe with three women to look at, I’ll find some kind of link.” God, he hoped so. “Any of the waitresses look like the next victim?”

  “It might be a little hard to recognize her. She had a flower pot on her head and was painted like a clown."

  Danny drained his beer. His new friend was full of surprises. Too many of them. Tonight's about floored him. He'd never worked with a psychic before, but a few guys on the force had. If it could help… “I wish the guy had an ego, the type who leaves notes to mock the cops or messages written in lipstick on mirrors, something to get a feel for his agenda."

  "Painting them like clowns isn't enough?"

  Danny shrugged. "Why clowns? Something has to be eating at the guy."

  "And you don't know what that is, do you? The why."

  "I don't have a damned clue." When things slowed down a little and the waitress made it back to their table, Danny looked at her expectantly. She had blond hair pulled up in a high ponytail. She ignored him and gave Enoch a wide smile. “I’ve never seen you in here before, Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome.” Danny grimaced. That was the way it seemed to work when he was with Enoch. The guy was the type women flocked to—easily six feet five with pitch black hair and rippling muscles. Danny might as well be invisible next to him.

  “It’s our first time here.” Enoch smiled—a big smile, all white teeth and charm—and handed her two twenties, motioning for her to keep the change. Pumping her, and he was good at it. “Is Katy here tonight?”

  “Oh, are you one of her boyfriends?” The girl sounded disappointed. “She won’t be back until Thursday. She went to visit her sister.”

  “In town?” Danny asked.

  The waitress stopped to consider him. He had that cop look, he knew. She grew more wary. “No, Illinois. She said not to give her number out, that she’s on vacation.”

  "I need to get in contact with her as soon as possible. It's important. Would you have her call me?" Danny handed her his card.

  "A policeman?" She didn't sound surprised.

  "We've learned some information that might interest her." Danny didn't want the entire bar to know that Katy was the next intended victim of the clown killer.

  She stuck his card in her pocket and returned her attention to Enoch. "Are you a cop too?"

  "No, just a consultant."

  She smiled. "So you can't arrest me?"

  She was busting a move, but Danny didn't care. "The sooner I get in touch with Katy, the better."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. He was being a spoil sport, and she wasn't happy about it. "I'll tell her already."

  "When do you expect her back?"

  "Next week."

  "I want her to call me before then.”

  "What do I look like, her nursemaid?" She stopped to scribble her name and number on a paper coaster and handed it to Enoch before she left.

  If anything could make Danny's mood worse, that might have done it. “It must be a hard life—rich as sin and handsome as hell. When I’m with you, I never get hit on.”To his surprise, Enoch laughed. “Even if you did, you wouldn’t notice.”

  "I'm a cop. I notice everything."

  "Clues, maybe. Innuendoes, sure. But obvious come-ons? You're oblivious." Enoch pushed himself out of the booth, still chuckling.

  Danny wasn't amused. He'd been considered quite the catch in high school with his bulky, six-three build and his butt load of football tackles. Next to his friend? He didn't even rate a second glance. He was in a pissy mood and vented it. “You don’t have any more surprises that I should know about, do you?”

  “None that would impress you.”

  That made Danny think. “Anything that would make me curious?”

  “Everything makes you curious.”

  "Hey, who could help it?" How much did Danny really know about Enoch? Not much. And everything about the guy was unusual. They shrugged into their coats.

  "A little defensive, aren't you?" Enoch followed Danny to his unmarked Buick and slid into the passenger seat.

  Now, Danny felt guilty. Enoch had done nothing but help him, and how had he repaid him? He'd dug for information on his past. He couldn't help it. He was a cop, for God's sake. “You’re not exactly average. Money to burn with no apparent means of support.”

  “So you looked into that.”

  “Sort of. It’s habit.” He could tell that Enoch had expected him to. He started the car and waited for the heater to clear the windshield.

  "What did you find?”

  “You’ve had more money than most small countries since the day your mom changed your first diaper.”

  Enoch gave him a long, curious glance. “And?” He made it sound almost like a challenge.

  “You had one weird upbringing, bud. Your parents dragged you to every small, backward spot in the world.” Enoch nodded, but didn't respond. It made Danny think for the umpteenth time how convenient it was to have parents who traveled to locations with no good system
of records, courts that lost birth and death certificates, and cities that didn’t print newspapers or have high-powered legal systems. “So that’s how you discovered your odd talent?” Danny pulled away from the curb, wondering what his friend's answer would be this time. “When you found your parents?” he prodded.

  “Yeah, when I touched them, I saw the body of a guy I’d never met, stabbed and bloodied, slumped on the side of a road. I didn’t make the connection until later, when the killer was caught and linked to both murders.”

  “Creepy,” Danny said. He'd love to know how much of that version was true.

  “It took some getting used to.”

  Yeah, it would. Danny had to admit a skill like that was something he was glad he'd missed. "Where's your car? Where should I drop you off?"

  "I didn't drive. I was out walking. You can drop me anywhere."

  Danny rubbed his forehead. His friend had some strange habits. “In this weather? The wind will blow you away. I'll drive you home. It's on the way to the station.” But when they stopped at the light on Broadway, dispatch called. Two bodies had been found close by.

  “Can’t be our guy,” Danny said, turning around to head back the way they’d come. “He preys on women. These are men.”

  They parked in the empty Kwik Clean Laundromat lot beside two police cars. Danny took Enoch with him to meet the officers at the scene. Lint from driers swirled past them and caught in tall, dead weeds. Tree branches danced overhead. The men's bloodied, broken bodies lay at the edge of the cracked asphalt. They looked like dehydrated fruit, shriveled and flat. Danny took one glance at them and looked away. "Holy shit. What happened to them?”

  “I passed them on the street earlier tonight." Enoch was rattled, Danny could tell. "They gave me a quick up and down and decided to keep going.”

  “They were looking for an easier target?” Danny’s eyes narrowed, studying Enoch’s coat. “Never noticed the hole before.” Of course, Enoch had taken it off the minute he entered Liza Marsdale's condo, and he'd removed it again at the restaurant.

  “And here I thought you were observant.”