(16) Trevor Wallace - Dhampir

I really do have my ways to find people. Well, usually Vampyres, but they work for this too. I talk to a man who knows a man. Talk to him. After twenty minutes of checking he gives me a name and a number.

I make a call. Arrange a meeting. Money talks. I have plenty. Wouldn’t know it I know, from how I live. But that’s neither here nor there right now.

At a coffee shop. The man sees me. Signals. We talk. I get an address. He gets his payment. Asks how Del is. I tell him he’s alive. He offers to drive me where I want to go. What the hell. Saves shoe leather.

Ten minutes later he drops me off. Leaves.

The building’s older. Offices. Some vacant, others in use during the day. I check them all. None was the one Del was in. Basement. Shows the effects of the hurricane. Stinks of mold, though humans might not smell it. There. I see the hook lying on the floor. The reek of blood almost overpowers that of the mold.

Circle the room. All senses probing. For once glad of the powers that are part of my heritage. I know his face. I need more. Under the odors, one more. Faint. His. His sweat, his blood. Now I know why he wore gloves when I saw him. Search more. A broken piece of wood in a corner. Blood soaked at one end. Leave it alone for now.

Follow his trail from the building. As if I was a dog. Chuckling at the thought. Not on hands and knees but still I can trace him. Track him to the side of the building. His car was here. Kneeling. Footprint. Tire tracks. Stand and place a call. To an old friend. Don’t ask.

I wait.

When he arrives I show him. He nods. Kneels. He knows his business. Forensics. Soon he has what he needs. I take him inside. He collects more. Blood. Del’s and, I hope his assailant’s. The piece of wood. Tells me he’ll get back to me as soon as possible.

So I wait again. Back in my room now. Del is still sleeping. I empty my pockets onto the table. Lay next to him. Not touching. Drifting off to sleep.