Chapter Two

My new temporary partner-cum-mentor was waiting for me in the lobby when I returned to the ground floor of the Academy.

At first, I looked straight past him. He certainly didn't look like the other qualified detectives I'd met. It's all very well to say that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but we all do it. Detective Constable Anthony Brown possessed the sort of craggy, pockmarked, drawn face and shabby clothes that you'd be more likely to see on someone who belonged on the other side of law. If it weren't for the fact that Phyllis nodded towards him when she saw me looking lost, I'd have ignored him completely.

‘Erm, hello?'

Brown's head slowly swivelled round. ‘Is that a question?' he grunted. ‘Or have we started recruiting people who can't speak English?'

My hackles rose immediately. The last thing I needed right now was a stereotypical hard-boiled detective who hated the world. ‘I'm Emma Bellamy,' I said, more forcefully. I stuck out my hand. ‘I assume you're Detective Constable Brown.'

He eyed my hand as if it were a strange foreign object before reaching out and shaking it limply. ‘Tony. I can't stand all that official title malarkey. It's a pointless exercise, and a waste of breath.'

Okay, then. ‘Tony it is,' I said with false cheeriness. ‘Nice to meet you.'

He grunted again and looked me up and down. ‘You look like you belong in an open-plan office in that outfit. Dressing smart won't help you in Supes. Quite the opposite. Do you see me wearing a tie? I don't even own a damned tie. We don't need secretaries or pencil pushers.' His expression took on a suspicious glint. ‘You any good with computers?'

‘Yes.' I folded my arms and glared at him. ‘And I'm dressed like this because I was expecting to be placed with Cyber Crimes for the next two weeks. Not with you.' I sniffed. ‘I'm not any happier about this than you are, but it's for fourteen days. I'd prefer it if those days weren't spent with a monosyllabic mentor who does nothing but gripe. And I'm sure you'd prefer it if I could actually be of some help to you. Which,' I added pointedly, ‘I can be, if you let me.'

From behind her desk, Phyllis stared at us goggle-eyed. I wondered if I'd gone too far and had already blown my chances of getting a good report or learning anything useful during the next two weeks.

Then Tony threw back his head and laughed, before clapping me heartily on the shoulder. ‘Well, well, well,' he chortled. ‘So the little mouse can roar. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. What did you do, anyway?'

‘What do you mean?'

He waved a hand. ‘What did you do to get yourself lumbered with this gig? We never get trainees at Supes.'

My mouth tightened. ‘I don't know what I did,' I muttered. ‘But I'll make the best of it, regardless.'

He examined my face in a bid to ascertain the truth, then he shrugged. ‘Okay, Emma Bellamy. I won't say it's going to be fun because it won't be. But perhaps it won't be a complete disaster either.' He gestured towards the door. ‘Come on. I'm parked right out front.' And with that, he twisted round and strode out of the building. I swallowed and jogged after him.

Rather than using the conveniently located car park to the right of the Academy, Tony had left his beaten-up Mini parked on a double-yellow line. I gazed doubtfully at the lurid purple vehicle while he removed the sign from the dashboard which read ‘Police. On Urgent Call'.

It was one of the old Minis which, judging by the number plate, had been in service since the 1970s. It wasn't the car's age that troubled me, however; it was the broken rear window, taped up with a black bin bag presumably to keep out of the worst of the wind. And the cracked side mirrors and the cloud of black smoke that the exhaust coughed out when Tony started the engine.

He leaned across from the driver's seat and, with what appeared to be incredible effort, wound down the window. ‘Are you getting in or not?' he asked.

I wrenched open the passenger door while he shoved a small mountain of rubbish into the cramped back seat. The upholstery was marked with various coloured stains of dubious origins. Holding my breath, I clambered in. The interior smelled strongly of patchouli and something else that I couldn't quite identify. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it was strong enough to make my eyes water.

‘How does this car even pass its MOT?'

Tony slammed his foot onto the accelerator and swerved into the road without checking to see whether anything was coming. I hastily clipped on my seatbelt and gripped the sides of my seat. It was clear this was going to be a white-knuckle ride. Literally.

‘She doesn't.' He tapped his nose. ‘But if you don't tell, then I won't.'

‘But how…'

‘Tallulah is special.'

Uh… ‘Tallulah?'

‘That's her name,' he said proudly. ‘Don't wear it out.'

I was travelling in a tin can at breakneck speed with a complete lunatic by my side. I'd take machete-wielding attackers any day over this.

‘Tallulah is special,' Tony repeated. ‘Don't criticise her.' The tyres screeched as we took the next corner at high speed.

‘I wouldn't dream of it,' I told him. Then I closed my eyes and began to pray for the first time since I was a small child.

‘So,' Tony said, ‘what do you know about the supes? Are you at kindergarten level, or do you have a master's?'

Actually, I did have a master's but it certainly wasn't in anything to do with the supernatural. With Tony seeming to warm to me, though, I was determined not to lose any ground and come across as a complete idiot.

I dredged my memory for what little I knew. ‘The vampires live mostly in Soho, and abide by a feudal system of governance. They number around a thousand—'

‘It's closer to two thousand,' Tony interrupted. He flicked his fingers in the air dismissively. ‘But please. Continue.'

I drew in a breath. ‘Their leader is a bloke called Lord – uh—' Damn it. What was his name?

‘Lord Horvath.'

Oh yeah. That rang a faint bell, although the man could walk past me in the street and I wouldn't know him from Adam. Few pictures of him existed, and I'd never been interested enough in supes to look him up. I imagined he was a crusty old bloke – someone with yellowing fangs and thin white hair.

‘What's he like?' I asked.

Tony's lips pursed. ‘Annoying. What else can you tell me about the vamps?'

I tried to think of anything else that I knew for sure. ‘They drink blood for sustenance…'

‘Pffffft!'

‘They're also considerably faster and stronger than humans.' I sneaked a side look at him. ‘And they're immortal.'

Tony tutted. ‘Unbelievable. What do they teach you kids nowadays?'

I bristled. I wasn't a kid. But I didn't know very much about vampires and, from Tony's reactions, it was clear that what I did know was wrong.

‘The majority of vamps are only slightly stronger than us. They tend to use their physical attributes in other ways. Most of them rely on the fact that they become more attractive after they're turned into vamps. A pretty face and a flash of sex appeal encourages foolish humans to offer themselves up as food.'

I grimaced at the thought that, as a species, we humans were that shallow. I promised myself that I wouldn't be blinded by anyone's good looks.

‘What about the wolves?' Tony asked. ‘What do you think you know about them?'

‘There are four groups,' I started.

‘Clans,' he said. ‘But alright.'

‘They're all based in Lisson Grove, not far from St James's Park. During the full moon, all the wolves head there. The park is closed off to the general public so there's no chance of us humans getting eaten accidentally. Each werewolf has its own level of dominance, from wholly subservient to group – I mean, clan – alpha. Then there are the Others, the supes that live in between both groups. Their numbers are less significant, but they include the likes of ghouls, gremlins and pixies, each of which possesses different genetics and abilities.'

‘And?'

And that was it; that was the extent of my knowledge. I shrugged. There was no point pretending otherwise.

Somewhat surprisingly, Tony looked pleased. ‘Good,' he said. ‘You know absolutely fuck all and that means you're not a groupie. There's been a few of those in the department. It's hard enough to do our jobs as it is, but when you've got police officers who go weak at the knees at the first glimpse of a fang or a patch of fur, it can become nigh on impossible.'

Tony had unwittingly given me the opening I needed. ‘What is your job exactly?' I asked.

He slammed on the brakes, bringing Tallulah to a screeching halt. I was jolted forward, my forehead smacking against the windscreen despite my seatbelt. I rubbed it and winced. Tony frowned and reached across, using his shirt cuff to wipe away the tiny smear I'd left on the glass, as if it somehow damaged the aesthetic effect of the car.

‘Welcome to Supernatural Squad,' he declared.

I glanced out of the window, noting the narrow grey building wedged between a small Waitrose and an expensive-looking hotel with a liveried bellman standing outside. ‘Perfectly equidistant between – and within walking distance of – the vamps and the wolves, and close to all the others at the same time.'

Unable to stop myself, I let out a low whistle. In terms of postcode, it didn't get much more expensive than this.

Tony seemed to know what I was thinking. ‘Yeah,' he said, turning off the engine. ‘Don't think that the other departments haven't tried to take this away from us. They can't. Since the Supernatural Act of 1798,' he doffed an imaginary cap, ‘Supernatural Squad has been entitled to this building. By law, it's funded in large part by the supes themselves – though they're not happy about having to pay for our existence.'

‘Isn't that a conflict of interest?'

He just winked and got out of the car. I followed suit, casting a quick glance at the posh bellman outside the hotel. I half-expected a loud complaint that Tallulah was bringing down the tone of the neighbourhood, but instead he bowed at us.

‘Good morning, Detective Constable Brown.'

Tony grinned. ‘Good morning, Jeeves.' He joined me on the pavement and nudged me. ‘Not his real name.'

No kidding. I smiled at Jeeves – or whoever he was – and glanced at the Mini. ‘Aren't you going to lock the car?'

‘Nobody touches Tallulah.' He walked up to the unmarked door and entered, leaving me to follow.

I stared after him for a moment, wondering what on earth I'd got myself into. I had the feeling it was going to be a very long two weeks. And Tony still hadn't answered my question about what his job at Supernatural Squad was.

***

The building that housed Supe Squad might have boasted a grand address, but it wasn't particularly grand inside. It wasn't one of those buildings that was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, either. The walls were a dirty yellow colour, presumably from the days when it was considered normal to smoke indoors. The corridor was narrow. I caught a definite whiff of stale coffee from deep within the bowels of the building, along with the same heavy, deep scent I'd noticed in the car.

‘What's that smell?' I asked, as much to myself as to Tony who was striding ahead.

He stopped in his tracks and turned around. ‘You got wolf in your family?' he enquired.

I was taken aback. ‘No. Of course not.'

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You can smell the herbs, though.'

‘They're not exactly subtle. And when you say herbs—'

He rolled his eyes. ‘Don't get your panties in a twist. They're nothing illegal. It's verbena blended with wolfsbane.'

‘To ward off the supes?' I guessed.

‘Yep.' He started walking again.

‘Does it work?'

‘No.'

‘Then why—' Too late. He'd already vanished into a room at the far end of the corridor. I muttered a curse and went after him.

The room wasn't exactly a hive of police activity. There were four desks arranged haphazardly along one side. The nearest one was occupied by a woman not much older than me, with bright red hair shorn into a pixie cut, and pale skin that was accentuated by her blacker-than-black clothes. She seemed wholly intent on the crossword in front of her. A younger man in uniform was sprawled on a small sofa watching daytime television on the opposite side of the room. Neither of them looked up when I entered.

‘Morning all,' Tony said. ‘This is…' He glanced at me.

‘Emma,' I supplied helpfully.

‘Oh yes.' He pointed at the redhead. ‘Moneypenny. She's our operations officer.' Then he switched to the policeman. ‘Plod. He's our bog-standard police officer.'

‘Liza,' the redhead said.

The man raised his hand. ‘Fred.'

‘Nice to meet you.' I looked around. ‘Is the rest of the department upstairs?'

Liza snorted.

Tony smiled. ‘This is it,' he said proudly.

I scratched my head. ‘The … morning shift?'

‘No.' He gave me a patient nod. ‘The entire department. As you can see, we're not exactly rushed off our feet.'

‘This is it? There's only three of you?'

Tony ambled over to the corner to flick on the kettle. ‘As I said, there have been others. They've come and gone – most people don't stick it here for long. There was a second detective for a while, but he retired in December.'

Oh. I relaxed slightly. It was only February. ‘So you're waiting on his replacement?'

‘He means December 2016,' Liza said.

I stared at her. That was almost five years ago.

She put down her pen and stood up, offering me a tired smile. ‘Hi, Emma. Welcome to Supe Squad.'

I tried to smile back, I really did, but I couldn't manage it. The horror seeping through me was preventing so much as the tiniest twitch at the corners of my mouth. All I could think about was Lucinda Barnes confidently telling me that this was my perfect department. I sat down on the nearest chair, my shoulders sagging.

Liza slid open a drawer, drew out a small object and tossed it at me. I narrowly caught it before it smacked me in the face. ‘Here,' she said. ‘A key for this place.'

‘Uh…' I turned it over in my hands. ‘I'm only here for two weeks. I won't be staying.'

She shrugged. ‘You never know.'

I did know. Once my rotation here was over, I wouldn't even look back.