Chapter Seven

‘You were brought in with nothing on you. No bag, no wallet, no phone. Whoever killed you took whatever you had, presumably along with the murder weapon because it's not been found anywhere nearby. Your clothes are ruined as well – they've already been sent to the incinerator.' Laura looked me up and down. ‘You can't walk out of here like that.'

‘No kidding.'

She smiled. ‘Fortunately, I can provide you with an entire wardrobe.'

I pulled a face. ‘You mean dead people's clothing.'

‘That's not something to get squeamish about,' she told me.

Probably not, but I had to get squeamish about something. I couldn't pretend that any of this was normal. I sighed. Unfortunately, I didn't have a whole lot of choice. ‘Dead people's clothing it is.'

‘I should report all of this, of course,' Laura said. I started to shake my head in alarm, but she was already there. ‘However, I reckon you've got enough problems as it is. The faster you get out of here the better. Someone tried to kill you, Emma. Hell, someone did kill you. We can worry about the whys and wherefores of your resurrection later. Right now, you need to work out who sliced open your throat so you can stop them from doing it again. There's no guarantee that you'll wake up a second time.'

I couldn't deny that thought had been bothering me, too. ‘I might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or I might have been targeted.' I clenched my teeth together so tightly it hurt. ‘The best way to find out who did this to me is to pretend I'm actually dead. If I go home, I might put Jeremy in danger.'

‘Is that your husband?'

‘Boyfriend.' I ran a hand through my hair. ‘He'll be out of his mind with worry, but I can't risk his life too.'

‘You were probably just unlucky and were targeted by a mugger.'

‘Probably.' Except it didn't feel like an opportunistic crime. It felt like I was killed for a reason. It felt like it was personal. I shuddered. ‘Once I know for sure, I can tell everyone I'm alright. I'll have to hope that Jeremy understands.'

‘Do you have other family?'

‘My parents are dead. I've got no siblings.' I thought about my uncle. I'd barely spoken to him in years. I sent him a Christmas card every year out of a sense of duty – after all, he'd taken me in when I was nothing but a snotty-nosed kid. But he'd always kept his distance and we weren't close. He wasn't a bad guy, but he wasn't a family man either. This wasn't the time to bother him.

Laura squeezed my arm. ‘I'll hold the fort here. I won't manage it for more than a couple of days, but I can postpone your post-mortem and make up something about other cases when the police come calling. It actually helps that they weren't able to identify you immediately. With nothing else to go on, your case will be put on a back burner.' She nodded decisively. ‘And if the worst happens, I can always pretend to lose your body for a day or two. I can't keep it up forever, but it'll buy you some time.' She hesitated. ‘I should draw some blood from you.'

‘To test for vampirism or signs that I'm turning furry?' I guessed.

‘Yeah.' She looked apologetic. ‘There's no sign that you are, but then I've never seen a corpse reanimate before.' She peered at me. ‘You don't feel the sudden urge to eat brains, do you?'

I tried to smile. ‘No. But I could murder a cheese sandwich.'

‘Then you're absolutely fine.'

We exchanged looks. ‘You're the only other person in the world that knows what's happened,' I said quietly. ‘If this is only temporary and I drop dead again in three days or something…'

‘I'm sure you won't.'

‘But if I do,' I persisted, ‘keep this to yourself, if you can. Chalk it up to the weirdness of life or something, and forget about me. I don't want Jeremy knowing that I didn't go to him for help. And I don't want my corpse dissected by government scientists.'

Her gaze was solemn. ‘Your secret will be safe with me. But keep me posted with what you discover. And let me know if you start feeling ill.'

I nodded. ‘I will. I promise.' I bit my lip. ‘Thank you. Not many people would have dealt with this as well as you have.'

‘I might say the same thing about you, Emma.'

I managed a smile. ‘It's still only early days.'

***

Less than an hour later, I walked out of the front doors of Fitzwilliam Manor Hospital wearing jeans that were so tight they could have been sprayed on, an over-sized man's T-shirt with a warm sweater and a large puffy jacket on top, and scuffed trainers on my feet. It was an interesting get-up but it would have to do for now.

Surprisingly, I felt full of energy. There were no strange aches and pains, and there was nothing to indicate that a few hours earlier I'd been at the rainbow bridge. I had no memory of what being dead was like. There was no tunnel with a pinprick of light at the end, no harp-strumming angels, no sign of my parents.

I sucked in a sharp breath. This was not the time to get maudlin. Somehow, I'd survived my own murder. The only way forward now was to solve it to ensure that it didn't happen again – and that meant staying focused and returning to the scene of the crime.

Despite my feeble protests, Laura had emptied her purse and given me all her loose cash. It wasn't a huge amount, but it would keep me going for a day or two. I hopped onto the Underground, travelling a mere three stops until I reached Piccadilly yet again. Then I re-traced my steps from the night before.

Everything looked very different in daylight. The glitz and glamour of night time had yielded to a seedier sheen, although the big screen at the Piccadilly Circus corner continued its incessant flickering of images, and there were plenty of people around.

Once I left the main tourist area, however, the crowds thinned and my apprehension grew. My eyes flicked from left to right as I examined the faces of the other passers-by. Was it one of these people who'd slit my throat? Were any of them surprised to see me? I stared so hard at one man, whose clothes and expression looked shady enough to belong in hell, that he waggled his eyebrows at me seductively. No. This was not a come-on.

I ploughed on, winding my way through the narrow streets until the spire of St Erbin's Church was visible. Rather than stop and gaze at it, I forced my feet to keep moving. If I stopped now, I'd never manage to move again. Despite my lack of fatigue or injury, this wasn't easy; I was trembling from head to toe and it took every bit of will power I possessed to walk up to the church gate and push it open. I can do this, I told myself. I have to do this.

Police tape cordoned off a large area of the graveyard. It flapped gently in the breeze, an unpleasant indication of what had happened. My mouth was dry, but I kept going and ducked under the tape. My feet squelched in the wet mud as I made my way to the slightly firmer grass. I didn't stop until I was standing next to a patch of discoloured ground. There. That was my blood. That was where I'd died.

I crouched down, doing my best to remain dispassionate. I didn't do a very good job. I reached out, brushing the sticky blood that coated the grass with my shaking fingertips. It wasn't even completely dry. I swallowed hard. We'd covered bloodwork at the Academy and, while I only knew the basics, I still reckoned that from the size of the bloodstain I'd lost a good six pints. Whoever had slit my throat must have ended up covered in it.

I raised my head and glanced at the nearest gravestone. Thomas Santorini. Born 1826, died 1899. Sorry, I mouthed. I didn't mean to sully your resting spot.

‘Who are you?'

I jerked upwards at the sound of the cold voice then I spun round, ready to defend myself to the death again if I had to. Standing less than five feet away was a man. He was a few inches taller than me, with inky-dark hair, liquid black eyes and high cheekbones. His skin gleamed; if that wasn't enough of a clue, he was coat-less despite the cold February air. I gaped at his immaculate white shirt with its frilly cuffs.

‘Vampire,' I murmured. I lifted my chin. ‘This is consecrated ground. What are you doing here?'

He gave a mild snort. ‘There is no such thing as consecrated ground. We go where we please.' He waved a hand. ‘Even in daylight.' He took a step forward. ‘And right now, this is where I please.' His voice hardened and his eyes raked my face before dropping briefly to my exposed neck. ‘I will repeat my question. Who are you?'

‘I'm with Supernatural Squad.' It wasn't really a lie. ‘A woman died here last night, and I want to make sure that supes weren't involved.' I met his gaze, challenging him to argue with me. I had more of a right to be here than he did – and if he was looking for a fight, I‘d give him one. I could do with the distraction.

‘There are only three humans currently with Supernatural Squad,' he said. ‘And none of them are you.'

He didn't know as much as he thought he did. ‘I'm a trainee detective on temporary rotation,' I told him, with only a faint sneer.

The vampire quirked an eyebrow. ‘Are you indeed? And they let you out on your own?'

‘Apparently so.' I glared at him. ‘Why are you here?'

‘For the same reason as you. A woman died here. I've been … tasked with finding out more. Sudden violent deaths aren't good PR for our kind.'

Except it wasn't a vampire who'd killed me. A vampire wouldn't have used a blade. ‘Well,' I said briskly, ‘you can stand down. Supernatural Squad will take things from here.'

His gaze flickered with amusement. ‘Will they?'

I opened my mouth to answer him but, before I could, the main church door opened and Reverend Knight appeared. ‘Hey!' he called sharply. ‘Stop disturbing that spot! The police—' He looked at me and his voice faltered. ‘You.' He paled. ‘But—'

I interrupted before he could say anything else. ‘Reverend Knight. Good to see you again. I'm just scanning the area for evidence or clues that last night's crew might have missed.'

He didn't move a muscle. I wondered whether he was the person who'd found my body. Probably. It had to be quite a shock seeing me again. He should try walking in my shoes.

I looked from him to the vampire and back again. ‘Well,' I said briskly, ‘I've seen all that I need to for now.' I raised my eyebrows at Reverend Knight. ‘I'm with the police, Reverend. Can I come inside and ask you a few questions?'

I wasn't foolish enough to wait for his answer; instead, I took advantage of his shock and ducked under the police tape again. I needed to interrogate him before he recovered his equilibrium and refused to talk to me.

I'd barely taken three steps when the vamp's hand shot out and curled round my forearm. I stiffened at his touch.

‘I think you and I need to talk,' he said.

I snatched my arm back, wrenching it away with surprising strength. ‘That makes one of us then.' I sniffed, and sent a meaningful look in Knight's direction before walking into the church. The reverend stumbled in after me. Thankfully, the vampire chose not to join us. Small mercies.

‘I … I … don't understand,' Reverend Knight stammered, once the heavy church door had closed behind us. ‘I thought I saw you… I thought you were… I…' He sat down on the nearest pew, clutching at the armrest for support.

‘I know what you saw,' I said. ‘And I'd like to be able to explain it but right now I can't.' I injected a mysterious edge into my voice, hoping that Knight would draw his own conclusions and stop freaking out.

‘You said you were with the police.' His words were slow as he did his best to come up with a rational solution for what he'd witnessed. ‘Is this some kind of sting? An undercover police operation? Because you were dead. I was sure you were dead.' He shook his head, whether in disbelief or amazement I wasn't sure. He reached out and poked me gently, checking that I was solid and not a figment of his imagination.

‘As I told you,' I said without flinching, ‘I can't explain it right now.'

‘Of course.' He blinked rapidly. ‘Of course you can't.' He inhaled deeply. ‘I spoke to your colleagues last night and told them I hadn't seen anything or anyone. You and I met and chatted. I left the church an hour or so later to head home, and that's when I saw you lying on the ground.' He lifted his eyes to mine. ‘You were very convincing.'

I put my finger to my lips in an elaborate gesture of sharing a secret. In theory, he could be a suspect; he certainly had the means to kill me, if not the motive. However, he would have been thoroughly questioned last night and I didn't sense any sort of threat from him. The fact that he'd deluded himself into thinking I'd deliberately faked my own death as part of some crazy police plot helped with that. It's fascinating what we can make ourselves believe when we need to.

‘Did you see anyone else hanging around the church last night?' I asked, focusing on facts rather than forced delusions.

He didn't hesitate. ‘No. Only you.'

‘And afterwards? After you found me?'

‘There was no one. I checked your pulse and couldn't feel anything, so I called an ambulance straight away. The sirens drew a small crowd. As soon as the paramedics went to work on you, I came in here to give them space. The police spoke to me, but I wasn't much help. You'd only given me a nickname and they had nothing else to go on.'

I gazed intently at him. Reverend Knight might have been only feet away when I was being murdered, but he hadn't seen a thing. He knew even less than I did. ‘Thank you for your time,' I said finally.

Relief spasmed across his face; he couldn't wait to get rid of me. He was in shock right now, but that shock would turn to fear as soon as I left. And quite possibly fury. My very existence would threaten him.

He glanced around and then, his voice quavering, said, ‘Him. Outside. Is this to do with him?'

‘The vampire?'

Reverend Knight flinched.

I thought of Tony and his text message. ‘No,' I said quietly. ‘This is all about humans.'