Spark of Chaos

A day spent going door to door asking if the residents had seen anyone going in or coming out of Kenny's house was about as much fun as I'd expected. It was hard to look someone in the eye and ask them that when I was the one they might have seen.

Still, either because they hadn't seen anyone or just had a natural urge not to 'snitch,' I came up empty with no one admitting to seeing anything.

I could only hope that would remain the same if Marko sent his goons knocking on their doors instead.

By the time we were done it was getting late, and I climbed into Jack's car with aching feet and the beginnings of a headache from being out in the sun all day. Which was something I wasn't used to, and my pale skin was entirely too likely to burn rather than tan.

Just what I needed.

"I can drop you off at home or take you back to the office," Jack said, pulling his seatbelt on. "Up to you."

"We're done for the day?"

He offered a tired smile and nodded. "Not much more we can do here."

"So, what, that's it?" I pulled a face at that. It seemed somehow, wrong, not to be doing more. Even though the last thing I wanted was for more effort being put into finding Kenny, or me.

"I'll drop you off, then I'm gonna go check out some of his usual hangouts."

"Then I'll go with you."

No idea why I'd said that, but he was considering the offer, judging by the way he was looking at me.

"The places I'm going, aren't going to be pleasant."

Considering the type of person Kenny was, that didn't surprise me in the slightest. The thought of just what those types of places might be, filled me with more than a little apprehension, but something about spending the day watching Jack work and learning how his business worked, made me want to know more.

"I'm good with that," I said, smiling as confidently as I could.

He lifted broad shoulders in a shrug. "Fair enough, buckle up then."

My heart sank when I realised his first stop was the local pub, but I followed him inside and accepted the half pint of lager he bought me while he made casual small talk with the barman. I sipped at the drink and wrinkled my nose. It wasn't to my taste at all.

"He was here last night," Jack said, turning his back to the bar and resting his elbows on the sticky surface as he scanned the room.

It was less crowded than it had been last night, with a larger group of young lads in checked flannel shirts, black trousers and shoes. The girls all seemed to have some variation of a little black dress and clustered in groups, chatting and eyeing the boys.

The older crowd were fewer in number but had taken the majority of the tables and congregated by the bar, smoking and drinking pints of bitter.

"I was here last night," I pointed out. "Place was packed. There was a band on."

Jack glanced at me; brow furrowed.

"You might have seen him."

"Not sure how I'd know without a picture."

He nodded agreement and shrugged again. "True enough."

"Do you have a picture?"

"Not right now."

"Wouldn't that help?"

He smiled wryly at that and took a deep swallow of his pint.

"Trust me, lass. Everyone around here knows who he is."

Couldn't really argue with that. There were around 130,000 people in the city and its surrounding areas. Small compared to some cities, but the supernatural community was larger than most. Something about the city drew them to it, and there were many small enclaves hidden away amongst the humans.

Since those supernaturals with that spark of chaos that drove them to crime and other bad acts tended to prey on their own community as much as the humans. It was easy to think that they would be well known.

Even if just to know who to avoid.

"Drink up," Jack said, looking at his watch. "We need to get going."

"You haven't asked anyone here anything?"

"Let the lass behind the bar know and she'll spread the word there's cash for info." He grinned, and chuckled low in his throat. "Part of doing this job is learning to work smart, lass. Dangle a reward and people will come to you. Saves you a load of legwork."

Wise words.

I drank the frothy lager and wiped the back of my mouth with my hand as I grimaced at the urge to belch that came with it. I fought it down and followed Jack back to the car.

"Where to now?"

"The Shambles."

The name rang a bell, and I quickly that I had walked its length while searching for a job. It was a street full of history and a popular destination for tourists. Cobble stoned streets and overhanging timber-framed buildings with upper floors almost touching across the narrow street.

It was filled with tourist focused stores full of souvenirs, artisan goods and antiques, mixed with tea rooms and cafes. A place for people to browse and take in the atmosphere with buskers and crowds during the warm summer days creating an almost festival-like atmosphere.

To be honest, it had seemed like a great place to visit, and it was somewhere I had definitely been planning to go once I had some money to spend.

I certainly hadn't expected my first leisurely visit to be early evening when most of the shops would be shut.

It was a short walk from where Jack parked in the city centre, and even as late as it was, there were still a few cafes open with buskers performing for the thinning crowd.

Jack ignored the tourists and buskers both and slipped into an even narrower alleyway between two shops. My boots squelched in something wet which I'd not expected given the heat of the day, and I grimaced at the assault of unpleasant odours on my senses.

"What're we doing?" I hissed, almost bumping into him as he stopped abruptly. There was little light in the alley and while he had werewolf eyesight suited for hunting at night, I most assuredly did not.

Though the idea of seeing what I was walking through was not high on my list of priorities.

Jack glanced back and down at me and grunted a reply that meant absolutely nothing to me, before he lifted one great big fist and knocked almost politely on a black painted steel door I hadn't even noticed.

A hatch slid open, and a pair of eyes looked out. Those eyes shone with a deep earthen brown as a muffled voice asked a question I didn't catch.

"You know me, Billy. Open the bloody door."

More muffled words followed by laughter and the hatch slid shut. There was the heavy clunk of a bolt being drawn back and then the door swung inwards.

"Stay close," Jack said, before ducking his head and stepping through the door.

With a suddenly dry mouth and a case of nerves that had my palms sweating, I followed after him.

There were stairs and a maze of corridors lined with doors, some open and most closed. Smoke hung heavy and the primary colours seemed to be red and black.

I turned my head this way and that, trying to take in everything while I stared wide-eyed at what those open doors revealed. Women in lacy lingerie and silken robes sprawled on fainting couches and beds. Their faces heavily made up, their hair neatly arranged as they smoke and drank, often alone but sometimes with partners.

Pills and powders were laid out openly, and money was exchanged by sweating overweight men as they shrugged out of their shirts and shoes. Moans and the rhythmic thumping of headboards filled my ears, and I scurried to keep up with Jack, my cheeks burning, as he marched along without looking anywhere but straight ahead.

A curtain was pulled aside, and we stepped through into a dimly lit room filled with the foul-smelling cigar smoke that mixed with the cigarettes, cologne and perfume of the clientele. Laughter and voices raised in friendly chatter washed over me along with the rattle of the ball on the roulette wheel.

Tables were set up for cards where men and women concentrated, studying their opponents as much as the cards they held. Piles of plastic chips were exchanged on the flip of a card, while a woman laughed in delight as her number came up on the roulette wheel.

I shook my head, bemused by it all, and did as instructed, staying close to Jack as he elbowed his way through the watchers standing around the tables, to the bar at the back of the room.

There, a man sat on a stool, his expensive suit pristine with nary a crease nor stain on the material. His thinning hair was cut short, and his face shaved smooth but for the greying moustache that curled exquisitely on the ends.

His eyes flashed, for the briefest moment, a deep, dark, red and I shivered.

Undead.

"Peter." Jack clasped his outstretched hand with his own and pumped it vigorously. "Business looks good."

"One thing I've learned over the long years," Peter said, his voice soft, almost effeminate. "People love sex, alcohol and gambling. Can't go wrong with any of them."

"So why not have all three," Jack agreed, laughing. He turned his head, looking back and reached out a hand to clasp my shoulder as he gently pulled me forward. "This is my colleague, Emma."

The distinguished gentleman took my hand lifting it to his lips as he bowed his head. There was no contact, merely the faintest whisper of cold, dry, breath against my skin. When he glanced up, his eyes flashed again, and I clenched my jaw as I forced mine to not respond.

A faint line marred his brow as he released my hand, his eyes flicking to Jack.

"Shy," Jack said. "Perhaps a little private. You understand?"

"Ah, of course." Peter inclined his head to me once more. "I can appreciate a need for privacy in a den of iniquity such as this. Fear not, my beautiful, young, friend. None shall harm you here nor shall they force you to share that which you would rather remain private."

"Long winded way of saying you're good," Jack added, rolling his eyes and chuckling.

"The insolence of youth," Peter lamented. He tilted his head towards the bar. "Could I, perhaps, purchase you a drink?"

"Beer will be fine for me," Jack said as Peter shook his head sorrowfully.

"Your lack of taste for the finer things shall forever be the source of my deepest woe."

"I can't be doing with all that." Jack laughed, seeming to enjoy the other man's company and banter. "I'm a simple man."

"You're a beast." Peter gave a secretive smile. "In more ways than one."

"Better a beast than a leech."

"You wound me!" Peter pressed the back of his hand to his forehead as he threw it back theatrically. Jack laughed, and Peter turned his attention to me. "You child, you sweet young thing, could I tempt you with something more refined. Say the word, and I shall let you taste of my finest wines."

My eyes flicked to Jack, and I caught the almost imperceptible nod, so I plastered on a smile for the vampire at the bar, and said, "I'd be honoured."

Peter clicked his fingers as he spun on his stool, gathering the attention of the pretty woman behind the bar serving drinks in what I could only assume was something that was more lingerie than dress. He whispered instructions and she moved into a back room through a curtained doorway and returned with a single glass of red wine.

She placed it on the bar, and I lifted it, feeling Peter's eyes fixed on me, his mouth ajar as he lifted his chin, eagerly awaiting a response.

I lifted the glass to my nose, inhaling deeply and swirled the glass, before taking a tentative sip. I stood for a moment, letting the tension build as Jack smiled and Peter leant so far forward on his stool that I feared he might fall off.

"A Borolo," I said, smacking my lips, tasting the again the wine that lingered upon them. "1982?"

Peter's eyes opened wide as his brows rose and he exclaimed, "Why yes!"

"Rich and powerful, the aroma is… dried roses, tar and the earthiness of truffles," I said, almost laughing as his eyes opened even wider still. "Vibrant cherry and plum, balanced with notes of liquorice, leather, and…" I paused, considering. "Tobacco."

"Bravo!" Peter laughed, clapping. "Put that swill aside. Lia, my love, bring her a glass of the Domaine De La Romanee-Conti."

It was my turn to be surprised. A bottle of the 1982 Barolo cost as much as I would earn in a week working for Jack. The Domaine De La Romanne-Conti could be as much as ten times that.

"I couldn't," I protested. "That's too much."

"Nonsense." Peter waved away my protestations. "You do not know what a delight it is to finally have this brute of a man introduce me to someone with such refined taste. Tell me, you beautiful child, you have tasted these before, yes?"

I was suddenly intensely aware of Jack's quiet interest in my answer, and all too aware of Peter's more open interest.

"My father," I said, voice soft and still. "He was a total snob when it came to wine."

"A man of great taste." Peter inclined his head, bowing low in respect.

"Thank you." My voice was small and my I had to force my hands to remain at my sides as I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

Lia returned with a glass of wine and set it down almost reverently before me and I smiled my thanks to her as Peter turned his attention back to Jack.

"Now, my boy. Tell me what brings you to my domain."

"Looking for Kenny Ferreira," Jack said, lowering his voice. "I heard he came here on occasion."

 A sneer crossed the old vampires face as he shook his head.

"I know of the boy, but I banned him from this place months ago." His eyes flicked to me and then back to Jack. "He had a tendency to hurt the girls. I'll not have that, not here."

Jack dropped his gaze, chewing his lower lip as he considered, and then when he reached a decision, he exhaled a soft sigh.

"I hate to ask you this…"

"Ask, and I shall answer. For you, and for the pleasure you have given me by introducing me to someone who can appreciate my wine as much as I wish I could."

"Thank you." Jack offered an almost shy smile that soon faded. "Do you know anyone who would have wished to harm him?"

Peter sat for a moment and then burst into laughter, loud and full of good cheer. Heads turned at the sound but when they saw who was laughing, those people soon turned back to their games of chance.

"The better question, my boy," Peter said, still chuckling. "Is, was there anyone who didn't wish to harm him?"

While it clearly amused Peter, the answer only irked Jack, and the vampire waved a hand effetely, his laughter fading to a soft chuckle.

"Forgive me," he said. "Yes, there are several people who would love nothing more than to do harm to young, Kenneth Ferreira. Why do you ask?"

"He's missing."

"Oh." That stilled the vampire's amusement, and his face assumed an expression of concern. "That is… problematic."

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Who would be most likely?"

"Banner, perhaps. I understand, young Kenneth had quite a sizeable debt with him."

"For what?"

"A missing shipment of his favoured product," Peter said. "I understand him to have been quite upset about the whole situation and the blame fell squarely upon Kenneth's shoulders."

"Could have taken him to get his dad to pay up," Jack mused. "But there was a lot of blood."

"Well…"

"What?"

"You are aware, are you not, of young Kenneth's abilities?"

"He was an Invisibilis," Jack said, nodding. "Could turn himself or another, invisible."

"Yes, well, he often abused that power in a most dastardly manner."

Jack leaned in, his voice dropping lower as he almost growled, "What did he do?"

"Rumour only," Peter said, raising his hands almost defensively. "No one knows for certain."

"What?"

I could feel the tension in Jack's voice, and I glanced at him with some alarm. It seemed almost like he knew what Peter was about to say but just needed him to give voice to it to confirm his suspicions.

Whatever it was, it distressed him a great deal. If he were a dog, his hackles would have been up as he bared his fangs.

 I trembled, though from excitement or fear, I couldn't say.

"Just say it," Jack said, and Peter sighed.

"Have you heard of young, Cerys Naddair."

Jack's skin was pale, and he shook his head, muttering something I couldn't hear. His large hands curled into fists, and it seemed to be everything he could do not to lash out and hit something… or someone.

"Who is that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a hushed whisper. "I don't understand."

Peter reached out, patting my hand gentle with his own. I had the momentary realisation of how cold it was, before he spoke, a single word, but one that made my own flesh run cold too.

Gwiber.