The Carrion's Craft

Chapter 2

A few hours later and I was woken by Drenin. A low groan escaped my lips as I stretched away the sleepy haze that drowned me moments before. The whole room was still dark aside from the slither of light snaking through the slit in the curtain by Drenin's hand. "What time is it?" My voice etched out from its dry throat like a cough. Even with the importance of the case weighing on my fuzzy mind, an irresistible urge for a cup of coffee tingled on my tongue.

"It's about four in the morning. You'll be happy to know that the fog's cleared up at least, and nobody's left the place to boot." The bug-man said.

"Capital." I grumbled. The bed squeaked with relief once again as I stumbled away from its stiff embrace. 

"Here, catch." Before I knew it something smacked into my chest. My hands scrambled at the object before it could tumble to the floor. It was my camera. A small sigh escaped my lips as Drenin moved past me. Without his hulking build blocking the way, the window exposed the drab apartment ahead of me. Red bricks stained black with the night towered over me. Despite the time, some lights remained on, flickering and glowing warmly like a winking mistress batting away the darkness. Whether they were troubled citizens coming home from the city's nightlife, or hard-working denizens recovering from a night-shift, it mattered little. We were all hiding from the loveless hold of the city.

Taking my perch on the window sill, I stared at the front doorway, a glass door with an old set of buttons on the side. Five hours had passed and Stragard hadn't shown. Really? That couldn't be possible. "Are you sure she hasn't left?" 

A dry chuckle emitted from my partner. "Trust me, bud, this is how stake outs usually go. The frontlines are just as boring as the intel gathering. Wake me at seven... and try not to fall asleep." He murmured before turning over in the bed.

"Roger that, boss." Drenin received a phony salute. He was either more tired than he let on, or promptly ignored me, leading me with little choice other than to survey the building with increasing disappointment. This was a detective's life?  What a load of crap! Even my days as a journalist were more exciting than this. 

Hours dragged by monotonously, as if the very seconds themselves were stretching out beyond the very concept of time, just to mock me. Eventually the time ticked past six O'clock and with it, the sun rose into the sky, casting the city in a dusty orange. With the new day, people came and went. My excitement swelled within me. It diluted my exhaustion, unlike any infusion of coffee I had ever experienced. Yet still, Stragard was yet to show. The vampire was a politician and a celebrity. If she was missed by her husband, than her whole career would be at risk.

Stragard was a pretty woman dressed in lavish clothes and our client never mentioned that the heir to the mayor's office returned home during the day. Was it possible that she had been intercepted inside the building itself? The thought was sickening. I just watched a flock of random stragglers waltz into the building like they owned the place as well.

In an instant, I went to wake Drenin. Even the most frantic shakedown was not enough to drag the bogeyman back to consciousness. The peaceful sleep and drowsy murmurings were infuriating to the ear. How could a man who had practically grown up in the Wild Hunt be so deep a sleeper? I shared an apartment with him, and he always stirred at the slightest sound. So why not now? I had to give up. If my theory was right than I couldn't wait up for him.

Snatching my patner's notes and throwing on my coat, I rushed out the door and hurried down the stairs. Passing the receptionist, I tipped my hat in thanks. Crossing the room, the looming feeling of dread was bubbling up, burning my throat. It wasn't helped by the Medusa's knowing smirk burning into the back of me as I left.

I felt the cool, fresh air tingle against my cheek as my lungs took in the oxygen cautiously. The sweet tang of the factory chemicals laced the atmosphere as the streets began to trickle with a more sober crowd, hurrying in droves and hailing horse-drawn cabs clacking down the street. Dodging through the drivel of citizens, I jogged across the street and up the three essential steps that every building has leading up to their entrances.