Blood-red spider lilies had sprouted between headstones of the dead.  A gentle breeze stirred the fallen leaves, sending them skittering across the ground as Percy and Aven walked ahead, their footsteps crunching through the withered, brittle layers beneath them. 

Gravestone Cemetery did not welcome vampires.  It was almost like their spirits lingered, silently trying to will them away from beyond the grave because they didn’t belong there.  

The magical wards around the place siphoned Percy’s energy and magical abilities, rendering him about as useless as he’d been during bedrest.  The witches took their cautions in keeping vampires away from their bygone loved ones, and Percy couldn’t really fault them for that.  It didn’t mean he couldn’t grumble about how cold and naked it made him feel with those powers restrained.  

“I imagine this is how the dead must feel,” Aven remarked softly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Percy nodded solemnly as he skimmed the surnames all staring with the letter L. Until they discovered the witch’s plot they desired. Much to his surprise, no roses sprouted around her headstone. Not even a single flower was placed in her vase either. 

“How strange,” Percy murmured, crouching down at the stone. 

The grasses around her stone had turned brown and brittle, unlike the lush greenery surrounding the other headstones. No trace of black magic lingered in the air, nor were any remnants of old embers anywhere around her grave. If any wicked magic had been cast there, it had long since faded. 

“Do you think someone cursed her grave?” Aven asked. 

Percy frowned, tilting his head up at the other detective. “You mean, like a death curse? Or some form of necromancy magic?”

“No. I mean a genuine curse.” Aven peered around the graveyard with a visible shiver. “It kills any plantlife that even tries to grow around it as a way to keep their spirit from escaping.  We couldn’t even summon her ghost or resurrect her corpse if we wanted to because of the curse put here.  To ensure she doesn’t escape.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Percy stared at him in bewonderment, understanding now why the detective stood so rigid and uncomfortably at the grave.  “Why would someone do such a thing?  Who’s even capable of wielding such magic?”

“It would need to be authorized by someone of the higher Blood Court.” Aven gazed skyward toward the radiant moon.  “Magic like this isn’t easy to cast.  Only someone who specializes in curses could cast it too, like a Lord or a spellweaver.  It’s ancient, taboo magic.  Even the witches don’t mess with this kind of stuff unless absolutely necessary.”

“That means someone considered her evil enough to restrain her spirit here to this grave.” Percy worried his lip.  “We already suspect she’s somehow connected to our killer now.  Is it possible she committed her own crimes against vampire-kind?  So they did this to her?”

“I suppose it’s possible.” Aven nodded.  

Percy pulled himself back upright. “We should get back to the station. Keep this to yourself for now, all right? I don’t want to be chasing ghosts if they end up not leading us anywhere.”

“Sure thing.” Aven crossed through the graveyard beside him, hands tucked into his black overcoat pockets.  “Where to next?”

“You’re free to fly back to the station.” Percy reached down for his pocketwatch for the time.  “I’ve got some business of my own to tend to.”

“Are you sure?” Aven asked, brows furrowing.  “I don’t mind accompanying you.  Not like I have any important cases assigned to me tonight.”

“If you’re not busy, would you mind digging more into that woman’s grave you found?” Percy asked.  “See who might’ve placed the curse on it?  Maybe even track down some relatives or hers or a husband that we could speak with.”

“I can do that.” Aven nodded. “What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

“I’m going to visit a doctor friend of mine.” Percy instinctively touched his chest, where the wound hid beneath his uniform. A cruel reminder their killer left for him. 

“For the case?” Aven asked. 

“Yes, of course.”  For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel a faint blush travel up his neck. 

It wasn’t a lie.  Percy truly wanted to find out more information from that doctor about the condition he found him in that dreadful morning. Maybe he’d see if anyone happened to mention his stabbing or hear about it on the streets from his clients.  No witch or wizard could resist bragging about seeing a vampire being murdered.  

Surely Leo wanted to check up on his latest patient too.  Just to make sure he was coping well after surgery and ensure his wound hadn’t gotten infected, despite how rare infection amongst vampires was in the first place.  

“I’ll meet you back at the station then.” Aven’s voice cut through his thoughts like a serrated blade, just in time to watch him shift into a bat and soar up into the pitch black midnight sky.  

Envy prickled at his skin like a nasty goblin rash, resisting the urge to do the same himself.  He was itching to shift again.  He missed flying as a bat more than he ever thought he would, and it reminded him all those years ago after he was told he’d give up his broom, that he’d never wish to fly on it again. 

Funny how those desires changed after he turned.

Despite how he’d given up his broom all those years ago, it still came to him upon being summoned.  Even after he’d long abandoned it.  Even when he’d let it collect dust after he accepted his vampiric nature.  Strange how magic worked, how it still remembered him as the witch he’d once been.

🔮

The moment Percy’s feet touched the ground, his slow-beating heart skipped a beat.  Back at the scene of the crime.  The scene of his attempted murder.  Though honestly, that had technically begun when he’d left that flower shop, somehow managing to stagger to Leo’s clinic by some miracle.

It made him reconsider visiting that shop.  His first lead had come from there, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to cross down the sidewalk toward it.  He tried rationalizing with himself that he didn’t wish to bother that poor florist again, and that she had no other information to offer. Maybe deep down though, some primal part of him worried that if he tread through her shop again, their killer wouldn’t miss his heart this time.

A fluttery, lightheaded sensation washed over him so suddenly, he reeled on his feet and blinked fiercely to keep the world from spinning away from him.  How strange.  The dizzy spell faded just as fast as it had struck him.  

He moved toward the clinic, shaking his head as if that would shake off whatever had left him so lightheaded.  He’d thought his wound was healing well, but maybe infection actually had spread through his veins.  Perhaps, much like that morning, his instincts were guiding him back to Leo.

Ward magic tingled against his skin ever so faintly the moment he opened the clinic’s door and then crossed the threshold. 

A young man Percy didn’t recognize was perched behind the desk, the light in his eyes flickering away like a candle in the wind. Color drained from the poor sap’s complexion, and Percy noticed the way he reached down so protectively for his wand. Ready to zap him like a bug with a curse, no doubt. 

Percy stepped forward, but had enough wits about him not to get too close to the desk.  “I’m looking for Leo.  Is he here?”

The receptionist shifted his gaze back toward the patient rooms, then quickly returned Percy’s gaze, sweating like a suspect under the spotlight.  Perspiration clung to the poor fella, enough that he could scent it from so far back.  Witches feared vampire-kind, but that didn’t mean they needed to skip out on magical-strength deodorant.  Jeez.

“Is he back there?” Percy asked, gesturing toward the area he’d once laid in to recover.  “With a patient?  Is it serious?”

Rather than utter any response, the receptionist merely shook his head.  He trembled like a leaf out in the wind, and upon closer inspection, Percy realized his pockmarked face seemed rather young.  After he’d turned into a vampire, it was a helluva lot harder to judge mortal ages.  But from his coy demeanor, Percy suspected he was a teenager. Perhaps a volunteer even.  

“Well, I’ll just tell Leo you told me it was perfectly fine to wander back there.” Percy inched toward the hallway to his left, surprised when the receptionist blurted out, “wait” and forced himself to remember how he’d once been a frightened, pitiful soul like that guy before too.

Fortunately for the receptionist, Leo must’ve just finished up with whatever patient he’d had in the back because there he came ambling up the hallway with a clipboard in his hand.  Ever the professional in his crisp white lab coat and his little name tag adorned to the breastpocket.  

Before Percy could say a word, Leo regarded him like a dust mote on his pristine floor and curled his nose like Percy was the one who’d forgotten his magical-strength deodorant. 

“What in the hells are you doing back here, vampire?”