⚠️ Trigger Warning: Reference to past abuse.
CH 1 Sc 1… | CH 2 Sc 1… | CH 3 Sc 1… | CH 4 Sc 1 | Sc 2 | Sc 3 | Sc 4
Previously on Trancing Miranda
Depleted from healing Miranda, Nick brings home a woman named Alecia from the club where he met Ragnar and feeds. While he is at home he speaks with the head of the Vampire Crimes Unit (VCU), Special Agent Ed Harris, who is an old friend. He asks Harris to get information on Miranda and Tony Gyari, the half-vamp who attacked her.
Vampire Crimes
Nick sent Alecia home with a council driver and slept. He woke up well before sunset and saw that Harris had texted back, asking him to stop by the VCU field office in downtown New Boston. By the time Nick got there, the parking lot was almost empty.
It was after five, but the glass double doors that led to the lobby were still unlocked, so checked in with security and went straight to Harris’ office.
The office was government issue, circa 1955. The surfaces were covered with cheap birch paneling and speckled gray linoleum. Fluorescent lights shone above a putty-colored desk and army green file cabinets. If not for the electronics, Nick would have thought he’d dropped a hundred years into the past.
Special Agent Ed Harris looked like what he was—an Ivy League professional who could have any job he wanted, as out of place in this office as he had been in all the others Nick had seen him in.
He was standing on the far side of the desk when Nick stepped through the open door, looking out through the gaps in the venetian blinds. Each gap blazed with sunlight.
Nick took off his sunglasses and tried not to squint, and Harris closed the blinds without being asked.
“I ran the names,” Harris said. “Tony Gyari’s last known address was in Sacramento. He worked in the service industry up until three months ago. Kept his nose relatively clean for a half-vamp. No ties to New Boston or the Regio, if that’s what you’re looking for. I can email what I have.”
Harris sat down behind his desk, opened a drawer, and got out a tablet. “The girl has a file you have to read on-site. I’ll share it, if you tell me what this is about.”
“Tony Gyari attacked Miranda last night at the Black Goddess. She’s okay because I was there to fix her up, but I’d like to locate him before he does it again. If he’s in human territory, he’s yours, of course.”
“And your interest in the girl?”
Nick sat down in the old vinyl and metal chair on the other side of the desk. “Is personal.”
Harris tapped the edge of the tablet as he considered, then stretched to hand it to Nick. “It’s unlocked.”
Nick swiped. He saw the familiar VCU logo. Then two words in bright neon red.
Restricted Access.
The next screen was an arrest file.
It began with Miranda’s demographics—name, date of birth, social security, a short list of addresses, a work history. He scrolled through scars, marks, and tattoos. No tattoos. More ear piercings than should have been possible—and a catalog of scars.
Multiple paired punctures in all the usual places. Extensive scarring overlying the femoral arteries. Five to seven centimeters in length. Too close together to count.
Nick wasn’t surprised by the puncture wounds, but the long scars were unusual and probably not voluntary.
He’d been wrong about the marks he’d seen on her neck. The vampire responsible wasn’t careless about doing damage—he was deliberate. “She has a history.”
“She does at that,” Harris agreed.
The arrest record followed.
The last arrest was a drunk and disorderly, and Miranda could have been convicted on the mugshot alone. Toxicology showed a blood alcohol of .18.
The next charge was so unexpected Nick laughed. “She carved up a vampire?”
“She did. About four years ago. She was twenty-four years old.” Harris straightened a silver monogrammed cufflink. “Law enforcement was not unsympathetic.”
Nick could see why. He studied what was probably a hospital photo. One of Miranda’s eyes was purple and puffy, and her lip was split open. According to the report, she had partially severed the vampire’s thumb and cut off his entire left ear, which was a problem if he was a half-vamp who couldn’t regenerate.
For whatever reason, however, the charges were dropped.
Nick scrolled down to known associates. There was a picture of a man with short white-blond hair and bright green eyes.
Below the image was a name.
Daniel Boucher.
The next photo showed Miranda and Daniel coming out of a club in some other city. Boucher had his arm around her shoulders, and she was smiling up at him. She looked young and happy.
“What’s her relationship to Boucher?” Nick asked.
“They’re cousins,” Harris said.
“First cousins?”
“Second. She's mostly human, apparently. But they’re definitely close. She works at his club and lives rent free in one of his properties. Drove one of his cars, too, until she smashed it up a couple of weeks ago.”
“Any injuries?”
“Nope. Single car. She walked away without a scratch, and New Boston PD lost the report.” Harris paused. “If you want this guy, you’ll have to get to him before Boucher.”
Assuming Boucher knew. “Are they a couple?”
“Maybe. I mean, they are related. But you guys do that, right? Like royalty back in the day?”
“Sometimes,” Nick said without looking up. “Why is her file restricted?”
“Above my pay grade.”
Nick studied the club picture. Miranda didn’t have Daniel’s high cheekbones and aristocratic nose, but there was a resemblance.
It was the eyes. Bright emerald green eyes with a slight upward tilt. Both Miranda and Daniel had fae eyes.
Fae eyes. Fae energy.
He’d heard that the Bouchers had fae blood. Now he knew.
Nick scrolled up to the hospital picture and enlarged the image. It wasn’t the injuries that interested him. It was the expression.
The girl in the picture wasn’t cowed or humiliated or frightened.
She was mad.
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