Ultraviolet

by Karen Goldrick

Sam knew he’d arrived even before he rang the bell. It was an antiquated door bell, loud enough to resonate down the narrow corridor, and rouse late night security from the infomercials on TV.

“Working late tonight, Ma’am,” Steve Rogers was on duty that night. She’d have to be vigilant.

“I’ll get it.”

“Be careful Ma’am. Could be anyone this hour.”

“I’ll be careful.” She waited until he’d turned the TV back up, and pushed the door ajar, before continuing down the corridor.

‘Holler if you need me,” he called after her.
“I’ll holler.”

Sam waited again until she was sure he wasn’t listening, then resumed her slow walk. The baby shifted again. It wasn’t possible for it to be more uncomfortable. Soon she’d be too big to even shuffle slowly. They’d have to wheel her in a cart.

Soon she’d have to stop work.

But not until the job was done.

The bell rang again. It wasn’t really necessary, this loud ringing of the bell. All that about having to be invited in, was just a crock of shit. If he’d wanted to, he would have just come inside. But tonight he preferred the doorbell, and she had no choice but to join in whatever game he was playing.

His smell reminded her of Nocturnal House at the zoo mixed with sweaty leather. He didn’t smile, but dipped his head in greeting. Sam looked across the wet street to the park opposite. There they were. Two, at least. in the top branches of the Jacaranda tree.

“Come on” she said as she closed the door after him and switched on the after hours lock.

As they walked back down the corridor, Sam felt the damp cold at her neck, as if it too had followed in from outside. The TV was still loud in security, and Steve didn’t call out again.

She rubbed her cold hands together, and folded her arms to keep them warm. Body language was usually important when carrying out an interview. Fold your arms, and they might tremble as if sent to the principal’s office. Chin in hands, and they might engage in a sort of mild flirtation. But body language wouldn’t matter to him.

The Coroner’s office was out the back, in the old section. There were plans, some two or three years old now and framed on the wall, for a complete modernisation and renovation. Sam thought this unlikely in her lifetime. At night the doors were locked. Single key locks, most of which stuck and required a special turn or kick.

“Allow me” he said.

It always surprised her that his voice was the same as she remembered. Same… but different. Softer. Lacking in..colour or emotion?

“No way. I’m not replacing another lock.”

With a final grunt and turn the door was open. She flicked on the fluorescent lights. One, somewhere down the back, flickered on and off. He sighed with mock impatience and put on dark glasses. She wished she had some.

The cool unit was the old fashioned walk in style. And with the power switched over to the night generator, she needed a torch. He’d like that. Cold and dark. She probably should be afraid.

The baby kicked right under her ribs, and she gasped in surprise and pain. It was due in another two or three weeks. Sam didn’t have the time to waste on fear. She turned to motion him to follow, and noticed him staring at her.Taking in her black stockings, navy jersey maternity skirt, and long cardigan draped over her enormous belly. How long had it been since she’d ironed her clothes, or washed her hair. How long since things which she used to regard as so important had seeped away.

Then he did smile. “You look sensational.”

Sam ignored the remark.

“It’s over here.”

There were only three cadavers, all lined up along the wall, draped in clear plastic. Sam pulled the plastic away from the middle one.

“It came in three days ago.” Sam shone her torch on the body. She said “it’ , because it was easier not to assign gender, or anything more personal to these particular remains. Its face was so contorted with fear and terror, it was impossible anyway to assign age or sex. Below its lower jaw there was a gaping hole, in which there were the pulverised remains of neck vertebrae, strands of torn muscle and veins. The wound was clean however, and devoid of any blood.

He picked up its hand, which was small and smooth. The nails were torn, and there was a pale mark on its wedding finger where a ring might have once been. He gently smelled the hand, then continued up the arm to the shoulders, as a lover would gently kiss his beloved. Sam felt a cold chill creep up her arm, as if she to, were the recipient of that pale lover’s kiss. The baby kicked again. She shouldn’t stay too long. It was too cold.

He paused, when he reached what remained of its neck. Looked up at her and grinned, then he kissed it over the wound, and stood back as if to savour the taste.

“Shall we retire somewhere more comfortable?” he asked.

“Just tell me who’s doing this.”

“You’re cold, and you need to sit down.”

“I’m fine, and I prefer to stand. Who is it?”

“We need to have a chat.” He swept past her and out of the cool room, his jacket swinging behind him like a long leather cape. Sam replaced the clear plastic, and followed him out. There was a small lab near the entrance to the office. Not very warm. Not very comfortable. But it would do.

He sat opposite, his sun glasses still on , and regarded her with the same quizzical smile as before.

“You’re tired and you want to go home.”

“I want answers,” she replied.

“You want to go home and have a nice warm cup of hot chocolate in bed, and snuggle up to..Oh wait…I forgot…there is no-one. Is there, Detective Inspector.”

Sam decided to let it go. During the interview process, she would just sit. And wait. She could wait all day. Forgo coffee. Not go to the toilet. She would wait, say nothing, and eventually they would break.

But she’d never tried it with him before. Patience. That was one of their characteristics. Cold. Slow moving. Slow thinking but more intelligent than anybody she’d ever met. Slow to heal. And extremely patient.

“Well I’d better get going,” he said, standing up.

Damn. She’d forgotten they were also easily bored.

“I’ll tell him not to do it again, Detective. Not in your district. Will that do?”

“Who are you going to tell”

“It’s the best I can do for you, Sam. otherwise it’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous for who?”

There was no fear in his voice, but she felt the taint of fear in the cold air between them.

“Dangerous for you, Sam.” He walked away.

“Ok then, why now,” she followed him out., “Why this sudden violence? This is the seventh in five months.”

“You mean compared to the usual peace. Where you only lose the occasional homeless, or schizophrenic and who cares anyway, especially if we don’t leave our mark?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

He was still at the door leading back to the main building, ready to leave, standing right under the fluorescent light. Sam had a good look at him. Like his voice, his face was the same as she remembered. He hadn’t really aged since the change, so that part of the legend was all true But he lacked animation. Vitality. As if he lived in two dimensions, instead of three.

Nevertheless, he was very attractive.

Pity she couldn’t stand the smell.

“We have our reasons. Usually we like to avoid publicity. Occasionally, Sam, one of has more pressing needs.”

“So did you do it?”

“Not this time.” He took the glasses off and squinted in the light, so she could only just make out his black eyes, bereft of the brilliant green they used to be.

“But I might have done it once before.”

He turned and walked back towards the entrance to the office, and pushed it open. Funny, she was sure she’d locked it behind them.

“There’s just one more thing, detective Inspector,” He’d replaced the glasses, and put his hands in his pockets.

The scream caught her by surprise. It was dark, and full of terror and despair, and it went on and on so long she had to cover her ears. It came from down the hall. near security.

Eventually it stopped.

“Something that slipped your notice.” he went on, as if he hadn’t heard anything. “That cadaver of yours. It wasn’t dead. Not anymore. Take care, Detective Inspector.”

He turned on his heals and disappeared. Probably out the barred windows. Vampires. after all, are excellent burglers.