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Son of a King

Summary:
When women begin showing up dead all across Toronto with distinctive puncture wounds on their necks, Vicki Nelson, PI, is on the job – along with her 450-year-old vampire partner. But if he’s not behind the attacks – who is? A strange, young couple new to the city could hold the key to discovering the truth. Handling two kinds of vampires was hard enough. Just how many different sorts were there? Second story in the “Different Sorts” series FINAL CHAPTER -- NOW POSTED!


Notes:
ATTENTION READERS: DO NOT STEAL MY STORIES. Someone has stolen some of my stories from this website and posted them as their own on fanfiction.net. It is plaigarism, it is stealing and it is illegal. Read, enjoy -- but don't steal. Second story in the “Different Sorts” series -- takes place after "Different Sorts." Crossover with Buffy and the new “Blood Ties” series on Lifetime. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


1. Chapter 1

Rating 4.5/5   Word Count 921   Review this Chapter



* * *

Sometimes, being friends with a vampire sucked. No pun intended.

For Vicki Nelson, PI, it didn’t help that he was kinda, sorta in love with her. Or, at least, drawn to her in some way romantically. He’d tasted her blood and he wanted more.

And it didn’t help that her ex, who she was still kinda, sorta seeing, was incredibly jealous.

Henry was jealous, too; kind of in the way that he felt he’d been offended. He carried on as if he were entitled to whatever he desired – including Vicki. He may have been more than 400 years old, but sometimes Henry still acted like the spoiled son of a king.

Which, technically, was true – even though the history books said that Henry Fitzroy – the bastard son of Henry VIII – was long dead. Vicki now knew better.

So when Detective Mike Celucci knocked on her door that night, Vicki inwardly cringed. She glanced over at Henry, sprawled on her chair. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. He knew who was at the door just as well as she did.

“Come in,” she hollered – and braced herself for another fight between Mike and Henry. She was getting tired of breaking up their arguments.

Mike walked carefully into her office, each step falling heavily on the wooden floors. He didn’t seem surprised to see Henry there – but his lips tightened into a thin grimace.

“Detective,” Henry said, teasing.

Mike shook his head. “I’m glad you’re here, Henry,” he said. He tossed a police file folder onto Vicki’s desk. “This probably concerns you.”

Henry’s smirk fell as he straightened in the chair.

Vicki was wary as she opened the folder, glancing between both men. Her eyes fell to the black and white crime scene photos. It was unmistakable. The young woman – dead – with two puncture wounds on her neck, a small trickle of blood dried onto her skin.

“What is this, Mike?”

“You know what it is – it’s a vampire attack.”

Vicki sighed and shook her head. It didn’t take long with Mike these days … ever since he’d found out she was working with a vampire, he’d gone to extreme lengths to prove what a bad influence Henry was. To prove that Henry was evil – was dangerous – was deadly. So far, he’d only pushed Vicki farther away from him – and closer to Henry.

“Do you have any leads?” Vicki asked.

Mike scoffed and looked pointedly at Henry. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“I didn’t do this,” Henry said, standing up. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

“Well, sorry,” Mike replied. “But you’re the only vampire I know of hanging around Toronto.”

“Then perhaps,” Henry said, “you’d be interested to know about some new arrivals.”

“New arrivals?” Vicki raised her eyebrows. “I thought vampires couldn’t live together in the same city?”

“Like I said,” Henry continued, “new arrivals. I sensed them come in two nights ago. At least, I think they’re vampires. I’m not sure. They seem different …”

“Wait, you sensed them?” Mike asked.

“It’s a vampire thing,” Henry replied. “We can sense another vampire’s presence – when they are close enough.”

“Like within city limits?” Vicki asked.

“Exactly.”

“Maybe we should go meet them, then,” she said. “Ask a few questions – Mike?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ve got a new weapon for just such an occasion.” He pulled aside his coat, where Vicki and Henry could see a carefully crafted wooden stake in a holster next to his gun.

Vicki rolled her eyes. “God Mike, get over yourself.” She turned to Henry. “Come on, let’s get going. Sunrise is in a couple hours.”

* * *

The neighborhood Henry took them to was relatively upscale, considering that most of these creature cases took them into the seedier parts of Toronto. Not that Vicki was complaining – she much preferred looking for potential suspects in a swanky condominium complex than wading through sewers or poking around corners in the red light district.

The elevator dinged as they reached the fourteenth floor. Henry paused for a moment outside the doors, then turned right and proceeded down the hall. His head was cocked to the side, as if he were listening for something human ears couldn’t sense. Finally, he stopped outside a door.

“This is it,” he said. He cocked his head again, pausing. “Yes, this is definitely it.”

“Okay,” Vicki said, glancing at Henry, then at Mike. She stepped forward and rapped on the door. She braced herself – preparing to come face-to-face with killer vampires.

So she was surprised when a young man – probably no older than 18 – opened the door. He was startlingly beautiful – much like Henry. He had copper-colored hair and topaz eyes. His skin was incredibly pale – perhaps even paler than Henry’s – and he had deep purple bruises bellow his eyes, as if he had not slept in many days.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re the ones Alice told me about. Better come on inside.” He stepped to the side and held out his arm – welcoming them inside. He glanced at Mike as he passed. “Your stake won’t do much good here.”

That stopped them all. The three of them stared at the boy as he shut the door.

“My name is Edward Cullen,” he said. “And I am a vampire – but I’m not your murder suspect – and I’m not like him.” His eyes fell on Henry.

* * *