Copycat Killer (Psychic For Hire 1)

Among the lotions and potions near the sink is a spritzer of exotic perfume. I use some after emerging from one of the two toilet cubicles. I take a look at my dress in the large gilt-framed mirror.

It’s showtime, the little voice says delightedly as she catches sight of me.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask her.

Don’t worry. I’ll be in charge. And I’ll deal with anyone who makes trouble about you shirking off work. It’s not like you want to keep this job anyway.

I turn to leave, pushing open the door, when the sound of an approaching voice startles me. It is lowered and furtive.

Instantly I recognize Beatrice Grictor’s breathy tones. “Through here,” she is saying to someone. The person she is with groans in discomfort.

I retreat swiftly back into the last of the two toilet cubicles, and quietly lock the door. I stand there in silence as Beatrice comes into the bathroom.

It sounds like she’s helping someone else into the room. Someone heavy with a shuffling gait. I hear the person groan deeply as they collapse heavily onto the soft velvet chaise longue. I hear Beatrice’s heels click-click over to the outer door and lock it shut. She heaves an audible sigh of relief.

The man she is with clears his throat, and mumbles, “It should’ve been fine. I must have forgotten to take a dose.” It is the ambassador. His jovial booming manner is gone. He sounds querulous and old.

“You really should have taken my advice, my dear,” says Beatrice, her breathy little voice displaying only the tiniest hint of distemper. “I can recommend a very discreet young girl who can take care of your needs. We can say she is your new junior assistant.”

“Why would I want that, when I have you?” the ambassador says. I hear him grab her, and her squeal of dismay.

“No, no, don’t do that! You’ll spoil my dress.”

“But darling, I need you,” he moans.

“I know. That’s why brought you here,” she complains, still in that sweet voice. “But only take a little. Just enough to get you through the next few hours. Not too much.”

“But darling you’re so delicious,” he wheedles.

“No, don’t kiss me,” she cries out. “Not like that. You’ll ruin my makeup!”

“But I like it like that,” he says.

“Not now, Griggori!” she finally snaps. Her voice swiftly returns to beguiling and soft. “If you take too much at once you’ll fall asleep. You know how you are. And we can’t afford for that to happen tonight. Imagine if it got out that you were unwell. The press might take it upon themselves to investigate. And we don’t want them finding out about your little problem.”

“No, not that. I couldn’t bear it,” says the ambassador. “The shame. I’d be hounded out of my position, forced to retire.”

“Yes dear,” she soothes. “And you’d find it most discomfiting to return to Otherworld once it was known you can’t regulate your energies. It’s so unseemly.”

“But I’m not dangerous,” the ambassador sulks, sounding like a petulant boy.

“No, you're just my sleepy teddy bear,” she says. “But your kin wouldn't understand that. You know how they think.”

In my head the little voice is squirming with glee. That explains it,, she crows.

What? I ask, not fully grasping what is going on with him.

She has to feed his Hunger like a baby, is why, she says. At indecently frequent intervals because he can’t regulate his energy levels and consumption. They call them leeches in otherworld, incubae who have to have a feeding mate wherever they go, and sometimes even needing to feed in public. It’s obscene.

Is he feeding right now? I ask, grimacing at the moaning whimpering sounds of pleasure that the ambassador is making. Intermittent impatient sighs and noises of discomfort are coming from Beatrice.

Yep, he’s feeding. The gluttonous boor.

There’s no need to be mean, I say. It sounds a bit like diabetes to me. Like an illness.

Incubae don't tolerate these sorts of physical weaknesses in their kind. And there’s every need to be mean. The night of the murder he clearly fell asleep after an overindulgent feeding. He doesn't know if she stayed with him or not, and he’s given her a false alibi because he’s too ashamed to admit to his sickness!

Chapter 20