by Manuel Tiger
“Sully?”
Heather’s voice prevents me from traveling down that dark corridor of memories. She reaches out and places a hand on mine and I don’t even realize I’m crying. Not full on sobbing, but there is a curious stinging sensation to my eyes and moisture tracking down my cheeks.
“Are you okay?”
I quickly draw a hand up and wipe at my eyes. “Y-Yeah,” I whisper nodding my head. “I’m fine,” I reply clearing my throat. I put on a fake smile and draw my hand out from under hers.
“You do know one of my powers is that of an empath right?”
“And?”
“You never really told me about your life in Boston. Each time I ask? You freeze up, shut down and act, well dead.”
“I am a vampire,” I remind her. “Acting dead is our thing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fucking smartass.”
“Now that’s my thing,” I say winking as I take up my coffee and have a sip. It surprised me that I could sustain myself at times on normal food and drink. I had believed that vampires couldn’t eat food for their bodies rebelled against it, after all, that’s what movies and the fiction stories always presented. But I still have to feed, still need blood. Sometimes I can make do with bagged blood, but other times? The Craving becomes overly strong and I must have it hot and fresh straight from the source. “To change topics,” I say as she gives me a look. “I will agree to be your date to the museum if you agree to two requests.”
“Which are?”
“Don’t ask me to put out on our date and give me a short interview or quote I can use when I write up the article for the witch that was found dead in the marina.”
“Oh damn!” she says dramatically. “And here I was hoping you rock my world. The best fucks are gay men you know?”
“I know,” I say winking.
She grins. “The second request I agree with as well.”
I open my messenger bag and draw out my notepad and a pen which I uncap and pose it above the pad of paper.
“Audrey Bolin was a good friend to many of the Bay covens,” she begins as I start to write.
III
Heather was more than informative about the deceased witch for she had managed to prick my interest and draw out the former reporter that I had once been when she mentioned that Audrey Bolin’s death was just the latest in several deaths of supposed witches that had occurred in the last few weeks.
Now when I say these women claimed to be witches I don’t mean that I don’t disbelieve them to be witches. I know witches are real, very much so, just as I know that werewolves, shapeshifters, and spirits are real.
But to the general public? It’s all make-believe, all something that exists between the pages of books, on the Big Screen and at Halloween. And in a place like San Francisco? You usually knew someone that knew someone or was close friends with someone that was either a witch, vampire, werewolf or could commune with spirits. Of course most people just nodded when you told them you were one of the listed supernatural beings for you typically got a, “Oh really?” or “That’s nice” type of response.
Why? Humans don’t want to believe that what frightened them as children, or still scares them, really exists.
Only here in San Francisco? There was a huge supernatural population around the humans hiding in plain sight, but due to the quirkiness of the city? No one knew that, or chose to ignore it or make up an excuse, a lie to believe – an oddball among the other oddballs.
Heather had also mentioned that it wasn’t just witches that were being killed lately either. She also informed that there were a mass migration of the supernatural leaving the city or going underground for they were being hunted down. She didn’t know why this was occurring, but it was putting every coven, pack and vampire covens that chose to remain on high alert.
I was not aware of this migration or murdering of supernatural beings, then again, I wasn’t really one to mix with other vampires or other supernatural beings in general. Heather was one of only two witches that I could count as a friend though she had introduced me to members of her coven when she invited me over to dinner sometimes.
At first her fellow witches had been distrustful of me, hated me on sight until they got to know me, yet that was to be expected.
I had been told once that witches and vampires did not get along, that the two were like oil and water or gasoline and fire. Vampires had a long history of using witches and the hate ran strong toward vampires.
I was just glad the few witches I knew in my life as a vampire did not kill me on sight.
Glancing at my watch as I entered my cramped one bedroom apartment I saw that it was close to eight thirty on this rainy morning though one could be forgiven for thinking it was still night. The storm had not let up at all. If anything it had only grown darker and stormier outside, which made me fully believe what Heather had said about nature mourning this dead witch.
Must have been a really good witch, I mused as I shut the door behind me and locked it as my eyes swept over my apartment.
I lived in an apartment building located on Bay Street and Larkin. It was a corner apartment which gave me a lot of room, but then, I didn’t have much in the way of worldly belongings. It was spacious, due to lack of furniture, but after being with Nameless Face and seeing his place? It suddenly felt smaller. I liked it though for the reason that from my bedroom window I could see The Bay. Some evenings I left my bedroom window open to hear the ships and the sounds of the ocean. It soothed me, relaxed me.
I was slowly getting furniture after finally accepting that this was to be my permanent home. Some weekends Heather went with me for curb side shopping for still good furniture that people threw out. Other times we often went to the flea markets or antique stores. I was pretty sure she came from a wealthy family like Scott and saw me as a charity case, a friend first of course, but a charity case all the same. She had no issues with purchasing something for me that I wanted but passed on due to lack of funds at times. I think I owed her my first born at this rate of promising to pay her back, but she never pressed or inquired about it.
The only reason I could afford this apartment was that I had made a phone call and the voice on the other end had told me not to worry about a thing. It was paid up for however long I wished to remain here after that one call.
I held up my right hand and looked at the ring, my eyes zeroing in on the crane head. My thumb rubbed it, the rubies sparkling under the low lighting. I should make a phone call before my birthday. That voice on the other side of that phone which had made it possible for me to have this apartment knew what that day brought about, what it did to me.
Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year and on three hundred and sixty-four I fell apart.
I placed my messenger bag on the couch – a curb find – and began to undress, kicking off my dress boots and removing my shirt as I made my way to my bedroom and walked into the attached bathroom. I removed my jeans and socks and pushed back the sliding glass door on the shower. I turned the shower knob for the hot water and adjusted the temperature making sure the water was as hot as possible, which to any normal person would have burnt their skin off.
But I needed to cleanse myself, to wash last night’s regret down the drain along with the pain, so the hotter, the more scalding, the better.
You made me feel I was worthy of love, made me think I wasn’t fucked up, that I could trust in someone finally.
I sat down in the shower, water stinging my body and cried, letting my tears mix with the regret that swirled down the drain.
Chapter Two
My eyes read the words painted on the glass window – The Paranormal Press and beneath it in smaller font, We believe and so should you!
It wasn’t anything like The Washington Post’s thought provoking anthem, but I liked it.
The Paranormal Press is housed in a two story red brick building that manage to survive the earthquake of nineteen-o-six by some quirk of fate. We own the c
orner front portion and next door is an old book store I sometimes frequent. The upper floor above us is occupied by a psychic and next door to her is a acupuncturist. Somehow we all gel perfectly.
I shifted the cardboard coffee container to my other hand and pushed the door open to be greeted by a blast of cold air that chilled me instantly. Scott is, ah, well, let’s say that since I began working here I’ve put him on a healthier diet and had him working out with me five days a week and jogging on weekends. Before that, when I first met him, he was rather on the large size, or as he said, he made Jabba the Hut look like a skinny bitch.
I had no idea who Jabba the Hut was, but rest assured Scott has filled me in on all things Star Wars related since.
Yes, he was overweight and his grooming habits were nonexistent. That was due to him spending twenty-four-seven in front of the computer gathering news report on the paranormal or making calls to witnesses that spotted UFOs, Bigfoot, Dogmen, vampires or had a satanic cult living next door. He wanted to be the first with breaking paranormal and supernatural news for the paper’s website and believed that to do so he had to remain at his desk. So his diet had mainly consisted of fast food or that of cheese puffs and Mountain Dew which had once fully stocked the small fridge by his desk. And due to his once large size, he was always running hot hence the artic chill that filled the office.
Some habits he was hard to break of.
He had lost two hundred pounds, which was noticeable on his six foot frame, and was now stocky, but taking on definition as he threw himself into working out more.
Today he was on the elliptical machine he had brought into the office and talking on his cell phone. He was wearing a Darth Vader shirt that said something about the dark side and cookies, shorts and tennis shoes. He had recently grown in a beard and still refused to trim his hair which hung like a mop on his head. Believe me, I was trying to get him to cut it, suggesting a low fade to show off that cute face.
As stated I only see him as a friend. He was like a kid brother to me, an obnoxious one at times, but a brother to me.
The moment he saw me his entire face lit up like the sun as he waved at me frantically and I waved back, holding up the cardboard container with my other hand, pointing to the green tea I had bought him which I placed on his desk. I adjusted the brass name plaque that read Scott Lakewood out of habit then walked over to the thermostat and turned it down a few ice ages.
“Sully!” he said placing his phone in one of the cup holders on the elliptical machine. “Did you get the photos of the dead witch?” he was as excitable as a little puppy, or a child on Christmas which for him getting these photos probably was Christmas for him.
I flipped the flap open on my messenger bag, dug out my camera and ejected the SD card from its side. “Right here,” I said placing the SD card on his desk beside his tea. “Only managed to get a shot of them loading up the body into the ambulance. But I did take some photos of the marina and the location of where the body was found floating in the water.”
“Don’t worry about it!” he said shaking his head. “I can work with those in Photoshop. Insert a ghostly image of a witch hovering over the water.”
I gave a tight smile and nod of my head. He was adorably predictable.
I went to my desk that sat near his and turned on the computer. It rumbled to life with a whirl of the fan that sounded like it was ready to take off. Once the screen blinked several times I sat down and placed my messenger bag down beside me.
“I’m going to go ahead and write up the story.”
“Good, good,” he replied as he got off the elliptical machine and made his way over to his desk. He picked up the green tea and took a long sip before coming up for air. “Hey, I got tickets to attend a séance tomorrow night over in Russian Hills. That’s right near where you live right?”
I arched a brow and looked over at him. “Yeah?” I dig out my notepad and flip to the page where I had taken down Heather’s words.
“This medium that is hosting the event claims she’s been getting spirits telling her that something big is going on! Like, end of the world type of stuff! Think you can come with me?”
“End of the world?” I sigh. “Isn’t that like the fourth medium you know that has said such within a week?”
“Hey man, if four are saying it? How many others are?”
Well, I couldn’t disagree with that.
“And that the supernatural world is at threat.”
I arched both brows now. “At threat?”
He grinned and perched himself on the corner of my desk, wiping sweat off his brow and onto his shirt. “Yeah! I thought that might interest you being all, you know?” he made bunny ears with his fingers then bent them downward and placed them by his mouth.
“A sad bunny?”
“No!” he looked around and leaned in closer as if we were in a full office. “Vampire,” he whispered.
“You do know it’s just you and me in here right?”
“Yeah, but I gotta keep your secret right? Like Jimmy Olsen and Superman? I’m your Jimmy!”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “You say the supernatural world is at threat?” I scanned my notes of Heather’s interview.
“Yeah, here in San Francisco!”
“Well,” I said finding what I was looking for. “I wonder if that has anything to do with the supernatural going into hiding.”
“What? Going into hiding? What are you holding back on me Sully?”
“That the witch that was found floating in the marina wasn’t the first,” I said. “That there are other deaths occurring among the supernatural lately. It’s believed something or someone is hunting them down.”
“What? Like a Jack the Ripper? Only instead of women with loose morals he’s going after the supernatural? Oh my god Sully! How long have you known about this?” he was practically bouncing on the edge of my desk.
“Uh, I don’t think it’s anything like that, Scott,” I began. “And I only found out about it today – ”
“A Jack the Ripper of the supernatural!” he said shooting up off the desk. “We can get a stock photo of some guy dressed in Victorian garb, do a little manipulation to make him look scary and add a knife,” he said pacing back and forth by my desk taking sips of his tea. “Maybe put a dead vampire at his feet! Or a witch! Oh my god! This is breaking news!”
“Uh.”
“The Supernatural World of The Bay Area at Peril! A Ripper of the Supernatural!” he was already coming up with the headlines. “Oh my god! I have to make a podcast of this!”
“Scott, we don’t even know what is fully going on other than what I was told.”
“And who told you?”
“Heather.”
At this his face blushed several shades of red as he calmed down. “How…how did she look today?” he asked attempting to sound casual about it.
“Fetching as always,” I replied cupping my chin in my hand as I stared at him with a grin. “You know, if you like her? Why don’t you just ask her out instead of running off to the back room each time she stops by?”
“Oh Sully, she is Aphrodite and I’m Hephaestus, unworthy of her,” he sighed. “She is a goddess! And I’m just a lowly worshipper from afar.” His mood had drastically changed as he drained the last of his tea from his cup. He sighed deeply. “I better get to work on the headline and the podcast though. This is breaking news Sully!” he said his mood already returning back to normal as he headed toward his desk then suddenly turned back around. “Are you coming with me tomorrow night to the séance?”
“Afraid that I can’t tomorrow night. If the séance is going to occur later in the week? I can.”
“What do you have planned for tomorrow night?”
“Heather asked me to accompany her to a museum showing of some artifacts which she plans on stealing one of.”
“What? Stealing? Why would she risk getting herself tossed into a dirty jail cell?”
“She won’t,” I said
. “She needs me to use my vampire charms on the guards while she uses a spell to retrieve said object.” I had no problem with telling Scott what was going on. If we were caught I knew he would at least bail her out and me as well, hopefully.
“What is the artifact?”
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me.”
“I bet it’s something vastly important! Like some type of key to unlock some great mystery of the universe!”
Oh dear. I should have kept my mouth shut.
“Which event is this showing taking place at?”
“She didn’t say,” I said. “She said she would tell me later.”
“Okay,” he said nodding, but I could see the gleam of a story in his eyes. “I better get to work on that podcast and hit the stock photo sites.”
I eyed him, knowing he was up to something, but given his lack of speech and turning into a shy little boy around Heather? I didn’t think he would follow through on it.
I would be proven wrong.
II
By one that afternoon we had received a phone call about a possible ghost sighting in Chinatown. Scott wanted me there right away to take a photo of the ghost, or the apartment at least where the ghost was sighted. His Photoshop skills would do the rest he assured me.
“Uh, if you see Heather again today? Or even tomorrow? Could you, ah, tell her hi from me?” he had his head down typing away at the computer.
I smiled. “I will,” I replied as I slipped on my messenger bag. “I’ll probably head home after Chinatown but will email you the photos. I’m a little tired today.”
“Vampires get tired?” his head shot up and he stared at me. “I thought you all never tired!”