by Karen Glista
“Well, we have his feeding pattern, so we have to find the fucker in the next week, else we’ll have number four,” Gage retorted.
“Oh, I’ll find the bastard, of that you can be certain,” Torin blurted, “and when I do, he’ll be damn lucky if I don’t kill him myself.”
“Careful, man, you don’t want to screw up. It ain’t worth getting the elites on you. Just do your job, turn him in and let them handle it.”
“She was a just a kid,” Torin said as he started the car and revved the motor.
Just a kid and I pledged a vow to protect them from this evil.
Speeding through traffic lights with the grisly murders swirling in his mind, Torin exhaled deeply. “What’s your take on this predator, Russian, German, perhaps a rogue sliding over from the United States?”
Gage shook his head. “I have no idea, but he’s nobody’s fool. He covers his kill with a blade to conceal his fangs, so he must be aware of the Council’s authority in this region.” He combed his golden locks with his fingers, glancing out the window. “It’s almost like he’s saying, I know this is your territory, so I won’t give it away that I’m an Iridescent, but fuck you, I’m feeding on your population anyway.” He exhaled. “Whew! Makes me sick. Let’s hope that he’s just passing through, that would be best and save you hours with the Siruns, getting your ass chewed off if he kills again.”
“Yeah, he knows what he’s doing, but he got a little careless, there were fang marks from her pussy to her ass.”
“No one will notice.” Gage sighed. “They’ll think it was the instrument he used to cut her throat.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Torin said taking a sharp left, “damn cunning he is, but I have a sneaking suspicion he’s not just passing through. I think he intends to stay a while,” he said, braking for a semi-truck making a wide turn. “He likes it here, lots of pretty Chippewa females…no threat as long he can keep his identity hidden. Only problem is he’s messing with fire and he’s gonna get burned.”
Gage sighed. “So, what’s your report to the precinct gonna say?”
“Same as the one Jon Moyle wrote up. Rape and torture, a sadistic, cannibalistic predator. The only difference in our reports will be my conclusion that he’s now a serial killer.”
“When do you report to the Council?”
“Tomorrow night and it won’t be pretty.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“That we have a rogue Iridescent, feeding, raping and slaughtering young females. Oh, and a promise.”
“A promise. Of what?”
“That I’ll catch the bastard and protect my brethren.”
“Now you’re talking, that’s exactly what they want to hear. Protect their identity, hell it doesn’t matter how many die, as long as the Council is not implicated.”
“Yeah, but it’s wrong, Gage, and you know it. It should be that the Council protects the Chippewa, hell, everyone for that matter.”
Silence settled upon them.
“You know that there’s not a damn thing we can to do to change the elites. You do realize that, don’t you?” Gage asked.
“I hear you.”
“Good, I just don’t want you to go off halfcocked and get yourself killed.”
Torin sighed.
“There is another way to fix all the problems.” Gage smiled. “Become a Sirun, and take over.”
“Hell no! That’s not who I am.”
“Why not? You could possibly change things for the better.”
“I don’t crave power,” Torin snapped, “I just want a fucking world where our kind can coexist with mortals.”
A bit fed up, Gage exhaled. “Well that may never happen. You can’t expect a shark to swim peacefully alongside the tuna. There will always be one who slips up and crosses that line.”
“So what’s the answer?” Torin asked with a riveting glance. “Tell me? After all this living, how the hell is this ever going to work?”
“Just as it has for thousands of years. We find those who want us, love and feed us and we return that love and protect them.”
“And the predators?”
“Eliminate them. Every damn one of them.”
Pain of It All
The dreaded day had finally arrived and like the condemned with his hands bound to his back and his head poised beneath the guillotine’s blade, Donja suffered the minutes right down to crawling into the Chevy Suburban and hearing the engine turn over. She fastened the seat belt with one final glance to the tan and brown, split level house on Lakeshore Drive, the only home she had ever known. The Suburban backed out of the asphalt drive and she closed her eyes, Maestro on the back seat between her and Frankie.
A sickly feeling washed over her.
Minutes later with her mind off balance, they merged onto Interstate 94 and she took a final look as Carson set the vehicle in a northern direction. Suddenly it all came crashing upon her, sixteen years of her life written in blood, stuffed in a bottle, capped and tossed to the waves of Lake Michigan, forever gone.
Donja slid deep into the leather seat, fighting her tears, the soft chatter of her mom and Carson all but forcing a scream.
Are you people crazy? I can’t leave here. It’s my home, my life, where I last saw my dad.
She heard Lisa and Carson conversing back and forth, a sly smile on his face, a girlish tone in her mom’s voice which was so sickly sweet, Donja feared she might puke. She gripped her stomach.
How can you do this to me? How could you just forget about Dad?
She glanced out the tinted window with the Suburban cruising at seventy miles per hour; Benton Harbor fading as if it never existed at all. She squeezed her eyes tight, fighting the inevitable river of tears building behind her eyes. Just past the city of Coloma, the annual Peach Festival came to mind, the parade, the pageant…Kevin.
A streak of liquid misery fell like a silver bullet to her lap.
Oh Kevin.
She felt his hand holding her own, his laughter, his scent, his love that she thought would last forever. She squeezed her eyes tightly, forcing yet another tear to fall, and found herself once more, safe in her memories, his lips so thick, his kiss, her first, the one which started so innocently, then quickly changed to new found sensations. She shivered and as the fantasy intensified, she licked her lips, his taste, which was not at all what she expected, as intoxicating as rum. A shudder tore through her, reliving the moment that he forced her hand to his swelling desire, grinding with a hoarse voice begging for what she wanted to give, but could not.
She opened her eyes with a gasp, her gut churning.
Damn you, Kevin…damn you.
Snatched from reverie as Maestro climbed over her to peek out the window she realized that she was trembling. She released a pent-up breath and moved him aside. She pulled her legs underneath her and plugged in her earphones listening to the enchanting tune ‘Over’ by Azar Swan. She leaned her head on the window, the soulful music slowly stealing reality.
Her mom spun in the front seat, and faced them.
Donja pulled her earphones.
“You guys are going to love the new house.” Lisa gushed excitedly.
Donja swallowed her pain, like a dose of quinine and found her voice, weak but audible. “Am I going to have my own room?”
Silence, but she didn’t fail to notice Carson and her mom share a look. The stalemate continued and minus the tires whining on the interstate, it rang in her head, all the while waiting for an answer not forthcoming. She felt something cold creeping up her spine.
“Well?” she blubbered, once more on the verge of tears.
“Honey,” Lisa said, eyes locked on Carson as if he were the one waiting on pins and needles, “you and Makayla are going to share a room for a few weeks until the renovations are completed.”
“Mom,” she protested, losing the battle of tears.
Lisa swiveled in the seat to face her. “Oh, baby, please don’t cry, it won’t
be long. I promise. And then you’ll both have a suite to yourself with a huge closet, private sitting room, bath and bedroom.”
Donja just stared, then wiped her face with the back of her hand and heard herself mumble, “that’s not fair, Mom, it’s just not fair.” She averted her gaze, blurred eyes on the window.”
Silence descended and with her mother’s eyes, which she knew were upon her, she considered opening the back door and jumping to her death. Her hand slid toward the silver handle, the pain of the last few days spinning in her mind.
“Donja,” Frankie said, “you can have my room and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Silence, the worst yet.
Donja raised a tremulous hand from the door to her brow. She glanced to Frankie, so young yet so much like their father. She eyed his bruised and swelling nose, evidence of his love. She fought for composure and forced a smile which really wasn’t a smile at all. “That’s okay, bro.” She sniffled. “You and Maestro deserve your own room. I’ll be fine,” she said with a maniacal glare to her mother. “Right Mom?”
“Honey, I promise you, it won’t be long, your room will be our top priority, actually the entire top floor takes precedence, I swear it, right, Carson?”
“Absolutely,” he retorted.
Donja spun, staring out the window. The miles flew by in silence and though she couldn’t be certain; she thought she heard her mom sniffle.
“Mom, you said the top floor. How many floors are there?”
Without looking, Lisa replied. “Three, but this is a very old home and the third floor has not been used in over a hundred years, so we’ll need plumbing installed for the baths, heating ducts, insulation and new drywall.”
You were crying, I can tell by your voice.
“A hundred years,” Donja said, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Gosh, how old is this place?”
Lisa’s demeanor shifted, the pain in her voice fading. “Old. It’s actually listed in the historical documents as early 1800’s and it’s so charming. Carson and I fell in love the minute we saw it.”
“Oh…my…God!” Donja shrieked.
“Don’t think badly until you see it,” Carson chimed in with a quick glance to the back seat. “And just so you know, Makayla is just as upset about moving as you are, but your mother and I thought a fresh start for the entire family would be best and,” he took a breath, “sharing a room will give you and Makayla time alone to get to know each other.”
Donja exhaled and she could all but feel the blood drain from her face. She cowered into the seat, her mind spinning.
How much more can I take?
She bit at her lip, emotions rolling like thunder.
Keep your mouth shut, just count, like the counselor said. This too will pass.
Hours later, jerked from slumber by her mother’s voice, Donja sat up and realized first that she had fallen asleep and second that the day was near gone with the sun sinking toward the horizon.
“Look!” her mom said excitedly. “It’s the Mackinaw Bridge.”
Donja jumped to attention, gripping the front seat while pulling herself forward. Her heart hammered, my God, she had for many years, dreamed of visiting Mackinaw Island so that she could see, first hand, the ‘Grand Hotel’ from “Somewhere in Time” with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour. The movie which was her mom’s favorite and hers as well, always left her in tears, yet each time her mom had it on, she fell in beside her on the sofa, a box of tissues and a bag of Hershey’s kisses in hand. She pulled herself snug to the front seat, and though it wasn’t the island, it was close enough. Gazing between her mother and Carson, the bridge which was quite impressive, unfolded before her eyes. It reminded her of pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge and she fumbled in her backpack and found her android. She took pictures of the lake, hundreds of feet below them, several sail boats and a tug in the distance. The passage took forever, and she was totally amazed by the cabled structure.
“It’s bigger than I imagined,” she said with her misery, if even for the moment, fading.
“It’s five miles long,” Carson said, more than double the Golden Gate Bridge and the winds across these straits are so fierce at times that the bridge is monitored by the hour and wind conditions are issued for safe passage.
“Wow, that’s a long way down!” Frankie gushed excitedly.
“Indeed, it is my son, it’s nigh on two hundred feet,” Carson said, “and, it’s the 3rd longest suspension in world.”
“Cool,” Frankie gushed.
Donja cocked her head and zeroed in on Carson. A feverish heat spread up her chest to her jaw which she realized was tightly clenched.
He called him son.
Donja glanced to Frankie who was absolutely glowing. She released her jaw and the tightness in her chest subsided.
Frankie leaned forward, hanging on Carson’s every word as he explained that five men had met their death building this bridge. Donja watched the twinkle in Frankie’s eyes and in that moment, she realized that her brother who was only nine years old needed a father. She exhaled, a bit tremulous, but satisfied for if there was to be a substitute, Carson was by far the best man for the job.
She dropped her head.
He’s a good man, Dad. He’s just doing what you didn’t get the chance to do.
She fought her tears.
With the bridge disappearing behind them, they stopped for gas and after a retreat to the bathroom, Donja climbed the steps to an overlook.
Damn, I need a cigarette.
She surveyed the countryside which was considerably different than the Lower Peninsula; it was a forsaken wilderness. Debbie flashed into her mind and she touched the screen on her phone which lit up. No reception.
Shit!
Back at the Chevy, Carson was talking with a man and they had the hood up.
“What’s up?” She asked her mom.
“The engine’s running hot for some reason.”
Carson joined them. “There’s a Travelodge just up the road. We’ll have to spend the night.”
“Carson,” Lisa sighed.
“It’s just for the night, sweetheart. The mechanic can get it fixed by morning.”
“Whatever,” Donja mumbled to herself as she pushed her hair behind her ears. She glanced at Carson. “Does this dump have Wi-Fi or have we totally left civilization?”
Carson chuckled to himself. “I would think so,” he said, flashing his baby blues. “Now how about dinner. You guys hungry?”
“Yeah!” Frankie beamed, can we do McFee’s?”
Donja blurted before thinking. “That’s history, bro, just like vanilla lattes, our home, my friends, my car, my entire life!”
Lisa put her arm around her and forced a hug. “I know you’re sad, but it’s going to be okay, honey. You’ll see.”
Donja frowned. “Uh huh, yeah!”
Memoires
It was an annoying ring that pulled Donja from the depths of slumber. Her first impulse was to escape the eerie sound invading her dreams, but it was not to be. The annoying sound though slightly muffled, persisted. She opened one eye and as her vision cleared, she saw a blinking light atop the motel phone on the nightstand between her and Frankie’s bed. She stretched, grasped the handset and pulled it to her ear.
“Hello,” she said with a cracked voice.
“Morning honey,” her mom cooed.
“Mmm hum.”
“You guys get dressed, we’re leaving in about thirty minutes.”
She cradled the phone, threw back the covers and yawned.
“Back to my wonderful life.” She swung her feet to the floor. “Frankie, wake up.”
Maestro, who was sleeping next to Frankie raised his head with pricked ears. He scrambled from Frankie’s grasp and leapt, clearing the expanse between the two beds, licking at her face. “And take Maestro out,” she blurted.
She retrieved the remote and turned on the television. Frankie sat up rubbing his eyes. “Put it on HBO?”
“Okay,” Donja said, searching the channels. Seeing a girl’s picture flash on the screen, she paused to listen as a newscaster with blonde hair and a mannequin smile spoke in a monotone voice: “The death of this young victim, a student at the university in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, is being investigated as a homicide.”
Another murder?
“See if Transformers is on,” Frankie interrupted.
Donja tossed him the remote. “Look for yourself, but there’s not enough time for a movie and you need to take Maestro out.”
Donja snatched her android from the nightstand and dropped her head to the screen, her locks falling softly upon her face. She tucked them behind her ears. Her fingers flew across the screen as she texted Debbie. She waited, rubbed her eyes and watched as Frankie and Maestro, who was mimicking a jumping bean, headed for the door. She glanced back to the phone waiting for a response, waiting—waiting. It never came. “Grrrr.” She got up with a cursory glance at the bedside clock. 7:37 a.m. “Forget it. Her and Gina were out with Drenda last night, she won’t even be awake till noon,” she mumbled as she got dressed.
~~~
After breakfast and a half-mile trek into the woods behind the restaurant chasing Maestro in hot pursuit of a possum, they loaded up. Carson steered the Suburban, which had a new fan belt, onto I-75 directly for Sault Ste. Marie. Donja settled into the comfy leather seat and checked her phone.
Nothing.
Great friend you are, Debbie. Am I that easy to forget?
She plugged in her earphones, peering out the tinted windows as they sped down a ribbon of asphalt through a forest so thick and ancient that she shuddered. She closed her eyes, and within no time the enchanting voice of ‘Tilo Wolff,’ lead singer of Lacrimosa, had her swooning. Suddenly it occurred to her that the trip was almost over.
Damn, I’ll be rooming with Makayla tonight.
She gripped her stomach as waves of nausea forced a wretched moan.
“You okay?” Lisa called out from the front seat.
“Yeah,” she answered, hoping her mom bought it. She cowered in the seat listening to her mom, laughing and talking with Carson.