by Rose Pressey
As I approached my car, I spotted Johnny’s old white van. It was the kind of van that looked as if it belonged to a serial killer—no windows and plenty of room for several bodies stacked in the back. Perfect to pull up next to an unsuspecting victim with. He said it added to his ‘vampire mystique.’ Like he needed any help in that department. I think he liked freaking people out. He strolled around town dressed in all black, and in the winter months, he wore a freakin’ cape. A cape. Johnny loved seeing the expression his getup produced on humans’ faces as he approached.
The van’s back door was open, but I didn’t see Johnny.
I stepped toward the serial killer mobile. “Hey, Johnny, awesome job tonight.”
He had kicked butt on the bass and I needed to thank him for doing such a great job.
“Johnny? You there?” I called again.
As I rounded the corner, I saw it. Johnny’s charred body lying on the pavement—or what was left of him.
Chapter 3
I knew it was him. A vision flashed through my head the second I saw him. As if in slow motion, in my mind, a dark figure stepped from around the front of the van, raced toward Johnny, then shoved a stake through Johnny’s heart before he even had time to register what was happening. Having the event play out like a movie in my mind wasn’t the only disturbing thing, though. With the vision came emotion and overwhelming thoughts, not only Johnny’s thoughts, but the killer’s, as well.
The swell of feelings came in waves across the pavement, slid up my feet and spread through my body. Heat pulsated inside me with every heartbeat. The night air seemed hotter. I swiped my forehead with the back of my palm, then rubbed my flushed cheeks. Rolls of pain churned through my abdomen like a tugboat in a storm at high sea. My legs trembled and I stumbled a couple steps forward. A flashing light blinked with each throb that pounded in my head. Every one of my limbs tingled as thoughts flashed in my mind, only they weren’t mine, and I had no control to make them stop. I wanted to push them away, force them out of my body, but without knowing why this was happening, I was helpless.
Johnny’s thoughts, that he’d been excited to bang a hot chick after the gig. A blonde he’d seen before—not his wife. Next, his thoughts popped to our show this coming Saturday night and he felt if it worked out, it would mean a butt-load more money for him. I wasn’t sure that was the case, but he’d never find out now. Without warning, the thoughts were back to the blonde. Typical man.
As quickly as they came, Johnny’s thoughts floated out of my mind, replaced with images more appalling than any horror movie I’d ever seen. Rage filled the killer’s mind. My stomach turned worse than I’d ever experienced before. Small blips of playing bass filtered through the murderer’s thoughts, but behind those, underneath everything, darkness and ugliness remained. Images of fire, blood, and fangs.
What the hell was wrong with me? Nothing like this had ever happened to me. Was I hallucinating? What I saw and felt wasn’t normal and I wanted it to go away. My body trembled, making it difficult to remain upright.
“Johnny,” I screamed.
A pile of ashes was all that was left of Johnny. He was gone. Really gone. No longer undead. Without warning, the images of the horrific event returned, causing the pulsating heat to return and run through my limbs again. When I neared Johnny’s body, the pain moved upward and ran through me. The dark figure appeared in my mind again. The vision was on a freakin’ loop in my head.
My mind raced and I couldn’t believe the scene in front of me. The only thing not in my vision was the killer’s face. Why was this happening to me? My heart thumped louder than Johnny’s bass at the rowdiest of honky-tonks. Adrenaline coursed through me. I clutched the van door, steadying my shaky legs. Thank goodness the van was there, because otherwise my face would’ve gotten an up close and personal view of the blacktop. Running or screaming again seemed like my only options. I opted for screaming. My screech echoed through the alley as I knelt down beside the remains, avoiding the ashes as much as possible.
“Oh my God. This is unbelievable. This is definitely not good. Who did this to you? Why?” I asked, as if he’d answer. He was nothing more than ashes, some bones, and not much else. Some parts more intact than others.
Frank burst out the door. “Veronica, are you all right? What’s wrong?” He ran toward me, stopping in his tracks before he reached the van. “What the fuck?” His eyes widened and his face blanched.
“Call the police.” My words came out in short gasps. I struggled for air, but managed to choke out the words. “It’s Johnny. He’s been staked.” The words turned on me like a boomerang, sounding so final. Dead. Expired. No more. Kaput. Sayonara. Buh-bye.
“Are you sure it’s Johnny?” Frank leaned down to Johnny.
“Well, yeah, the crumpled up remnants of his body is one indication.” I pointed as he neared what was left of Johnny. “The lack of movement, ashes, charbroiled body parts, etc. are others.”
“I mean, how do you know it’s him?” he asked.
Hmm. How did I know? He posed a good question. Now which lie should I tell?
“The pants. See the bottoms. And his shoes.” I’d always been a fast thinker. Thank goodness for little talents; sometimes they weren’t entirely useless.
“Why are you breathing so hard?” I asked.
“I have allergies.” Frank paced around the perimeter of Johnny’s remains, looking down at what was left of our bass player.
“What? I didn’t think—”
“Yeah, yeah. You didn’t think vampires could get allergies. I’m standing next to the trees, aren’t I? Look at the pollen. We may be dead, but we still breathe that shit.” Frank pulled his cell phone from his front pocket.
“Yeah, okay sure.” I’d never get the hang of the vampire life. Just the same as they didn’t understand the witches. They were technically dead, but still had all living functions. Immortality as well. Sounded good until the cons were listed—drinking blood and the whole ‘mob with torches and pitchforks’ thing. When would people stop carrying crucifixes and wearing garlic around their necks, anyway? I guess drinking blood was the least of vamp problems.
The bar owner lunged out the back door, barreling toward us like a bull and I was the one holding the red torero cape. “What the hell is going on?” Charlie asked.
Frank was on the phone with nine-one-one, leaving me to answer his question.
“Johnny, our bass player has been staked. Or at least, I’m guessing.” Again, I held back the truth. No one needed to know how I knew the means of death. How would I explain the missing stake? Plus, I was the one who’d found him. I didn’t even understand how I knew. “But maybe he was burned?” I added so they wouldn’t be suspicious. I looked at Frank and he arched a brow. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s horrible.”
“I’ve seen it before,” Charlie said.
Chapter 4
To ask or not to ask. Curiosity would nag at me worse than my mother badgered me for info about my dating life if I didn’t ask, but did I really want to know? Then again, how much worse than looking at the corpse in front of me could his answer be?
Screw it. “You’ve seen it before? Where did you see a dead vampire?” A dead vampire? If vampires were already dead, what were they called when they had been permanently dead? Re-dead? Dead-again? Dead part two?
“Yeah, over at Ruby’s Blues Club. Same thing happened there just last month,” Charlie said.
Why hadn’t I heard about this? Had I been so busy with my music I didn’t know a vampire had been murdered? “Do they know who did it?” I asked.
He shook his head. “As far as I know it’s still unsolved.”
“Do you know who the vampire was?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. In spite of the warm weather, a chill ran down my spine.
“Nah. Some vampire dude, I’m not sure. Listen, I can’t believe y’all brought this shit into my club. I’ll lose business because of this.” He looked at Frank, then to me
.
“Hey, I didn’t have anything to do with this shit. Don’t look at me.” Frank held his hands up as if waving a white flag in surrender.
Charlie was right. Vampires wouldn’t want to hang around a place they had to watch for flying stakes. I didn’t answer him. What could I say? No words would make this situation better.
We stood in silence for a moment. None of us knowing what to say, I guess. I shuffled my feet and looked at Frank, motioning with a tilt of my head for him to say something. He bobbed his head up and down. “Say something,” I mouthed. He shook his head again. This was definitely awkward.
The dim light over the back door blanketed the lot with a faint yellow glow. I scanned the area, taking in the now somber surroundings. My pulse thumping in my ear blocked out any noises around me. The area was hazy as if I wore dirty glasses. Tears didn’t form in my eyes often, but this time, there was no stopping them. I wiped away the moisture from my cheeks with my trembling hand. None of this seemed real, yet it was all too real. It wasn’t everyday I saw such a violent scene. Try never.
“Of all the damn days for him to die, he had to pick tonight.” Frank stuffed his cell phone back into his front pocket, then ran his hand through his short dark hair.
“Frank! It’s not as if he wanted to take a stake to the heart. He obviously didn’t commit suicide. Don’t be such an insensitive bastard.”
He rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you care?” I asked. “Vampires start going down and it’s serious trouble, don’t you think? Y’all aren’t exactly easy to kill, you know?”
He frowned.
“Not that I’d know,” I added quickly. Sometimes I stuck my four-inch heels in my mouth.
I thought Frank liked Johnny. Didn’t it bother him to see another vampire in this situation?
“Damn it, Veronica. Tomorrow’s important. We don’t have a bass player now. What the hell are we going to do?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I can’t exactly think about that right now, can I? I’ll figure out something. Our bass player is dead for heaven’s sake, show some respect.”
He had a point, though. It seemed as if when I got one step forward something happened to shove me back two steps, but now was not the time to dwell on such bad luck. Or whatever it was. A witch wasn’t supposed to have such problems, isn’t that what everyone thought? Unfortunately, I didn’t have a magic wand to make all my problems disappear. If I did, I may have made Frank vanish a long time ago.
Johnny was dead and music was the least of my concerns at the moment. He had only been with the band for a short time. None of us knew him well or what he could have possibly been involved in, but no one deserved this. What kind of monster could be so evil?
Charlie moved toward the growing crowd at the edge of the parking lot and Frank stepped closer to me. “Wait. How do you know he was staked?” Frank stared at me.
“Excuse me, Count Dracula. Are you the dumbest vampire around? How else could a vampire be killed?” I glared at him, flashing my best ‘duh’ look. Not sure if he bought it.
“Smart ass. There are other ways. Where the hell is the stake then?” He scowled.
Who was he, Perry Mason? I looked around. “How should I know? Look, I don’t know how I know.” I studied my shoes, avoiding his glare.
Frank placed his fingers under my chin and lifted my face. His touch was ice cold. “I know when you’re lying, so spit it out.”
His gaze never left mine. I couldn’t look away. “Damn it, Frank. Don’t use that damn vampire glare crap on me.”
His glare intensified.
“Fine.” I lowered my voice. “I can’t really explain it, Frank. I had a flash of Johnny being staked the moment I saw his body. And now when I look at him, which I’m trying not to do, the area is washed in a red glow.”
He scowled. “What? Now you’re a psychic?” He let out a deep breath. “Look, don’t tell anyone what you just told me, okay?”
“Why?” I frowned.
“Just trust me. Don’t tell anyone. Promise?” He placed a hand on my shoulder.
I instinctively wanted to shrug it off. Reflex. This time he managed not to make an inappropriate comment. Maybe his black dead heart still had an ounce of compassion.
I nodded. “Okay, yeah, I promise.”
Whom did I have to tell anyway? Well, other than the police. Oh, and Kitty; I told my best friend everything. Other than that, my lips were sealed. Frank was just being paranoid—his typical weird self. I shouldn’t have shared any of this with him. Frank was always so smarmy, he didn’t care anyway. His vampire persuasion had little effect on me. If I hadn’t wanted to talk, his glare wouldn’t have worked.
But it did feel kind of good to tell someone about what had happened, even if it was Frank. I’d never experienced anything like this and definitely never been the intuitive type. Now all of a sudden I was freaking Sylvia Browne. Another thing to add to the list of things that didn’t make sense in my life.
My whole life, my magic had been limited to spells made up of herbs and oils. Yes, I’d tried a few love spells, and needless to say, they hadn’t worked. My brother liked to call it half-assed witchery. Sometimes he was a real jerk, but I missed that jerk.
Police sirens wailed, freeing me from the conversation with Frank. Within a half a minute, multiple cars pulled up. Uniformed men jumped out and trotted over. They roped off the area just as more audience members joined the increasing crowd. Great. Now I’d be known for a lot more than my singing ability.
Vampires had their own detectives within all branches of law enforcement to deal with these matters. They looked like regular detectives except with…well, you know, fangs. An unmarked car pulled up beside the police cruisers and a man climbed out. I watched as he flashed a badge and was allowed across the tape.
Frank grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the body. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”
“Don’t we need to talk with the police?” I pointed in their direction.
“They’ll find us.” His voice was steady and calm as if he’d done this sort of thing a time or two. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Frank seemed like the type who’d seen a dead body…or ten. I didn’t like to think about the fact that maybe back in the day Frank had possibly killed someone while turning them into a vampire. He claimed he never had, but…I wasn’t sure I believed him. All vampires had done it at some point, right?
Police swarmed the scene like bees over honey. They moved back and forth from the van to the surrounding buildings. A few stood in groups, talking. The scene wasn’t as glamorous as they depicted on TV. Miraculously, I’d gone unnoticed by the police so far, as if hidden behind an invisible veil.
“They don’t need to see you like this.” Frank gestured his head toward the crowd, and eased the car keys from my hand.
I’d held them so tightly the entire time that I’d almost drawn blood. Not something I wanted to do with all the vampires meandering around. No need to dangle a bloody carrot in front of them. Frank whispered something in Charlie’s ear. I didn’t ask what. Asking would have required energy that I didn’t possess at the moment, so I moved toward the back door. Frank placed his hand on the small of my back as I stepped up the stairs. A little too touchy-feely for my liking.
After heading back into the dressing room, I plopped down on the old loveseat again. Frank draped his arm around my shoulders. He sat too close and I didn’t find comfort in his embrace, but my emotions were too distraught to tell him to back away. I leaned forward, propped my elbows on my legs and placed my head into my hands. My movement forced Frank to release his hold. We sat in silence. I needed time to wrap my thoughts around what I saw. Within a couple minutes, a knock rattled the door. The sound made me jump. Clutching my chest, I looked up.
Chapter 5
Frank hopped up and grabbed the knob, leaning in close. “Who is it?” he asked without opening the door.
“Detective Walker with the FBVI.” The man’s voice held
as much patience as my dad’s when I wrecked his ’57 Cadillac at the age of sixteen. He’d spent years restoring that car.
Frank eased the door open and stepped to the side, allowing the man to squeeze into the small space. “Come in.”
“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.” The detective eyed Frank with a raised brow and pursed lips. “I just have a few questions for you folks.” He looked at me and motioned with his long index finger. “You found the body?”
His beige pants had a military precision crease down the front and his white shirt was starched to attention.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks and nodded. “Yes.” My hands still trembled.
“Detective Russell Walker.” He handed me his card, then passed one to Frank. Federal Bureau of Vampire Investigations was printed in gold letters across the middle with his name and other information below. “How do you know the deceased?” he asked in a clipped tone.
Deceased? Hadn’t he been considered dead ages ago? They needed a handbook on all things vampire. Are they dead or not, damn it? The detective held no compassion in his voice. I’d only discovered the body, yet with one sentence he made me feel as if I had a one way ticket to the nearest correctional facility. Not that I expected him to coddle me, but still….
“He’s the bass player in our band,” my voice faltered. After a night singing and now this stress, it was no surprise my voice sounded like a ninety-year old’s.
“How long was he a member of the band?” The detective’s dark brown crew cut didn’t budge as he looked down at his notepad.
“Not long.” I shifted on the loveseat.
“How long?” His gaze focused on me again. I watched as he took in the full length of my arms and legs, studying each tattoo, no doubt. I had multi-colored stars covering half of my right arm and a pin-up model on the left. My left leg was covered with a tattoo of roses.