by Gilmore, RM
“Sorry,” he said finally.
“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. Except maybe wait until the absolute wrong moment to make a move,” I chuckled. “Honestly, it’s shit like this that reminds me of your humanity.”
“What’s that, another monster joke?” he practically hissed his words.
“No, it’s a ‘you’re way too hot to be a human’ jab. It’s the truth, deal with it.” I shrugged, attempting nonchalance I really didn’t have in me at that point.
“Who says I am?” His matter-of-fact tone sent goose bumps over my skin.
I wondered if this was our transition. How two people can move from second base along the side of the road, to philosophizing about the meaning of the word human without taking a breath, I had no clue, but it seemed as normal as putting on your underwear.
“You better get your ass moving. That cop isn’t going to be your bro for much longer if we keep sitting here.” In true Dylan Hart fashion, my head switched gears in a second, and I continued without skipping a beat, “What happened to you at House of Porte?”
He put the car in drive and clicked on his turn signal, preparing to enter the roadway again. I had a feeling this wasn’t his usual routine, but I guessed you couldn’t be too careful when you had the popo on your ass with a voodoo bitch not too far behind.
He pulled into traffic before answering my question. “Azelie won. Temporarily, that is.” His eyes were trained on the road, and it seemed his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
“Your eyes were white, man. That’s not cool. I need a little more detail than that,” I pushed.
“After you left me to gather your things –“
“You mean, after you tossed my big ass like a doll across that overly waxed floor? Yeah, go on.”
An annoyed look slid across his face, but he continued, “I was alone on the first floor.” He paused in anticipation of my interrupting. I kept quiet so he went on. “I was leaning against the post at the end of the stairs when something pulled me toward the doors. It was a compulsion stronger than any other I have felt in my life. I fought the feeling at first, but after a few minutes, I couldn’t withstand the pull any longer. Reluctantly, I went for the door. I hadn’t so much as twisted the knob before the French doors flung open and slammed against either wall. Your pal, Azelie, of course, was there on the porch, grinning and laughing.” Her laughter filled my head suddenly. I tried to shake it off, but the bitch persisted. “I threatened her and tried to close her out, but she was too strong. A few words and a powder tossed in my direction, and I was lost. I can’t recall anything until I was suddenly running through the streets of New Orleans headed for the airport.”
“How did you catch a flight right after mine?”
“Secondus comes with its perks.”
“The power of flight?”
“Mastercard.”
Close enough.
“Private charter. Malcolm is not the only Primus with a little pull in their home city. I couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes behind you.”
“I hope you don’t get offended and eat my face, but your story seems a little…well…bullshit.”
Honestly, Cyrus eating my face came across a tad less frightening than the future currently at my heading.
“Believe what you will. I know you will regardless of my telling you, but please know, I don’t care either way.”
Indifference, the first sign of honesty. If one is spouting the truth, they tend not to give a shit who believes them or not. Liars need you to believe their bullshit or it doesn’t exist.
“So what brought you back? I slapped you square across the face and you didn’t budge.”
“I don’t know. I was actively running when I came around, the gods only know why or how I came to be where I was.”
“What did it feel like? To be…under her spell.” I made the last more dramatic with a stupid voice and more ridiculous hand gestures than necessary.
“Nothing. It felt like nothing. Whatever makes me…me, was gone. Not outside of my body looking down, or trapped inside my own head. I literally mean gone. Until this moment, your confirmation of my physical presence on earth, do I understand my body was present. Only my essence was taken away.”
I chewed on that for a while. Azelie was capable of removing someone’s essence and move on to royally kick my ass without blinking an eye. That was power I’d never seen in my lifetime. As if I’d ever seen or experienced anything close to magic. Having nothing to compare it to, I could only ask myself one question. Do I think she is otherworldly? At this point, I had to say yes. Five months of vampires—supposedly—and one tiny witch bitch changed my worldview in a matter of twenty-four hours. Magic was real. Curses, hexes, spells, shit-smear to keep the evil away, real. Now, about those vampires…
“So…”
“No,” he answered without hearing my question.
“No, what?”
“No. I’m not a vampire.”
“What about…”
He answered again. Never looking in my direction. “Yes.”
“Shit. Stop! Yes, what?”
“Yes. Malcolm. He is everything you think he is,” he said, creating more insults in my head than I could possibly spew out in one sentence.
“Well, I knew he was a douche. I didn’t need you to tell me about that.” I kept it simple.
“Funny. You know, deep down you always knew, what he is. What they all are.”
I closed my eyes slowly and scoffed. “Vampires. Goddamned, shit-sucking vampires,” I quoted.
“You could say that.” His plain and straightforward words were out of character to say the least, but honestly, he really hadn’t said anything. He’d only alluded to what he assumed I already knew. He was right, though. Somewhere inside, deep in there where I keep my plans for dieting and quitting smoking, I figured all the crap I’d seen on HBO and shit was true, and my stupid ass had dove in head first.
Well, I’ll be fucked sideways on a bed of Legos. Vampires. Someone call the WB.
Chapter Five
Fresno, the t’ain’t of California, filled the horizon with its mediocre sky rises and freeways. Downtown wasn’t much to ogle. In fact, it was mostly tramps and trash mingling about. From high atop the freeway overpass, it looked like the intro to a post-apocalyptic zombie flick. People wandering about amongst filth and dilapidation. This angle of town was not flattering, and honestly, set a shitty tone for a not so awful place. Entering the city from its asshole, does not a good first impression make.
I knew the one and only logical place to start would take me to a place I didn’t ever want to visit again. There was one being in the entire town of Fresno that even knew I existed, and judging by our last encounter it was highly implausible she would want anything to do with little ole me. But there wasn’t another choice. Barring any latent psychic ability, there was only one option to find the boy. And that was Angie, my lesbian, pixie-vampire friend.
Thinking of Angie and Sandora reminded me of the conversation regarding Regina and a certain man toy who appeared from the south to fetch her.
“Oh, Cyrus,” I said condescendingly.
“Yes.”
“When were you going to tell me about Regina?”
“What about Regina?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you are the reason she left Fresno. It was you who brought her to that place.” Months of ignoring them, the whole lot of them, had created more questions than it quelled. Now, stuck in the car with the answer man, I had all the time to get the answers I desperately wanted. And I was being drowned by thoughts and worries of my own demise. Priorities, man.
“Malcolm is the reason she left her home. I was just the means.”
“Can we just please talk like two twenty-something Los Angelenos. Stop with your cryptic, I’m a stoic bastard; it’s getting old. Honestly, between my inner turmoil and your Gemini behavior, it’s a miracle I’m not already locked up
tight in a rubber room by now. Jeez!”
“Fine.” Through pursed lips, he sucked in a big gulp of air. “Well, like, Malcolm sent me to Fresno to snatch up this new model chick he was interested in. He thought, like, I’d be nice eye candy for the girl, so there wouldn’t be any, like, issues.” His mousey ‘Valley Girl’ speech made me want to punch him square in the dick. “You feel me now?” he added in a much more annoyed monster-man tone.
“In which he was interested,” I added under my breath. I’ll show you to teach me a lesson.
“Petty doesn’t look good on you. Stop it. You’re better than that.” I bit my cheek to stop the girly smile fluttering around in me, from hitting my face. “I was here at Malcolm’s request. I didn’t know Regina and neither did he. I never got an explanation as to why or how he was interested in her. I just followed orders, as they say.”
“Do you question anything? What about Diego—the little bastard—and Sam and all that murderous nonsense? Where do you stand there? Likewise uninformed? Ignorant. As they say.”
Tensions were rising in the tight space, but only on my side. Cyrus was as cool as a vampire cucumber. Or something like that.
“They weren’t even on the radar. Sam had been working security with Malcolm in various projects for about a year before Regina joined the scene. She was intended to partner with Dominika for a new marketing spin he was working on to promote Macabre Saturnine, but it didn’t work out that way. Dominika took one look at Reggie and laughed. She can be a hell cunt, but she’s not an imbecile. She is quite good at reading people.”
“Or she’s just a bitch.”
“That is never overlooked,” he agreed.
“Why didn’t you ever mention your connection with Regina before? Like when it could have saved lives?”
“You already assumed me a killer. Mentioning my connection with those people, no matter how minute, may have exacerbated things. I could ask you – why did you not question me before today?”
“Between dead girls in my backyard and asshole Tatum-nappers, I didn’t get much of a chance.” Oh, and the five months I was trying to pretend none of it ever happened, while secretly boiling over with curiosity.
“How are you going to find this Zephyrinus? Lupe showed you something back at her shop. What was it?” He changed the subject quickly, obviously not interested in discussing vampires, his involvement in the murder and subsequent exsanguination of a gaggle of hookers. Under the circumstances—you know, my little curse—I let him get away with it. For now.
“She showed me a place I’d been in Fresno. I had seen this boy; I just didn’t know it. I remember he creeped me out. Him and his witchy buddies. At least, that’s what Angie said they were.” I pulled my phone from my bag and looked up Angie’s number. Taking a deep breath, I let it out and dialed.
After a very short and no less awkward conversation, we were set to meet Angie at her apartment, but under one condition. Money. It was always money. Thankfully, Cyrus had plenty of it because I was a broke bitch. She didn’t actually say whether or not she knew where I could find this lost soul I was hunting, but she seemed eager to make a buck. Motivated informants are always welcome.
With the address punched in to his fancy GPS thing, we were cruising through the back streets of Fresno near the college where I’d seen Zephyrinus and his buddies being creepy.
“You know, I won’t push it now, but in the very near future, I am going to get the full story from you, even if it requires violence. And please know I am quite fond of fire.” My threats were only half-empty. I’d gladly beat the shit out of him for information, but he’d be naked when I did it.
He nodded, a small grin tickled the edges of his mouth. Maybe he was thinking of the same nude abuse I had in mind. Either way, he agreed to spill his guts and I’d hold him to it. It would never happen if I wasn’t alive to hear it. First things first, save my ass.
I watched out the window, two-story houses complete with shutters and full porches, lined the streets behind decades-old trees and shrubberies. We cruised through an oddly quaint portion of the city I would have never imagined existed. Orange and yellow leaves scattered in the wind as we drove near the piles along the gutter. The quiet hum of the engine under the hood was the only sound that filled the cabin. Serene was the only word that came to mind. It was the first time in quite a while I’d had a moment to just breathe. A moment to simply and unequivocally appreciate being alive.
Green lawns stood guard before turn-of-the-century homes. Each a shining example of pride and care and the age-old American dream. Keeping with the laws and regulations set forth by the City of Fresno, Cyrus drove not a hair over twenty-five miles per hour, allowing my brain a few extra moments of serenity before facing my payment for salvation. The voice of our navigator came over the speakers and announced our imminent arrival. Only one more turn and our destination would be on our right.
In the center of an immaculate lawn, five or six houses from the corner, a tall, lanky pale woman stood. My eyes widened as we passed. The woman and her gooey stump atop her shoulders seemed to move as if watching us pass with phantom eyes. Safely in the car, I didn’t scream or cry out. There was no need. This had happened once before. A few times before. Each time, the corpse dissipated like dispersed fog. Every time, other than this moment, they’d caught me alone.
We turned the corner and the voice again announced our arrival only several hundred feet away. I turned my body in the seat to watch the dead thing, making sure it hadn’t followed behind. Hadn’t glommed on to the car in some spectral terrorist fashion. We were alone as far as my measly little human eyes could tell.
“What? What is it?” Cyrus inquired.
“Nothing. Just another dead bitch.” I swallowed back fear that crept up my throat and closed my eyes. I let my head hit the headrest, not caring how it might make my chin jiggle unattractively. It did, of course, but no one seemed to notice. No one being Cyrus. Who else? He was likely more concerned with the fact that I’d just witnessed yet another dead girl.
“What are you seeing?” The car slowed to a stop. We had arrived. Yippy fucking skippy.
“It’s the same thing each time. Pale, bound, naked, headless, and obviously very dead. I hadn’t noticed they were all different until all eight were in my apartment at once.”
“All eight?” His confusion was warranted. It was my turn to spill it, as much as I had to spill anyway. With all that had happened in such a short amount of time, it was growing harder and harder to decipher fact from fiction. Not to mention the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that was clouding my brain.
“Azelie informed me last night there had been eight just like Reggie. Mike also verified something to that effect. I don’t know how linked they all are, like if there are also eight other Sams, and eight other Diego-Philippes, but the decapitated thing is across the board. Each of them worked, in some facet, for Azelie.” I opened my eyes and stared out the windshield. “It really didn’t matter much after the voodoo cunt did her thing with me. I just don’t want to become a headless, shambling, oozing zombie like them.”
“My life’s mission, my dear.” He leaned over the console and laid a kiss on my cheek.
How true that statement was or not, I wasn’t banking on him or anyone else to get me out of my pickle. It was about time to man the fuck up or go the fuck home. If Azelie, and whatever evil scheme she had brewing, was the culprit behind so many dead things, there was no doubt she had the stones to do with me as she pleased. Whatever her plans, they didn’t involve girl talk over strawberry margaritas and mani-pedis.
Cyrus and I climbed the flight of dilapidating wooden stairs up the side of a building, not too far from the college where she and I had first met. It wasn’t too different from my piece-of-shit apartment. Shitty staircase, not so hot area of town, apartment above someone else’s garage. Okay, maybe that last one was just me.
A swift knock on the door from Cyrus and we were both left waiting for the respo
nse. Shuffling and coughing came from the other side of the door. A full minute passed before the clicks of a deadbolt could be heard through the cheap wood. A moment later, the cracked wooden door opened, and revealed the tiny blonde I’d come to see. Only she wasn’t exactly how I remembered her.
Her dark, sad eyes rolled over the two of us before she opened the door wider and waved us both in. Her expression was indifferent. Not checking out Cyrus was the first sign of something wrong. Lesbian or not, he wasn’t something one just passed over.
The two of us entered and stood in the center of a cluttered living room. The shaggy brown carpet felt crunchy underfoot. Angie squeezed past Cyrus and I, and plopped down on her circa 1974 brown and yellow couch.
“What do you want?” she asked in the mousy tone that I recalled, but it seemed she’d acquired a few cracks and creaks over the last few months.
She sounded normal, but her eyes told me otherwise. Deep, dark circles hugged her lower eyelids. Pockmarks and scars had replaced the porcelain skin I remembered. Angie, or Shantressa, as she preferred to be called in her dark life, was a faded shadow of the perky little pixie-vampire girl I’d met back in May. If I had to bet, I’d guess…
“Do you have the money?” she continued, pulling a glass pipe from the clutter on her wooden coffee table.
Drugs. It was always drugs. And judging by the style of paraphernalia she was brandishing, it wasn’t the fun green sticky drugs she was hooked on.
“When did you start smoking dope?” I asked like I was her mother.
Drugs were bad, m’kay. Not to get me wrong, people could feel free to take a toke of weed every now and then, but steer clear of powders and pills. It was just common sense.
“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” She flicked the flint on her lighter and sparked up her bump. “Where’s the money?” she demanded again, this time with a mouthful of smoke.
“Look, do what you want on your own time, but don’t smoke that shit with me in the house.” I lifted my shirt to my nose to smell something different than the sickly stench of burning plastic that meth carries through the air. “I have money. I need to know you can help me first.”