Sacrifice (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult)

by Gilmore, RM

  “You want to find Zeph?” I nodded. “I know where he is. If you pay me.” She put her pipe back where she’d gotten it, and put both of her tiny bare feet on the table. The bottoms were blackened and speckled with gray ash from the carpet riddled with it.

  A sassy sneer spread across her face as she sat there watching Cyrus and me. Her legs opened and closed, knees bent, feet on the table. Her short shorts rose and fell up and down her thighs as she did, flashing just enough crotch to make it obvious what she was doing.

  “I can do lots of things if you pay me,” she giggled and leaned across the couch staring at Cyrus for the first time since she’d seen him at the door.

  He just stared back, face slack, and uncaring of her antics.

  “Hey, I know you.” She sat up. “You came for Regina.”

  “What happened to you? You’re more fucked up now than you were five months ago. And that was pretty bad,” I asked, changing the subject. No need to get sidetracked here. I had an ass to save. Mine.

  “Life happened,” her small voice answered, quickly blowing me off. “Why are you here?” she asked Cyrus.

  “Helping a friend.”

  “How’s Regina?” The look on her face switched quickly from drug induced haze to sympathetic longing in the blink of an eye.

  “She’s dead,” I answered impatiently.

  “What? How?” The effects of the drugs began to rear their fucked-up head.

  “Someone cut her head off,” Cyrus responded cold.

  Angela sat in disbelief. “When?” Her itty bitty jaw wriggled back and forth as she ground her teeth down to nubs.

  “May,” I replied.

  “Who did it?” The tension in her body rose, unable to control her instincts.

  “Someone we can’t prosecute.” I moved closer to her, a desperate attempt to snag her attention before all rational thought went out the window. “I need your help finding Zephyrinus.”

  “What does he have to do with it?” It worked, her eyes shifted to me and stayed there.

  “Nothing. His role in this ordeal is miniscule to say the least, but I need him nonetheless. I need him to save myself from the same fate as Regina. Please.”

  I knew she’d help me for cash, but having her sympathy too would ensure she didn’t dick me around in the process.

  “What has happened?” The tension faded as quickly as it came, and in its place, sorrow swept in and stole the show. “Everything has changed.” Her words decorated the room with balloons and streamers in preparation for her impending pity party. “Sandora left.” She sniffed back snot. “She didn’t even warn me first. One day during the summer, she was just gone. The coven broke up after and I was left with nothing.”

  But a fancy new drug addiction.

  “I hooked up with Zeph and his people about a month ago.” She picked at her face. Her jaw still wriggling as she thought about Lord knows what. “I can call him if you want. I can have him come here.”

  Seriously? It’s that easy? Thank you methamphetamines for this lack of integrity. “Don’t tell him I’m here. It’s just better if he thinks you’re alone.” Regardless of Angie’s willingness to play for pay, Zeph was uncharted territory and better dealt with via surprise attack.

  “What exactly do you want from him?” she asked, phone poised in her tiny hand.

  “I just need to talk to him about his grandma.” That’s all, really. Honest.

  She looked at me confused. It was a strange thing to come all the way up from L.A. for – hey, so, how’s your grams, man? A phone call could have done the job clearly, but she bought the bullshit and called him anyway.

  Thank you, drugs, for making my informant really, really stupid.

  She made the call. A few quick words with the man, and that was that. Our friend would be by any minute.

  “This is all too much to handle. Seeing you again, and you.” She pointed to Cyrus. “I feel like I knew you in another life. Practically, I guess, I do.”

  “Sorry I didn’t think to tell you about Reggie. I honestly didn’t even think about it. I can’t believe you didn’t see it on the news.” That was the truth. If it were me in that situation, I’d have wanted to know my friend had died.

  “It was finals. I was lucky to see my own reflection let alone the news. We thought we were so tough. Vampires,” she scoffed. “There’s so much more out there. So much true magic and myth. Vampires are a dark fantasy for teenagers and horny housewives.” She stole the words right out of my head. “I’ve found something so much better.”

  “Well, actually…” Cyrus started to intervene. I put my hand on his shoulder and shook my head. Although it would be funny to burst her bubble, she was the last person I thought deserved to know the truth. Or what Cyrus swore to me was the truth, anyway. Jury was still out. Sort of.

  “I don’t know that I would condone methamphetamine over blood drinking. I guess they both have their dangers, but I doubt drinking blood did that to your face.” Honesty again. I was on a roll.

  She laughed, squeaky and high. “Silly girl. These drugs keep me grounded.” She lit a candle in the far corner of the room. “Without them, the devil uses my head as a jungle gym.” She stood across the room from us, oversized sweater hung over one shoulder, tiny shorts barely covering her naughty bits. She smiled. Her darkened eyes squinted up into half-moons above her cheeks.

  A blanket of light rushed through the room a millisecond before the front door slammed behind us. Before I could convince my body to react, Cyrus was tackled from behind and knocked to the ground with a thud. Angela squealed and bounced about near her burning candle, clapping her hands like a child at Disneyland.

  “What in holy fuck?!” I jumped away from the madness breaking out at my feet.

  A brown-skinned man sat on top of Cyrus’s back, pummeling the back of his head with closed fists. Tattoos trailed up and down each arm, but most of them were too faded or muddled to know what they were. I tried to think. I tried to figure out what the fuck was happening. Everything had changed so quickly my sluggish head couldn’t keep up.

  Did I just get bamboozled by pixie-vamp and her Mexican minion? What do they want? Money? Shit, I’d have given her money. Good Lord, just don’t hit him in the face again. I don’t think he can take one more knock to the nose.

  Angela continued to jump and laugh. The guy sitting on top of Cyrus didn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. I had to act fast. My thoughts ran through my head clearer and clearer as the seconds passed, but the action in the room was happening lightning fast.

  Cyrus pushed his body up from the carpet, but the guy on his back held on like a bull rider. He continued to beat Cyrus across the back of his head, but Cyrus didn’t submit. Not like he did with Mike. Muscles in his arms strained as he lifted the larger man off the ground with his back. The man’s long hair fell over his face, masking it from my view.

  In the corner, Angela’s laughter turned to song. Well, maybe a little more like chanting. Her tiny fingers pointed at Cyrus as she repeated whatever the hell she was saying over and over again. The flame on the candle flickered and danced next to her. Cyrus grunted and groaned under the weight of the man on his back.

  Fuck.

  Without thinking, I kicked at the man. I didn’t waste time with kicking him in the ribs as I had with Mike. I cared what happened to Mike. All I promised was to bring this asshole back alive. Injury free was not in the contract. Landing a Converse dead in the center of his hair covered face, I let all my aggression push through my muscles and fueled my inertia. He grunted but didn’t move from Cyrus. I kicked him again. This time, thoroughly pissed off and filled with the need to survive. The pain jarred him just enough for Cyrus to get a leg up – not literally mind you. He did, however, manage to knock that asshole off him long enough to scurry from the floor. Angela hadn’t stopped her song and didn’t seem as though she was going to.

  The man stood too and flung his hair from his face. Well, looky who we have here.
/>   “Hey!” I yelled. No one seemed to care. “Zephyrinus.” He looked at me and snorted like a bull before charging at Cyrus.

  My heart leapt from my chest for a second. I’d seen Cyrus get his ass handed to him on more than one occasion—hours ago to be exact. I didn’t want it to happen again. Annoying or not, he was the only thing I had. Him and Mike. But would Mike drag me up to Fresno to find a druggie ex-vampire and her warlock boyfriend to help save me from certain death via voodoo hexes? Unlikely. Although, I could usually trust Mike not to get his ass kicked.

  To my surprise, Cyrus anticipated the attack. For once. He ducked and Zeph’s reach missed and went right over the top of him. Angela’s song grew louder and more urgent. Cyrus shoved his shoulder into the center of Zeph and lifted. He hefted the man on his shoulder and rammed his back into the cinderblock wall that joined this apartment with the one next door. The man grunted and slumped over Cyrus’s shoulder.

  Cyrus backed up and dropped him to the floor. He wasn’t unconscious and Cyrus was going to have to make a tough call whether or not to kick him while he was down. I didn’t care how he did it. I just needed to get the asshole in the car and on his way back home to granny before sundown.

  Angela’s annoying pixie voice hadn’t stopped and I noticed Cyrus begin reacting negatively to apparently nothing. My eyes slid back and forth between Cyrus and Angela. Was she actually controlling something? Controlling Cyrus?

  No time to find out. I charged across the room and coldcocked the little bitch across the jaw. It wasn’t hard. She was so damned high and focused on Cyrus and her man, she didn’t even see me coming. I was thankful. I wasn’t in the mood for another fight with a witch. Her little body crumpled to the floor with a thud.

  “Put him down,” I said coldly.

  Cyrus obeyed without hesitation. Once Angela was down, it seemed Cyrus was far more agile. One kick to the head and the man on the ground was out cold.

  “You didn’t kill him, right?” Just double-checking. The last thing I needed was another magically inclined enemy.

  “No. He’ll have a headache, but he should be intact. Is this the boy?”

  “Not really a boy anymore. In my vision, he was younger. His face was fuller.”

  “He didn’t keep the devil away,” Cyrus said, holding up Zeph’s arm.

  Distinct track marks riddled the tattooed skin of his forearm. “This is your body on drugs,” I said.

  “And this.” He pointed to a star and some other symbols in ink on his arm.

  I grabbed the limp limb to inspect it more closely. Well, I’d be damned. I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened my photo gallery. “Tell me, does this look familiar?”

  I pulled up the pictures I’d taken of the mirror in my room at House of Porte. Comparing the two, I knew there was more to this nonsense than I had anticipated. Darker magic was waiting deeper down the rabbit hole. I had only scratched the surface.

  “It’s Dionysus,” Cyrus identified with little interest.

  “Dio-who-sus?”

  He sighed, “A story for another day.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” He’d put off so many conversations I felt as though his promises were a bit flippant to be believed on his word alone. The man stirred on the floor. “We better haul ass,” I said, giving him my own kick to the head.

  Cyrus looked at me like a dad would. I only shrugged my shoulders.

  “Grab his feet,” I said.

  “Just go get the door.” Cyrus handed me his keys and lifted the big guy from the floor with ease.

  I raised my eyebrows and stared at the scene before me.

  “Another day. Go.” He nodded his head toward the door.

  He promised stories for future dates. I just hoped I was alive to hear them. When, if, that happened, I wanted it all. Every last gory fucking detail. Ignorance was not bliss. Ignorance could get you killed. Or worse. Trust me, there was always something worse.

  Worse than dead bitches traipsing through your door unannounced? You bet your cursed ass.

  Chapter Six

  We were on the freeway and headed back home before Zephyrinus opened his eyes. Cyrus had a small tool kit under his back seat. The duct tape and rope brought an odd look and comments regarding midnight rape sessions from me. Cyrus gave me stern looks and moved on. Together, we shoved the big guy in the back seat and tied him up. I slapped the tape over his mouth with vigor. Perhaps it would take his fancy goatee off when I finally let him remove it.

  We’d left Angela right where she fell. I didn’t care either way, but Cyrus suggested we blow her candle out before we left. I’d thought, let it burn. But maybe he knew something I didn’t.

  Muffled screams and groans filled the back seat. The big guy wiggled and kicked. Well, tried to. I’d tied up those legs pretty well.

  “You’re fine. Calm down back there. You’re irritating me.” I rubbed my aching temples.

  “Don’t make me turn this car around,” Cyrus said in a high, scratchy, mom-type voice.

  I laughed. He laughed. It eased the tension, just for a little bit. Laughter cured the soul, or so they said. Maybe it could clear the soul too.

  I heard distinct words forming behind his makeshift gag.

  I looked to Cyrus. “You want me to…” I followed with a hand motion insinuating I bop the bastard on the head.

  Cyrus thought for a moment before sternly shaking his head.

  I shrugged. No argument from me. Yet. Another hour of his whining and I might not even ask next time.

  “Look, Zeph, I’ve been charged with taking you back to see your dear old granny. I don’t give a shit who you are or what you do after I deliver you to her. Only that you are alive and in, basically, good shape when you get there. Your grandma asks a hefty price for saving my life.” I turned to look him in the eye. “I have no problem paying that price.” I tried to sound ominous. I don’t think it worked. He didn’t seem fazed by my speech.

  Cyrus turned the radio up to drown out the sound of his screams through the duct tape. It worked. We drove for an hour before we were deep in flat land again. Just vineyards and orchards. A few farmhouses dotted the landscape, but otherwise, we were alone on the road for a few miles ahead and behind. The faint glint of a car up ahead was the only sign of life. Occasionally, a car would pass us heading north, but they were few and far between. A Sunday evening cruise. Oh, yeah. Groovy.

  After a good while of our ignoring him, Zephyrinus shut up. I was sure he was plotting his escape back there. I suggested we knock him unconscious again, though Cyrus protested vehemently. We hadn’t talked much to each other during the ride. Except to argue over whether or not I got to beat our captive. I couldn’t handle the silence anymore. My adrenaline was still coursing through my veins even over an hour later. I should have been dead on my feet, literally and figuratively. I couldn’t even consider closing my eyes. Adrenaline was my only saving grace.

  “So…let me get a few things straight. Seeing as though we are stuck in this car for the next three hours, it looks like you don’t have much of a choice to hear me jabber on, but I’d appreciate immediate and accurate responses.” I looked at Cyrus as dead in the eye as I allowed myself. The side was about as far as I let it go.

  His perfect green eyes used to cause me to go all girly and weak in the knees, lose my train of thought and higher motor function. That sentiment faded over time as my feelings toward him waxed and waned, and then waxed again, but it didn’t change the fact that his eyes were perfect green shimmering gems stuck in two eye sockets, that just so happened to be attached to one sexy mother fucker. Dead things, voodoo bitches, cryptic bullshit aside, a good-looking man was a good-looking man, any day of the week. And this bitch hadn’t had a good screw in quite a long time. Longer than I’d like to mention honestly. Piling on to the shit heap, the fact that he’d so gracefully shoved his tongue down my throat in the very recent past, staring longingly into his eyes was not a good idea. Besides, it was just revealed that v
ampires, in some form or another, existed. It wasn’t clear whether or not Cyrus was part of this crew of blood drinkers, but I wasn’t taking my chances. Maybe he did have the ability to entrance horny women with his gaze. Shit, I watch HBO.

  “Go ahead,” he replied without looking back at me.

  “Okay…” I paused to collect my thoughts in an attempt to not piss him off. Basically attempting to behave in a manner foreign to me. “Malcolm commanded you drive to Fresno to fetch a college girl who he found on a Facebook page.”

  “I didn’t drive. Peter did.” Hardy fucking har.

  “Jesus,” I sighed and closed my eyes. “Anyway, you met Angela, or Shantressa or whatever she wants to be called, and Sandora and those idiots during your visit. Yes?”

  “Correct.” He nodded slightly.

  “But you didn’t meet Diego during your visit. You also had no clue Sam was a tool beforehand? Before he gnawed a chunk from the meaty flesh of my neck.” The last came out a bit bitchier than I’d intended. It was still a sore subject, obviously. And a fucked up scar.

  “Correct.” He nodded slightly.

  It seemed implausible, but knowing what little I did about those vamp types, I knew they were nothing if not secretive. It could be possible, maybe that Cyrus was purposely left in the dark when it came to the Vampire Massacres back in May. Handfuls of blood-drained hookers popped up in their backyard, yet the vampire hierarchy had no clue as to who could have been responsible. Doubtful. But, it was possible Cyrus himself was out of the loop. A headless vampire cohort on the front steps of the only VIP vampire club in Los Angeles definitely could not go under the vamp-dar of the head cheese, vampire ginger fuck, Malcolm McTavish. Someone knew something, even if that someone wasn’t Cyrus.

  “Nothing tipped you off at the time that she was up to something? I mean, what are the odds Regina, in cahoots with Azelie, just so happens to weasel her way into the den of the Primus of the west coast just after a handful of naked, bloodless hookers pop up in her backyard?” I probed further, but honestly didn’t expect much.