by Gilmore, RM
Instead of making a big deal about it, I just shook my head and sat back in my seat. “Drive,” I said as I closed my eyes.
Those two were a bigger headache than a voodoo bitch with a bone to pick with me. At least I could kill her. I couldn’t kill these two. Unfortunately.
Maybe I could just kill myself. There. Problem solved.
Just my luck I’d be brought back as a fucking zombie.
Chapter Ten
Cyrus used his company credit card to buy all of our plane tickets. Mike protested at first, offering to pay for both our tickets, but Cyrus won. I mean literally won. The two raced to the ticket desk, credit cards in hand. They looked like fools. Like the douche bag derby. Vagasil is in the lead with Summer’s Eve in a close second.
I didn’t run. Oh, no, I never ran unless I was being chased. And for once, nothing was chasing me. Other than my purse, not one of us had a bag. We had nothing. Wallet, keys, phone, that’s it. Mike had to leave his service gun in the car. We had not one weapon among us. We were literally tits deep in shit and it was starting to stink.
The woman behind the desk flinched when Cyrus hit her counter at a full sprint. I could see her thoughts roll through her head even from yards away. Cyrus was after all Iranian, or Persian, rather, and not to be stereotypical, but let’s face it, shit happened. She looked even more terrified when she saw Mike coming up behind him as if he had been chasing him. All was well when Cyrus presented her his platinum card however.
Money fixed everything. Well, most everything; Sex and drugs do the rest.
Mike was very near to shoving Cyrus out of the way until it appeared his senses told him otherwise. Starting a full out brawl in the middle of LAX probably wasn’t the best idea. Patriot Act and all.
With tickets purchased and flight times approaching, we all power walked to the terminal. We’d barely made the flight time, and would be forced to wait another five hours for another flight to Louisiana.
Security was annoying, as usual, but it had to be done. When all was said and done, we were on the flight and ready for takeoff two hours after Cyrus sat in my living room pissing off my mom.
No words had been spoken during the drive to the airport. And other than the “I got this” argument that led to Death Race 2000, nothing had been said to one another in the airport either. It was time to change that.
In order for us all to be on the same flight, we had to take whatever seats they had available, but I wasn’t complaining. Cyrus had booked us first class; it wasn’t like we had to ride in the cargo hold or anything. But it did prove for a difficult conversation. I sat near the steward station near the magic curtain that separated the pee-ons from us cool folks. Mike was two seats up and one over from me, and Cyrus was in the seat two down from that. There was much that needed to be discussed; and not one word of it could be shouted across a quiet plane cabin.
As soon as the seat belt sign was off, Mike was standing and making his way to sit in the empty seat across the aisle from me. Cyrus watched him and seemed to assess the seating arrangement. Honestly, I needed Cyrus’s attention more than Mike’s. Cyrus was the answer man.
“You owe me an explanation,” he demanded.
This is the shit he was good at, and one of the downfalls of our relationship.
“I owe you shit. You are only here to shut you up. I was going regardless, and I wasn’t about to have you do something stupid like put out an A.P.B. or something to keep me off a flight.” I wasn’t fucking around; it was something he’d do.
“Maybe I should have. This is the most reckless thing you’ve done yet.” He wasn’t fucking around either. It was the most reckless thing I’d done.
I was fully aware of what I was getting myself into, unlike my previous conundrums. This time I was a willing idiot in my own demise. And all of it for a friend I didn’t even know if I had anymore. Loyalty? Yeah, I had it. Best not to ask Mike that, he’d disagree, and he’d be right.
What a rotten twat I am.
My ears caught Cyrus whispering to someone in his row, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. This isn’t something I can walk away from.”
“You’re right, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and that’s your fault. I’m here. I’m with you. I deserve to know what I’ve gotten myself into.”
He had me there. He didn’t have to come with me, but he did. He did it because he loved me. Most people spend their lives waiting for someone to love them as much as Mike loved me. Then I went and fucked it all up with stupid life choices.
“Hi,” said stupid life choice du jour from the seat directly in front of me.
“Oh hey.” Was all I could say to his simple ‘hi’. We were careening through the air at thirty-thousand-feet toward certain doom and he says, ‘hi’.
Mike just snarled and turned his body to face me more.
“So…” I pushed. “You ready to fill me the fuck in?”
“Do you sit around and think of new ways to insert the word fuck?” Cyrus asked, expertly avoiding my questions as he so often did.
Yes, I actually did. It was usually while I was taking a shit. But, that was not his business.
“Can you stop fucking around and tell me exactly how royally fucked I am? Please.” Fucker.
I smiled smugly, but only on the inside. If I let a smile hit my face, it might take on a mind of its own and distort into some creepy stress induced sardonic grin. Didn’t want to frighten folks.
“Look, guy, I hopped on this plane knowing only that two people I care about are in trouble, and only by your word. I need to know all the information, now, or I might have to assume you are the sole cause for their trouble.” Mike had his cop face on. It didn’t seem to sway Cyrus.
He’d seen too much by now. I’d seen more than my share in my short time skimming the surface of the occult. I felt it in my gut that Cyrus had spent more than his fair share around some seriously scary shit. Detective Michael Petersen was not a blip on the spooky shit radar.
“You need to know that the only reason I am telling you anything is because I might need you. Dylan might need you, and at this point, your ignorance will get us all killed. However, you must understand, you won’t believe anything I say. Not one word. I am prepared for that. I just need you to be prepared to be proven wrong, and not get killed when that happens.” It was a good preemptive strike as far as preemptive strikes went. He laid it out. He warned Mike. What other choice did he have? Kill him?
Is killing people your first resort, you fucking psycho? Nip one head and you want to kill everything.
Mike nodded. Lord only knew if he actually agreed, or just wanted Cyrus to spit it out already. I didn’t really care. I wanted Cyrus to spit it out already too.
Cyrus closed his eyes and let out a dramatic sigh. I wondered how many times he’d had to have this conversation. Like, had he practiced this or was he just as scared as the rest of us nobodies?
“There are things, bad and good, that exist right alongside you. You see them every day; you just don’t know they are what they are. Your mailman, your coffee barista, your damn doctor, they are everywhere.”
“Vampires? My doctor is a vampire?” Mike asked condescendingly.
“Damn it, listen. Vampires, or what you would call a vampire, aren’t the only thing that is hiding in plain sight.” He stopped and waited for further comment from the peanut gallery. Peanuts were silent. “All you must know are they exist and they will not hesitate to defend their secret by any means necessary.”
“What secret?”
“You’re a detective?” Cyrus teased.
“Nothing is definitive until you see the proof,” Mike retorted.
“I guarantee you it won’t be long before you have your proof,” Cyrus promised.
The two were challenging each other without saying it outright. Mike refused to take anything Cyrus said seriously and Cyrus was intentionally being vague to piss
Mike off. Unfortunately, in the eye of the storm, their antics would get us all killed.
“Look, you two can have fun killing each other when we are back in L.A. and back to our lives.”
“Dylan, darling, your life will never be what it was before. There is a point of no return when it comes to the world under your nose, and you are one tumble away from it. This choice you’ve made, regardless of your intentions, has all but sealed your fate. Even if you, and I, and Mike, and Tatum, are all alive tomorrow morning, not one of you will be the person you were yesterday. The knowledge you hold, what you will experience from here on out, will open doors that most human beings never see. And most of them are not good. How many positive folktales have you heard in your life? There’s a reason for that. What hides in the shadows is there, and not because it is just too good to live among humanity. People banished evil to the dark corners, but it didn’t disappear; it only found better ways to stay hidden.”
“What kinds of things are we talking about here? Vampires?” Mike inquired, a bit more open to the idea.
“What you would call a vampire, yes. But it’s not as simple as all that.”
“What else? You owe me that much.” I deserved to know everything he had to tell, whether or not he’d oblige was up to him.
“You need to understand that these things I’m talking about are not like what you see on TV. Vampires are make believe. Dracula and the lot of them are pieces of fiction. But, art imitates life. As they say. Blood is a necessity, but not the only life sustaining consumption. Food, water, these are also needed.”
“What about sunlight and garlic and wooden stakes?” Mike asked, his tone was condescending, but he seemed genuinely intrigued.
“These are all things made up by authors and directors.”
“But I watched Dylan stake those two guys,” Mike pointed out.
“Two facts – those boys were not ‘vampires’, and shoving something through a heart generally will kill it.”
“But he was also shot,” he argued.
“I can only attribute that to bad aim and adrenaline.”
“Don’t discount the fact that he was Azelie’s minion, Lord knows what she had coursing through his veins.” It was my turn to point out facts.
“Also true,” Cyrus agreed.
“Who the fuck is Azelie?” Mike was catching up, but he was far from the alpha male.
“A freak of nature I wish I never crossed paths with.”
“She is so much more than you realize. She has power. Centuries old power, I don’t know how to contend with,” Cyrus admitted with disdain.
“So, what I’m gathering here is there are vampires, but they only need blood, and nothing else about them is like vampires we know. Oh, and there are powerful witch people too.” Mike summed it up well.
Cyrus sighed heavily, “Mike…detective, please just listen. The moment you step off this plane, you become a target. The information you are about to receive will be the catalyst. And your safety will forever be in jeopardy.”
“Why didn’t you tell me all of this before you took me to Embrace?” I asked, clinging to the knowledge that I was once just a chubby little journalist with an idea for a book.
“At that time, you were just a cute girl I was trying to impress.” Mike choked out a quick insult, but it didn’t stop Cyrus. “I thought you’d get your fill and lose interest after a night of vampires and fun. If I had any inclination the recent events were on the horizon, I would not have involved myself with you and sent you on your way none the wiser. Unfortunately, of my many accomplishments, knowing the future is not one of them.”
“Okay, so, we’re all fucked and on a one way ticket to hell. What are we supposed to do about it?” Mike asked, placing himself in the same hand basket I sat in.
“Try to stay alive,” Cyrus said.
“Try to not get cursed, I think needs to be on that list,” I added blankly.
“So, lay it on me. You have my attention. I may not believe you, but I’m listening.” Mike finally let his head wrap around the possibility of monsters.
“What you will come into contact with tonight is old, and with that age has collected decades of knowledge and power. I don’t know her intentions, but they somehow involve Dylan.”
“Who are these people? Dylan, if you were in trouble, why didn’t you call me?” Mike asked, still hanging on to earthly issues and earthly baddies.
“These people, this person, what I have on my shoulders won’t be swayed by your fancy badge and gun. I’ve only seen a part of what she can do, and it scared the shit out of me. I know you; you’d run in guns blazing like you’re actually going to arrest someone and bring them to justice. It doesn’t work like that here.”
“Where is ‘here’?” he asked me.
“Hell,” I said, not exactly kidding.
“Mike, the woman who has my head in her sights is responsible for Regina, for the other headless dead girls, for Diego and Sam. Lord knows how many other Sams and Diegos and Reginas she has out there. How many other towns and cities are missing their precious hookers and transients.”
I thought about all the headless girls in my living room. Was that all of them? Had she shut down her blood operation on account of me? It would explain why she wanted my head on a pike.
“Dylan,” Cyrus laid his hand on mine. “I don’t think it’s your head she wants. I think it’s your soul.”
“Oh, that ol’ thing?” My head swam and I felt very tired.
“It’s not funny,” Mike scowled.
He was suddenly squared off. His shoulders stiff, I could see the vein in his neck pulsate. His reaction was a little slow for the situation, but in his defense, he had just been informed vampires, or something like them, walked around like you and me. And, in this situation, they were the good guys.
“You’re telling me it’s not funny? I know it’s not fucking funny. It was my phantom wound that bled all over the House of Porte and drenched my dress. It was my legs that ran through my front door from an unseen demon at my heels. It was my prayers that echoed through my dark apartment when naked headless zombie bitches burst through my door. When you are the jackass with a voodoo curse on your head, I’ll take your advice, until then…” I exhaled, “shut up until Cyrus says to shoot someone.” He didn’t like that but what other choice did he have? Storm off the plane and into thin air? Not fucking likely.
“Shoot them with what? As of right now, I have no gun and my badge means nothing.”
“Malcolm will ensure we are prepared. Marienne is one of Malcolm’s oldest friends; she is a priceless ally. Once we are on the ground, there should be a car waiting to take us to House of Porte. Malcolm must have rallied the Primus attending Masque de Sang and will have a plan when we arrive. To be honest, detective, I doubt your gun would do much good anyhow.”
“Then what good am I?” He sounded desperate. He rarely sounded that way unless it had to do with me. Oh.
“Your love for Dylan,” Cyrus said without skipping a beat. Mike looked up from his lap and stared at Cyrus. Surprise was plastered all over his expression. “You can’t let it cloud your judgment. You may have to have trust and faith in things very new to you, but your love for Dylan will force you to do whatever it takes.”
“That is nothing different than it has always been,” Mike promised.
“You will also need to trust me.” They were both quiet for a few breaths. “Trust that you are not the only man on this earth who would rather she stay alive.”
Mike nodded. He knew what Cyrus meant. He knew and he understood. Whether he accepted it or not didn’t matter. Cyrus knew Mike loved me first and would never stop. It would take death, his, not mine. Mike now knew exactly what intentions motivated Cyrus. He didn’t love me. Honestly, it’d be stupid of him to even attempt those feelings at this point, but that didn’t mean he wanted me dead, or hurt. And regardless of our rocky beginnings, I felt the exact same way… about both of them.
My eyes
felt heavy. Sleep felt like a thing I’d only read about in books. I’d been on two flights in less than twenty-four hours and not a wink of sleep in between. Unless you counted the weird black lion nap, but that was really more of a chance for my brain to make shit in my head just that much more hectic.
The two guys I’d brought with me huffed in silence. Surely plotting something stupid individually, instead of coming together and figuring out what the fuck we were going to do. Neither of them was stupid in all honesty. I trusted both to fight to the death. I just didn’t trust them not to fight to the death on opposing sides. We were the good guys. Mostly. We all had a devil on our backs. Just depended on who pulled the strings. You or your devil.
I walked down a long white hallway. Lights above flickered a florescent glow – off, on, off, on – reflecting off the dull linoleum floor. My view was as if I was walking directly in the footsteps of myself. The hallway continued on infinitely. Closed doors lined either side of the wide walkway. I was in a hospital. The white walls and sterile tile fixtures gave it away. Why I was wearing a floor length black gown, wandering through the halls of a hospital was beyond me. My thick hair was rolled intricately around itself at the base of my neck. The deep exposure of my back revealed my usually hidden tattoo, an interesting and moderately ironic combination. My rarely seen rose covered spine tattoo trailed down the center of my back and seemed to continue in the stark white spine and skeletal tail embroidered down the bustle and train of my dress.
I could hear my bare feet slap against the linoleum floor with each step. I followed myself down the oddly lit hallway. Past closed doors with tiny windows. Past a fire extinguisher on the wall. Past rows of sterile metal chairs pressed against the walls on either side.
A scream echoed through the hall from behind me. I watched as my head turned to look over my shoulder and investigate the origin of the scream. My face looked different. Wrong somehow. Older maybe. My brows clenched. A second later, my feet slapped the floor hard and fast as I took off into a full sprint away from the screams that echoed through the hall.