by J. R. Rain
I counted down the apartment numbers, moving past a little Hispanic girl standing out in front of an open door, chocolate on her face, eyes round and distant. I smiled, she didn’t. At the door in question, I rapped loudly enough to be heard by just about all in the complex. There seemed, if I was correct, to be a general hum in the air, and it wasn’t because a vampire was among them. Something seemed to be going on. People were on edge, lively, talkative, connecting. Perhaps more so than usual here in the complex? I didn’t know.
The door opened and a cute woman in her thirties appeared in the shadow. Correction. Not very cute, once I saw past the shadows and into the haunted eyes, the scars, the acne, the paleness.
“Police?” she said.
“No.”
“Come in.”
Chapter Eighteen
She didn’t offer me a seat, which was fine. The place was filthy, the broken couch was stained, and the single chair pushed under the dining table looked questionable. Yeah, I was good.
“You’re here about Luke.”
“I am.”
“The cops were just here.”
Ah, I thought. That explained the nervous buzz in the complex. There were a lot of drug dealers, drug addicts, hookers and petty criminals breathing a sigh of relief.
She picked up a broken, stained, half-finished cigarette, lit it with a match that seemingly came out of nowhere, and inhaled on it. Waste not, want not. She said, “You look like a cop.”
“I’m a private investigator.”
“Whatever. Why are you here?”
“My case might overlap your son’s case.”
“Stupid fucking kid.”
“Missing kid. Alone kid. Scared kid.”
“Whatever. He got himself into this shit, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to worry about him another second.”
“That’ll show him,” I said.
But she wasn’t really listening to me. She was sucking on the filthy cigarette that may or not have been found in a street gutter, and looking blankly into the far corner of her apartment. I wonder if she knew the sheer amount of spirit energy collecting in that very same corner. My guess, three or four spirits were vying for space. One was a new spirit, a young man wearing, big surprise, a wife beater. There was a bullet hole in one of his eyes, and a bigger hole in the back of his head where the bullet had exited. The other three were amorphous and not fully formed. There was other activity in the room, too. Spirits appeared through walls, swept across the room, and then exited again through the TV. Some of the faces turned to us as they slipped by. The apartment was a variable superhighway of the dead. Noticeably absent was the spirit of a young boy, who may or may not have returned to be with his mom. That absence gave me hope. Maybe, just maybe, he was alive.
“What did the police say?” I asked.
“That Johnny was found dead by the lake, an accident of some sort, and that they will be doing all they can to help me find my son. Same old shit.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Same old shit.”
“Fucking cops. Full of promise. But they never deliver. Except to harass hardworking people just trying to make a living on this shitty rock.”
“Rock?”
“Planet Earth.”
“Silly me. Did they tell you any more about Johnny?”
“Only that they would know more later.”
Probably for the best, although Carol Jensen probably could have handled the news that her son’s best friend had been eaten alive by a lake monster.
“What else did the police talk to you about?”
“Why do you fucking care?”
She had finished what was left of the cigarette, which seemed to irritate her further. These days, I smoked because I could. I smoked because any cancers would get obliterated the moment a mutation reared its ugly head. I smoked because, back in the day, it was one of the few things that helped me stay grounded, connected. It was also one of the few things I could put in my mouth that didn’t cause me to get violently sick.
Now, I did it because it helped focus my thoughts. Like alcohol, nicotine had no effect on me. Just as well. I didn’t want to be hooked on cigarettes for all eternity. For now, they were a pleasant distraction, and my “thinking cap,” so to speak.
I wasn’t sure what had prompted me to grab two cigarettes from my not-so-secret stash in the minivan’s center console, but I fished one out now from my back hip and handed it over to her.
She lit up in more ways than one. First, her eyes, and then, her lighter, which appeared in her hand like a magic trick. Before I could take a step back, she had already taken, precisely, two hits.
I sent her a small prompting that I was a friend and that I had nothing but her son’s best interests at heart. Unfortunately, while I was in her thoughts, I caught wind that she was hoping I would leave fast because her next john was due any minute.
Yeah, eeew.
She nodded after the small prompting and said, “They wanted to know if I could remember anything else, anything at all that might help them locate my son.”
“Detective Oster?”
“Yeah. Her, and another cop. I’ve talked to her. A dozen or so times. Her and the fucking feds. Feds! They all keep fucking coming here and shaking up this place. My neighbors are beginning to resent me.”
“Are your neighbors aware that your underage boy has been missing for two weeks?”
She shrugged, sucked, exhaled, looked at the front door, adjusted her tank top. No bra. Nearly see-through. Eeww, again. She shrugged at my question. Sucked long and hard on the filter, closed her eyes. Seemed to enjoy the moment. The calm before the storm, perhaps. The storm being whoever was going to show up next at her door.
“Did you provide any new information to the police?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing I haven’t already told them.”
“And what did you tell them?”
She looked at me. “You got another cig?”
I did. And handed it to her. She placed it on the edge of the dining room table, ready for a quick draw, so to speak. “I remembered that he started a new lawn-mowing business a few months ago.”
“A business?”
“Yes. The little fuck wanted to make his own money. Legal money. Clean money, he called it. Judgmental shithead.”
I took in some air, and it was all I could do to not slap the woman. If I had, I might have slapped her too hard. I might have just knocked her eyeballs out of her head. Instead, I exhaled and said, “Does he own a computer?”
“No.”
“Do you know who his clients were?”
“Oh, fuck no. I’m too busy to care about his stupid fucking job.”
“Of course you are,” I said. “Would anyone else know about his business?”
She shrugged.
“Try again,” I said, and gave her a prompt.
“Fuck you. And get the fuck out of here. I’ve got paying work...” She took in some air and her eyelids fluttered a tad. “Maybe the guy he rented the lawnmowers from.”
“Rented?”
“You think we have a lawnmower parked on our fucking balcony? Anyway, some old guy down on the corner, Raul or something. My son gave him a sort of kickback or something. Whatever. Now, are we done here?”
We were, and I couldn’t leave fast enough, passing a heavyset man coming up the stairs, a man with a hat pulled low over his face and sweat on his upper lip.
Again, eeww...
Chapter Nineteen
I spent the next twenty minutes knocking on doors and getting cold shoulders—and promptly warming cold shoulders with my fancy mind tricks, until I found Raul’s house, who most certainly didn’t live on a corner.
Raul did have a collection of lawnmowers and, according to his wife, Raul had been helping the missing boy. By helping, he’d loaned one of his older lawnmowers to Luke. Raul, unfortunately, was in Mexico for the week, helping a sick brother, and I suspected Raul wasn’t that bad of a guy. His wife didn�
��t know anything more about Luke and his clients. I asked if Raul had a cell phone. She said Raul was seventy-eight years old. I guessed that meant no.
I thanked her for her time and headed back to the vampmobile—my 2002 Toyota Sienna with a dent on the passenger side panel. A dent had been placed there by Anthony’s soccer ball a few months back. A dent that would set me back $500, according to my insurance agent.
A dent that would just have to stay there.
***
I parked high up on a winding road that led to the nicer and newer homes, all of which seemed to sport a magnificent view of the lake below. At least, it was magnificent to my eyes.
To mortals, the water would be nothing more than a black swatch in the center of town. But to my eyes, oh, to my eyes, the lake was teeming with life and energy and vibrations, with flowing particles of light that pulsated along the surface of the water—and just under, too. Light that wasn’t really light. It was energy, I knew. The energy that powered this Earth, this universe, energy that flowed over everything and anything, constantly, unendingly, flowing, flowing. From where it came, I did not know, but I had my ideas and a single word appeared to me now as I sat there in my front seat.
God. Or something close to God. The Creator, the Source, the All That Ever Was. And each light particle was, I suspected, a part of God, to be used and gathered and collected as we see fit, to be harnessed as we see fit. It is the driving force of creation. It is the thing that holds our world together, keeps its place in its orbit around the Sun, and the Sun in its place in our Galaxy, and our Galaxy in its place in the known Universe. It is creation and love, and it flows and is there for all of us to be used, or not used, to experience or to not experience. It is inspiration. It is love. It is life. It is health. It is great ideas. And it is always there, flowing, moving, adapting, growing.
And I can see it.
Lucky me.
Within this energy, I see other fragments of light. Brighter fragments, and sometimes, duller fragments, too. Spirit energy. Such energy weaves through the constant bombardment of universal love, which is what I think of it as. Spirit energy sort of rides the waves of these eternal, flowing particles. Surfing the cosmos.
It all made for a spectacular light show, especially when combined with the chaotic, zigzagging lights that skimmed the surface of the lake—insects would be my guess. Even from up here, I could see them swarming over the lake. Brighter objects darted just below the surface, especially along the billowing reeds. Fish. Slower, pulsating light seemed to indicate frogs, especially on the north side of the lake. All of it pulsating, emitting light, flowing with the light of the Universe, merging and blending and giving depth and profundity to the night.
I stepped out of my minivan.
Up the street behind me were rows of backyard fences and elaborate decks, all designed to give the owners magnificent views of the lake below. Magnificent daytime views. Now, not so much. Some of the decks sported outdoor grills big enough to feed an army, or Anthony, and long stone counters that put my own kitchen to shame. Hell, my family could live comfortably on most of those outdoor decks.
A Porsche whizzed past, clearly going faster than the posted 35 MPH speed limit, and headed to the really big homes higher up. Yes, there were Porsches, even in the desert. I briefly considered following him home and feasting on him. Maybe that would teach him not to speed.
As they say, speed kills.
The day’s events had permitted my inner bitch witch to slip out more than I was comfortable with. Her influences always permeated into my life in negative and hateful and angry ways.
Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch, I thought as I began to disrobe right there on the side of the road, my minivan shielding me from the majority of the homes above me, I would let you out more. Something to think about, lady.
Another car came by, this one slower and a little closer to the posted speed limit. The mom in me approved of the safe driving. The vampire in me could give a shit. Still, I suspected Elizabeth had heard me. I suspected she was mulling over my offer. Or not. Maybe she was seething deep inside me, wherever it is that she resided. Seething and planning a very hostile takeover.
You catch more flies with honey, I thought, and tossed the last of my clothes onto the back seat. I double checked the hide-a-key. It was still there, just inside the front left wheel well, magnetically secured and ready for action.
Once the minivan was locked, I headed over to the guardrail. The drop-off down into the gulch wasn’t too steep. Maybe twenty feet, maybe less, at a slight angle. Not straight down, but it should be sufficient. Especially these days. I was getting faster at transforming, at summoning Talos.
I stood up on the slightly dented guardrail, proof that it had served its purpose at one point in time. Although twenty feet wasn’t much free-fall space, it would have been a helluva long drop for a mom in a minivan. Or a speeding Porsche.
The wind was mild and warm and brought with it the fragrance of the ancients: dusty hills, dusty plants, dust of the forgotten. All sweeping past me, for my senses only.
Yes, it was time to get to the bottom of this lake monster story, once and for all. And to the bottom of the lake, too.
I balanced easily on the thin lip of the guardrail. Perched might have been more accurate. But I am a lady. I don’t perch. But I do stand naked on the side of the road, my black hair billowing around me, my arms now spread, my head tilted back... a single flame now appearing in my thoughts.
And there, in the flame, is the beast.
I leapt out into the night as far as I could, away from the sloping earth that came at me quickly...
Chapter Twenty
The transformation was faster than usual.
A good thing, because the stony, scrubby ground was coming up on me fast. But in one instant, in one mind-boggling, supernatural, super-incredible, super-cool moment, I went from falling... to gliding.
From gliding to now racing over the curve of the sweeping drop of the hill, the very contour of the Earth itself. I altered in mid-flight, defying physics and natural laws, to bank right, to drop down into a gully, then flapped hard to climb over a rocky protrusion, skimming scrub brushes and elderberries and twisted junipers, scattering jackrabbits and kangaroo rats and skunks. I shot down a narrow ravine, my wingtips just missing the rocky protrusions on either side. A hawk screeched from a dark crevasse, probably scared shitless.
I grinned and flapped and picked up speed and, like a cannon blast, shot out into the night sky.
***
Greetings, Talos, I thought.
Greetings, Sam, came the voice in my head, so strong and sure and calm. A lovely night for flight.
Oh, we will be doing more than flying. Care for a swim?
Your wish is my command, m’lady.
Is that another idiom you picked up from my thoughts?
Indeed.
I circled the perimeter of the lake far, far below. In this form, my eyesight is many times better. Maybe up to fifty times better. From up here, I was certain I could see the lights of Los Angeles, over a hundred miles away.
Below, the glowing fish in the lake took on actual form and shape. The bigger bugs, the dragonflies and mosquito catchers, grew legs and wings. I was hundreds, if not thousands of feet up. I appreciated Talos and all he could do, all over again.
And I appreciate you, Sam.
For what?
Your company. Your wit. Your eagerness.
I don’t bring you down?
With these wings? Would take a lot to bring me down.
I laughed, although the sound came out more of a roar, with a chaser of smoke. Who knew dragons had a sense of humor? I thought.
Perhaps you are rubbing off on me.
A scary thought, I said. I continued banking around the great lake, looking for signs of something bigger on or under the surface. I saw a group of brightly lit people on a short dock. Some of their laughter reached my ears. Or Talos’s ears, which were much
better than my own ears. Lots of laughter. Good friends and liberal libations... and not necessarily in that order.
I continued my slow sweep around the lake, flapping occasionally to maintain altitude, but mostly allowing the warm updrafts to keep me aloft and to keep my wings full.
The stars were bright up here. Who would have thought that Southern California, with its smog and bright lights, could have access to so many stars? Of course, it took coming out into the desert, and gliding many thousands of feet up, to actually see the stars... but still. They were here.
There wasn’t much on the surface of the lake, or along the perimeter, to suggest that a young boy might soon be a late-night snack to a creature from the deep. On this night, at this time, the lake was quiet. At least, on the surface.
You ready, Talos?
I am all yours, Samantha.
And with that, I tucked in my massive wings, and shot down toward the phosphorescent lake... with its millions and millions of bright little lights...
Chapter Twenty-one
The splashdown was smooth.
In fact, I suspected we barely made a splash at all, so aerodynamic was Talos and his giant, torpedo-shaped, fire-breathing, winged body. And my own night vision, combined with the dragon’s super-deluxe sight, well, it made it possible to see into the murky lake.
A good team, came Talos’s thought.
Yes, I thought, and oriented myself. After all, Talos gave me complete and total control over his body. In fact, I suspect he just sat back and watched. I imagined a bemused expression on his giant dinosaur face; if, in fact, that’s what he looked like.
Close, came Talos’s thoughts, as I flapped my wings smoothly, pushing through the water with ease. Your original image of a giant bat isn’t too far off either.
A giant dragon-shaped bat?