The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  I sat waiting in awe. Legs curled up to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. I looked back and forth from the astute blond to my left, to the bleeding Persian at my right. No one did anything for a full two minutes. Tatum just waited and watched emotionless, as Cyrus regained his composure. As the seconds ticked, I watched Tatum, waiting for her cool calculated demeanor to waiver with impatience; she didn't even blink. After what felt like a century, Cyrus straightened his posture and slowly removed his hands from his blood soaked face.

  Oh my God he looks like...well...like he just got hit in the face.

  He first looked to me; his face was empty, almost. His eyes held a hint of shame and the sparkle of a secret. After a moment or so, he turned from me to his vicious attacker, who just so happened to be a woman. If he dared tell anyone what really happened, I'm sure he'd be laughed at, there may even be pointing and laughing. Once his eyes were on her, they changed dramatically. Now they were empty, they held nothing. No hint, no clue as to what was hidden behind the mask that is Cyrus Atossa.

  “I've only ever been a player in the game. But last night, I wanted to see it as it was meant to be seen. I wanted to feel what was meant to be felt. I wanted to experience what you experience.” He looked to me then. The look on his face was one of sorrow and remorse, with an undertone of longing.

  “I am also not certain of the events of last night. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that you were safe. The situation is always controlled and well monitored. No one is ever injured or taken advantage of, we see to that.” His face was still dripping blood.

  Good.

  “You know, Mr. Atossa, when I asked for details, I meant it. Now elaborate or you will leave here with flashing lights.” Tatum never moved. Her face remained cold and heartless. Her breathing was a perfect soft rhythm.

  Cyrus exhaled heavily, looked to the floor, and turned to walk toward the chair just to the right of me. I sat like a child in the middle of the floor. My best friend sitting calmly to my left, the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in person to my right. He was bleeding all over his stark white carpet. The bright red spots created a morbid contrast with the white of the carpet. He sat with a flop, obviously not feeling shipshape. He closed his eyes and sat for a moment; Tatum waited patiently for him to collect himself.

  “When you signed in to Embrace, Baloo asked for your I.D., you signed a waiver.”

  Baloo? Like the fucking bear? What an ass.

  He continued. “You signed a legal binding document that states you are aware you are entering a private club, you are a willing participant over the age of twenty-one and agree to partake in the experience. Including, but not limited to, the consumption of hallucinogenic and mind altering substances. Everything you experienced last night was heightened and exaggerated by the drugs they gave you. All of the theatrics and magic tricks were just part of the show. Every night at dusk the doors open and invite in hundreds of willing participants eager to party with the 'vampires'. They are drawn to the scene. The beauty and danger lures them in like innocent little moths to a white hot flame. They leave with the same question you both have now. What was real? The answer is no. Nothing was true. I'm sorry, truly. I thought it would be perfect for you to experience and be a part of a show that most will never enjoy. Please forgive me.” He wasn’t looking at Tatum as he answered her question. He was staring directly at me, apologizing.

  Tatum took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let it out slowly through her mouth. She was still a perfect statue of composure. I on the other hand was fuming with anger. I was no longer the innocent child sitting curled up on the floor. I instantly spun around on my butt and turned my body to face the bastard.

  “What the fuck kind of game is this? What? You go out every night and wrangle up some poor girls to drag into this crazy underground world of drugs and death? Did it ever occur to you that we might get pretty pissed off? Maybe, if you would have said at some point, 'Oh hey, by the way, I'm going to drug you guys and have my way with you, just so you know', we probably still would have gone. But no, instead, you have to pussyfoot around and take advantage of my desperate need to solve this insane mystery. Where do you get off?” I was so pissed I could feel the anger like a hot poker on my tongue.

  “I am sorry, Dylan. Really, I understand why you are angry, and I do not blame you. The experience is never the same if the participant is aware. I just thought you would get a better understanding of our world if you saw it firsthand. But, really, it is just a magic show enhanced by natural plant extracts.” His voice was nearly pleading at that point.

  “Plant extracts? Don't get me wrong I enjoy the occasional head trip as much as the next guy, but what I experienced last night was not your usual herbal enhancement. What did we take?” The trip I went on last night was like no plant high I had ever been on in my life.

  “I am not sure. All I know is it is a legal non-addictive substance derived from plants,” he said, regaining a better sense of himself as the blood stopped pouring from his face.

  “You allowed us to take something you don't even know what it is? You took it too, right?” I asked. Still fairly pissed I had been duped. One of my many pet peeves.

  “Yes. I had never been part of the audience before. I wanted to do it with you. I would have never brought you there had I thought something terrible might come of it.” His voice was apologetic.

  “Well something terrible did come of it. Come on Tatum let's get the fuck out of here. I have had about enough of beautiful liars for one day.” I stood up, angrily, and went to reach for Tatum.

  “I want to know how it's done.” This from Tatum, still cool and collected.

  “A magician never tells his secrets,” Cyrus said with a smile. He was treading on thin ice.

  Tatum closed her eyes, took another deep breath in, letting it out again through her mouth. This time she turned her head far to each side; cracking her neck. The shit was about to hit the fan. She stood slowly and began stalking toward Cyrus. He immediately flinched and curled into a ball atop the chair he was in. He knew what awaited him if she didn’t get her way.

  “No. No. No. Wait, please? Let me explain.” Tatum stopped only inches from the huddled mass of blood and broken ego. Cyrus opened his squinted, scared eyes, and attempted to resume his original posture. Still looking like he was going to shit his pants, he continued. “McTavish is the magician. I am only a pawn. I know nothing really, Tatum, please.” He said this as though she should have known this already.

  “Who's McTavish?” I asked with utmost curiosity.

  “He is the owner of Embrace, Macabre Saturnine, Sween which is the agency I work for, and other enterprises throughout the Los Angeles area. Malcolm McTavish has his fingers deep into underground L.A. and is moving upward and outward. Now including managing a troupe of models and actors. Which he controls like puppets on strings. He is my owner, my fucking master. I hate him, but I need him.” It was his turn to come across supremely peeved.

  “Sounds like you need new representation.” I know, not the time for witty remarks, but I can't help myself. It just comes out.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.” He smiled a little, but winced in pain.

  Tatum really fucked him up, poor baby.

  “Listen, I understand you’ve been bleeding profusely from your face for the last ten minutes, for that I apologize. However, I need to know what happened to me last night. And seeing as though you are of no help to me, both because you were as fucked up as we were last night and you seem to be some sort of lackey for the head cheese, I see no further use for you. Unless...” I asked as I looked toward Tatum, who was still standing only inches away from the blood soaked Persian. He no longer looked scared so much as desperate.

  “Unless what? Anything I can do to make up for my unforgivable actions, I will. Anything, really. Just name it and it's yours.” His begging was a little pathetic and the way he was looking at me made me feeling a tad uncomfortable.

 
; “I would like to speak with this McTavish character. From what I gather, he’s the top dog, and as such, he’s the only one who can provide us with any sort of answers as to what the fuck happened last night.” Tatum looked at me quickly, and then moved her eyes back to the blood soaked man.

  “A meeting with Malcolm?” His eyebrows rose as he said this. His eyes moved to Tatum then looked down at the floor as he bit his lip.

  “If this is something you cannot provide us then...” I motioned to my blonde bodyguard.

  “Oh no, no. I can get you a meeting. No problem. Can you give me the day to discuss this with him? I could set it up for later this evening, if that is okay with you?” His eyes were a bright green against the red blood drying on his face.

  Tatum hesitated for a moment, adding to the suspense, I'm sure. Then finally she gave him a quick nod to acknowledge her acceptance. I followed her lead and nodded curtly.

  “Okay wonderful. Now let's get you ladies home, shall we?” He stood up quickly and moved toward the door from which he had entered.

  I think he may have forgotten the smears of blood currently adorning his face. As well as the fact that Tatum and I were missing shoes, purses, and a few other accessories I was pretty certain I had left the house with.

  “Um, I don't mean to stall getting the fuck out of here, but I need my shit.” I motioned toward my bare feet.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Cyrus nodded and walked swiftly to the other side of the room to retrieve our missing items. He ducked behind a desk placed directly across the room from the couch I woke up on and emerged with both pairs of shoes, both purses, and dangling from his pinky finger were the earrings Tatum had loaned me for the night. He looked a little silly carrying all of these feminine items, daintily I might add, like they were made of glass.

  “Here you are then.” He handed us our stuff individually, one shoe at a time, it was a little ridiculous.

  Tatum and I quickly put on our shoes. We were both anxious to get out of there and get back home. We instinctively checked the contents of our purses simultaneously. Just making sure all of our worthless crap was still securely tucked away; it was. Phone, keys, wallet, Goddamn student loan bill. Yup, all my shit was right where I left it. Thrashed and unpaid in my purse.

  “Are we ready ladies?” he asked patiently from the door. His demeanor had changed dramatically.

  “Yes. Will your driver be taking us back to my car?” I asked.

  “No, he is only employed to escort me to and from social events. Otherwise, I prefer to chauffeur myself about town.” He waved his hand toward the door “Shall we?” I felt as though we were being shuffled out the door.

  Without hesitation, Tatum and I booked it toward the door. I hadn't even thought about the fact that I had no idea what was on the other side of that door. So many thoughts had crossed through my head in the second it took Tatum to pass through the doorway ahead of me. What would I find beyond that ominous door? A suburban home? A masochistic torture chamber? I was suddenly scared to cross that threshold into the unknown. I had been in that room with no windows and only two doors for only an hour, well consciously anyway, but I felt so much safer in there. I watched Tatum walk right through without instance.

  Okay, it’s probably safe to continue.

  I cautiously moved behind Tatum and out onto a staircase. It was a full spiral staircase complete with custom wrought iron railing. The three of us descended the stairs in a uniform line with Cyrus taking the lead. As per usual, I was trailing behind in the back. I hate stairs, especially in heels, so I took the steps as slowly as I could. After what felt like an eternity, I stepped off the last step and onto tile flooring. My legs were burning from my snail’s pace decent. Surprisingly enough, walking slower down stairs hurts more than hauling ass.

  The rest of the abode was not what I expected at all. The tile floor was stark white to match the blindingly bright white walls. A black leather couch and matching lounge chair created a contrast that almost hurt to look at. There were two large windows on either side of, what I figured was the front door, both darkened with heavy black drapes. Though most of the light was blocked from the shades, the room was still very bright. The living area was small and could have been very cozy had it not been for the all black furniture. I could see through an archway just left of the couch, into what could have possibly been a kitchen, but I wasn't sure. Other than the hospital bright room I was standing in, and the possible kitchen, I didn't see any other rooms. No bedroom? I glanced around the room looking for another door. If I were a male model, where would I sleep? I thought to myself. I saw nothing in my scan of the layout.

  Fuck this. “Where's your bedroom?” I asked bluntly.

  “Wouldn't you like to know?” he answered slyly, with his stupid little half smirk I'd seen too many times in the last twenty-four hours. I was becoming really irritated with him pussyfooting around.

  He turned quickly and opened the front door, letting the May sunshine spill into the already blinding room. I was a little taken back by the brightness of the day.

  It must be late morning judging by the way the sun is making the trees glow green.

  The color of the trees was eerily similar to Cyrus’ eyes. I squinted my eyes and put my hand over my forehead to assist in shielding my poor hung-over face.

  Ugh, its times like this I wish I looked good in huge, Jackie O., sunglasses.

  I sluggishly followed behind Tatum who was walking confidently behind Cyrus. We walked down a narrow walkway, placed between two small squares of lawn, toward a mid-sized sporty car parked on the side of the street. It was too bright to try and scope the rest of my surroundings. All I could see easily were a few large older trees jutting out of the city grass strip next to the car. I was beginning to make out across the street two-story townhouses that were squished together in almost San Franciscan style architecture. I saw Tatum slide into the backseat and Cyrus courteously closed the door for her. He took a few steps back toward the passenger door, opened it, and waited patiently for my slow ass to get in. I was dreading having to ride all the way back to Macabre Saturnine sitting shotgun next to this douche. I stepped off the curb and slid on my butt into the seat, which was seriously comfortable, soft leather. I grabbed the inside handle and pulled the door shut before Cyrus-the-annoying had a chance to close it for me.

  Fuck chivalry.

  No one spoke. Not a sound during the twenty minute car ride back to Macabre Saturnine and the sanctuary of my car. In any other situation, the silence would have driven me insane, but at this point I welcomed it. As soon as my little car came into view, Tatum and I were unbuckling our belts and fumbling for the door handles. We hardly waited for the vehicle to stop before we flung the doors open and jumped out. During our emergency exit, Cyrus yelled through the window that he'd call with the details once he spoke with McTavish. I already had my keys in hand as I nodded in acknowledgment to Cyrus' claims of further contact. Tatum and I slid into my little Geo Metro, not even noticing the steamy heat that radiated from everything plastic. We sat for a moment, relishing in the safety that came with being crammed into that little purple inferno I call a car. I took a deep breath and fired up the engine. I didn't bother to let the car warm up or the A/C cool. I screeched away from the curb and flew off like a bat out of hell.

  We decided to just go to Tatum's place. It was closer and she had a fridge full of groceries. Unlike mine which housed two day old Thai noodles and a half empty twelve pack. It didn't take long to get to her place, what with the speed racer driving, and all. I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding; I heard Tatum do the same. We looked at each other and laughed.

  What a fucking day.

  CHAPTER 8

  White lace spread over my legs and draped along the slick leather couch where I lounged. Movie star makeup made my face soft and glowing in the candlelight. My hair spiraled in shining curls. I lay there soft and beautiful, desperate and longin
g. For some reason, I felt like a sitting duck.

  Cyrus entered the room suddenly, slithering softly on all fours. His leather pants, shiny and smooth, moved with him as he slid on his knees across the floor. I could see the muscles on his back expanding and contracting with every movement. His once olive skin seemed to glow white in the light of the candles. He stopped just inches from my face, looking very intently into my eyes. He leaned into me, eyes half closed. I braced for a kiss. Soft and quick he kissed me then pulled his head back from mine to look at me once more. I opened my eyes smiling only to find his eyes were glowing now, that vibrant green they had been once before. He smiled, ominous and predatory. The light glistened off his tiger like fangs. My eyes widened and I squirmed backward, upward, outward, anything to get away from the danger that loomed over me. He moved closer; I was trapped on the couch. His face came nearer mine and slid into the crook of my neck. I cringed and prepared for the penetrating sting of his sparkling teeth to enter my flesh. I could feel him breathe on my neck...then...music. Music? He stopped. I stopped...we listened.

  What is that? Is that...Lita Ford? Oh fuck...

  I opened my eyes and scrambled for my phone. I flipped it open without checking caller I.D.

  “Yeah?” I grumbled. I wasn't sure if I was angry or relieved to be roused from my weirdly realistic dream.

  “Dylan?” A very familiar voice asked.

  “Yes...Cyrus?” I asked. My mind was still kerfuckety from interrupted sleep.

  “Yes...are you okay?” His voice held concern and stifled laughter.

  Shit, he knows! How could he know, dipshit?

  “Yeah, fine, just sleeping.” I cleared my froggy throat. “What's up?”

  “Oh, I am sorry to wake you. It's only that I have set an appointment with McTavish.”