“Not right now, no. I didn’t know I was actually forming words. Sorry. I must be really tired. I tried to call Mike a few times and he didn’t answer.”
“I know, I was there. I heard your hour long message.” Still not even a smile from her.
“My brain hasn’t been functioning properly the last few days. Oh, I need sleep.” That sounded like a wondrous idea.
“I guess so. Or a good detox.” She laughed quick and wild at that. She never took her eyes off the road.
“Sleep will work for now. Then food. Then home.” Tatum didn’t respond.
I watched as flat land made way for slanted views from my passenger window. The Grapevine is a forty mile long steep gradient and decline over the Tehachapi Mountains. Most direct route apparently. I say it’s a travesty to California’s natural mystique. But who am I to say yay or nay?
Cars and trucks lined the roadway. At the foot of the hill you can see upward to what seems to be the top; a lovely view of what is to come in Los Angeles traffic.
Wonderful.
I watched as we passed minivans and sports cars. Our little black sporty zipped in and out of traffic at a speed I would have kicked Tatum for yesterday. Today, I just wanted to get home.
“In a hurry?” I asked, just making conversation. Right.
“Aren’t you?” She had her bitch-face on. Not good.
“Yes. Yes, I am. But I’m not sure killing ourselves in the process is the solution. Perhaps a decrease in speed? Just a suggestion. We are on a notoriously dangerous stretch of highway here. Let’s not make the statistic list shall we.” I was trying to keep my voice calm. White-knuckling the door handle was working alright.
“Scared? I’m not. There are far scarier things than dying in a car accident. Like, maybe dying in a plane crash? Or, I don’t know, being kidnapped, drugged, and having Lord knows what done to you before having all of your blood drained from your body. In my opinion, I’d rather die on my terms.” Her foot never wavered on the pedal. Up ahead of us a spell, brake lights were popping up randomly. There was a good chance we were going to need to stop soon; slow down, at the very least. Tatum may rather die in her little sports car, but I’d take my chances with the dumpster-droppers thank you very much.
“Tatum! You may have a death wish but I don’t!! Other cars are stopping, why don’t you follow the crowd for once?!” My white-knuckles were nearly purple with the strain I was putting on them.
We were rapidly approaching the red lights ahead. I was breathing too fast. My stomach clenched in preparation for the grave horror that awaited me. We were only five or six car lengths behind the stopped car ahead. A large eighteen-wheeler was coming up on our right, I could hear his airbrakes activating. I forced myself to focus on the tires of the car in front of us. They were moving, slowly, but it wasn’t completely stopped. Maybe they would start moving faster before we came crashing into the back of them. Other vehicles were slowing around us. Tatum stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. Her face was slack, as if she were about to lay down for a nap.
How the fuck am I getting out of this one?
I decided at that moment I wasn’t. There was nothing I could do. I thought about pulling the emergency break but that would only cause everyone behind us to barrel into the back of Tatum’s shiny black car. I really didn’t want to single handedly cause a fifty-car pileup. Instead I closed my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. I shot a prayer up to the Big Guy, crossed my fingers, and prepared myself for death. What felt to me like an eternity was only mere milliseconds of life. I could feel the force of our speed pushing me into the seat. I heard a sudden, loud, low-pitched horn. I was startled for long enough to realize we should have made contact with the extremely slow car in front of us. I used adrenaline to force myself to accept my fate and open my eyes to watch my death occur. My eyes popped open as if I had been injected with epinephrine. It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what it was seeing. We had somehow moved into the far right lane, passing the slowest of the traffic, and were now cutting back into the lane we had once occupied. I took the chance to look back before the jumble of cars was a fragment of shiny metal in the rear window. There was a slow moving Big Rig in the wrong lane slowing traffic. His signal was on; an attempt to enter the right lane.
Had we just missed death?
“What are you thinking!? You are trying to kill me!! How did you get around that mess without losing life or limb?” I was frantic with adrenaline.
“I’m not an idiot, Dylan.” She never looked at me. Not once.
“Get me home.” I said through clenched teeth. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to shake her and slap her across the face and ask why she did that to me. I figured it best to let her drive as peacefully as I could until we got home. Just in case she had further ideas of mayhem. I didn’t want to fuel that fire.
I leaned my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. If I was going to die I’d rather sleep through it. My heart was still thudding against my sternum. I breathed slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. I breathed this way until the sweet taste of sleep consumed me.
We had made it through the Grapevine in a staggering thirty-seven minutes and were now descending upon Hollywood and home. I had slept only a handful of minutes before my own heartbeat woke me. I was feeling suspense of something unknown. Tatum had slowed her speed out of necessity, due to L.A. traffic, but not by much. She jerked the wheel every now and then moving from the car pool lane to the far left and back. Not much different than the norm for her. Apparently she wanted to get home real bad. I did too, but not enough to injure myself or others in the process. I was pissed at her and didn’t care to share my thoughts or even glance her way. I glared out the window at the slow setting sun. My stomach tightened. I was sick and tired of being scared. And more than anything I wanted out of the murder-death-kill wagon. I figured I’d have a better shot at surviving a vampire attack than ten more minutes in the car with Tatum.
Tatum made the exit ramp to my place by the grace of God and some seriously good driving skills. Only a few minutes longer in the death-machine before I could kiss home soil. I counted the seconds.
“Just stop here.” I said. She hadn’t even pulled over yet. I wanted out.
“Are you going to Mike’s?” she asked, not looking at me.
“Yeah.” I reached in the back and got my shit, nearly smacking her in the back of the head with my smaller bag. Too bad it wasn’t the big one. Her eyes remained straight ahead. I nodded. She couldn’t see me. Too fucking bad.
“Be careful,” I said half-heartedly as I shut the door. Hard.
I walked around the back of the car. You can never be too careful. Tatum sped away before I even cleared the trunk width. I shook my head and dragged my ass up the treacherous stairs. Grumbling under my breath as the dog barked erratically; I’d hardly cleared the evil tree limb when I heard a familiar, albeit unwanted, voice.
“Dylan, my darling you’re home.”
I jumped nearly tumbling down the stairs. I instinctively checked the sun. It was falling rapidly and cobalt blue sky was taking over. My stomach tightened again.
Shit.
CHAPTER 21
“Why are you at my house?” I spoke into the darkness. I couldn’t see very well in the dark, but I knew who was sitting on my stoop.
“You did not sound well when we spoke this afternoon, I thought I would come see about you.” Oh so chivalrous.
“Dammit, Cyrus, how did you know where I live?” I was judging my running speed to his, just in case.
“That is my secret.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Bullshit.” Where did I leave my gun?
“I am sorry to startle you. I saw the news this evening, about the girl they found. It was here. A woman mentioned you, well, not you. A woman who lives here told the newsman the girl she discovered looked just like her neighbor. She was very concerned for you, Dylan. I did not know the murder took place here when I spoke with y
ou, I am sorry. I had seen the photo and I had hoped you were safe. I came here, where the body was found, to see if it truly was you the woman referred to. I was right.” I could tell that he stood then. I took a step down the stairs backward. That would not end well if I continued backward.
“So you just happen to choose the right door to wait in front of?” I attempted another step but hit my head on the limb.
Damn that limb.
“No, I am not a psychic,” he scoffed. “I saw the lovely neighbor of yours behind your building; she was leaving flowers at the site of the…body. I asked her about you. She confirmed and said she hadn’t seen you in a few days. We both came up and knocked on your door. I told her I would wait for you to come home and she smiled. She even gave me a cookie.” See, innocent enough. Right.
“Uh, huh. Could you move?” I had about enough of his shit.
Cyrus moved, obligingly. Stomping up the steps, I squeezed my way between him and the door, shoved my key in the slot, and began the daily dance of unlocking my door. A wiggle and a shake. A kick and a bang. Cursing and begging, one last wiggle. At least, that was the usual ritual. Tonight, however, Cyrus took the lead. He slid his cool hand over mine, clasped softly and turned the key effortlessly to the right. Click. The deadbolt turned over. I reached for the knob, it turned fine. The door on the other hand sticks like a son of a bitch. I shoved my body into the wood; it didn’t budge. Once again, the boy took over, turned the knob over and pushed the door open with ease.
Why is it that he and Tatum are the only people who can open that fucking door?
I moved around him, maneuvering all my shit into the apartment. Cyrus waited at the doorway like a gentleman. I tossed my bags onto the couch, slipped my shoes off, and slid my keys onto the desk. All the while, dear Cyrus watched from the darkened porch. It took everything I had not to slam the door and lock it. I very well should have. Something in me told me not to push him away, to let him in, to not judge him until I knew the truth. Something else told me to leave him on the porch to rot.
“If I invite you in, are you gonna go all psycho lunatic on me?” I was too tired to deal with his shit.
“Of course not.” He crossed his heart flashing his best smile.
“Sure. Whatever. Cyrus, won’t you come in?” I said halfheartedly.
He stepped through the doorway with a grin I’d never seen him have before. I believe the word for it is arrogance. I felt as though I would soon regret not shutting the door in his face and locking it swiftly.
“Where is your friend?” He always referred to Tatum as though he wasn’t sure who she was.
“She went home.” Then I added quickly, “She’ll be back in a few though.” Just in case he got any funny ideas.
“I see.” He stood too near the door for me to close it. All fine for me seeing as though you can hear a scream louder through an open door than a closed one.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Cyrus looked at me questioningly raising an eyebrow. “What I mean is, why are you here?” I asked bluntly.
“I came to check on you.” He spread his hands, palms facing up.
“Why are you still here?” All I wanted was a beer and sweat pants, neither of which was going to happen with this guy standing in my living room.
“Oh, I was hoping we could talk. I realize you were not very pleased with me after the incident at Embrace a few nights ago. I would hope you accept my apologies and understand that I was only trying to provide you with an experience unlike any other.” He stepped further into the living room then. Hands clasped behind his back, he viewed the room observing my lack of nick-knacks.
“Apology accepted.” Short and sweet. I moved toward the door to show him out.
“Would you accompany me to Macabre Saturnine?” he asked sweetly, his unwavering smile penetrating my defenses.
“I need to rest and change my clothes. A shower would be lovely as well. I’m sure I stink of spent adrenaline.” Assuming Cyrus presented no threat at this point, I plopped my ass down in my oversized chair.
“What was it that we needed to speak about? Nothing wrong I hope.” He took a few steps closer to me, but remained lingering near the doorway.
“Not at all.” Lie.
“I can wait while you change and shower. I can escort you this evening.” He smiled that perfect gleaming smile. I was beginning to hate that damn smile.
“Umm. No thanks. I’ll get ready and meet you there. I should really wait here for Tatum anyway.” I stood, hoping he would get the hint. He didn’t.
“What has happened with your friend? Your voice holds resentment when you speak her name.”
“Nothing, I’m just tired.” He moved close to me at that.
“I will take care of you tonight. If you wish.” He was standing nearly three feet from me.
“I’ll be fine.” He moved a step closer. I resisted the urge to take a step back. From this distance, I could smell his very expensive, very pleasing, cologne.
“Are you certain? I have my car here. You could call your friend and have her meet us there if you wish.” I shook my head to answer him, afraid to speak.
I wasn’t even sure Tatum had plans to spend the evening with me anyway, let alone answer my call right now. I did need to call Mike; I wanted him with me when I penetrated the villain’s lair. I looked up into his eyes. He smelled very pleasant.
“I need to make a few phone calls.” I stood staring into his grass green eyes.
“Do as you wish, Dylan. I will be here.” He didn’t move from the entryway.
“I’ll just be in the bedroom for a few minutes.” I turned at that and made my way to my bedroom.
Before I shut the door behind me, I stole a peek toward the man in my living room. He still stood where I had left him; perfect and utterly still, staring right back at me. A smile developed across his face, the corners of his mouth moving at a snail’s pace upward showing a lot of teeth in the process. I flashed suddenly at the dream I’d had a few nights prior. Shining, sharp, deadly teeth I remembered. Not what I saw now before me. Bright and shining, but not overly sharp, although he may have a plastic pair hidden in a pocket somewhere. I smiled back, closed my bedroom door, and locked it.
Once behind closed doors, I pulled my cell from my pocket and dialed Mike, again. And again it rang and rang. I heard his simple, professional message pop on and waited for the beep.
“Mike. Hey, it’s me. It’s Dylan. Hi, umm, I’ve been trying to call you. I’m getting pretty worried. Please call me back as soon as you get this. I’m gonna head over to Macabre with Cyrus. He seems harmless and he can get me in to see the people I really need to talk to. I’m calling Tatum now. If you can just meet me there, at the club. Bye.” I hung up then and realized the ridiculousness of the message I had just left.
Oh, hey Mike, I’m gonna hop in the car with someone I hardly know and suspect of murder. Who by the way has drugged me once before and hangs with a seriously twisted set of friends. It should be alright. What the fuck am I thinking?
I dialed Tatum next, my voice of reason usually, maybe not so much today, but I was desperate. It rang. I listened to her simple and not so professional message and waited for the beep.
“Hey, I have Cyrus here, in my house. I think I’m going to go with him to Macabre and talk to Reggie. This is a safety call. You don’t hear back in an hour, call Mike. I’ve been trying to call him and still haven’t heard back, so good luck. If I die tonight, sorry.” I hung up once again feeling as though I was being a complete ass.
My brain took over at that moment and told me I was probably not making the best life choices. I realized then that there was a distinct possibility that I was being hoodwinked by a potential serial killer. I scoffed at myself and stormed out of the bedroom in search of a fight.
“Cyrus, you ass. How dare you waltz into my house and try to con me into leaving with you. I mean really who do you think you are? I was about to…” I stopped dead in my tracks. The look
on his face was classic. I had shocked the hell out of him. Good.
“Dylan, what are you talking about? I came to check on you. I was worried. I only offered you a ride because I know you are not very comfortable in crowds. Especially the crowd that frequents those places. I did not want you to get hurt. Regardless of what you may be thinking right now, I really do find you very interesting. You are unlike any other woman I have ever met in my many years. I would hate to hear of something happening to you.” He moved closer to me than he had in the last thirty minutes he’d been at my house.
“Many years, what are you like twenty-three? That’s not the point. The point is you pressured me into going with you. For what reason? I don’t know. According to you, it was innocent and downright chivalric. I nearly allowed you to talk me into getting into a car with you. You don’t really have a stellar track record with being trustworthy.” I stood, foot kicked out to the side, hands planted firmly on my hips. Bitch-stance executed.
“Dylan, I apologized for anything I had done that may have put you in harm’s way. It was only once and I thought it would give you wonderful perspective for your book. I took to you see McTavish when you asked and called to make sure you were well. Then I came here to double check on the horrible events from last night. Won’t you please trust me? I know you have your suspicions. They are justified. I will answer any questions you have. Help you in any way I can.” As he spoke he had moved in very close. Kissing close.
“I don’t trust many people, especially not right now.” I was trying to avoid eye contact. At this distance, eye contact generally leads to things I was refusing to consider. Lusty thoughts are not top priority when a serial killer is leaving dead look-a-likes at your back door. Now was the time for cautious action.
“Dylan.” I looked at him then. Shit. “Will you please accompany me tonight?” I held his gaze for a few moments, or he held mine, whatever.
“Let me get ready.” Fuck.
I couldn’t help myself. An idiotic spiral into recklessness. My cold, rough, sensibility wanted to kick him in the groin and call it a day. My inner fat kid wanted to continue the façade and allow Cyrus to woo me indefinitely. I was fucked in the head.
The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series) Page 18