The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  Smartass. “I don’t know. Where were you?”

  “Work shit. Went over the ME’s prelim of the newest girl. Are you coming?”

  “Not like I would have five minutes ago.” I said snidely.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Yeah I’ll be over. Let me get some stuff together and I’ll be there. Hour or two, k?”

  “Okay, hurry up.” He seemed distracted. I guess nine dead chicks will do that do you.

  “Yes sir.” I hung up then.

  Damn Mike.

  I gathered some overnight stuff and threw it in my favorite canvas tote. I’m fairly low maintenance, so it wasn’t much to pack. Toothbrush, make-up, jeans, wife-beater, huge t-shirt for bed, and extra hair-tie. Done.

  Before I left, I checked once more for my phantom fellow. Closets, under the bed, behind the shower curtain, cabinets. So that was a little too far, but you get the idea. He wasn’t there. I locked up tight and headed out for Mikes. I pondered the evening’s events as I drove in silence. Query number one: where did Cyrus go and why? Query two: what was Tatum thinking? Query number three, and this one was really rubbing me the wrong way: what the fuck did that Hungarian bitch say to me?

  It was after midnight by the time I walked up Mike’s driveway. My sneakers made no noise on the cooling concrete. I rapped quietly on the front door and waited. It was two full minutes before Mike emerged at the entrance.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” I didn’t bother waiting for an invite as I pushed past him.

  “Take you long enough?” He shut the door and locked it immediately.

  “Eat me, Michael.” I regretted it the minute I said it.

  “If you play your cards right.”

  I ignored him and plopped down on the sofa. He did too. Mike kindly allowed a full cushion space between the two of us. The TV in the living room was off and the distraction free silence created an odd tension in the room.

  “Were you in bed?” I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Nah, just hanging out in the quiet.” He kicked his feet up on the coffee table and slouched into the seat.

  “Alrighty then. Do we have to hang out in the quiet?” I’m not big on quiet moments.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time we hung out in silence. Never bothered you before.”

  “We were screwing before. Now, it’s different.” Now, it’s just awkward.

  “Can’t just sit in silence with me anymore? I see. How about some reading material then.” He slid a file folder across the table with his foot.

  “What is it?” I picked it up.

  “If you have to ask, you obviously aren’t committed to your case.” He looked at me; I met his eyes. They are a beautiful aquamarine, familiar and comfortable. Nothing like the green ones I was avoiding previously. I could look at him and say no. A lot.

  “More case files? I can read this? No catch?” I was finding it hard to believe.

  “No catch. I figure she was put there for you, you have the right to see her.”

  “Thanks Mike, that’s…that’s really thoughtful.”

  “You got it.” He stood up and stretched. “And we were doing a lot more than screwing, Dylan. I guess you forgot. I didn’t.” He padded on bare feet to the kitchen and flipped the light on.

  I really didn’t have time for his shit right now. There were bigger fanged-fish to fry. Ignoring his comment I opened the off-white folder and immediately skimmed it for photos. Before I knew it, I was staring at a photo of me. Dead. A ‘shock to the system’ is an understatement. Full color, head-to-toe, photo of a dead girl. A Dylan Hart dead ringer. No wonder these boys were so concerned. I figured she would just be a fat brunette, I was wrong. Down to the green eyes and freckles she was me. I must have been stuck on void when Mike came back in.

  “Hey. Here.” He handed be a high-ball glass filled with ice and booze. I took it. “Dead ringer, huh?” His words mimicked the thoughts in my head.

  “I thought the same thing. I didn’t expect…”

  “Her to look that much like you.” I nodded, agreeing with him. “Babe, I thought she was you.” I ignored the babe thing. “Took me a good minute to compose myself enough to realize it wasn’t.”

  “Why would someone do this?” I was in shock.

  “You were targeted.” My head turned on pivot to meet his eyes once again. “From my professional stand point, you were the target. Either they thought that was you, or they did it intentionally to scare the shit out of you. It could have been a message left just for you.”

  “Or you.” I said.

  “No. This was about you. If it was left for me, I’m not scared. You’re right here with me. I know you’re not dead and you won’t be. Not if I have any control over it, anyway. Whoever’s killing these girls, knows who you are and what you’re up to. Have you thought about who you’ve been in contact with surrounding this?” He was drifting into cop mode. Fine with me. It’s better than ex-boyfriend mode.

  “Not really.” He looked at me disapprovingly. “Hey, fuck you. It’s been a long day. I almost died. I had my life threatened in a foreign language. I busted in on Tatum banging a Primus. And I was left at the bed sheets.”

  Fuck.

  “What? You need to explain every last one of those statements. Start with the last one.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. “Ugh. Is this really important?” I knew he wasn’t going to let any of it go. “Fine. When you called a friend was over and they left while I was in the kitchen talking to you.” There. Simple little white lie.

  “You had a friend in your bed that walked out while you were talking to me?” It was obvious he wasn’t buying it.

  “No. Not exactly. We were nowhere near the bed, in fact. I shouldn’t have invited him in, but he’s the closest connection I have to the people I think might be responsible for this.” I held up the full color glossy as a reference.

  “And you were planning on fucking him?” The word was harsh and made me flinch when he said it. In fact, hearing it out loud made me realize how ridiculous the idea was that Cyrus Atossa would want to sleep with me.

  “No. I hadn’t planned it. Dammit, Michael, this really isn’t the problem at hand is it?”

  “The hell it isn’t. A dead girl is dumped behind your apartment and you invite strange men into your house? A strange man who you yourself claim is tied with the ‘vampire’ community. Do you know how stupid that was? You put yourself in a situation that could’ve ended badly. And then he off and leaves you alone? What the hell kind of man is that? Obviously, you don’t mean that much to him. If you ask me, he either wasn’t interested enough to stick around or he’d gotten what he came for and saw no need to wait for you. Either way, it was stupid!” His breathing was thick with anger.

  I wanted to scream at him. Thank him for making me feel like more of an idiot. I was already feeling so vulnerable when it came to Cyrus and his bullshit. The last thing I needed was Mike rubbing it in my face that I was, likely, not good enough.

  “You don’t understand, and I’m not obligated to explain it to you.” I wouldn’t look at him. My eyes looked at my hands and stayed there.

  “Who’s Tatum bangin’ now? And why do you care? What the fuck is a Primus?” He changed the subject intentionally. Mike was well aware I’d leave if he kept riding my ass.

  “Malcolm. I walked in on them at Embrace. She acted like she was doing nothing wrong. Then I find out this wasn’t the first time. She’s known a lot more about these vampire people than I ever knew she did. I don’t even really know what a Primus is exactly. I asked and received very vague answers. Oh and she tried to kill us on the way home today. Road rage, don’t worry I survived.” Eyes still trained on my folded hands.

  “What dialect were you threatened in today?” He wasn’t being smart; this was not the first time I was threatened in a foreign tongue.

  “Hungarian,” I said with a shrug.

  “Ooh, that’s a good one. Rare. Not your typical Spanish or Hmong. Or even Fren
ch, remember that one?” He literally laughed out loud. It was contagious. Soon enough, we were both laughing remembering the time some French broad chewed me out on Hollywood Boulevard for calling her sir. “I miss you,” he said suddenly.

  Dammit. “Mike, this isn’t the time. Seriously.” I looked back down at my hands.

  “Sorry. It’s the truth though. I do.” I didn’t respond.

  We sat in silence for a long stretch of moments. I flipped through the file once again. Avoiding the photos, I scanned the report. It read almost identically as the others. Nude, young, Caucasian, dead; they were always dead. This one, however, was brunette, not blonde. Overweight, not tweeker skinny. Also, she had three separate bite radiuses located at each artery. Unlike most of the others who obtained incisions or puncture wounds. A deep bite gauging two inches in width, was located at the bend of the elbow; brachial. A smaller impression, measuring 1.78 inches width, found near the groin; femoral. Lastly, torn beyond exact measurement, a possible bite just above the collarbone; carotid.

  Yeah, that’ll kill yah alright.

  The other obvious difference was the abundance of information included in this file. The others, especially the first few, were only a page or two. There was an actual investigation here for one of two reasons. These idiot detectives have finally realized they have a serious problem on their hands, or his girl meant something to someone. I trust Mike to do his job, he’s an excellent detective, but if there hadn’t been a rash of these murders already plastered on the news when the first two hit his town, he probably would have done the same thing: nothing.

  “Has the ME found any DNA?” I asked breaking the long standing silence.

  “Not to speak of. Saliva was discovered but it was too contaminated or otherwise deteriorated to come up with anything concrete. She has roughly theorized that the suspects we are looking for are male, there are probably more than two of them, and they’re likely to have some knowledge of medicine. Also, there’s a possibility they have a female accomplice. “

  “How can she know that? Maxi-pads found at the scene?” I half chuckled to myself.

  “No dumb-ass. She found a long strand of hair on the Pico and Norton vic.”

  “And she couldn’t get some kind of DNA off that?”

  “That’s the thing, it wasn’t human. Wig hair or extensions she thinks. High quality, but the strangest thing, it was purple. It could have belonged to our vic. It did match her nail polish.” I sat in astonishment.

  “I doubt it was hers,” I said shaking my head.

  “Oh yeah and why is that, Watson?”

  “Number one, I’m not Watson. If anything, you are Watson. Number two, it wasn’t our girls because I have a pretty damn good idea whose it is.”

  “Someone from one of these clubs?” He sat forward eagerly.

  “Yeah, just spoke with her this evening. She was acting all fucked up. Got pissed when I brought up her old friends from Fresno, especially an old fling of hers. Then she got into it with Cyrus and left. She was supposed to be working but she never came back. She has purple hair; nappy too, could be a wig. It’s a deep kind of eggplant color, hits just below the shoulders at its longest point.”

  “From Fresno? Why didn’t you tell me this before? That, dear Watson, is a link. Do you know where she may be now?”

  “No, we checked at Embrace, where I ran into Tatum. Another employee at Macabre called me to ask if I’d seen her around ten or so. We aren’t exactly best friends here. I really couldn’t tell you where she is. You’re the detective, go detect. And I am not Watson!”

  “Why when I have you to do my dirty work?”

  “Not anymore. You’re on your own. I got you this far, you can handle it from here. I’m going to just sit here on your couch in my pj’s and wait for the big bad coppa’ to bring in the bad guys.” There was no way any of that was going to happen. I was tired, yes, but I wasn’t giving up that easily. Nor was I going to sit at Mike’s house any longer than necessary.

  “Here? On my couch? Hmm, I might have to drag my feet a bit on this one.”

  “Oh and risk more lives? No one on your couch is worth that. It isn’t even funny to joke about.” I flashed to my doppelganger dead on the asphalt.

  “Well, when you put it that way, you take all the fun out of it.” I rolled my eyes dramatically at his ridiculous comment.

  “Why are you so relaxed? When I talked to you this afternoon, you were on the verge of a meltdown. Scared out of your mind that I was going to die or some crazy shit like that.”

  “I can relax a little bit because I don’t have to worry about you when you’re right here. Besides, I’m a little rum-dummy from overexertion, lack of sleep, and having to look at that many naked dead chicks. Takes its toll.” He smiled sleepily. I smiled back and shook my head. I understood what he meant about not feeling right in the head. I’d been feeling the same way for days.

  “I’m gonna go throw on my pj’s.” I swigged the last of my drink and deposited the glass in the sink before retiring to the bathroom for a bit.

  His bathroom had never changed as long as I’d known him. The only difference now was none of my stuff was in it. No perfume or girlie deodorant. No lotions and tampons. Only a few manly magazines and an air freshener. Yeah, he’s one of those guys. Thirty minute trip to the John post food consumption. It never bothered me though. Bodily functions don’t really gross me out. My breath at that moment did. I did my business freshening-up and threw my comfy jammies on. I considered taking off the bra, my usual home routine, but decided against it. Probably not the best idea under the circumstances. Besides, I got too much going on in that region for it to be at all attractive.

  I padded out of the bathroom on bare feet to find the couch empty.

  Not again dammit.

  I called out for Mike and checked around the immediate area. Just as I was beginning to panic, I caught a glimpse of him out the back window.

  “I thought you quit?” I said through the sliding glass door.

  “I did. Three times now. I’ve always been a better starter than a finisher.” He laughed like it was funny. I didn’t. The memory he was digging up stung deep in my core. It was a low blow intended just for me, and it had nothing to do with smoking.

  “Gimme one,” I demanded.

  “Didn’t bring your own?”

  “They’re in my bag. Smokes, let’s go.” He followed my order well.

  “You wanna go over some of the case files and see where we are?” he asked.

  “I’m not a cop. How would I know?”

  “You know more about this case than any one of these uniforms do. Probably more than me in some aspects.” I smiled around my smoke at his praise.

  “I’m taking that as I compliment. Fine, but I’m seriously hungry. Food first.”

  “Deal. Chinese delivery?”

  “Sounds amazing,” I said.

  He ordered, we ate, and then we moved on to some light reading. Every vic the same. Some differences due to location and timing, but otherwise the same. Mike and I agreed on nearly everything, from the fact it seems to be a pack of some kind, probably three maybe more suspects. To the fact that Malcolm and his merry men are in on it somehow. We disagreed on one thing. Cyrus.

  “Dylan, I know you’ve some kind of sick infatuation with this guy, but he’s fucked. Call it a hunch. Call it jealousy. Call it whatever you want. It’s reality.”

  “Sure, but he didn’t kill anyone.” I was almost positive.

  “How do you know this? Because he told you? People tell me they didn’t do it almost daily and you know what? They usually did. I might be totally wrong, but if I’m not, he’s dangerous. And for whatever reason, he has a thing for you. If I can clear him when this is all over, then, well…do what you want I guess. But until then, stay here, away from your place and away from those people. Please.” It was the please that caught my attention.

  “Fine. But when, and I say when, because I know you’re going to do it, yo
u talk to him and the rest of them, I want to be there. Please.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Fine. These people scare me too. I’m not being completely blind and reckless, I swear. You haven’t seen them, been there at Embrace. It’s not your regular trendy Goth club. It’s…scary. The people there believe so much that they’re…well…vampires that they put on these big dramatic shows about everything. Arguing with each other about secrecy and pulling rank on one another. They have all these tricks they do with the mirrors and the lighting that makes you really believe too. It all feels like a bad horror flick.” I shook my head at the ridiculousness.

  “But these vampires aren’t warded off by crucifixes and garlic. A bullet should do the trick though. The wondrous thing about reality is there’s no monsters, just people. And people can die.” He was speaking of bad people dying. My mind was stuck on the good; they can die just as easily.

  “Just because man obtained the use of light doesn’t mean the darkness is not waiting for them in the shadows.” I nearly whispered this.

  “What? Where did that come from?”

  “Nothing. Something Cyrus said popped in my head. Something about creatures waiting for man in the dark.”

  “He really is a space monkey. Dylan, there are no creatures of the night, no Dracula, no five-hundred year old bloodsuckers roaming the earth for centuries. Vampires do not exist.”

  “Yes they do. They exist here.” I pointed to the photos lying on the table. “Maybe they don’t live forever or puff into dust if you stake them, but they’re not fictional characters. They are flesh and blood and residing right here in Hollywood. I know. I’ve seen them.”

  “You feeling okay? Where’s my cynical, sarcastic, skeptic Dylan?” His hand ran over the top of mine.

  “Here. With more knowledge and experience to know that just because the mass media makes it fantasy, doesn’t mean it isn’t real in some form. In fact, because of this, it is real. And it’s here to stay. And kill.” My words were threatening.

  “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  “Or me,” I said toughly.