by Tiffany Foxe
“Members, only,” he grunted and returned to trimming his nails with his knife.
“Uh, I have an invitation.”
Em pulled out the card she had received earlier that morning. The bouncer glanced up.
“Is this the Masquerade Lounge?” Em asked.
“Members, only,” he reiterated.
“Well, it says here Masquerade Lounge. See?”
Em pointed at the invitation. The man grudgingly looked up from his task at the card. He squinted, then snatched the card from her hand. He looked the card over carefully, then flipped it over and repeated the process. He looked up at Em and pursed his lips. He then folded his knife and pulled out his phone and called someone, all the while keeping his eyes on Emiline.
“Yeah, I got a lady out here. Says she has an invitation.”
There was a pause. He looked at the card Em had given him, then held it up toward a black, glass globe on the ceiling.
“Emiline Zadok. Yeah…’kay.”
The man put his phone in his coat and began to pat Em down. She felt her heart quicken. He stopped when he felt the gun on her torso and pulled it out from its holster.
“Tsk, tsk,” he smirked as he waved his finger side to side.
Em rolled her eyes.
“This is of no use, here,” he said. He confiscated her gun and held open the door for her.
Emiline entered through the door which felt more like she was entering into a different era. Hoards of people mingled and danced in a large open room with high ceilings and large round wooden tables. A stage lined the wall directly across from the entrance where a live band played forties style swing with a bit of a modern electronic twist. Muted horns blared and people danced modernized variations of older dances. All of them were adorned in clothing reminiscent of the forties. Emiline became painfully aware of how much she did NOT blend in. She may as well have had a bright red bullseye glued to her back.
She made her way over to the bar where she hoped she wouldn’t be as visible and could people-watch without being obvious about it. She looked around and noticed that everyone was drinking red wine. She took a seat as she wondered if that was all that was available.
“Can I help you?” a bartender asked.
He was wearing a black vest and bowtie with a white, long-sleeved, collared shirt. His hair was slicked back and he was looking at Em in a confused fashion.
“Do you have water?”
He quickly nodded and prepared her request. She watched carefully as he made her drink. She didn’t want any repeats like the Corazon Diablo. He watched her as well, obviously perplexed by something about her. Maybe, it was her attire, or lack thereof. Everyone else seemed to be in costume.
He set her drink down and Em began to reach in her pocket for payment.
“No charge,” he interrupted as he put his hand up.
Em nodded and pulled her hand out of her pocket.
“Thank you.”
The bartender went back to serving other thirsty customers and Em went back to people watching. They were a lively bunch. They danced, laughed and drank. All of them looked like they fell right out of the forties, except...why hadn’t she noticed it before? They were all wearing wings. She looked around the whole room. Every last one of them had wings on. Why was she just now noticing this? It was blatantly obvious. She guessed she was just too thrown off by the whole blast from the past theme they had going on to notice.
“Mmm. You smell so sweet,” a man said. He was leaning over Em and sniffing with a smile. “Like fresh nectar,” he added.
Em just stared at the man for a moment, then turned away to ignore him.
“Are you here with someone?”
Em turned her head back around to answer the man, but just as she opened her mouth she was interrupted.
“She’s with me,” came a woman’s voice from behind her.
She watched the man’s eyes grow wide. He nodded and hurried away.
Emiline turned around to find Sophie smiling down at her.
“Care to join me?” Sophie motioned toward the main area where the tables and dance floor lay. Em got up and followed. They ended up in the middle of the dance floor. The music had changed to a slower tempo and couples swayed intimately all around them. Sophie held out her arms in anticipation.
“Oh. I thought we were going to a table...to sit,” Em explained.
Sophie shook her head. She held out her hand in anticipation.
“Oh...I don’t…”
Em stood awkwardly trying to figure out how best to get out of this situation. Sophie grabbed both of Em’s hands and placed them around her neck. She then placed her own hands about Em’s waist. Em’s heart skipped a beat.
Sophie was wearing a black forties era dress and her hair was done in a fashion similar to that era. Em figured this was a style not many women could pull off well, but she did it perfectly.
“Why are you here?” asked Sophie.
“You sent an invitation,” Em replied, perplexed.
Sophie crossed her brow.
“It’s members, only. No one is ever invited,” Sophie asserted.
“Well I got one. It was delivered to my door. You didn’t send it?”
“No,” said Sophie, curtly.
Sophie’s eyes were fixed upward as she appeared to be solving this puzzle while they danced. Em could feel her hands were clammy and she feared her dance partner would notice. She removed her hands from around Sophie’s neck which brought Sophie’s attention back down to her dance partner.
“Something wrong?”
Em awkwardly shook her head.
“You wanna go sit down?” Emiline pointed at an empty table.
“Not yet. Here.” Sophie cradled her palms around Em’s neck. “We can switch.”
Sophie began swaying side to side. Em hesitantly placed her hands on Sophie’s hips. Her heart immediately began to race. Oh, why was she so attracted to someone that was so close to a case? She hated the fact that she couldn’t quell those feelings.
“How is the investigation?”
“It’s going.”
Em didn’t want to give anything away.
“Any new leads?”
“You know I can’t comment on that.”
“Of course. Well, on another note...you’re not a bad dancer,” said Sophie with a sly grin on her face.
Em rolled her eyes and scoffed.
“No, seriously. But…” Sophie pulled Emiline closer to her. “You’re too far away.”
Em’s heart raced faster. The thud of each beat filled her ears. The mysterious allure of this woman sent her soaring and she felt helpless. Euphorically helpless.
“That’s better.”
Em tried to steady her nerves.
“Uh, ya know, I’m curious about that invitation. If you didn’t send it, then someone else obviously knows where I live, and wanted me to be here.”
“Well, I had assumed it was you.”
“Me?” Emiline pulled back and scowled at Sophie. “I made the invitation?...Or, I made up that I got one...so I could get in? Is that what you’re saying?”
Sophie gave a slight nod. Emiline grimaced, but then gave the matter more thought.
“Well, I could see how that would fit in with my profession, but...no. I didn’t.”
They returned to dancing. She was grateful the music had slowed. There was no way she would have held her own with how they were dancing, before. Sophie’s head leaned against Em’s as they danced, slowly swaying side to side. Em felt strangely exhilarated and tranquil at the same time. She could smell Sophie’s hair. The sweet fragrance tempted her further in. She leaned closer and temporarily forgot about the issues that currently hounded her, delighting in the steady sway and sweet aroma of the present.
Em watched the bartenders as she danced. One poured a drink into a wine glass from an oddly shaped container. It didn’t look like an ordinary wine bottle. As he turned to put the container away Em caught a glimpse of the con
tainer in the light. It looked like a blood bag used for transfusions. Her brow crossed as she swayed a little slower. She looked about at all of the glasses full of dark red stuff being consumed. As the men and women tilted the glasses back to drink, she noticed the liquid didn’t look quite like wine. It was redder, thicker. Em’s pulse quickened.
“You okay?” Sophie pulled her head back to look at Emiline. Em tried to remain calm, or at least appear that way. She nodded her head. Sophie looked her over quizzically, then leaned back in and they continued dancing.
“You’re a doctor, right?”
“Yes.”
“So...you have access to things like, I don’t know, blood and stuff?”
“Yes,” Sophie replied with an air of curiosity.
“Just wondering,” Emiline responded, hoping to quell the questions she feared would follow.
Sophie, still curious at the random questions being thrown at her, turned her head to face where Emiline was looking. They stopped dancing. Her view was directly of the bar. Bartenders busily poured drinks into glasses of varying styles and sizes. Sophie immediately realized what the questions were about. She looked back at Em. The expression on her face was apparent. Sophie knew what the questions were about and Emiline now found herself at a disadvantage: one lone, unarmed cop in a room full of potential threats and enemies. Her immediate thought was how to get out of there, fast.
Em stepped back.
“If you’ll excuse me. I have to use the restroom,” she forced out, pushing through the rush of panic that consumed her.
She started to drop her hands and step away. Sophie quickly pulled her tight against her own body. Em tried to push away without drawing attention, but Sophie’s grasp held firm. Em let out a wry chuckle out of sheer nervousness.
“I have to go,” she argued, hoping this would release her from for captor.
She looked directly into Sophie’s eyes.
“Please.”
“You don’t understand.”
Em attempted to discreetly push away from her captor.
“Let me go,” Em quietly demanded.
“I can’t,” replied Sophie.
Sophie tried to look Em directly in the eyes. Her expression earnest and sincere. Em purposefully avoided her gaze, instead focusing on her surroundings in case she did break free of this stranger she would have a plan ready of where to go.
“Let me go,” Em quietly pleaded, hoping to not draw attention.
She struggled harder, but still refrained from resisting fully, hoping not to draw attention from others.
“Emiline. Stop. You don’t know what you’re seeing.”
Em finally returned her captor’s gaze, however, hers did not return the same emotion. Sophie was met with an expression full of hate and disdain. The look so affronted Sophie she dropped her hands, straightaway. Surprised by the sudden change of events, Em stood dumbfounded for a brief moment, then made a beeline for the door from which she had entered. Sophie just stood and watched.
Sam walked over to Sophie as he watched their guest make for the door.
"What is she doing here?"
"She had an invitation," Sophie said, her mind deep in thought as she watched Emiline leaving.
"Since when do we give out invitations?"
"Since never."
Em continued towards the door as she noticed other attendees begin to move in towards her. Sophie promptly raised a hand to which the others instantly ceased their pursuit. Em slung open the door which startled the guard who sat half asleep in his chair.
“My gun,” Em demanded.
She held out her hand waiting as patiently as she could, which wasn’t much. The guard lazily pulled Emiline’s gun out from his coat pocket and handed it to her. The moment the gun touched her palm she began to walk toward the stairs as quickly as possible. She wanted to run, but felt that would draw the guard’s attention. The moment she hit the stairs, however, she moved as fast as she could. She made her way down the stairs so quickly it almost felt like free falling. She rounded one corner and then another, finally hitting the floor and out the door. The second she stepped outside into the crisp air she felt relief. The crisp, cold air nipped at her lungs as she inhaled deeply, striving to catch her breath, but she was grateful for it. It meant she was no longer in that building, no longer with them.
She turned and ran down the sidewalk toward her car. If she could just get to her car she would be okay, she thought. She glanced back toward the Masquerade. No one came after her. Why didn’t they pursue her? She thought about what she had just seen. They were consuming blood. Were they responsible for the third murder victim in Vancouver? Were they the cult? She threw the questions from her mind and concentrated on just getting to her car.
THUNK!
Something slammed hard on the back of her head. Pain...darkness.
Sophie stood by a window looking out onto the cityscape. Her arms were crossed and she appeared deep in thought. Other members of the Masquerade party gathered in groups and conversed quietly amongst each other. The door to the entrance of the Masquerade Lounge flew open, creating a loud thump when it hit the wall. Sophie turned toward the noise. Luce zipped in, breathing heavily, she looked directly at Sophie.
“They took her. The Sons. They took her.”
Chapter 6
Emiline awoke to the feel of cold, grey concrete on her cheek. Her groggy eyes winced as pain throbbed through her head. She slowly pushed herself up off of the floor and surveyed her surroundings: a small, bare cell with iron bars on two sides that looked out onto a vast, dark, hall of some sort. The ceiling outside of her cell was high, possibly three to four stories up. It was dark except for the dim glow of flame-lit valances along the walls. The air smelled stale and faintly of animals. Em lifted her hand to feel the back of her skull. She could feel a knot with her fingers. Touching it sent a searing pain through her head. She groaned.
“Wakey, wakey” said a man with a deep voice.
Em looked toward the source of the voice. She could make out the silhouette of an older man standing on the other side of the bars that confined her. He had brown hair and a short, scruffy beard. He wore brown loafers, khaki trousers and a maroon wool sweater.
“Where am I?” Em asked groggily, still rubbing the back of her head.
“Why my dear, you’re home!” the man exclaimed, lifting his arms out. “I’ve been looking all over for you. You are quite a challenge to get ahold of.”
Em scowled. The man leaned into the bars of her cell. He was grinning and his green eyes sparkled in the dim light. He stepped back away from the bars and swept his hand out across the vast hall.
“What do ya think?”
Em looked out left and right at the room before her. If she were to somehow escape from her present confinement, she wouldn’t know which way to dart. She looked back at her captor. He was still grinning, devilishly.
“What do you want from me? Who are you?” Em forced out. She had quite a few questions for this peculiar stranger and was forcing herself to remain vigilant for possible clues of her location and means of escape, but thirst and lethargy kept forcing their way back into the forefront of her mind. She felt so foggy headed.
“Well, let me start with the latter. I am Ralph Hemming.” The man placed one arm behind him and bowed. Em thought the gesture way too theatrical. He listed toward the bars again, then stooped down until he was eye level with Em. He cocked his head to one side. “Notice anything?”
Em looked him over curiously. She did not know this man. Not that she was aware of. Perhaps he was involved with a former case, and held a grudge. Maybe, he was put away for awhile and blamed her for his misfortune.
“Come on,” he pushed. “You don’t see any resemblance?” He lifted his chin and tilted his head side to side. What was this guy playing at? Em just scowled in a discerning fashion. Ralph pulled his head back and pursed his lips. He seemed greatly offended by her lack of response.
“Well, you do
favor you mother,” he remarked.
He stood up and straightened his sweater.
“I do apologize for the current condition of your quarters. I know it lacks amenities. I assure you, it’s only a temporary precaution.”
His tone changed as he grabbed the bars that confined her.
“Your mother should never have kept you from me,” he said sternly.
He released the bars and straightened his posture.
“From us,” he corrected.
Em looked up at him in skeptical disbelief.
“You expect me to believe you’re my father? I’m locked in a cell by my father?” Em said sarcastically.
Ralph snickered.
“I am your father, and this is the basement. Anyway, sorry about the bump. I felt it was the only way you would come willingly. You know...considering”
“You got that right,” Em mumbled under her breath.
Ralph turned as she said that and gave a look of betrayal. He grabbed at his throat and pulled a chain from out of his sweater. He walked up to the bars and opened the locket at the end of the gold chain and held it out in front of him.