by Unknown
“I’m coming,” I called out. “We’re almost full up. Hope you’re here to pick up instead of deliver.”
“Oh, I’m here to pick up, all right,” was the only answer I got before I was bathed in total darkness. Skidding to a halt, I barely missed hitting the doorframe of the file room. Goose bumps rose all over my body, not from the lack of light, (super sight, remember?) but from the utter creepiness of the voice that had called out to me. There was something familiar about it. I’d heard it before, maybe not with the ‘Phantom of the Opera’ vibe he was giving off in that moment, but I knew that voice. Ducking behind the huge row of industrial-sized filing cabinets, I reached for my cell phone. Dammit! I wasn’t wearing my lab coat and yoga pants don’t have pockets, therefore my phone was most likely sitting amidst the pile of evidence I’d left spread all over my office floor.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m a vamp and I have super strength and I should be confronting whoever has dared enter my domain. First of all, domain? Really? I’m not Count Dracula or even the count from Sesame Street. Secondly, I’m a geek. A doctor. An intellectual with no discernable defensive skills whatsoever. Hell, Fate didn’t even think I could handle fangs, and who am I to fight with that powerful entity? God bless my boyfriend. He’d tried. Even had female officers attempt to teach me self-defense, thinking that the key to turning me into a lean mean fighting machine (Stop laughing! I know lean and mean are not two adjectives you’d associate with me, but I’m stressed and my advanced vocabulary is failing me at the moment.) would come from someone of my own gender. To say it was an epic fail would be an understatement.
Lastly, and most importantly, what if the man who most definitely had nefarious intentions, was also a vamp? With fangs? And could do more than swing wildly while screaming at the top of his lungs? Over the years I’d been with Bobby, he’d taught me how to know if a person was a vamp or not. There was a test for every one of my five senses. The sad thing was I’d only ever used three of the five, and if push came to shove, it was really only visual confirmation that worked for me. (What can I say, not a lot of vamps come through the morgue. That whole dissolving into a cloud of dust when your head is removed alleviates the need for an autopsy.) Needless to say, I wasn’t running headlong into what my spidey senses were screaming was danger just so I can say ‘Ha! You are a vamp!’
The sounds of his shoes hitting concrete alerted me to the fact that he had reached the main exam area. Stone allowed us to hose it out after every autopsy. It was something I hadn’t been thankful for until that moment, not because of its efficiency, but because it gave me a way to track his progress through the morgue. Then came that voice again. Shivers skittered up and down my spine. “Aw, come on, Vidalia. Come out and see me.”
I was right! He was here for me. It wasn’t that I’d ever doubted that fact, it was more that I’d hoped he’d somehow gotten his wires crossed and was looking for someone else. I know it was farfetched, but doggone it, I was grasping at straws! Give a girl a break.
The longer I cowered in the darkness, the angrier I got…at myself, not at the man presently stalking me in my very own place of employment. It was just humiliating to think that if he actually found me, I could meet my demise on my knees, in the dark, wearing yoga pants, sporting a ponytail, and without a lick of lipstick. (It was not befitting the heiress of Georgia’s Onion Empire. I mean really!)
Trying to decide how to get out of the file room, find a weapon of some sort, (wish I’d taken Daddy up on that revolver and those shooting lessons) and sneak up on the creep in the other room, I pouted. He called out again, and had it not been for my quick reflexes, he would’ve heard my squeak of surprise. As it was, I’d slapped my hand over my mouth so hard I knew I was gonna have swollen lips for a few hours.
“Wanna play hide and seek I see, my love? Far be it for me to stop your fun. I know I’ve had mine. Should I count?” There was a pause and then, “One…”
Frustration made me want to pace, to scream, to lose my religion. Who the hell was it? Why couldn’t I place his voice?
“Two…”
The son of a bitch was taunting me. He was playing some sick, homicidal game, and I was the prize. Knowing he would be continuing his count any second, I took a deep breath, let it our very slowly, closed my eyes, and focused.
I heard, “Three…” just as the pieces of the puzzle I’d been trying to solve came together. I don’t know if it was that one-second of absolute calm and focus, or just the fact that it had stewed long enough to come to boil, but whatever it was, the thing that had been driving me crazy slid into place with glaring clarity.
It was the names! The names of the men each of the ladies had been introduced to and subsequently met days or weeks before their deaths. My almost photographic memory replayed their names in order…Vincent Kincade, Victor Knight, Vance Kachimar, Vernon Kagel, Vaughn Kanaris, and Val Kamps. Every stinkin’ one of them had the same initials. There was no way that could be a coincidence. I wanted to kick myself for not seeing it sooner.
“Four…” Sounded from what I was pretty sure was the beginning of the hallway right off the wall of cold chambers. The sound of his voice triggered a slide show of the photos family members, friends, and even one matchmaking service had sent to each of the women. My mind was so focused at this point that it took less than a second for me to zero in on the one undeniable similarity…their eyes! They were all the same. Even with colored contacts, glasses, squinting, and one sporting a baseball cap, there was no hiding it…they were all the same man!
Oh, the son of a bitch had done his best to camouflage his appearance, but facial reconstruction is one of my fortes and the shape of the eyes is the single most important feature to getting it right. In that moment I could’ve kissed Professor Hawkins for the three-week lab practical on eyes. Had it not been for that, I might’ve missed it.
“Five…” My ever-present intruder called out. He was getting closer. I had to do something. It was time to take a stand. Now that I knew the key to solving the murders, I had to get the hell outta dodge and call Bobby. Whoever this idiot was and whatever he wanted with me would have to wait. We had to get this killer before he struck again.
Crawling to the farthest cabinet, I painstakingly opened the bottom drawer, careful not to let it squeak. Reaching in, I prayed to God the mini fire extinguisher Reggie had ordered by mistake was still in there. My hand closed over the cold, aluminum canister and I didn’t even try to stop the nervous grin that crossed my face. All the chemistry classes I’d taken told me the pressurized nitrogen was so cold it would burn his skin everywhere it touched and make it hard for him to breathe, especially if I get it right in his face.
“Six… I’m only gonna count to ten, my sweet. I’ve waited so long for us to be together, I’m not sure I can stand the anticipation a moment longer than I have to.”
His statement made my skin crawl, but it also spurred me into action. Holding the extinguisher to my chest, I scooted to the door, using the tall, thin filing cabinet just inside the room as cover. Poking my head around the cover and pulling it back just as quickly, I tried to get a glimpse of my ‘admirer’. After three attempts I figured out that wasn’t gonna work. I was gonna have to fly blind. I thought of a turtle popping its head in and out and almost laughed out loud. (Give a girl a break. I was freaking the hell out. It was laugh or cry and I damned sure didn’t have time for runny mascara.)
“Seven…” His footsteps hit the ceramic tile of the hall where I was presently squatting while trying to come up with a plan.
I took another deep breath and stood, clutching the canister to my chest like a life preserver. I’d already pulled the pin and had the hose in one hand. I would have to write a letter of praise to the person that put the trigger on the hose. I know they meant for someone to be able to put a small fire out with one hand, but taking out my would-be attacker in the same fashion was more important to me. Hey, a life saved is a life saved, and I
liked my head on my shoulders. My super speed and the element of surprise, along with my handy dandy fire extinguisher, were going to save my undead life. (I said it over and over in my head so it had to be true, right?)
“Eight…” The butthead was still counting and I could tell he was just over ten feet from where I stood. It was a now or never situation and I was going for it.
Taking three steps back, I got a running start and flew (yes, I flew. This is my story dammit) out the door to the right, using my slipping and sliding socks to propel me around the corner and head me towards the main exam room. If I could just make it there, I would be able to get to my office, lock myself in, and call the Calvary, aka my boyfriend.
“What the f….?” echoed behind me, closely followed by a chuckled, “So, milady wants to add a game of catch to our fun. Beautiful.”
It was the only warning I got before finding myself flying through the air, headlong into the thick, metal side of the cold chambers. Closing my eyes, I tried to tuck and roll and do whatever I could to keep my skull from smacking the unforgiving surface. To my shock, the impact never came. Instead, I found my back smashed to my attacker’s front, held in place by two arms whose lack of muscle tone served as the perfect disguise for their incredible strength. The jerk had taken my fire extinguisher, the sound of it hitting the floor a reminder that I was trapped like a rat.
“Now I have you and I’m never letting you go,” my captor whispered in my ear. At the risk of making y’all a little queasy, I’ll admit that I threw up just a little in my mouth. I’m not sure if it was the concentration it took to not toss my cookies all over myself and the jerk holding me, or the copious amounts of adrenalin running through my body, but whatever it was, I immediately knew who the asshole trying to stop my almost non-beating heart was.
“Virgil Kackley? From the blood bank? What the hell?”
“And she gets it in one,” he responded, heading through the exam room towards my office. “I knew our love was meant to be. You recognize me from just my voice.”
Now, I should’ve thought about one fact way sooner than I did, but I was kinda busy wondering what the wacko nerd boy from the blood bank had planned for me. But when I did wonder how he was seeing in the dark, it happened at the same time that I saw what could only be described as a torture device. I barely recognized the utilitarian wheelchair from the back of one of our ambulances. Virgil had added thick leather shackles where my wrists and ankles would be when I was sitting in the chair. They were lined with what I had to guess was silver, since it was the only metal vampires were deathly allergic to. There were also five separate lengths of silver chain, one where my neck would be and two on each side that would wrap around my torso. Thankfully, death wouldn’t happen instantaneously. It took prolonged exposure, but I was already thinking of how to avoid getting strapped into the wheeled death trap.
Oh! Back to my original thought…Virgil is a vampire! The signs were all there. He could see in the dark…check. He had super strength…check. He knew our most significant weakness…check. Son of a bitch! How had I missed that? He came to the morgue at least twice a week and not once had I ever gotten the sense that he was of the fanged species.
“Let me get you on your ‘throne’ and then we can talk.”
In the blink of an eye, I was thrown in the wheelchair, shackled, chained, and effectively immobilized, all before I barely registered any movement at all, and that’s saying something. I’ve been a vampire for almost nine years, and although running is something I reserve for the semi-annual sale at Macy’s, I will tell you that, as one of our kind gets older, their enhanced abilities grow. I learned this from my almost hundred year old boyfriend. The first time he undressed me in two seconds flat, I experienced the truth of this phenomena and have enjoyed it immensely over our years together.
Anyway… (I digress. That sexy detective does it to me every time.)
“How did you…?” I kinda asked.
Looking very pleased with himself, Virgil adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses and explained, “From the moment I saw you I knew we were meant to be together. You’re beautiful, intelligent, witty, and have a great sense of humor. (Awesome! The crazy guy thinks I’m cool. Woohoo!) I tried everything I could to get you to notice me, but nothing worked. I knew if you gave me a chance you would see what I do – that we would make a great team. I always wondered why you would need blood at the morgue. I know you and Reggie explained that you used it for testing, an almost plausible explanation since you only used about a bag a day, but something about it didn’t set with me. That’s when I started to follow you. It took careful planning, and more than once you were with that doofus detective, which meant I had to back off.
“One night, I’m sure you’ll remember it, a thug tried to steal your bag. I was running to your rescue when you hauled off and flat-hand punched him right in the chest. The guy flew backward into the alley, and in the blink of an eye, you were gone. I looked all over, but you had simply disappeared, or so I thought. I spent the next five nights watching everything you did at work, at home, with your (cough then groan) boyfriend, and finally, my persistence paid off.
“Y’all were walking home from dinner and took a detour through the park. Boy Wonder obviously wanted to impress you. When he took you in his arms and jumped onto one of the top branches of Ole Oaky just to serenade you my mind was blown. It was that singular event that made me spend several weeks researching just what the hell y’all were.
“I finally took a vacation to a sweat lodge on the Navajo Reservation in New Mexico. All the books said they were highly spiritual and believed in the supernatural. Three days in that tent surrounded by the oldest and wisest of their tribe, gave me the answers I needed. I took off to the mountains with only my spirit guide. Night after night, I prayed for the akágí yitsʼǫǫsii, or Blood Sucking Spirit, to bestow his powers upon me. By all accounts, he could make me like you; make me the man I needed to be to win your heart.
“Just when I’d given up hope and was heading down the mountain, a thunderstorm of monumental proportions came out of nowhere. I was struck by lightning and thrown in a cave. Broken and bleeding, floating in and out of consciousness, hovering at death’s door, the akágí yitsʼǫǫsii fed me from his own vein and bestowed the gift of his heritage and strength upon me. I had everything I needed to make you mine.
“Not even stopping at the Reservation to collect my things, I flew straight home and began to plan. I knew that whatever I did to win you over would have to be a grand gesture. It would have to cater to your amazing intellect. Any man can tell you you’re beautiful and send you flowers or sing you a song, but I was going to make a lasting impression, one that would show not only you, but also the whole world the depth of my love for you.
“That’s when I came up with the idea of a scavenger hunt, but it couldn’t be just any scavenger hunt, it had to be just for you…”
My cell phone binged that I had a text message, which thankfully shut crazy boy up. While he went to check my phone, which any other time I would’ve been pissed about but in that case, I thanked God for the momentary silence, I took my first real breath since being captured. I was sure if Virgil went on any longer I was going to beg him to kill me. I just knew my ears were bleeding, not to mention lethargy from the silver was settling into my bones.
Now, here is where you get to say ‘bad Vidalia’…bad, bad vampire. because I should’ve been using the time Virgil was rambling on to think about why he was taking the time to tell me the story in the morgue. Why he wasn’t hurrying to get me to his secret lair. Why I was strapped to a chair when he had the power of a millennia old blood sucking spirit and could obviously subdue me without all the theatrics. Yeah, I should’ve been asking all those questions and a shitload more, but I was thinking about how I might never see Bobby again and how stupid I’d been not to realize Virgil freaking Kackley had a crush on me. I immediately forgot about the text message and began to internally freak out.
/> Wait! Virgil Kackley…V.K. Holy crap! My eyes flew to the rolling bulletin board where all six pictures of the victims hung, just as I’d left them. Then I looked at the mess of papers strewn all over the floor and saw the one with all the names of the men those ladies had met prior to their deaths, verifying what I’d already solved. Each man’s initials were V.K. The last piece of the puzzle clicked into place just as Virgil walked out from behind my desk and took his place in front of me.
“Son of a bi…”
Clapping and hopping on his toes like an idiot, Virgil squealed. (Yes, I said squealed. Yes, I was embarrassed for him.) “You figured it out. I knew you would. You are the smartest woman I’ve ever met, a true match for me.” Kneeling in front of me and kissing the back of both my hands, (YUCK!) he continued, “I knew it was the perfect way to declare my intentions to you. Wasn’t the ‘V’ on their most intimate body part spectacular? It was my promise to you of all the nights we will consummate our love. Virgil and Vidalia forever. All that’s left is getting your parent’s blessing and we’ll live happily ever after.”
(Remember when I threw up in my mouth before? The score is now two for that bodily function.)
It took a few seconds for me to digest everything I’d just figured out, along with everything the whackadooo kneeling before me had said. It was absolutely horrifying. I was so sad to know I had, no matter how inadvertently, played a part in taking the lives of six amazing women.
The only way I could even begin to make it right was to make sure somehow, some way, someone caught the lunatic that thought he loved me and chopped his head off. (I was assuming that’s how you kill an akágí yitsʼǫǫsii, but you know what they say about assuming.) I had to get proof. Moving to the left in my seat to keep my butt from falling asleep, I remembered the overhead recording in the main exam room, and more importantly, the fact that Reggie had changed the ‘begin recording’ vocal command to ‘hit it baby’. The day he’d done that I wanted to ring his neck, but all I wanted to do at that moment was hug him and pledge my undying fealty to his constant need to play practical jokes on me. All I needed to do was get Virgil the Dipshit to wheel me out there.