I slipped into the house, kissed Yvonne’s cheek once, Louie’s twice, whispered “Merci” and left to spend the day and night in the home of my new Fallbrook friends before returning to Claremont to face the music - and the musician.
Chapter 18
Henna
Christina left early so I took a cup of breakfast tea and blanket to the lounge chair out back. The welcome sound of rain had awakened me and I wanted to be closer to it. Hot beverages are hot and the tea burned my lips like it was supposed to. No blowing to cool the slurpy sips. And no wind, no voices, no sounds that weren't wet.
I love the patter of rain on the dirt, especially when I’m tucked up cozy myself. Rain is energizing when it falls like this, straight down and steady. Wild seeds working unseen, songs sprouting in the heads of those who can hear - like me. And for days, no spooky sense of stalking. All dreamy clean and inspirational. I lay back and played with new lyrics in my head.
Nothing lasts forever and eventually I gathered myself, debating the liquid settled in the bottom of the cup. Then doorbell chimes interrupted the plurp-splat of cold tea on dirt. Just after 9:00. Maybe a package delivery for Christina.
Two men stood on the stoop, one in a brown suit the other in Claremont Police uniform, both holding IDs. Their faces were serious and I had a sudden twinge of uncertainty.
“Good morning. I’m Detective Morris and this is Officer Hall. We’re looking for Henna Landau.”
“I’m Henna Landau.” I glanced over the IDs. “What’s wrong? Is it my cousin?” Thoughts of car accidents ranged through my head.
“No, ma’am. We're here to talk to you, specifically. May we come in?”
This was a first for me, police at my door. But they had ID, so …. “Um, yes. We can sit in the living room.” I tried for calm but my insides were jumping.
The police officer stood looking at something in his hands. I took the hassock and focused on Detective Morris, who sat heavily on one end of the couch.
“Miss Landau, our conversation is being recorded by Officer Hall.”
“All right, I guess. Should that bother me?”
“Absolutely not. This is a fact finding visit to tie up loose ends. Recently you lived in Venice Beach and I need to ask about your roommate, Lucinda Solorzano.”
Anxiety rose and I started to babble. “Luci? Yes, I lived with her for a couple of months. Then she left. Didn’t come home, I mean. I got worried and called her brother. He hadn't seen her and neither had any of her friends, even though they hung around and slept over all the time. It was her apartment and I finally had to move out.” I stopped, still jumpy and blinking too much.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Solorzano gave us your name as her last roommate.”
I looked at the policeman. “But that wasn’t here in Claremont. Her brother lives in Brea.”
“Officer Hall is with Claremont PD. He's here as a courtesy. Could you tell us, when was the last time you saw Luci?”
“Um, about three weeks ago.” I squeezed my hands together. “I'm a musician and that night she walked with me to the club where I sang. She stayed for my first set. I didn't see when she left.” I gave him the address of the club and the manager's name.
“Did she have any boyfriend trouble or maybe family trouble?”
“As far as I know everything was fine.”
“Yet you were worried.”
“Not exactly. I mean, she meets guys and - you know.” I looked back and forth at the men. Serious faces, probably wanting more from me. “It's just that the rent was due. I thought she maybe met someone and went with him for a few days or something. Then I called her work and found out she was laid off almost a month ago and never told me. I was afraid she decided to skip out on the rent, except all of her clothes and things were still in the apartment. That’s when I phoned her brother and told him I was moving. I was concerned sure, but I wanted to leave. And I did, that very day.”
The Detective nodded. “Is there any other reason you left?”
My sense of being followed? How could I tell them about that? I sat up straight. “Detective, this is my cousin's house. I got a job in Claremont and she invited me to live with her, so I moved here. Please, what's happened? Has anyone heard from Luci?”
Officer Hall spoke gently as he dropped a boulder into my life. “Lucinda Solorzano is dead, ma'am. I'm sorry.”
Luci is dead. I felt numb. By the clock it was another hour before they left. By my feelings, it was scant seconds and it was forever. Luci was not a close friend, but I liked her enough to move in. We shared an apartment, shared food and magazines and soap. I watched her TV, ate from her dishes and washed her clothes with mine. I met all those people that hung out all day and slept on the floor and used up the toilet paper and drank my juice. Luci listened to me gripe about them and I listened to her choose them over me every time. Going somewhere was okay. People take off sometimes. It happens. But dead?
More questions, automatic answers, nothing helped them and nothing helped me. I did learn what I suspected and didn't want to hear - it was homicide - and I was about to tell them about the stalking and give them the name Brecken. Detective Morris stopped me with his wonderful, saving words.
“We've arrested and charged two men with the murder, so you can be at ease about that.” They were gathering background on the men. They told me the names, showed me pictures and asked me if I knew them or heard Luci mention their names. No to both questions and shortly after it was over.
The Detective handed me a card. “Thank you, Miss Landau. If you think of anything else, anything at all, please call.”
I should have cried for Luci, but tears wouldn't come. I knew it was probably a form of denial, although I learned young not to cry much; it helps nothing and makes me feel worse. For sure I was in a stage of shock. Who wouldn't be? Soon enough the truth would sink in and tears might take over. But right now all I could think of was the good part. And there was something really good - for me, that is.
They had caught the men and neither of them lived in Claremont. Neither of them was Brecken, so maybe I wasn't followed here after all. That meant I could resume a normal life. I could go out jogging at dawn and feel safe when I left the Tavern at night. I could look at the people around me and let myself get to know them. Make a friend or two. And I could start all of that today.
It was horrible about Luci and I felt terrible for her family, but also relieved and free, which made me feel really guilty. But there was nothing I could do. The men were caught and I didn't know her brother and her parents were somewhere in Mexico so I couldn't even call them to give condolences. I lowered my head to say a prayer for her and the tears did come, but I wiped my cheeks and steeled myself against horror and loss.
Activity was better than tears. If I hurried, there was just enough time before work. Twenty minutes later I was dressed and driving through the blessed rain to try out the exotic coffees at that small place with the patio in the Village.
Chapter 19
Brecken
Home from Canyon Lake at 3 am, mail in, litter boxes out, surly cats feigning starvation - as though animals haven't always lived with feast or famine. One hooked my sleeve with a swatted paw. When the other spun to bite, I let him. How could I not accept his feline nature when I, too, bite the hand that feeds me.
Three feet in front of the cushioned swing on Amie's porch, rain poured down in waterfall sheets, the overflow gushing with a rhythmic gurgle, a relaxing, melodic song trapped in the slanting gutters of the roof. I was dry on the large, wrap around porch, but could have stood soggy under heaven's cascade and been as pleased.
Most people were in bed at this hour, lost in the luxury of dreamscapes - which sounded about perfect to me. I jumped from the porch, squished across the soggy grass then fell to it's soft freshness. Wet? Yes. And? We all get wet every day. Besides, it reminded me of the house across from Henna's window and no one around here was awake to see.
Feigning drunk, I lay on th
e grass and laughed at my pitiful wit. Like a besotted fop I had staggered through Amie's house, taunting the pussy cats. Amusing myself. Celebration on all sides. Novel finished on Louie's computer and sent off to my agent. Happy tummy, full powers restored. Drunk with drinking, I opened my mouth to the rain.
No buzz from Henna pressured me, but she was up the hill, all right. No urge to scratch though. No sizzling tension. Uncanny what a proper diet will do for a besieged vamp. The sulking kitties had pounced in pleasure when I passed up the cat food and opened a tin of pure albacore. Now I rolled on the grass, my own pleasure released like the torrents falling from the sky for the second day in a row.
Expecting discomfort, I had balked at coming home. I do feel her pull. I most assuredly do. Not irrationally affected, thank God. Twitchy and irritable? Naa, more like giddy. Succulent human blood. That says it all.
I brushed my hand through the lush grass. Who could have guessed human blood was the answer. I opened Sherry’s tender flesh and drank because of anger and frustration. My senses reeled in the glory of drinking. Perhaps Louie is right and we are not meant to survive on anything except that which is as human as we. Animals, he believes, are a futile, albeit noble experiment. Nevertheless, I hated to let the experiment slip away forever - and abhorred the feeling of superiority that infests my soul when I drink from people. I hold lives between my teeth and take but a few swallows, thereby choosing for them not death, but life. Power, indeed. Of the highest sort.
How obscene to have such power. More obscene to use it. Yet, I have no plans to climb back on the diet wagon.
I absolutely will, of course. I opened my lips wide.
I suppose. The rain filled my mouth.
After I’ve dealt with Henna.
But I’m walking blind, with regard to her. The hours of spying, the breakin and emails. None of it has offered up a solid detail. Louie's idea though, is a good one.
I swallowed and rolled to my side and stroked my palm across the upright tips of supple grass. Could I imagine it was the hair on her arm? A waking dreamland? Why not? I ran my fingers into the drip, seeking through green stems, deeper, thicker, until I reached the base of her neck, felt the luxurious hair twist in my hand. Henna, we have a plan for you.
Louie is clever. Louie understands. Let me tell you a secret, Henna, that I've told no one. Let me tell you truths about my friend, Louie.
More than brother, I whispered dreamily to the grassy image of Henna. Louie, the one person I love, is a genuine predator, protective and lethal. He takes no punches, doesn't back off. When he senses personal danger, he seizes and destroys it. I have seen him. He did it once to me."
“Years ago in Amsterdam I was cornered, so to speak. By Louie. There was a woman, Sonja, whom I grabbed one night, ravenous and mad for blood. I didn’t know Louie then, didn’t sense the woman was already taken. Well, I was rather new at all that, which is the basic reason he let me live. In fact, having killed me, by some quirk I only understood later, he reached to save me.”
“I should have died, Henna, slashed and broken as I was, my body so emptied of blood that I couldn’t heal myself. He had struck hard and my efforts to defend were futile. If the human of us dies, the protecting vampire is left with nothing to hold on to, so I fought against him. Do you understand, Henna? No match for his strength and guile, overwhelmed by the fury he lashed upon me. Finished with me, he threw me into the wide canal where I drifted powerless in the murky water, feeling consciousness dim. And life and everything there was of me began to slip away.”
Damage from the swift attack was so great and I had bled so copiously that every effort to sustain my body failed. I needed blood badly and could not gather myself out of the canal to search for it. I was bleeding and fading and aware of both.
“Henna, listen to me. Can you see it? That far off summer in Amsterdam. Ultimate truth. That night was dark and still and I was emptying into it.”
Then what? Mmm - and then comes conjecture. Nothing certain, only what must be true.
I didn’t feel myself pulled from the water. I felt nothing. Then a sudden burning on my tongue, a convulsive swallow of fluid so sickly sweet as to make me nearly gag. Instead I swallowed again and awareness heaved in me with the speed of a viper. I grabbed at the wrist held over my mouth and sucked the vile sweetness deep into myself.
Louie leaned over me, a curious, satisfied smile on his handsome face and I pulled his arm away. “Why?” I croaked. “You pulled me out. Why?”
“Sonja has a very sweet heart and she asked me to.”
“Who is Sonja? And you?”
“The woman you tried to take. She is mine. I am Louie.” His voice hardened. “Be glad that you are such a clumsy oaf and she remains unharmed. As are you. I got you in time.”
“But why the bloody hell did you?”
“Sonja thinks I need a friend, someone young, like you. If it does not work out I will kill you after all, of course. But you are obviously starving, so I admit to understanding the attack. I was exactly like that once, taking anyone, even the property of others. Utterly imbecilic. Boorish, impolite, careless. You will have to learn discernment, vampire.”
The self inflicted slit in his flesh had closed, but I couldn’t pull my eyes from it. I craved more from his wrist - and I wanted to gag and spit. “Your blood tastes revolting.”
“As would yours to me. But it saved you, so a little gratitude is in order.”
“Gratitude? You are the one who was killing me!”
“And maybe I was wrong to fish you out. Still time to amend that, you know. The canal is right here, waiting. You want it?”
I turned my gaze to the healed slash, answering with silence.
“What do you call yourself” he asked brusquely. “Where do you hail from?”
“I am called Brecken. I do not come from anywhere.”
“You haven't been in this city for very long.”
My eyes went to his elegant clothes, up to his stern face, his dark lashes. “No time at all.”
He frowned. “Why Amsterdam?”
“France is not a good place for me.”
His voice was scornful. “You, sir, are not French.”
“Scot, though I was vamped in London. Someone’s idea of fun.”
He waved my comments away. “Forget Scotland. Forget London. You are here now and with me. Unless you prefer the canal. Do you wish to die?” He was serious.
“Why would I wish to die?”
“Some of us do.” His tone seemed nonchalant. “They cannot learn how to enjoy the gift they were given. Have you money?”
“Nothing.”
“I do.” He snorted then turned threatening. “Here’s your choice. Come with me, or I will bleed you again. Stamp on you like an ant and skip off whistling. You cannot win against me so those are your only two choices.”
I was confused, scrabbling for understanding, but I tried to act strong. And courteous, because underneath, I feared him. “No canal, if you please. Where are you taking me?”
“To find you blood. After that, my home. I am not convinced that saving you was a good idea, but Sonja is right that a friend would be nice.”
He was discussing me like I was a spare cloak or a stray mongrel. I wanted the blood, but could not stop from flipping my arm in vulgar disagreement.
He ignored the crude gesture. “I have not had a vampire as a friend. However, I know some who have and it works for them. Are you intelligent?”
“Intelligent?”
“Educated. Clever.” He suddenly sneered. “So then, perhaps not.”
But the question caught my attention as all the others had not. “No costly tutors nor formal schooling, but I read and know considerably more than most.”
“Formal schooling? Plenty of time for that. You need the basic brains. If you have them as you think you do, then I thank God.”
“God?”
“Mmm, the Creator of all, even us. The one who began the whole process.”
>
I watched him, still wary. “And if I were not intelligent?”
“Waste of time.” He was impatient, his manner curt. “I do not need a friend I cannot talk to. Stop looking at me like that and get up. You need blood and will not be drinking any more of me.”
Scoffing at my disgusted look, he walked away. I lurched to my feet and followed. For years, I followed. And I grew to value him, loved his mind and way of life.
Do you understand what I’m saying, Henna? A killer vampire - me, who loved nobody and never had - grew to love Louie.
We became equals, brothers. We hunted and drank and too often killed, but with the inexorable passage of time, I changed. And no longer killed. At least not often. Because of the sun and because of Sonja.
Her soul remained young, but Sonja got older, never once regretting her choice to be with Louie. He cared for her even as she aged. She had a special ability to love, had Sonja, and I learned from the two of them how to be kind, how to care and how to suffer through that ultimate, forever goodbye.
We mounded her grave with the glorious poppies of Holland.
I lay on Amie's front lawn, raindrops splashing on eyes that were looking at poppies. But my mind felt the ghostly Henna at my side and I willed dreamland to linger.
My decision to drink from animals was hard and not many years ago. I mixed humans in at first, and then weaned myself, believing that bland would suffice and that core survival was what mattered, not enjoyment. The reason was philosophical rather than a matter of right and wrong. I like people, admire them, and hated to use them, even as I loved to.
Louie joined me in the switch to animals, rather as a novelty - then went back to people, females preferred although anyone would do. He neither lauded my choice nor condemned it, but he for sure didn’t believe it was realistic.
I closed my eyes and whispered. “But Henna, it seemed to be realistic - until you showed up.” I turned on my side and licked across the wet grass. Tightened my lips and sucked rain drops from the short stalks. Pretended the stalks were fine hairs on Henna's tummy. “Henna,” I said. “Enigma. Magnet. Soon my plaything, my experiment. Unknown, enticing Henna.”
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