Nocturnal

by Mark Allen

  “Must be hard,” Castle said, “keeping a secret like that.”

  The vampire turned his head towards Castle. He smiled benevolently. “I am not the only man in this room with a secret.”

  Castle tensed. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.” He took a step forward. “You should tell them.”

  Castle broke out into a nervous sweat. The vampire smelled the sweat mixed with deodorant under his arms.

  “These men are your friends,” the vampire said. They will understand.”

  “What are you talking about?” Horn asked.

  “Oh, it’s nothing bad,” the vampire reassured everyone.

  “If you can read my thoughts, you know I why can’t.”

  “Your fears are understandable,” the vampire cooed gently, “but they are groundless.”

  “Castle, what the hell is this?” Horn demanded.

  “Gotta admit, I’m curious now,” Reggie chimed in.

  Horn and Reggie stared at him. Castle’s tension and unease continued to build, rising to a fever pitch.

  “I already know.”

  “Know what?” Horn demanded, exasperated.

  “And I still know you to be a good and decent man,” the vampire continued, ignoring Horn’s interruption. “I also know you to be a clever cop who pays attention and thinks outside the box.” The vampire shrugged. “See? It has not changed my opinion of you.”

  “Nick, just spit it out, man,” Reggie said. “Trust me, he won’t let up until you do.”

  “I’m gay,” Castle blurted out, a bit too loudly for the room. “I’m gay, all right? You happy now?” he asked the vampire, then looked at his colleagues. “I’m gay, guys. I always have been.” The admission seemed to drain all the energy out of him. He looked as though he might swoon from exhaustion.

  Horn and Reggie, silent, looked at him. Then they looked at each other. The vampire stood aside, silent and aloof. Rudy Valdez lay bound and gaged in his chair, the duct tape adhesive irritating his skin.

  “That’s it?” Reggie said. “That’s your big secret? Dude, I had you figured out ages ago.”

  “Huh?”

  “So you’re gay. Big deal,” Horn shrugged. “Fang Face over there is right. You’re still a good cop. You’re still a good man. And I’ll still go through a door with you.”

  “Anybody in the Department gives you shit about being gay,” Reggie said, “you let me know. I’ll kick their ass.”

  “I’ll stop trying to fix you up with my niece,” Horn promised.

  The vampire walked over to Castle, put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Feel better now?”

  “Yeah, I do, “ Castle answered.

  The vampire stepped back, turned to the room. “For if we must be damned, then let us be damned for who and what we truly are. Agreed, gentlemen?” Both Horn and Rudy nodded in assent.

  “Excellent,” the vampire grinned. And speaking of that...” He walked over to Rudy.

  “I allowed you to live following the Sulu Sea because I sensed you were a brave, but misguided young man. I had hoped to give you pause, make you reconsider your life of crime.”

  Rudy stared up at the vampire, who simply picked up his sunglasses, put them back on. “Sadly, that was not the case.” The vampire moved his arm quickly, hand and fingers extended. No one had time to react. But rather than slice the man’s face or cut his throat, the fingernail of one slender digit ripped the duct tape from Rudy’s mouth with the delicacy of a surgeon’s scalpel.

  Rudy gasped, terrified. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quickly. “I did not understand.”

  “More is the pity.”

  “No. Please. I’ll never do it again.”

  “Too late for that, numb nuts!” Horn hissed.

  Rudy looked pleadingly up at his dark angel. “You gotta help me.”

  “No, young squire,” the vampire shook his head, “I do not.”

  “I’ll never break the law again,” he pleaded. “I’m done. I promise!”

  “I believe you,” the vampire returned truthfully. “But I shall not interfere with man’s justice. You must accept the consequences of your bad deeds.” Rudy’s face froze in disbelief. “Perhaps you will appreciate whatever freedom awaits you when you get out of prison. You will be aged and gray by then, but at least you can have what I never had.”

  “What’s that?” Rudy asked.

  “A rest of your life.” The vampire stepped back, partially blending in with the gloom.

  “I get it now,” Reggie said. “Why you hate criminals so much.”

  The vampire’s body did not move. His head turned, as if on a swivel, to look at his descendant.

  “You see in them that which you despise in yourself.”

  “I see the life that could have been,” the vampire said with an infinite sadness. Every man in the room noticed. “What I could have had with your great great grandmother,” his voice, a wisp of vapor, cracked a bit. He paused to gather himself. “If only I had been a more honorable man.”

  “Wait a minute,” Horn interjected. “A white man and a black woman in the early nineteen hundreds? That was illegal back then. And condemned by both races. You would have gotten your asses kicked.”

  “When you are truly in love, the color of a person’s skin matters not.”

  “Pretty progressive for a guy born a hundred and thirty years ago.”

  “There is only one race, Captain. The human race.”

  Horn considered the vampire’s wisdom, gained over a life of over one hundred and thirty years of bitter experience, pain, and death. Maybe he needed to quit giving his son shit because he was dating a white girl.

  “Let’s get back to business, shall we, gentlemen?” Castle said, stepping forward.

  “Right,” Horn agreed. “Okay, Rudy. Here’s the deal. You’re going to jail no matter what. But how much time you do might be another matter.”

  “You mean I help you, testify and shit, for a reduced sentence?”

  Horn nodded.

  “Hell, man, what do you want to know?”

  Horn smirked. “Honor among thieves.”

  “Captain,” the vampire said, the voice of wisdom, “self-preservation is the most ancient of all human instincts. There is nothing to be gained from mockery.”

  “Point taken.” Horn turned his attention back to Rudy. “What’s going on?”

  Rudy nodded towards Reggie. “It’s all about him.”

  “We already know that.”

  “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “Enlighten us.”

  Rudy spilled the beans. He told them everything. About Vargas retiring, Oakley assuming command, his determination to run the crew like a military unit.

  “A crew run by ex-military types, and run to a high level of efficiency?” Castle summarized. “That’s bad.”

  “That ain’t all.” Rudy told them about the two teams sent out this very evening.

  Reggie’s tension rose immediately. The vampire felt it several feet away.

  “Where did the other team go?”

  “Your grandmother’s house.”

  Reggie bolted forward, eyes afire with rage. His face flashed murderous intent. Arms out in front of him, hands open, he lunged at Rudy.

  “YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

  Horn stepped in front of Reggie, a human brick wall. He grabbed the young detective by the shoulders. Reggie’s forward movement came to an abrupt halt.

  Reggie grabbed his firearm in the small of his back. He brought it out and around Horn, knowing a round was chambered, and flicked the safety off in move smooth motion. What kept him from killing Rudy Valdez that night was Detective Nick Castle, a once closeted and now outed homosexual, a veteran policeman, and brave Latino, stepped into the space between Reggie and Rudy, eliminating any clear line of fire.

  Reggie knew he was outmaneuvered. “Goddammit!” he shouted in frustration as he stepped back.

  “You better pray to God not
hing happens to her,” Horn said over his left shoulder, speaking to Rudy.

  Rudy nodded, then shifted his eyes to Castle. “Gracias, hermano.”

  Castle looked down his nose at Valdez, a withering sneer of utter contempt upon his curled lips. “No estoy su hermano, puta. I didn’t do it for you.”

  Rudy shifted in his chair. “When Mr. Vampire here started taking out my team, I called for backup. The other team barely got on location at Grandma’s house. And they were under orders to conduct surveillance only. They never would have breached the perimeter unless under direct orders.”

  “You keep talking in the past tense,” Castle observed.

  “Where are they now?” Reggie asked.

  “On their way here to save me, of course,” Rudy responded. “Hell, I’m surprised they’re not here yet.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Time ticked towards the dawn. At zero three twenty, a Land Rover, exactly the same in style as the one that sat empty in the alley, slid up to the red light at the intersection. Melvin, sitting in the front passenger seat, quickly scanned the streets, the intersection, the convenience store building. The store was dark except for one light above the door, probably on to illuminate the sidewalk for the CCTV camera attached to the wall.

  Melvin turned his head to his left shoulder, so the men in the back seat could hear. “Reconnoiter.”

  Doors opened, bodies alighted, doors closed without slamming. The men knew their jobs. They scattered, taking different tacks and angles.

  Inside the vehicle, Melvin pointed through the light, which had just turned green. The driver followed the finger, seeing the head of Rudy’s command vehicle at the entrance to the alley. The Land Rover rolled through the empty intersection.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” the driver said. He ran a nervous hand through his wiry red hair.

  “No, it does not,” Melvin confirmed. He looked hard at the alley as they inched along. His mind recorded all he saw, ready for instant recall later if need be.

  “Recon. Report.”

  “Recon One. Man down.”

  “Recon Two. Man down. Disemboweled.”

  “Say again, Recon Two?”

  “I said, disemboweled, sir.

  Melvin and the driver looked at each other, their tension rising. That was not standard procedure for any police department.

  “Recon Three. Man down,” came the next verbal communiqué. “Slaughtered, sir. Like an animal attack, or something.”

  “Recon Two. Two more. Head shot.”

  What the hell was going on here? “Recon One, Two, and Three. Surround the building. Hold positions.” He motioned to the driver. “Let me out.” He opened the door and stepped out as soon as the vehicle got close to the sidewalk. He walked away, weapon ready, muzzle pointed down as the vehicle moved off discreetly, no screeching tires or revving engine.

  Melvin crossed the street, checked the silent vehicle at the alley entrance. Keys dangled in the ignition. Driver’s side window rolled down. No blood. No broken glass. No dented metal. No torn pavement. No pitting from ricocheted bullets. No spent shell casings.

  No obvious signs of struggle inside the vehicle, or immediately outside on the ground. It was like the entire team had been set upon by... ghosts, or something.

  This shit was getting unnerving.

  And what the hell happened to the sniper?

  Melvin looked across the street, and saw a dull light on in the upstairs apartment. He detected no movement. That did not necessarily mean anything. Now where would a sniper set up?

  Melvin’s head turned from the window and arced back to his side of the street, and stopped at a rooftop nearby. That had to be the place. He glanced back into the dark recesses of the alleyway. About ten meters behind the Range Rover, a metal ladder crawled up the side of the brick building, providing access to the roof.

  “All units, I say again, hold position,” Melvin ordered again. Tensions were running high. He could hear it in his men’s voices. “Snoop,” he said, referring to his redheaded driver, so called because he loved listening to Snoop Dog, “I’m going topside.”

  “Roger that,” Snoop responded.

  Melvin stood at the foot of the metal ladder, rusted rungs every twelve inches leading up. The bolts securing the ladder to the building looked loose.

  Just peachy.

  He stepped onto the bottom rung, grabbed the rails with his hands, then shook vigorously, testing the strength of the ladder tie downs. Nothing pulled away from the building. No bricks loosened, no rivets or bolts fell from above. Melvin scampered upwards, moving quickly. He reached the top in seconds and hopped over the ledge onto the roof.

  The mercenary immediately dropped into a low crouch. He brought his weapon up to shooting position scanning for signs of movement. Looking down the sights, past the barrel, nothing seemed out of place. No movement, no incoming fire. Keeping his level of mental alertness high, he stood up, reaching his full height.

  Melvin advanced. Keeping his weapon in firing position, stock pressed firmly into his shoulder, both eyes open looking down the sights and past the barrel that was perfectly parallel to the ground, safety off, trigger finger alongside the trigger guard but not on the trigger itself, he stayed alert, paying attention to his periphery as well as his primary line of sight. Danger could come from any direction; Iraq and Afghanistan had taught him that. He crept quietly, moving in a measured, practiced shuffle, always placing his back foot precisely where his front foot had previously been. His legs never crossed over. Such a move bound up one’s legs and could put one off-balance at a most inopportune moment.

  Pressing his back against a patina, corroded air conditioning unit, Melvin paused, listened. He heard traffic on the distant freeway. He heard a siren to the east, far away. Other than that, nothing. He pushed off the air conditioner and continued his shuffle forward, whipping to his left at the portion of the rooftop he could not before see now came into view.

  And what a view that came into focus.

  Continuing forward, Melvin scanned in all directions, even straight up. He noticed the shattered rifle. Plastic pieces scattered haphazardly, the barrel bent upwards almost ninety degrees. Next thing he saw looked like something out of a Halloween store, a detailed replica of a human hand holding an automatic pistol.

  Melvin paused, gulped. The pistol was real. So was the hand. So was the thick gooey blood that had leaked out at the wrist.

  Melvin glanced farther ahead and saw Razor’s crumpled body, sort of turned away from him. He glanced around, wary of a trap. But he was alone on the roof, so he moved quickly forward, and dropped to a squat beside was had once been a fellow professional. He checked carefully on and around the body, looking for wires or anything else that would make him think Razor’s body had been rigged to blow.

  He found none. Just a nauseating amount of blood. Razor’s entire body was surrounded by it.

  Melvin exhaled, steeling himself what came next. He rested the stock of his weapon on his crouched thigh, barrel pointing skyward. He reached out with his left hand, grabbed the blood-soaked clothing at Razor’s shoulder. Then he pulled, turning Razor towards him.

  Melvin muttered, “Jesus!” as he reflexively recoiled backwards, falling onto his butt. Razor’s half-decapitated head lolled around like the head of a sadistic jack in the box.

  He keyed his mic. “Recon One, Two, and Three. Report.” Each man reported all clear. “Snoop, I’m on my way back down.”

  “Roger,” Snoop responded.

  “All units converge on the stairway up to the cop’s apartment. Let’s get this shit over with.”

  Reggie’s apartment remained dark. Everyone with the exception of Rudy stood, listening.

  “It’s quiet,” Horn whispered, his eyes gazing helplessly about the darkness. “Too quiet.

  Reggie suppressed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “I can’t believe you actually said that.”

  “What?” Horn did not unde
rstand the reference. Reggie did not answer, just kept shaking his head.

  “You see?” Horn barked at the vampire. “This attitude right here. This is why I ride his ass so much.”

  “Your own insecurities make you a fool.” The vampire’s words floated like feathers across the air, yet managed to cut through Horn like a knife.

  “What do I have to be insecure about?”

  “Your wife left you because you put the job before her.”

  “I had to –“

  “You hardly see your children,” the vampire continued. “This job is all you have. But it does not have the luster you hoped. You have paid a price above rubies, and yet you have nothing of any true value to show.

  “But your biggest fear is, what comes next? What life will you lead in retirement? Die an angry, embittered old man, alone and forgotten by everyone who meant anything to you?”

  The vampire’s words had been softly spoken in a staccato, matter-of-fact delivery. He had hissed no venom during his exposition. He had not passed judgment; he had simply given voice to facts. And Horn, bear of a man he was, suddenly appeared very small.

  The vampire turned his head again, then allowed his body to follow. He glided closer to the window. He took off his sunglasses, allowed his eyes to take everything in. Movement across the intersection. More down the street, rolling towards them.

  His hearing kicked in. The faint thudding of footfalls, combat boots with thick rubber soles, contacting the concrete sidewalks below. He started picking up breathing patterns. Then heartbeats.

  Several of them. From multiple directions.

  Then his sense of smell informed him. Even his sense of taste. The smell and taste of sweat on the early morning air. Their sense of grim purpose. Their urgency. Even their tension and creeping fear had a distinctive smell.

  The vampire put his shades back on. Time was becoming a serious factor in his personal equation. But the job was not yet done. The men coming after them were not fools. They had lost comrades at his hands, and they knew they were advancing towards him when every instinct they had was screaming at them to retreat.

  “Saddle up, boys,” the vampire said.

  “What?” Reggie asked.