Shrouds of Darkness

by Brock Deskins

  My head is nodding along with Raj’s explanation. “That’s exactly what I thought. Thanks, Raj.”

  “Damn it, Leo, what’s going on?” Katherine demands to know.

  I explain the difference in the hair samples to her.

  “So what does that all mean?”

  I run my hand through my hair as I try to put it all together. She’s right, I do need a haircut.

  “Ok, your dad was jumped by three guys with questionably reputations and even less intelligence but it wasn’t random. Someone put them onto Martin but declined to provide them with a critical piece of information that I am positive the leaders of this conspiracy were aware of. These people wanted your dad to shift and tear those idiots apart.”

  “But why, and why my dad?”

  “It’s like the weres at the bar said; your dad isn’t much of a werewolf. They needed to catch a werewolf alive after he killed some people to give the crime scene some legitimacy. Can you imagine trying to catch a werewolf like Meat or some other monster while he is in a blood rage? There would be way too much collateral damage and too much interest in finding him. Your dad kept himself apart from the pack and so was not considered one of them. That puts his disappearance at a low priority as far as the wolves are concerned. Now someone else is killing people and making it look like it is more werewolf attacks by leaving Martin’s hair at the scene.”

  Katherine’s eyes are shining with excitement and she squeezed my hand tightly wither own. “That’s good right? It means my dad is not killing people!”

  “No, it’s not good, not good for anyone.”

  “But it means he hasn’t lost control and is killing people.”

  “It means that someone has him and all signs are pointing towards vampire involvement. Outside the pack or not, he’s still kin and if the weres get wind of it there will be a war. I have a guy that says he saw several vampires load Martin into a van, and worse yet he thought they were sheriffs.”

  “Oh God. But why would someone do this, especially the sheriffs? Do you think my father is still alive?” Katherine fearfully asks as the full weight of the situation becomes clear.

  “It could just be some people that want us to believe they were sheriffs. I have no evidence supporting that theory. These things are always about money, power, or both. I can’t see any kind of revenge angle so money and or power is almost a certainty although I have yet to see how. I would bet money Martin is still alive. They’ll want to keep him alive until it’s time for the ‘murderer’ to turn up. That means I need to find him before that happens.”

  She looks up at me, eyes full of concern and asks, “How are you going to do that?”

  “I have a guy getting me some names. As soon as he gets those, I’m going to start stepping on some toes and see who yells the loudest.”

  Katherine nods then catches me completely off guard as she embraces me tightly. “Please be careful, Leo.”

  “Not being careful has worked out for me pretty well so far,” I reply jokingly, hoping to diffuse the emotional bomb that has been set at my feet.

  I think I succeed as she unwraps her arms from my body but then the bomb goes off as she pulls my head down and kisses me fully and deeply. I don’t return the kiss, thinking she is emotionally compromised by the change in her father’s situation, but she is unrelenting and my own resistance evaporates like a shallow puddle under the blazing sun.

  Her passion is raw and demanding. In that kiss, she releases a sea of pent up emotions that overwhelm the walls I have spent decades erecting. I return her kiss, tentatively at first then with a passion that matches her own.

  In moments, our clothes are scattered about the floor and I am so lost in our ardor that I am completely unaware of when or how that transition came about. The flames of her passion burn so bright that it illuminates the black recesses of my heart, a heart that is shrouded in darkness so completely that I never thought it would ever see light again.

  Our lovemaking is equally as zealous and almost animalistic in its aggressiveness. We roll about the floor, embracing, kissing, scratching, and biting. I can tell she is holding nothing back, releasing the animal side of her being that she works so hard to control and deny every bit as much as I am embracing the humanity that exists within myself that I have denied for so long.

  After what seems an eternity that ends far too soon, we lay in an embrace on my bed that is little more than a cot. Now that our zeal has abated, I am rebuking myself for getting involved with a client.

  “You were very resistant at first,” Katherine says, breaking the silence and my own thoughts. “Are you not that attracted to me?”

  “No, it’s just that it’s been a long time and you being a client and all.”

  “How long has it been for you?”

  “What is this, March?” I ask as I do a mental count. “Fifteen years four months, give or take a few weeks.”

  “Why so long?”

  “It’s complicated. After a while, it just didn’t seem that important. Believe it or not, some people find me unapproachable. If you really want to know, you should talk to my shrink. He seems to have a bunch of opinions on the subject. But that begs the question: why do like me?”

  “I find your brutal honesty refreshing. I’m a lawyer and I work with nothing but lawyers, criminals, and politicians all day long. I have known you a lot longer than you think. I have read your file many times and followed some of your cases. This is not something I did without a lot of thought. Leo, I hope you don’t think this is something I do often or on a whim.”

  “I just hope you don’t expect any sort of discount when it comes time to pay my bill.”

  She punches me in the chest several times. “You are such an ass, Leo Malone!”

  “I’m sorry. That fact is usually well established the first time people meet me. I must be slipping or you are the queen of obliviousness.”

  “Go ahead and keep being a shit head. It’s one of the reasons I am attracted to you—no pretensions. And I’m not some emotionally weak little girl you can scare off with your rotten attitude to keep yourself all nice and safe and alone. Shit head,” she finishes and gives me anther hard punch in the shoulder before snuggling deeper against me.

  I stay awake pondering the full implications of what is happening. It doesn’t take long for the pressing warmth of her body against mine to lull me into a slumber. It feels so natural, so human that I don’t even fight it.

  The keening of distraught children wakes me from my sleep. It is dark but I can see everything clearly. Pressed against the far wall of the hut are nearly a dozen children all shrilly screaming, many covered in the blood of the adults that tried futilely to protect them. The last remaining adult is barely past girlhood herself.

  She is cursing me in the rapid chatter of her native Vietnamese. I have spent years in this country but I have only a passing comprehension. She calls me rừng quỷ, or jungle demon, and renounces me. Her terror is replaced by rage as she comprehends her imminent death and she spits in my face.

  I wrap my hands around her tiny throat and lift her from the ground yet she continues to curse me and claws at the exposed flesh of my arms then begins to plunge a small knife into my forearms.

  I laugh at the futility of her struggles but my laughter is cut off as I watch her face begin to shift and transform. Her long, black hair turns a golden blond and her almond-shaped brown eyes enlarge and take on a brilliant blue.

  I don’t understand what kind of trickery the little squint is using on me but it enrages me and I squeeze harder. I return her shouts with equal amounts of anger, hate, and fear.

  But she is no longer screaming at me. Her voice has softened and the gentle pleading is in English. She stops clawing and stabbing me and is instead firmly grasping my wrists.

  “Leo, please, it’s Katherine,” she gasps out. “You have to wake up; you’re hurting me.”

  The last few words are barely a squeak but they penetrate the dark recesses
of my confused mind. Katherine crumbles to the floor as I abruptly loosen my grip and I practically leap away, staring at my hands in shock at what I have done.

  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I cry out in anguish and rush about grabbing my clothes so I can flee, as if I can outrun my own shame.

  I am just grabbing my jacket when I’m hit hard from behind. Katherine climbs onto my back as I take a face-first dive to the floor.

  “Don’t you dare even think about leaving! You almost choke me to death so it’s not your turn to play victim!”

  She relaxes enough to let me roll onto my back and look up at her. “Katherine, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

  “I know that, you dumbass,” she says as she lets me up and starts grabbing her clothes.

  “I should have known better. I should never have let this happen. This is exactly why I need to be alone!”

  “Oh boohoo. Poor Leo has some issues so let’s just give the world the finger and keep everyone away. Well suck it up, buttercup, you’re stuck with me. I’m not the kind of girl that hops in bed with a guy without some kind of commitment.”

  “Damn it, if you had been a normal human I would have killed you! As it is I damn near did anyway!”

  She stalks over and looks me in the eye. “Well I’m not and you didn’t so stop being such a baby. All it means is that I won’t be staying the night for a while. You have the kind of girl that most men can only dream of—the kind that doesn’t stick around after sex.”

  I still have a dumbfounded look on my face when she kisses me. “It’s morning and I need to get ready for work. I don’t suppose you have anything to eat in here do you?”

  “Just you,” I reply, still in a daze.

  She waves goodbye to me as she steps out the door. I’m still standing dumbfounded as I listen to her car drive away. The woman either really loves me, or she’s more fucked up than I am. Honestly, I’m ok with it either way.

  CHAPTER TEN

  I try to distract myself from what happened by pondering the revelations of my new evidence but it isn’t working very well. Even when I can divert enough of my attention from dwelling on the fact that I nearly killed my client, the cementing of the fact that vampires are at the heart of most of the killings only serves to confound me even more.

  No matter how hard I try, my mind keeps coming back to last night and my near-fatal flashback, and I know I will continue to do so until I actively deal with what has happened. That means I need to go see my shrink. That’s always fun.

  My mind is often stimulated by physical activity so I decide to walk the three miles to his office. It is still early in the morning so I need to burn some time anyway.

  The air is still cool and crisp this time of year, which I prefer. It suits my disposition. I can make the trek in minutes if want but I am in no hurry so I take it at a leisurely stroll and arrive at the front of the brick building with its primarily decorative white door with its three triangular glass panes set in the top forming a half circle. I can’t help but scoff at the uselessness of the portal from a security standpoint.

  Dr. Morison’s office is on the ground floor of a three story residential home. His office is just past the reception room, which is the first door on the left. When I step in, I see that his receptionist, a wrinkled old crone that shares the general consensus of the populace regarding my personality, is talking to a small man that visibly jumps when I step into the room.

  “I need to see the doc,” I interrupt and push past the flighty little man who instantly backs himself against the far wall.

  The receptionist’s face instantly turns sour at my abruptness. “Do you have an appointment, Mr. Malone?”

  Her question annoys me even more since she has the appointment book right in front of her and knows damn well I don’t.

  “No, I need to see him now,” I reply and give her my best intimidating look.

  That glare and the power of my predatory presence have sent some of the biggest and meanest men in New York cowering and fighting to control their bladder. It didn’t faze her in the least. It’s like trying to set a rock on fire—or a fossil.

  She returns my gaze with equal venom. “Dr. Morison has a patient right now. I can schedule you in on his next available time. If it is an emergency I suggest you go to the emergency room.”

  My keen eyesight has no problem picking out the scared little man’s name on her appointment ledger. “Ronald needs to reschedule,” I growl.

  “He most certainly does not!” she fires back.

  Ronald finds the courage to speak although with great trepidation. “Maybe it is best if I reschedule.”

  “Ronald, you do not have to reschedule,” she assures him forcefully.

  “Yes you do, Ronald,” I snarl as I direct my scary glare at him and he nearly pisses his pants, which makes me feel a lot better. I was afraid I was slipping.

  “I’m sorry,” he sputters and bolts from the room before the old woman can even respond.

  “It seems the doc has an opening in his schedule,” I tell her smugly.

  She raises herself up from her chair, leans forward on her desk supported by her wrinkly old fists, and opens her mouth to unleash a bitter tirade upon me, but the doctor interrupts her as he steps through the door that separates his office from the reception room.

  “It’s all right, Jeanine, I’ll see him.”

  I smile at her as she sits back down and I strut past her desk on my way into Stanley’s office.

  “Rancid little shit,” she hisses as I pass.

  My jaw drops in surprise at her vehemence and still registers on my face as I take a seat in the plush client chair in the doctor’s immaculate office.

  “Your secretary just called me a rancid little shit.”

  Dr. Morison takes a seat in the chair that sits in front of and slightly to side of the one I’m occupying and pulls out a pad of paper and a pen.

  “And you disagree with her assessment of your character?”

  I purse my lips as I ponder the old broad’s scornful words. “I don’t disagree so much as find it unprofessional to vocalize it.”

  Stanley shrugs with a noncommittal grunt. It’s obvious I’ll get no sympathy from him.

  “You failed to make an appointment after your last call so I assume something else has happened that causes you to rudely barge into my office, frighten off my clients, and demand immediate, special treatment.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, doc.”

  “I am your psychiatrist and have been for years so don’t bother lying to me,” he replies without looking up from the pad that he is already scribbling notes on. “I don’t think you’ve been sorry about anything since you left Vietnam.”

  “I had sex last night,” I tell him, deciding to plunge right in.

  He stops writing and looks up at me with arched eyebrows. Now I have his attention. Figures, I think all shrinks are closet perverts that get into the field just to hear about other people’s sexual happenings. Bunch of voyeurs, or whatever the auditory version of voyeurism is called.

  “Now that is interesting. How did that go?”

  “I almost killed her,” I respond without emotion.

  “Please explain.”

  “I had a flashback and woke up with my hands around her throat.”

  I am unable to make that statement without almost choking on it. Let him tell me I don’t regret that!

  “And where were you in your flashback, do you recall?”

  “Vietnam, in the hut with the young woman and the screaming kids.”

  “We have talked about this flashback before haven’t we? It is the same one you said that broke you out of your feeding frenzy; from being rogue as you call it. Correct?” he asks me.

  I nod. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “How did you feel going into this sexual encounter?”

  “I don’t know. Hesitant, resistant, but then I sort of gave in and let it happen. I stopped fighting.�
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  “What kind of relationship do you have with this woman? I get the feeling it is more than simply a momentary physical desire on your part. You have not expressed any such things in previous sessions.”

  I think and shake my head. “I don’t know, doc. She is—different. I didn’t know I could feel this way anymore. It’s been so long I don’t even know what it is I’m feeling or how to deal with it.”

  “You care for her and it makes you feel vulnerable,” he tells me matter-of-factly. “The last time you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable was in that hut in Vietnam. That girl or that situation broke through the walls you had erected to shield your own sanity. The fact that this woman was able to get inside your defenses last night made you feel vulnerable even though it is ultimately best for your own mental welfare. That moment of emotional vulnerability ultimately saved you from yourself in Vietnam but it also made you see the horror of your own existence and it frightened you. Now once again you are feeling emotionally vulnerable, that too may very well force life-changing behaviors on you, and it frightens you. You spent so many years building these barriers against everything and everyone around you, not just to keep yourself safe from them but also to keep them safe from you, and here comes a woman that with a single act, tears them all down. For once in a very long time, you are not in complete control of your little sphere of life. That’s scary stuff.”

  What he says makes sense but I’m not sure how that is going to help me. “So how do I deal with it so I don’t hurt her again?”

  “I suggest you accept what she is willing to offer you. Accept that change can be a good thing and that you can share yourself with another and still be safe. The feeling of safety and control you think you have through avoidance is an illusion. How did she react after your episode?”

  I smile ruefully. “She told me stop being a big baby and that I could not chase her away so easily.”