Endless Night (Dylan Hart Odyssey of The Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  “Oh, yes.” His arm wrapped around my waist and he pulled me nearer his warm body.

  A tingly sensation ran from my chest to my butt cheeks the second my body touched his. It wasn’t like me to be filled with this much uncontrollable sexual tension, but I guessed desperate times called for desperate measures. Well, I supposed a tryst with the gorgeous Cyrus Atossa wouldn’t count as a moment of desperation. More like a moment of Holy sexcapades, Batman!

  The other guests filed from the room, but Cyrus and I stood at our places, his arm enveloping my thick midsection with not an ounce of hesitation.

  “Let’s book it kiddies. We’ve got a party to get to.” Tatum had poked her head back into the room and shouted from the doorway to the only two people left.

  I let out a breath, slow and even. Cyrus and I moved to the door in succession with Malcolm and Tatum. Everyone moved through the front parlor and out the front door into the city night.

  Music filled the air and the smell of cooking food wafted from every corner of the open air. The guests that had once crowded the little parlor poured into the street. All walking with their assigned groups they’d arrived with. All donning their choice of vampire apparel.

  Standing on the porch of the tea house, I watched as a horde of vampires descended on New Orleans. Without hesitation, I followed that horde. I followed and smiled.

  I’m a fucking idiot.

  Chapter Seven

  I walked arm and arm with the lovely Cyrus Atossa through the cooling night. The crowd of vampires had spread to either side of the street. Sidewalks and streets scattered with plastic fanged blood drinkers. No one batted an eye. The group had been wandering the streets about five minutes when my phone vibrated in my bra.

  The noise sounded like a fart and Cyrus looked down at me with a very concerned expression. I chuckled nervously and reached down into my boobs to retrieve the buzzing phone.

  “Yeah?” I said with as much annoyance as I could.

  “Dylan, honey?”

  “Mom! Hi. Sorry I didn’t call when I got in. I got…”

  She cut me off. “It’s okay, I know you’re trying to have fun. Honey, I saw on the news about another case like your friend. The girl with the…you know…head lopped off. The lady on the news said the girls are linked to underground vampire clubs.” Her raspy voice, though truck stop waitress-esque, can hold a tone of concern that could make even the toughest criminal pack their bags and head out on that guilt trip.

  “Mom, yeah, don’t worry about that.”

  “Well, I called Mike. Just to be sure.”

  “Fuck, Mom, really?”

  “Fuck, Dylan, yes. He’s worried about you. And so am I. You know, you’d be much better off letting Tatum live that lifestyle alone. I know you love her, but she’s an adult and so are you. You don’t have to follow that girl anymore. Especially if she’s dragging you along to places where girls are getting beheaded. Christ, just six months ago those vampire kids were killing those girls right here in town and look where that got you.” Bags packed, ticket purchased, we’re going on a guilt trip.

  “Ugh, mom, I’m fine. Please stop talking to Michael. He’s an idiot.”

  “He loves you.” I might need my passport for this one.

  “Jesus. Yes I know, but it doesn’t matter. His issue is not with the case, it’s with me. His brain catches on fire anytime I’m five feet away from him. Always has been, always will be a controlling asshole.”

  “Worry and control are very different. If you’d think for just one second before you hauled off and did whatever the hell you wanted, maybe we wouldn’t have to be so goddamned worried!”

  “Mom! Mike has absolutely no control over my life anymore and neither do you. That’s the wondrous thing about turning eighteen, freedom. And as for that idiot detective you’re so fond of, if I wanted anything to do with him, I would’ve stayed his little lap dog and not run off the second the opportunity allowed.”

  “You watch how you talk to me. Do you not see the crowd you’ve begun to follow?”

  I scoffed. I felt like I was in high school all over again. I glanced up the street to the gaggle of oddly dressed vampire folk I was walking behind. Or should I say, following.

  I sighed, “Yeah. I gotta go.”

  “Please just think before you make stupid choices. Mike and I only want you to be safe. Because we love you and couldn’t imagine life without you.”

  “Mom, Mike already has a life without me. He should be fine with it by now.” The other line stayed quiet. “I love you, Mom.” I hung up without waiting to hear what else she had to say. Whatever it may have been probably would’ve just pissed me off anyway.

  “Everything okay?” Cyrus, who’d been walking an appropriate distance ahead of me since I’d answered the phone, slowed and asked in a caring tone.

  “Yeah,” I smiled. “I gotta make a call. I’ll catch up.”

  The pretty man nodded and quickened his pace.

  My eyes narrowed in disdain as I dialed.

  “This is Mike.”

  Ugh!!

  “Stop talking to my mom,” I hissed.

  “I didn’t realize I was.” Once a smartass, always a smartass.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “She called me. What’d you want me to do? Ignore the poor old girl?”

  “Poor old girl? Didn’t my mom kick your ass in beer pong at my birthday party a few months ago?” True story.

  “Ha, yeah.” He actually sounded a bit sheepish.

  “You’ve got her worried sick!” I nearly screeched.

  “The five o’clock news had her scared. They finally started reporting this story after a few of the cases came together. I calmed her down. She called me asking if I’d go with her to the airport to come get you. I let her know I’d already talked to you and filled you in. You’re an adult who can make her own decisions.” Now he was just being facetious.

  “You’re right. I am an adult. I’m an adult on vacation with my friends.” The word friends sounded stupid even as I said it. The only friend I had was Tatum and even she was quickly approaching my shit list. “I’m trying to have fun and get a better understanding of this culture.”

  “Culture? Just three months ago, you were a jaded bitch, cursing the name of many of those fucking idiots. And now, it’s culture? And what happened to the research? Hardcore journalist on the hunt for a killer story? Nope. You’re out for understanding.” His deep voice lowered, “Why don’t you just fuck him already?”

  A shrill scoff flew from my throat before I could control it. The ridiculous comment, no matter how true I’d like it to be, actually hurt my feelings. As if I was some kind of slut. “What’s to say I haven’t?” I let those words sting as best I could. “Haven’t you learned by now not to challenge me? You’ll always lose in that department. Because, in the end, you have zero control of what I do.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time. I knew I’d hurt him. And really, I kind of felt bad. But he really should know better by now. I didn’t do well with challenges and ultimatums. I liked to have it my way and rarely gave in to the will of others. Unless of course, the other was walking a few feet ahead of me in a sexy midnight-black suit, tailored just to his amazing body…

  “I know,” he said finally. His voice cracked as if from a cry and I instantly felt terrible.

  No matter how much Mike annoyed the shit out of me, I really did love him. I couldn’t stand him. I couldn’t date him. And I sure as hell couldn’t live with him, but it didn’t mean I wanted him to hurt. Especially not on my account.

  “I’m fine. I know who I’m dealing with. I know how dangerous people can be.”

  “These people.”

  “No. People. All people,” I rebutted.

  “If you need anything, call me.”

  “You mean if I know anything, call you.” I made it a statement because I already knew it to be true. It didn’t matter how much Detective Michael Petersen said he loved me,
he was always after the bottom line. And in this case, the bottom line was a shit load of missing heads.

  “Sure.” He hung up without another word.

  Hanging up angrily on a cell phone, with only a little button on a screen, is nowhere near as effective as the old-fashioned receiver being slammed into the base. There was always a little aftershock from that. Like you got to hear the ringer clang from the force of it. On both ends, much more satisfying. Damn technology.

  I was damned irritated and fairly certain my mother and Michael Petersen were gabbing on the phone about how much trouble I was getting myself in to. Apparently, it never dawned on either of them that I am twenty-seven years old and am perfectly capable of handling myself. Mike always got my mom in an uproar. It had only gotten worse since the whole ‘killed two vampire boys thing’. Granted, that was pretty scary, but he didn’t have to tell my mom everything. I’d saved his fucking life for God’s sake! Okay, I shot Cyrus in the process, but I did the best I could under the circumstances. Shit, I should’ve gotten a medal.

  Alright, I guessed I should just be happy not to be locked away up in Chowchilla with the other murderesses of California. But all that should go to show I could take care of myself. Mostly.

  Cyrus had turned to see if I was keeping up and I gave him a fairly innocent grin. He waited for me to catch up and the two of us walked together, separated by a good fifty feet from the rest of the crowd.

  “Should we catch up?” I asked. A bit worried we might get lost without the others to lead the way. “Wouldn’t wanna get lost out here.” As if we were wandering around in the open wilderness or something.

  “I know the way.” He looked straight ahead as if seeing things in his head that I was deliberately unaware of. “Been the same for a long time. Not far now.”

  I was glad to hear that. My feet were killing me and I didn’t want to be a pain in the ass and ask to stop so I could change my shoes again.

  With the others so far ahead, I decided to use this time wisely. “So, Secondus, eh?” I left it at that. If he chose to answer, it was up to him.

  “Yes.” No emotion.

  “And this is a secret?” I asked jokingly.

  “Not something I care to tell the world.”

  “Isn’t it like a big deal? To be the second in command?”

  “I believe you have the wrong idea.”

  “So, explain it to me.” Silence. “I promise, off the record.”

  After a great pause, he began. “Secondus is not a prestigious title in the House of Cailleadh. Some Houses revere their Secondus as they do their Primus. Malcolm prefers I not become a spectacle,” his voice remained monotone. It reminded me of the way he spoke to me the first time we’d met after I’d asked him about where he’d come from. When he’d told me he was Persian in his Cy-bot tone.

  “So instead you prance around in your man panties and pose for the cameras? That sounds legit.” Sarcasm flowed from my lips without filtration. As usual.

  “He feels that is his best use for me,” he spoke with little inflection.

  “Why don’t you leave? I mean, he’s just a person, what’s he gonna do to you?” I caught myself before saying, ‘cut your head off?’. Seemed a bit too soon.

  “That’s not how it works,” he said as he shook his head.

  “He’s holding you captive? Explain it to me really, because I’m not understanding how a man, such as yourself, can be so submissive to a little red-haired weasel like McTavish? Seems a bit ridiculous to me.”

  “You don’t like to be submissive, do you?” His tone told me the words he spoke were not the way he intended them. The question made me blush with sexual tension and angry with the innuendo.

  “No, I don’t. But we aren’t talking about me. We’re talking about you. You and that asshole Malcolm. Why are you any part of all this in the first place? What the fuck do you get out of it? You obviously have no interest in the scene. So, why?” I stopped in my tracks, folded my arms across my chest, and waited for his answer.

  His warm hands slid up my arms giving me the chills and causing a serious case of goose bumps. “Never mind all that.” A terrifying grin spread across his lips. Terrifying with its implications of danger and other things. “Here we are.” His perfect green eyes left my gaze and glanced up at a towering old warehouse.

  Maybe three stories tall, the old brick building held a huge canvas banner with fancy fangs and text written across it, Endless Night Masque de Sang. Blazing from the roof, two spotlights spun in the sky like two long reaching light sabers in a dueling battle. The group we’d been trailing behind had all but disappeared into the grand double door entrance and dozens more filed in. Crowding the street and sidewalk, hundreds of little Goth kids mingled about puffing on stinking cigarettes and trying to look as ominous as possible. Some reminded me of Philippe, so pathetically hopeless. Others seemed as though this was right where they belonged.

  Masks, wings, Victorian dresses, steampunk inspired ensembles, and everything in between flittered about, excited for the party to come. From what I gathered, the doors were only open to certain guests and the others were forced to wait.

  “Are you ready?” Cyrus asked pulling me by my arm toward the doors.

  “Can we get in?” I said looking around at the ever growing crowd of misfit vampires.

  “We are the elite,” a soft laugh escaped his throat. He pulled from his pocket a rectangular ticket with VIP written in white on the top. Other words were scrawled beautifully along its shiny surface, but I couldn’t make them out.

  A red velvet rope stood between the party and the two of us, but it seemed those two pieces of shiny square paper were our ticket in. I’d never really thought I’d need a ticket. Figured the huge red head would work his Primus mojo and get us in.

  “You’ll need this,” he reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a black lace mask. “May I?” he asked.

  A little confused, I turned my back to him to allow him to tie it up. Gently, he placed the intricate lace over my eyes and tied the long black ribbon at the back of my head. I felt a little silly, but when I turned back to face him, I saw he was pulling another from his pocket. A much manlier version of the one I donned, Cyrus quickly tied the black leather mask around his head with its straps. I noticed then he and I matched very well. His black on black three-piece suit had silk ribbing along the cuffs and lapel matching the hem of my tea-length black dress. The plunging square neckline of my dress and the thin straps were also of the same silk. Tatum had given me the dress, I was pretty certain this was intentional.

  Normally, this intentional match-y-match would’ve driven me insane, but the evening seemed to warrant such foolishness so I decided to roll with it. Besides, if I were stuck matching someone, it might as well be Cyrus Atossa.

  Prepared for my first ever vampire masquerade, I waited like a good little reporter for the man at the door to move the pointless red velvet rope. The rope dropped to the floor and Cyrus led us into the first real vampire event of the Halloween weekend. My first intentional evening spent with nasty little blood drinkers.

  And me without my camera.

  Chapter Eight

  The room was large, like it may have been a warehouse at one point. It looked nothing like a warehouse now. Long white drapes hung from metal beams that ran along the high industrial ceiling. Each a few yards wide, hung from ceiling to floor. The red lighting made the white of the fabric appear pink and shadowed in shades of red. The drapes hung at random intervals throughout the space, forcing the guests to weave through them. The effect created a mystique to the extra-large space, adding a sense of intimacy and a slight uneasy feeling from the lack of open space. In any other setting, I would’ve liked the look of it, very Cirque du Soleil, but in a room full of people who may or may not want to have me for dinner, I was on the ready for something gory to happen.

  The floor was done in a black and white checkered pattern that covered the entire space. Again, the red l
ight caused the white of the tile to appear a deep shade of pink. A large stage stood to the far wall encompassing nearly the length of it. To the left was a bar and my first stop. I’d expected there’d be more patrons than what there were, but I assumed we were a bit early judging by the gaggle of vampire folk congregating outside. I started walking toward the bar, which was not as packed as I thought it’d be, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

  “My sweet girl, we don’t drink here. This…space…is for them.” Malcolm released my shoulder and flipped his fingers toward the crowd that had started to gather at the front entrance.

  Surprisingly, McTavish was appearing to treat me an equal. Sort of. He spoke to me in a normal tone using normal words. It was a start. I wasn’t buying it.

  “Um, ok. Then please direct me to the ‘white’s only drinking fountain’.” Yes, air quotes. And, yes, a fucking joke.

  He smiled at me then and my heart sank an inch in my chest. The look in his eyes was like the look a cat gets when it’s about to claw the shit out of your face.

  A heavy base drum hit from nowhere, breaking my concentration, and the lights changed in an instant from red to blue. Suddenly, the long drapes that hung so elegantly from the ceiling became home to mostly nude women. Each of the dozen or so pieces of white fabric was now adorned with a topless girl. Simultaneously, they slid down their drape, clinging with one leg and one hand. Again, a base drum beat; the girls released their grip and fell backward. Their downward descent continued, only this time hanging upside down. I was standing only a handful of feet away from a lovely brunette. She trailed down the cloth, growing closer to the floor below her. Closer to me. I could see her face as she drew nearer to the end of her rope. She was beautiful. Her face was soft and delicate and held not an ounce of fear sliding twenty-five-feet upside down, clinging to a piece of cloth with only her leg. She was above me only a few feet when she smiled. Her eyes were amazing in the blue light. They looked like the sea at night. Glistening in waves of light and shadow. I held her gaze steadfast as she descended. She had an intricate dragon tattoo that wrapped around her waist and up her bare chest. She was so close I could almost touch her and a part of me wanted to. There was a kind of primal sexual heat radiating off the naked girl hanging from the cloth.