Endless Night (Dylan Hart Odyssey of The Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  Malcolm reached his pale hand out and snagged one of the interesting glasses as I was about to grab it. He handed it to Tatum and grabbed another for himself before I had a chance to choose one. I vowed to myself to make a serious attempt at kicking that man square in the nuts before the weekend was over. Just because. The glasses were of the tumbler variety and thus likely a mixed drink of some kind. Not really my style anyway. As if reading my mind, for the millionth time in recent history, Cyrus nabbed one of the tall shot glasses filled with a sickly intoxicating substance, and handed it to me. Taking one for himself, he lifted it to toast.

  “Are we toasting to something?” my brows squished together with questioning.

  “Yes. A toast to…connection,” he tilted his glass to his lips.

  “What?” I responded with a stupid tone to my voice.

  “Connection. We rarely have had the chance for much contact and I’d like that to change.”

  “Like, you’re gonna send me a friend request on Facebook? I’m not really following along here.” I felt a little awkward not knowing what the fuck he was talking about.

  He smiled sweetly, “No, darling, a connection, the type of contact you have outside the internet. Such as eye contact.” His brows rose indicating he noticed my general lack of meeting his eyes. I had a good reason dammit. His eyes made it hard for me to focus on, well, anything. And that wasn’t a power I wanted to give over to anyone. “Such as physical contact,” his heavy hand ran across my forearm and I held my breath.

  I worried I was becoming soft. I worried his charms would win me over. I worried I’d get drunk and sleep with him and it’d be horrible. I really worried my arms were too hairy. He laughed a little and I let the breath out.

  Dylan, I told myself, I called myself by name, Dylan, I said, get your shit in check. Get it in check or this little vampire boy is going to run right over you. Maybe he’ll be naked when he does it. A smirk snuck in and I decided I was not a good person to talk to at that point. Not a good advice giver. Nope.

  I looked to Tatum and promptly looked away. Her idiot vampire boy had his ginger kid face buried in her neck. I told myself he was just hooking her up with a disgusting hickey and left it at that. I hated to think of her allowing that freak to sink teeth in and draw blood. I remembered when she had cut me open and licked blood from the wound in a vamp den in Fresno. It made my stomach churn a bit. All was fine and good until someone drew blood…and drank it.

  “A dance?” Cyrus broke my thoughts at just the right moment. Just before I allowed my head to take over and tell me what a stupid mistake I was making being involved in this bloody mess.

  “You got it kid,” I stood on wobbly legs and waited a moment for them to settle. The first few steps after a good round of drinks kind of reminded me of a baby calf minutes after birth.

  Cyrus led me by the hand down the length of the loft and toward the burly man at the head of the stairs. The man gave a nod and a wink, but surprisingly enough it was not aimed at the man in the lead. It was intended for me. I smiled back, acknowledging I understood his innuendo, and planned on getting very drunk and very naked and was damn proud of it.

  Hand in hand, the two of us, alone for the first time in quite a few months, weaved through the droves of winged and masked vampire people flailing and writhing along the checkered floor. The girls on the drapes had gone away leaving their long silky strands alone to dangle in sporadic intervals throughout the space. Cyrus pulled me through the crowd, allowing the long white drapes to slide over his head and shoulders, falling across my face and tickling along my bare skin. Lights flashed and pulsated in color. Sweat and blood filled the air. People touched along my body as I passed them, each sensation new and intriguing. I smiled wildly on my journey across the dance floor, enjoying the experience more thoroughly than I should have. For a girl who didn’t want to get on that plane in the first place, I sure as fuck was glad I had. At that moment anyway.

  Cyrus stopped and turned to face me; his façade more open than I’d ever seen it. Striking green eyes peered from behind his black leather mask. Away from Malcolm, comfortable with his newly found confidante, and likely a little intoxicated, Cyrus was suddenly so accessible. Appeared as though he was an actual person, unlike the perfect shell of a human I’d always assumed him to be.

  I tried to be as smooth as I possibly could. I let the music fill my head with its electric beat and allowed my body to do the rest. Not the best plan, but I didn’t really have much else in my repertoire so I went with it. The crowd danced rhythmically with the feminine vocals. We started out a bit apart from each other. My body moved separately from his in mostly an uncoordinated wiggle. After a few moments of that idiocy, he placed his hands on either side of my waist and drew my wiggling body closer to his. I hadn’t had quite enough alcohol to not feel awkward, so I had to fake it. And fake it I did. Cyrus’ rhythm was easy to fall into. His motion brought the music to the forefront in my head. His body made me forget my insecurities, and I began to allow myself to just be. Just be in the moment. Just let shit happen as it may. And it did.

  Cyrus pressed the front of his chiseled form against my full chest and I felt my boobs push up and around looking for a place to go. His hands slid smoothly around to my lower back and stayed there. I felt the heat of his breath tickle along the tender skin of my neck and I nearly fell out of my ass. I quickly reminded myself to never allow that long of a dry spell to occur again and moved on. Cyrus stood a good head taller than me, but my heels gave me a bit of an advantage and placed his pouty lips within kissing distance from mine. I thought about it more than once as our bodies were pressed so closely together dancing to intentionally sensual music. My heart raced with the idea of kissing that perfect set he held so beautifully on his face. His lips, I meant. The beat thumped on and with it the two of us. I felt the strong muscles that lined Cyrus’s arms, flex and relax as he moved against me. I let my hands trail along the expanse of his thick back and felt the tension there as well. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to breathe in his luscious scent. He smelled so clean and masculine I wanted to gobble him up. I felt his heart beat accelerate as he breathed heavily in my ear. The action was far from his usual calm and collected demeanor, but it made him more reachable somehow. More human. I knew it was coming. I could feel it. A spark touched my senses and I knew he was making up his mind to grant me a kiss. Cyrus lowered his head to rest his cheek along the curve of my neck.

  The lace of my mask caressed the soft skin under my eyes and reminded me of its presence. The two of us, masked, dancing, pressed closely together, surrounded by danger, someone would pay good money to read a book that began in such a way. I wondered if the ending would live up to such a glorious beginning.

  I smiled a bit and waited in sweet anticipation. His breath came heavier and more rapid with every passing second. I shifted my head ever so slightly to allow my hair to brush against his face still hidden in my neck. I felt him withdraw a bit, enough to make our lips close enough to kiss. Closing my eyes, I prepared for awesomeness. His breath spread across my face and I knew it was coming. I wanted it, really. I hadn’t really any other time I’d been in his presence, but now I knew I didn’t quite care about much else. Not much on my thoughts, but laying a smooch on Cyrus Atossa. His lips neared mine and I lifted myself up on my toes to meet him. The aura of his lips mingled with mine.

  “And now!” a boisterous voice echoed through the vast industrial building.

  Cyrus quickly withdrew from his position, only centimeters from meeting my lips for the first time.

  Are you fucking kidding me?!

  Chapter Nine

  He turned his head to focus on the stage. His breathing was steadying, but I felt his tension remain. I saw his jaw muscles flex in the shimmering light from the stage and knew he was clenching it in concentration.

  “For your viewing pleasure, I present to you, Madam Azelie. The snake charmer.” The large man on stage bowed and held his h
and out with a flourish, welcoming the performer to the stage.

  The little woman took the stage with such presence I hardly believed there was just one small woman exuding that much confidence. My favorite Cajun voodoo priestess entered stage left with a big ass snake draped around her petite form.

  Just fucking fantastic!

  Serious pyrotechnics ignited on either side of the stage and silence fell over the crowd. A moment later, the rhythmic beat of a drum began. The woman’s hips swayed with an ease you rarely saw in a human being. Something more cat-like than human movement. Her hands rose and lifted each end of the snake with them. The multilayered skirt that clung to her hips, swished with her movement. Back and forth it swayed, exposing bare legs and feet through its shorter layers. Around her midsection, an interesting tattoo wrapped and nearly met at her belly button. The skirt hit at her hips, hardly covering her crotch, and I feared it might fall off; it hung so low. Her body continued its undulation and I began to grow even more annoyed by the little bitch. Not only had she all but strung me up by my neck in her tiny witch room, she was now distracting my pseudo date from his thoughts of kissing me. I decided two things then, first, that bitch was on my list, and second, I was going to kiss those perfect fucking lips if I had to tie the boy down to do it. Well, I might tie him down anyway.

  A woman passed, carrying a tray of drinks, and I swiped two. One slid down the hatch and the other waited its turn in my trembling hand. I never understood why he showed me the slightest bit of interest. Why he’d ever wasted his time on a fatty like me, I didn’t know. When I first met Cyrus, I thought he was full of shit, hell maybe he still was, but I was at the point I didn’t really care. But, he was pretty and I wanted him. End of story.

  I waited a good thirty seconds before I shoved the waiting glass to my lips. The hot liquid slid over my tongue and burned my throat on the way down. My eyes closed from the sensation and a shiver shook my core. Cyrus watched the woman on stage and I watched him. Though his eyes were fixed on her, they didn’t appear to hold a sense of longing or attraction. I thought, for a second, I saw fear. Just a second and it was gone. It reminded me of the time he’d been so scared of Dominika. The thought of that crazy bitch pissed me off even more. Luckily for me, she wasn’t staying in that house with us, but I was sure she was in attendance nonetheless. That was the last thing I wanted to deal with.

  The woman on stage lifted the snake off her shoulders and allowed it to wrap itself around her waist. The snake was nearly all white, with the exception of splotches of yellow, and likely a python of some kind. I wasn’t a snake fan so I didn’t really know. It was scaly and had no legs; it was a fucking snake.

  Her bare arms showed off bands of inked designs from wrist to shoulder. Her costume was revealing, hardly covering her nipples, allowing the world to see she was covered in simple black-line tattoos. The hip hugging skirt coupled with the mesh string bikini style top left little to the imagination. On the forefront, for all to see, the tiny girl bore markings of ink on her body that resembled those on her lovely sign hanging in front of her shop of bullshit. I’d had the pleasure of seeing most of those tattoos close up and personal, but even if I hadn’t, they were obvious against her creamy skin. Dangling from her wrist, right where it’d been when I’d seen her last was her black rosary.

  The sight of that woman pissed me off. She really hadn’t done anything to me, aside from accuse me of murder, but that was enough to put her on my shit list. I watched her intently as she moved so smoothly with the music and that damn snake. Her thick mane of dreadlocks sat piled in a loose bun on top of her head with bits and pieces sticking out at random. The flaming columns, which sat on either side of the stage, flamed high and were beginning to heat up the area closest to the stage. Cyrus and I were only about five or six heads back from the thick of it, and I was beginning to sweat. Especially under my fancy lace mask Cyrus had so kindly brought along for me. A bead of sweat trickled down my brow, soaking the lace, and dripped onto my eyelash. The salty liquid burned my already irritated eye and it started to twitch uncontrollably. I wiped it as best I could, trying to remain stealthy with the action. I looked back to the tiny little crazy bitch on the stage and my breath caught in my throat. She was dancing, nothing had changed, but her eyes were focused on me. My eyes grew wide and I stared right back. My experience told me to stand my ground, to stare her down like I had nothing to fear. My intuition told me to get the fuck out of dodge. Keeping my eyes fixed on the woman, Azelie, my hand reached to grab the attention of Cyrus. She stared at me and I stared right back, scared out of my fucking mind.

  As quietly and nonthreatening as possible I said, “Cyrus, I think we should leave.”

  A hand slid around my waist and I felt a slim body press against my back. A sweet scent of woman’s perfume wafted into my nose. “But you’ve only just arrived darling, Donnie,” an all too familiar Hungarian voice hissed into my ear.

  Goddammit. What is this? Scary bitches ‘r’ us?

  Trying not to take my eyes off the woman on stage, I wriggled my way out of the grip on my waist. “It’s Dylan. My fucking name is Dylan,” I said through my teeth to the bitch still standing closely behind me. “Dominika, can I help you with something?”

  “I should be asking you the same question,” Dominika slithered her way between Cyrus and I. She stood between us pointing nonchalantly to the woman on stage, “Seems to me you’re the one needing help.”

  She laughed a raspy, sultry laugh. I wanted so badly to punch her directly in the throat, but I knew better. Dominika needed her ass kicked something fierce and there was no way I was going to be the one to do it. She was a bitch and a fucking scary one at that. Shit, she’d probably pummel my ass into the dirt if she got the chance. Although, watching her interest in the witchy woman on stage gave me an idea. She could pummel someone else just as quickly. Perhaps an ally I should make. And a Yoda moment I will have.

  “Yeah, not good,” I replied simply.

  “How did this happen?” She asked, but not me. She was talking to Cyrus. I was used to it. “How did our darling Donnie get herself on with a priestess?” her voice held no contempt for me as far as I could tell. It was a first.

  “Dylan,” Cyrus said plainly.

  “My sweet Cyrus,” she said as she stroked his thick bicep. “You smell like our girl…Dylan. You haven’t been snogging a mundane have you?” she giggled a bit and continued to touch his arm dramatically.

  “Yes I have,” his eyes remained on the woman. The one who actually mattered at that moment. The fucking scary one. The other scary one. “Dylan decided to visit the priestess. She liked the symbols.”

  “Lovely,” the Hungarian replied as she too stared at the woman on stage.

  They both watched the woman watching me. I’d let my eyes slide from the stage to the two beside me and back. As I had felt more than once in this scene, I was fucking clueless and scared out of my ass.

  “Well, you two have fun. I am off to find someone to eat.” Another giggle came from the once mostly terrifying Hungarian girl.

  “Not that I’m complaining,” I said still staring at the stage, “but I have to say, I’m surprised you are behaving yourself. Honestly, I cringed when I heard your voice in my ear. I have to say, this has been the most pleasant of the few times I’ve been forced to be in your presence.” It felt awkward talking to someone I wasn’t looking at. Even more awkward telling Dominika I was proud of her good behavior.

  “It seems to me you have your hands full with that powerful witch staring a hole in your precious little head.” Her long fingernails trailed across the top of my head and down the back of my neck. A shiver tickled my spine. Dominika laid a light kiss on my cheek, “Good luck.” She turned and worked her way into the crowd. “Don’t let that pretty little girl lose her head now, Cyrus,” she called over her shoulder before she disappeared completely.

  “So, be honest, why am I getting the stare down from the world’s tiniest terror? I have
to say she doesn’t look scary. Just that horrible tingling feeling I’m getting in the pit of my stomach telling me to run like hell is making me think she might actually be as horrific as she thinks she is.”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, that’s promising. I’ve somehow…”

  Cyrus cut me off, “Well, not somehow, you did kick over her chair and tell her she was fucking nuts.”

  “Alright, I’ll give you that one. But she did accuse me of murder. And does that really give her the motive to intentionally scare the shit out of me?” I’d done worse shit than that in church and you didn’t see God coming down and fucking with me, did you? You shouldn’t answer that.

  “In her world, yes. I would assume she felt threatened and now she’s going to retaliate. It’s likely she’s just trying to scare you,” he didn’t sound too certain.

  “Or?”

  “Or…it’s something else.”

  “Great. Like what?” I asked not really wanting to know the answer.

  The girl danced around the flames that now surrounded the stage. Her body twisted and turned until I could see her full back. It was covered in simple line drawings like those that I’d seen on her sign; those that covered her arms. The ones that attracted me to her shop in the first place. I wondered why someone would cover their body in tattoos like that and figured she probably had a really good magical mojo reason that I likely did not want to know about. Alright, I really did want to know. But something told me knowing anything important about these people put me that much deeper into the occult and I was doing good not drowning in headless bitches and vampires without adding voodoo to the mix.

  “Nothing. She feels she has power and your display of defiance toward her nicked her ego. She is only trying to show dominance,” his brows furrowed and he nodded a teeny tiny bit. It seemed to me like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

  “Oh, really?” I felt a sudden rush of adrenaline at the thought of that tiny girl trying to dominate me. What could she really do to me anyway? She felt she had power? That meant shit to me. I didn’t do anything to her. She started it.