Endless Night (Dylan Hart Odyssey of The Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  I waited and listened, ears trained on any coming movement. I really didn’t have a plan for the moment I came into full face-to-face contact with the woman. I really hadn’t had the chance to confront her before. Not counting the time she ripped a chunk of my hair out. I really didn’t have the opportunity to stand my ground with the tiny woman clung to my body like a little spider monkey.

  I figured I’d wing it when the chance came available. I hoped it didn’t come to blows; I really wasn’t dressed for that sort of thing. Just my luck, one of my tits would come popping out of this constricting bodice I was trapped in.

  The rustling came again and this time much closer. I froze. My breath ceased in my lungs as I waited for further evidence of impeding confrontation. With little noise coming from me, I was able to pick up on the faintest sounds. More obvious noises flowed through the darkened space and the sound of feet shuffling hesitantly across carpeted floor came through. This time I knew where the steps where coming from and they were moving up directly behind me. My eyes closed in an attempt to heighten my sense of hearing. In the dark, moving toward me, a set of feet moved closer to my position. I didn’t wait another second. Drumming up all the courage I could, I spun on the balls of my feet to face my shadow in the dark. My fist swung with me in an unconscious effort to get the upper hand on the situation. Something grabbed my wrist and stopped it mid-motion.

  “What could you possibly be doing snooping around in a darkened hallway?” Cyrus asked in a highly accusatory tone.

  The fact that he’d followed me in the first place told me he already knew what I was up to. There would be no other reason for him to try and catch me before I did something really stupid.

  “Looking for something,” I answered, still hoping there was a chance I’d run across my target somewhere in that hall filled with modern crap.

  “You won’t find anything worthwhile in here. I’d suggest coming back to the table. They’ve served dinner and I think you would do well to get something to eat.” His perfect speech pattern mixed with the attire made it easy to imagine him in another era. An era that would allow his chivalry to flourish. Unfortunately for him, this was the twenty-first century and I was not one for chivalry. Carry my shit, sure, try to impede a serious ass kicking? Not in your fucking life.

  “You would do well to get the fuck out of my face,” I did my best to stare him down in the dark. Bits of light slipped through, but only enough to not get yourself tangled in cording, not enough to really make an impact with a good stink eye.

  “I swear it, Dylan, I will pick you up by your hair and drag you from this place and back to the solitude of your lovely pink room if you do not come with me right now,” he tried so hard sound threatening.

  “Ha! I’d love to see that,” I scoffed, trying to stay quiet out of respect for the guests on the other side of all the ropes and pipes.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing. Do you think she will allow you to overpower her? Do you honestly think she’s not capable of making everything you hold dear to you a burning pile of ash at her feet?” Ominous, always so damned ominous.

  “Alright, that’s going too far. She’s just a nutty little girl who is pretty damn good at illusion stuff. Shit, someone should give her her own documentary. Six part series. But in no way does she hold any form of ‘magical powers’.” Yes, air quotes.

  “You are fucking daft woman!” In the shadows, I saw his hands lift and shake around his head in frustration. I felt the same way about him.

  “Get fucked!” Screw respect.

  “I’ve already tried that. Wouldn’t want a repeat of last night, now would we?” His voice was sharp and his words cut deep.

  That fucker. I knew he wasn’t that remarkable. No one, no matter how empathetic, was okay with someone else barfing in their face. Ever.

  I didn’t say anything for a long moment. He seemed the type to enjoy baiting someone into an argument, but would easily back down if the bait wasn’t snatched up.

  “Listen,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I promise you, with every validity I can provide, Azelie d’Entremont is not the type of person you want to get yourself intermingled with. I want you to forget there was ever an altercation. Forget you ever made contact with her and I’ll take you away from here. We can go anywhere you’d like. I’ll take you to see the city. We can tour the cemeteries if you’d like. I noticed your interest in the group tour yesterday. Anything. Really, I just want you to forget Madam Azelie, forget all of this, and make it back home to the safety of your apartment tomorrow night. Please.”

  “And if I forget? What then? She has been at every function I’ve attended since I met her. Is this coincidence or is she following me? I don’t really see why I’m so goddamned important to her, but it is a bit odd to turn up in so many aspects of our weekend. Shit, I’m surprised she didn’t infiltrate my dreams with her fancy magic.” As soon as the words escaped my lips, I realized that was a distinct possibility. Why else would I dream of bloody children and shiny caskets?

  How in the holy fuck would that little bitch be able to control my dreams? If that’s true, there’s nowhere to hide. Nothing I can do, but sit at home and suck cock for Skittles until my head falls right off my shoulders and rolls into her fucking lap.

  “No. I don’t believe tonight to be a coincidence. I believe, in some form or another, she coerced Marienne to allow her to perform.”

  Cock-fuckle.

  “Why Marienne?” The intricate interworking of vampire hierarchy was becoming messy. Screw research. Fiction would be easier to get a handle on than all this bullshit.

  “She’s our host. She controls every aspect of the event from beginning to end. The Masque, the summit, tonight’s vampire ball, and the closing ceremonies tomorrow are all at the hands of our host, Primus of New Orleans. There is no way Azelie could be here without the approval of Marienne.” His tone was so serious I waited for portentous music to begin in the background. “I need you to leave with me, now. If she has Marienne convinced she’s harmless, there may be no protection for you here. Malcolm is clueless to the situation and I doubt he‘ll leave the side of his dear Tatum unless she leaves first,” he shook his head in apparent disgust. I agreed with him on that one. Everything else, yeah, fuck that shit.

  “Look, I don’t believe in that kind of shit. So she’s a fucking loon with a thing for fat chicks, who are you to stop me from confronting said loon and nipping that shit in the magical bud?” I tapped my foot and waited for a response.

  “Because if you stay here, there is no way I can predict what will happen.”

  “What’s to say this woman won’t follow me? Keep following me wherever I go.” The thought of that actually scared me. Magical or not, stalking was fucking real and could get pretty damned scary.

  “I’m asking you to forget her. Stop thinking of her. Pretend as if she doesn’t exist.”

  “What, is that the antidote?” I chuckled sarcastically.

  “This is not something to laugh about. You’re lack of respect for all that you do not understand will soon make itself an issue.”

  “Respect?!” I said loudly, before Cyrus pulled me in closer to his body and shushed my loud mouth. Continuing in a whisper, “What sort of respect am I supposed to have? Bow down to her? Bow to her?” Bow to the queen of slime. The movie quote continued in my head uncontrollably as I waited for another cryptic response from my would-be suitor.

  “You will remain calm,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “There’s a room full of people just beyond that wall that have no clue as to what is happening here. And they never should. You made the mistake of inviting yourself into her realm. It was you who did not accept her words graciously. It was you who used cursing words with her and left her in the wake of your anger. You caused this mess and there is no way I will allow you to cause a scene in the presence of nearly every Primus in the country. Do you know why Malcolm is the only Primus residing in the House of Porte?”

&n
bsp; Shocked by his harsh words, I remained silent tucked tight against his chest as he hissed words into my ear with the faintest whisper. “Marienne trusts Malcolm with her House, obviously. If it were up to her, he would have been her Secondus. Do you think she would be happy to know you have angered such a strong local presence as Madam Azelie? I will tell you the answer to that obvious rhetorical question would be no. I have no time to school you on the happenings within our community. As of now, you know all that is important to you. There is someone, a very powerful someone, who obviously would like to see you suffer. Even if just a little bit.”

  My heart began to beat faster as fear built inside me. Cyrus’s words echoed in my already unstable brain. Despite my ability to take things to the extreme, I felt I was quite a rational person and didn’t believe for a second this woman actually had herself a set of fancy magical powers. I did, with all of my being, believe Cyrus thought she did. And that, in and of itself, was terrifying. If the person who you’d begun to view as a confidante, a protector should it come right down to it, was terrified of the scary lady, I might as well follow suit. Hell, he knew these idiots far better than I.

  “Fine. Just take me back. If you won’t allow me to go back to my seat, I want to go home. My home. I want to get on a flight tonight and go back home. This entire trip was a mistake.” I shoved away from him and stomped off like a child. At least I wasn’t covered in blood.

  I stomped through the darkened hallway with such vigor I didn’t see the obstruction in my path. My toe caught the edge of something immoveable and I stumbled over the top of it. In an effort to stay on my feet, my hands spread out in front of me and I caught myself on something partially pliable and a bit squishy. Tucking my legs over the top of it, I flipped over onto my ass and turned to take a look at what had impeded my childish escape. In the murky darkness, I made out the shape of a body. Nude. A lovely bit of wood protruded horrifically from between two modest breasts. A quick scream burst from my lungs and I scurried backward. I stared in horror; her hands were bound with thick strands of colorless hair, muted by the darkness. The curiosity in me took over before I could stop it and I saw what I didn’t want to see. Atop the shoulders, where a feminine head should be, a stump stood instead. The jagged stump of what used to be a neck. The head lopped clean off.

  Another yelp came from my throat, and I clamped a hand over my mouth. Heavy breaths spurted through my tightly clasped fingers.

  “Dylan?” Cyrus said from his spot standing a few feet from me, towering over the body that lay on the floor.

  “Watch out,” I said quickly as his feet shuffled through the body that lay on the floor. Like fog stuck to the ground, the body dispersed into the air with the motion of his feet across it.

  “What? What is it?” he looked to me, his hands spread wide reaching for my huddled frame.

  “There,” I said, pointing with shaking hands to the body that was no longer there. He looked around his feet at nothing. “It was right there.”

  “There’s nothing here, Dylan. What did you see?” he asked as he knelt down to my level and grabbed hold of my arms. “What was it?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  A light sob threatened to reveal itself, but I stifled it out of fear. Crazy was one thing. A big fat pussy was a whole other bucket of worms.

  “A body,” I whispered through jagged breathes.

  Bat shit crazy I is.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As quickly as I could, I scrambled to my feet. On unsteady legs, I stood wobbling back toward the wall behind me.

  “What?” Even in the dim light, I could see the lines on his face deepen.

  He lifted his feet and stepped back and away from me through the body that wasn’t there anymore. The mist had dissipated leaving nothing but the memory seared into my brain. His hands still spread wide in search of my body to grab hold of.

  My knees wobbled and I was thankful there was a nice stiff wall at my back to catch my fall. I knew what I’d seen. I knew I wasn’t making shit up. It wasn’t my style. Something was causing these hallucinations. Something magical? Doubted it. Something medicinal? Much more likely. Serious brain tumor? Good God, I hoped not.

  “What is happening to me?” I asked through drawn breathes in a voice barely above a whisper.

  My hands clung to a railing, which was reassuringly secured firmly into the wall, holding me up. My brain was swimming with the visual of another headless corpse. Granted, I’d seen the real deal up close and personal a few months back, but one didn’t generally assume seeing corpses was going to be more than a onetime thing. Headless naked bitches, blood pouring from phantom wounds, macabre dreams and bloody children and shiny caskets, it was all too much for one little journalist to handle. Even big heap bad ass Dylan Hart could only handle so much before she was in desperate need of strong alcohol. Shit, antipsychotics might be in order.

  “I believe it’s time to leave,” his voice held such determination; it nearly masked his fear completely.

  Without a word, I let him wrap his strong arm around my corseted waist and lead me through the barely lit hallway. I wasn’t hurt, physically anyway; there was no reason I couldn’t walk myself out. But this way was better for both of us. He obviously needed to play the dashing prince and I, for one of the only times in my life, allowed myself to be rescued.

  I fought hard to not limp, or whimper, or in some way feign some form of illness as we emerged from the darkness into the brightly lit lobby area I’d come through to begin with. It felt ridiculous to be escorted by a dashingly handsome man and not be walking upright on my own. My inner pride wanted me to pretend as if my personal situation was far worse outwardly to explain away the need to be practically carried. Other than the fact that I was almost certain there’d be white coats waiting out front, straightjacket and fully loaded syringes in hand. Being nuts was no excuse to be frail.

  Luckily, the only living souls to lay eyes on the two of us were the two door openers, or whatever they were called, that’d gracefully opened the two extravagant doors when we first arrived. By the time we reached those doors, my breathing was returning to normal and the sensation of sheer insanity was fading. Anger was filling the void it left behind.

  There had to be some reason, other than me being flat out fucked in the head, for me to be hallucinating so severely with no psychotropic enhancements. None consumed willingly that was.

  A car, that was not the one we’d arrived in, pulled through the curved drive and stopped precariously in front of where the two of us stood. If we’d been standing an inch further from the steps, we might no longer have had all of our toes.

  A light chuckle filled the cooling night air and a set of chills shook my body down to my toes. From the darkness to our left, she emerged.

  Oh, look it’s my best friend in the whole wide world.

  “Do you like my gift, ‘cher?” In the soft light of the porch lamps, I saw a hideous grin begin to twist at the corners of her mouth. Her piercing blue eyes glared at me through a set of thickly caked lashes. I noticed then, while shaking in my boots, her beautifully wicked face was missing its eyebrows. Maybe they were merely too blonde as happened with certain people, but there was nothing to be seen in this particular lighting. It added a creep factor that made me want to rush into the vehicle that had nearly crippled me.

  “You are not welcome, Azelie. I wish you to leave us now,” Cyrus spoke as if these words alone would rid us of this little dreadlocked problem. I doubted it.

  “Pfft,” she scoffed through her teeth unattractively. Apparently, she didn’t think so either. “These words have little meaning, boy,” her words hissed from her perfectly bowed lips. “Your lover must learn her place,” her tiny finger pointed at me with a crook to it, like a little cream-colored hook.

  “Why?” I said defiantly.

  “Why?” she huffed. “Why? Question yourself ‘dis, why you kill, aye?” her voice was soft. This terrified me more than her screeching ever could. Quiet b
itches are the ones who plotted your death.

  I stumbled over my words in my quick rebuttal. I really had a reason, really I did. I was being threatened. They’d kidnapped Tatum. They’d been slaughtering innocent, alright maybe not innocent, but killing women nonetheless. They deserved it. Those little bastards deserved it and I’d do it again if it came right down to it. “They needed killing,” I said with the iciest cold tone I could gather.

  A shrill laugh pierced the otherwise silent landscape. “Vigilante? This why I take your heart. This why I give you visions of death all ‘round you,” her hands moved as she talked, like they were telling a story her voice was leaving out.

  “A punishment?” It was my turn to be shrill. “You want to punish me? Bah! Who the fuck are you to put me on a mental time-out for killing two boys who would’ve killed me in their place if I hadn’t had the balls to do it first? Whoever you think you are, whatever you think you can do, fuck off with it. I don’t buy into bullshit.” I turned from the tiny woman and opened the backdoor of the waiting car.

  “Marienne will not be happy when she hears about this. Using your powers against the escort of the Secondus of the House of Cailleadh could cost you your place in the entertainment troupe,” Cyrus intervened.

  Ooh, burn. I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes at his idiocy.

  “Marienne is ignorant and won’t sway. She come to me for supremacy oils and gris gris. Marienne House survives on my power. You and your whore mean nothing to her.”

  I saw Cyrus physically cringe when she said the word whore. It really didn’t bother me. I had bigger Cajun fish to fry.

  “Why do I mean something to you? What the fuck have I done to cause this?” I tried hard to hide the desperation in my voice.

  I wanted it to end. I dreaded the thought that this woman was capable of actually controlling my thoughts, by whatever means, and causing these horrific visions. And the possibility it would go on as long as she desired, terrified me. My logic clung to the fact that things such as magic were not of this world. But it was beginning to appear as though I was out of the loop of what lay beneath the sparkling top layer of our society.