Death of Night

by Krissy Reynolds

  I stood up and brushed myself off, making sure I still had everything with me. A black sedan came into view and I hurriedly pressed myself against the building and bent my head. I slyly tried to see if it was Mike or Lilynn's guy. It had different hubcaps than Mike's sedan, but I couldn't be sure. I let it pass through the light.

  It came by again in six minutes. I scrolled through the contacts on my phone and pressed call when I found "Bell". It started ringing.

  "Sergeant Bell," a distracted male voice answered.

  "Bell," I said. "It's Simon."

  Sergeant Bell was my friend at the San Francisco Police Department. We had met when I had been hired to find a fugitive on a case that he had been assigned to. It took a while to warm up to each other, but we ended up helping each other out on different cases.

  There was some movement on the other end. "Simon?" Bell asked, surprised. "Haven't heard from you in weeks. What's up?"

  "The usual, you know," I said. "Listen, you remember that time I brought in Carlos Santiago and you said you owed me a favour?"

  He groaned. "Yeah, I remember," he said reluctantly.

  "Yeah, well, I'm calling to collect on that favour," I said, brushing the dirt off my knees.

  "What is it?" he asked. "It better not take long. I'm working on a mother of a case right now and the Lieutenant is up my ass."

  "I need you to arrest a woman named Lilynn Blaise," I told him. "I don't know where she is and I don't have proof yet—"

  "Up my ass, Simon," he interrupted. "Do you understand? I don't have time to go after some lady—"

  "I wasn't finished," I cut him off. "I'll know her location soon and I am going to tape her confessing her crimes."

  "What are these alleged crimes?" he asked, sounding interested despite himself.

  "Attempted murder, blackmail, acts of terrorism…" I listed off.

  "Okay, who is this lady?" Bell asked. "Is this is a case you're working on?"

  "No, this is something I'm pursuing myself," I said. "She's hired a lot of local mercenaries, too, so bring back-up."

  "What the hell, Simon? This sounds serious. Why are you calling me in on this? You should be calling 911."

  "Because I don't have proof or a location, Bell," I explained impatiently. "And I don't just need a squad car. I need someone to take this seriously."

  There was silence. A blue minivan drove by. The six minutes were almost up. Cradling the phone between my shoulder and ear, I took the Firestar out of the holster and pulled back the slide to load the cartridge. I hoped I didn't have to use it.

  "Bell?" I said. "I need an answer."

  "Okay," he said roughly into the phone. "You gotta tell me what you're doing, though. How are you finding this Blaise woman?"

  I took the phone back into my hand. "Can't tell you that," I told him.

  "Jesus Christ, you're going to do something illegal," he swore into the phone. "I—"

  The black sedan came into my view. The light was yellow. There were no other cars around. This was my window. "I gotta go, Bell. I'll call you when I have a location." I hung up and shoved the phone into my sweater pocket.

  I waited for the car to stop at the light before sprinting about fifty yards to a clump of bushes. I crouched down, breathing hard, asking myself if I was really going to do this. I'm coming for you. Get in my way and I go after them all. Oh, yes, I was going to do this.

  Chapter 28

  * * *

  Edging around the bushes, I darted across the road and behind the car. Remaining low, I crept around to the right side of the car. I pulled on the handle to the backseat. It lifted upwards in my hand. The idiot didn't lock his doors. I guess he didn't think I'd be coming after him; he figured it would be the opposite way around.

  First glancing around to make sure there were no witnesses, I quickly opened the door, slid into the backseat, and slammed the door shut. The Firestar was pointed at the driver before he had even registered what had just happened. He turned to look at me.

  "Eyes forward and hands on the wheel," I ordered. I slouched in my seat and kept the gun low but pointed at the man's head. I wasn't going to hurt him, but he didn't need to know that.

  His head snapped forward and his jaw set angrily. "What is this?" he growled.

  "Take your left hand off the wheel and give me your cell phone," I instructed.

  He didn't move. "Are you robbing me?" he asked bitterly. He obviously hadn't seen my face. He didn't know who I was.

  "Do it," I said.

  Pursing his lips, he reached for his pants' pocket. I prepared myself for him to draw a weapon, hand gripping the Firestar tightly. Thankfully, he withdrew a Blackberry and handed it to me. I tossed it on the seat beside me. "Weapon," I said.

  "I don't have one," he replied.

  "Weapon," I said again.

  His eyes darted to the rearview mirror. It took a moment, but he recognized me. His eyes widened, and he muttered, "Shit."

  "Yeah, shit," I agreed, smiling at him in the mirror. "Hand over the gun." I knew he had one because there was no way a merc didn't have a weapon on him. This guy had a buzzcut and a Marine tattoo poking out from his tee-shirt.

  He held up his hands slowly. "Okay," he said. "I'm going to open the glove box."

  "Don't bother," I said, leaning forward through the seats. Without taking my eyes off him, I opened the glove box and felt around for a gun. My hand wrapped around the barrel of a large handgun. I also felt a pair of handcuffs. "Anything else?"

  He glared at me, giving away the fact that he did have another weapon. He reached down and pulled a blade from his sock. I took it from him, sat back in my seat, and put the gun – a Glock – and the knife on the ground. I put the handcuffs next to the phone.

  The light was green and probably had been for some time. "Drive straight," I told him.

  He readjusted himself in his seat and accelerated slowly. "Where to?" he asked with a sarcastic lilt to his voice.

  "You're going to take me to Lilynn Blaise," I said.

  "Who?" he replied evenly. His eyes found mine in the rearview mirror and must have correctly interpreted my deadpan look. "Yeah, fine."

  He merged onto the highway and headed in the same direction as Callum's mansion. I thought about Callum and how pissed he was going to be that I was doing this. I never wanted to intentionally make him angry or worried, but some things couldn't wait for nightfall. His party was almost certainly a target for an attack if I didn't take care of Lilynn tonight.

  "How much security does Lilynn have with her?" I asked, watching the man's hands on the wheel. It couldn't hurt to see how much he was willing to give up.

  "Like I'm gonna tell you," he muttered.

  "Fair enough," I said.

  "What are you going to do? Kill her?" he asked so calmly it made me frown.

  "Like I'm going to tell you," I answered.

  He let out a loud laugh, and said, "Fair enough. It's not like I get paid enough to care what's going on between you two anyway."

  That was charming. I didn't answer and paid attention to where he was driving. We had passed the turnoff for Callum's. We were driving quite far from the city. It was going to take a while for Bell and the rest of the cops to get to Lilynn's. I didn't have a real fleshed-out plan, which was probably stupid of me, but I didn't have the luxury of time.

  I wondered if the Letalis Flora power within me – whatever it was – would work against humans. If I was in a true life-or-death situation, would it show itself? I hadn't felt it when I had gotten stabbed, but I hadn't fought the assailant. I was reluctant to believe that it would. Well, I wasn't going to rely on it, anyway.

  We turned at Exit 31 and turned again at a gas station. The road became small, trees encroaching on both sides. It was good that it was daylight because visibility would have been terrible in the dark. I had the feeling that we were getting close.

  "Where's the house?" I asked.

  "There's a right turn coming up. First house after that,"
he grunted.

  "Stop the car before the turn," I told him.

  He slowed the car about two minutes later and pulled it to the edge of the road. I saw the right turn up ahead. There was a sign that read "Wale Drive". There was a ball of nerves in the pit of my stomach but I ignored it. "Give me the keys," I ordered.

  Making a sound, he turned off the car and flung the keys at me. I caught them before they whacked me in the face. I tossed the handcuffs into his lap. "Cuff yourself to the steering wheel," I said.

  He took a long time to do it and I could tell he was thinking of ways to take me. Once I heard the click, I opened the door, gun still trained on him. I made sure no one was coming down the road before picking up the knife and tucking it into my sock. The Glock was too burdensome to carry, so I tossed it over the car and into the thick trees. I opened the driver's side door and double-checked that his cuffs were secure. Satisfied, I said, "Thanks," and shut the door and locked it. I didn't want any unwitting passersby trying to "save" him.

  Looking around, I didn't see anything but thick trees. It was a remote location and I could see why Lilynn chose it. I headed for the "Wale Drive" sign, glancing behind me to make sure there was no one. The man was tugging at the cuffs in the car. As I turned down the dirt road, I pulled my gun out and kept it at my side. My heart was beating so fast that it was all I could hear. There was a driveway peeking out from the trees on the right about a hundred yards away.

  I dialed Bell. He picked up on the first ring. "Simon?" he barked into the phone.

  "Exit 31, turn at the gas station and then on Wale Drive," I said. "It's the first house after that."

  "Simon, what the hell are you doing?"

  "Did you get that?" I asked.

  "Yes, but—"

  "Look, I don't have any concrete proof yet, but I'll get it," I told him, walking towards the driveway. "Trust me."

  "If you screw me over, I swear to God –"

  "I won't," I reassured him. "Come on, it's me, Bell."

  He paused before saying, "Yeah, I know. Do you want us to come now or give you time to get proof? It's going to take fifteen minutes to get there."

  I closed my eyes for a brief moment in relief. "Come in ten minutes," I said.

  "All right," he said disbelievingly. "There better be probable cause for this. We're going to have to break in without a warrant."

  "If you need probable cause for anything, it can be that someone is breaking into the house," I said.

  "What?" he spat into the phone. "What are you – are you saying you're about to break into this woman's house?"

  "Yeah." I didn't bother lying. "Listen, I've got to go." I was approaching the driveway and I could see the glint of windows through the trees.

  "You said this woman was guilty of attempted murder and acts of terrorism," he said frantically.

  I slowed down and flattened myself against the trees next to the driveway. I peered around the corner and saw the house. "And blackmail," I added facetiously, lowering my voice. "Don't forget blackmail."

  "Simon!"

  "I'll be careful, Bell," I promised. "I really have to go. See you in twenty-five or so."

  I hung up on his protests, put my phone on silent, and peeked at the house again. There were two cars parked in front of it. It was a decent-sized house with quite a homely look about it. It was two stories with a gray brick exterior and a good number of windows. There were thin white columns to the left where the porch and front door was.

  A man was sitting on the steps of the porch, flipping through a magazine and chewing on a toothpick. I didn't see anyone else around. I was hoping Lilynn kept less security around during the day since there was no threat of vampires attacking. I was sure as hell that she didn't expect me to be a risk. She seemed to underestimate me and that was just fine.

  Squinting at the windows, I could see into the first floor. I made out the living room and the kitchen, which were both empty. She better be home. If she wasn't home, then I was screwed in terms of the SFPD finding out I mislead them.

  Suddenly, I saw movement in the farthest window on the second story. There was no way to tell if it was Lilynn or not, but it was enough for me to go through with this.

  I bit down on my lip and bent over to put my hands on my knees, taking a deep breath and a moment to prepare myself. This was crazy and reckless and stupid, but I was going to do it anyway.

  The guard didn't even see me coming until I was five feet in front of him. I was running at a full sprint, gun in my right hand with the butt out. He stood up, dropped the magazine, and reached for the gun at his side. He didn't even manage to get it out before I hit him in the head with the end of the Firestar. The blow didn't knock him out, but he bent over and I took the opportunity to grab the back of his neck and knee him in the face. Stumbling off the steps, he landed in a heap on the driveway. I was actually quite pleased with myself as I pulled the guy in front of the porch and tried to push him underneath it as much as I could. I was not a good fighter by any means, but I had taken quite a few self-defense courses at my local gym. Plus, I had learned a few things on the job out of pure necessity. The knee-to-head move was my specialty, I liked to think.

  I looked around for backup or Lilynn, but saw no one. If someone were to look out of the window, they wouldn't be able to see the unconscious guard.

  I knew it was risky, but I tried the front door. I grasped the gold knob in my hand and with bated breath, twisted it open as quietly as I could. It was open. I stepped into the house, quickly shutting the door behind me. The living room and kitchen was to my right, still empty. There was a hallway to my left that probably held a bedroom and a bathroom. The base of the staircase seemed to be around the corner in the living room.

  I darted to put my back against the wall of the small foyer, almost tripping over a pair of sneakers. With a frantically beating heart, I held the gun close to my chest, ready to shoot if I had to. I stayed still for a moment, listening for any indication of Lilynn or guards. The house was quiet. There was a ticking of a clock on the mantle of the living room, the faint whistle of wind, and the vibrations of the fridge, but nothing else.

  I was prepared to go up the staircase when I heard a door near the kitchen click open. Boots clunked on the floor and the door shut loudly. Someone must have come in from the back door. I wanted to look but knew whoever it was would be able to see me if I did. I glanced behind me and thought I could make it into one of the rooms in the hallway. Not that I knew what was behind the doors of those rooms, but I was completely exposed otherwise. Shit.

  There was shuffling around in the kitchen. By the sound of it, someone was putting on a pot of coffee. Then the door of the refrigerator opened and closed and the telltale crinkling of plastic told me that they were making food as well. This was taking a long time. I wondered if it was Lilynn, but it was most likely a second bodyguard.

  The smell of food cooking in the microwave wafted over to me. I shifted my feet, growing restless. The microwave beeped, a drawer opened, there was a clanging of utensils, and then there was a scraping of a chair. Whoever it was ate for a while, clearing their throat every once in a while. It was definitely a man.

  "Ms. Blaise?" a gruff voice called. My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the time, cursing to myself for the fact that a good eight minutes had passed. The cops were going to be here in fifteen minutes or so.

  A faint voice answered from upstairs.

  "It's one o'clock," he yelled. "You want me and Jack to do a perimeter check?"

  My eyes widened. Jack was probably the guy I had just knocked out. This guy was going to find him and then this would all be over. Lilynn must have answered positively because the guard's shoes clunked in my direction. I padded to the hallway, hid along the wall, and prayed that he wouldn't turn around. He came into view – a tall, beefy sort of man wearing a motorcycle jacket. We were definitely mismatched strength-wise. I had to take him by surprise if I wanted a chance.

  He opened
the front door and as he let it shut behind him, I slid back onto the porch. I quickly shut the door behind me. He was two feet away from me, calling Jack's name and looking frustrated. As he walked towards the steps, he saw the forgotten magazine and tensed. Deciding that this was my moment, I kicked him behind the knees. He fell onto his knees with a "What the fu—" and saw me. I went to elbow him in the head, but he was faster than I anticipated and clocked me on my left cheekbone. Reflexively, my hand flew to touch the spot and he took the opportunity to grab at me, causing me to fall. My ass hit the porch hard but I managed to keep hold of the Firestar. He took his own gun he had holstered to his hip.

  He made a sound before swinging it up to aim at me. Leaning back on my hands, I kicked the gun from his hand. It landed on the wooden slats of the porch with a loud clunk. He lunged for it but I sent a kick to his head as well and he fell on his elbows. The blow hadn't knocked him out. Slightly disoriented and reaching for my leg, he didn't see the butt of the Firestar headed for the back of his neck. He slumped forward with a pained sound and remained motionless.

  Gasping for a breath, I scrambled to my feet and touched my cheek. It already felt hot and swollen. Glancing at his gun, I knew it could have been a lot worse. I kicked it off the porch so that it was out of view.

  I would have moved him out of the way, but I knew he was too heavy. There didn't seem to be any other security around. Lilynn was upstairs. I adjusted my ponytail and huffed as I turned to look at the front door. I had about thirteen minutes until the police came, or so I hoped. If Bell didn't manage to make it, I guess I was on my own.

  * * *

  I sneaked into the house, closing the door gently after me. Pausing to listen for anyone else, I proceed to round the corner into the living room. It was quiet and empty. The open kitchen was empty, too. The guard's used dish sat on the small round table near the back door. I looked up the staircase, which led straight up to the second floor. I slowly climbed the stairs, gun raised and ready.

  Before I reached the top, I reached in my jeans pocket, pressed "record" on the small recorder, and slipped it into the pocket of my sweater. It would get better audio from there.