Blood Moon

by A. D. Ryan

  “Oh.” Then what he said actually clicked. “Wait, his wrist? Why?”

  I knew the answer before he replied, because the smell still hung in the air like smog, but he said it anyway. “Blood.”

  And I was right back to being repulsed…and angry. I was so angry, I acted without thinking—again—moving to push past David so I could go back there and…and…Quite honestly, what I visualized doing once back there was even more extreme than what happened with the man out here, and it frightened me a little. But I still had to do something.

  “Where are you going?”

  I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “What do you mean ‘where are you going?’ I’m going back there to stop it!”

  “It’s handled,” David assured me calmly. “I’ve spoken to the club owner. He’s shutting it down for the night and has agreed to come in for questioning.”

  “Sure he is.” Yes. I was skeptical. “And what about the couple you found? You just left them?”

  “Brooke, calm down. Really think about that.” I searched his eyes and immediately realized I was overreacting. “Of course I put a stop to it. I asked them about our vics, and they told me they’d never seen them here before, either…”

  I was about to vent my frustrations over hitting another dead end when David continued. “But then they told me that they were both new to the, um coven, and that I should talk to the owner. Donovan. I spoke with him for a bit, explained what we were doing here, and asked if he’d mind coming down for questioning. He was more than willing to comply.”

  Satisfied, I smiled. “Well then, I guess we’d better not keep him waiting.”

  Back at the station, David and I sat in the interrogation room across from the nightclub owner, Donovan Miller. Like the other club-goers, he was dressed in mostly black, from his shoulder-length hair right down to the nail polish on his fingernails, and he really had that smoky-eye technique down. If I wore more eye makeup, I’d probably ask him for some pointers.

  “So, Mr. Miller—”

  “Donovan,” he interrupted, looking up at me with a sly smile that showed off his pointed teeth. “Mr. Miller is my father.”

  “Donovan,” I repeated, trying not to be repulsed by his abundantly obvious attempt at flirtation. “Tell me about your club. From what we’ve seen and heard, it sounds like it has the potential to breed dangerous situations.”

  “On the contrary,” he responded calmly. “I lead the only coven”—he spoke the word as though insulted that I called it a ‘club’—“in this whole damn city that’s exclusive. I don’t let just anybody in, and any blood-sharing that goes on is one hundred percent safe. And consensual.”

  “Blood-sharing?” I repeated, disgusted. “Care to elaborate?”

  He chuckled. It sounded dark and menacing and put me on edge. “You see, Detective Leighton, when male and female vampires are attracted to one another, it can lead to sexual encounters. Oftentimes, the sharing of each other’s blood can heighten the experience.”

  Though difficult, I managed to keep myself from gagging in front of Donovan. “So they drink each other’s blood? And you think this is safe?”

  Flopping back in his chair, he dropped his hands to his lap. “You people would never understand.” I looked at David, who appeared just as confounded as I was, and then back at Donovan. “Blood screening is mandatory before I welcome anyone into my coven, and there’s regular testing that goes on quarterly. I understand the risks of the lifestyle we choose to lead, and I want to promise a safe place for us to exist as we were meant to. I’ll give you copies of anything you need, but I assure you, everything that goes on within my coven is one hundred percent consensual.”

  “Thank you, we’d appreciate that, actually,” I informed him before moving onto my next question. “Has anyone ever died during this…blood-sharing ritual?”

  “Never. We never take more than we need,” he responded honestly. “And I’ve never heard of it happening anywhere else, either.”

  “You’re certain?” David spoke up.

  Donovan sighed, sitting forward again. “Look, I heard about those victims and how they died. Exsanguination? Draining someone entirely isn’t possible. Not during blood-sharing, at least.” He released a single, mocking laugh. “Was that what made you think it was vampires?”

  “There was a mark on her neck. Two puncture wounds,” I replied. “Seemed like a good theory.”

  He laughed again, only this one, to me, sounded slightly more confident—cocky, even—and he started rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Normally, I’d agree, but I’m confident that you’re probably not looking for any of my coven members,” he told us, laying his arms on the table.

  I glanced down at them, not sure what to think. Donovan was quick to explain. “Not every member of my coven has the dental implants since they all hold day jobs. Even those of us who do have them, they don’t puncture deep enough to cause continuous blood flow—if you know what I’m saying.” He took his right index finger and dragged it along a wound that was so fresh I thought I could still smell traces of his blood. A tremor moved through me, and my stomach rolled as I visualized how this happened. I didn’t understand why this affected me in such a visceral way, but I couldn’t help but feel like it went against the very core of my existence.

  The wound wasn’t very large—a straight, quarter-inch line with one small hole on either side of it. “There’s usually a small incision made, and sometimes, depending on just how zealous our partner gets, we’ll get lucky with the additional puncture wounds, but they’re never deep enough to cause someone to bleed out.”

  David and I looked at each other again as Donovan pulled his sleeves back down, and when we returned our gaze to him, he raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Plus, we never—ever—feed from the neck. It’s always done in a place that can be easily concealed, and always away from any major arteries like the carotid and the femoral. That’s just asking for trouble, if you ask me. And I’m not looking for trouble.”

  What he told us made sense—in a way—and we no longer had a reason to keep questioning him. We gathered his alibi information and gave him the standard “don’t leave town” spiel. His business still worried me, but as far as I could tell, he wasn’t breaking any laws. Due to his being nothing but completely open and forthright, we thanked him for his time, apologized for the trouble, and sent him on his way. On his way out, he assured us that he would cooperate with anything we might need to aide the investigation, including sending over any and all information regarding his club.

  After he left, I turned to David and threw my hands up in defeat. “Well, that was a bust.”

  “Maybe so,” he agreed, sitting on the edge of his desk and taking my hands, pulling me toward him. “There are still three other clubs. The odds are still in our favor.”

  I released an aggravated sigh. “I know. I guess I’m just frustrated. What if we don’t find anything? We’ll be right back at square one.”

  “Or, we could break this case wide open,” he said confidently, trying to lift my spirits and reminding me why I fell in love with him.

  When he fell silent, dropping his eyes from mine, I sensed his turmoil. I pulled one of my hands from his and looked to make sure no one was looking before I placed my hand on his shoulder and teased the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “Hey,” I whispered. “What’s wrong?”

  Raising his face, he hesitated briefly. “I’m worried.”

  “About?”

  He exhaled heavily, and I started to fear his response. “About how you’ll cope should we find out that your brother was messed up in all of this.”

  “I worry about that, too,” I admitted quietly.

  “Can you recall anything from back then that might have indicated something like this?” David inquired, treading carefully.

  “I don’t. But Bobby hung out with his friends more than he did with me once we hit college. The night of our birthday was the first time we’d gone out togethe
r in weeks.” The minute the words left my mouth, I realized that, while I might not have known about Bobby’s extracurricular activities, there was one person who probably did: his best friend…and my ex.

  Nick.

  Looked like he was going to get that phone call he seemed so desperate for after all.

  Chapter twelve | contact

  I tapped the eraser of my pencil against my desk over and over again, staring at the creased piece of paper in front of me. I’d been trying to find the courage to pick up the phone and dial, but the truth of the matter was, the thought of making this call terrified me. Not only was I worried about Nick getting the wrong impression about why I was calling him, but a large part of me was terrified of finding out the truth about whether or not Bobby had been involved in this bizarre “vampire” lifestyle.

  So far, two of the other three groups had returned from their investigation, reporting the same thing we’d already found out at Donovan’s club. Just like David and me, they shut the clubs down and were currently interviewing the club owners. From what David and I were able to glean before they went into the interrogation rooms, our victims went unrecognized at both of these clubs, too. There was a possibility that someone was lying, and if that happened to be the case, then we’d have our work cut out for us.

  Which was another reason I needed to bite the bullet and call Nick. If Bobby’s death had anything to do with this, and Nick knew anything about it, this could be all we needed to finally bring this crazy son of a bitch to justice.

  Resolute in my decision, I dropped my pencil to my desk and picked up my phone, dialing the number before I lost my nerve. When I first told David that if anyone knew whether or not Bobby was involved in this life, it would be Nick, he seemed skeptical. I understood his reluctance when I told him I could call to find out, but he agreed that it might be in the case’s best interest.

  There was no answer after the fourth ring, so I pulled the phone from my ear to hang it up. Before it hit the base, though, I heard a rushed and panicked “Hello?” almost as clear as if the phone were still against my ear.

  “Oh, hey,” I replied, bringing the phone back to my ear.

  “Brooke?” he asked, sounding out of breath and slightly panicked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  I dismissed the feeling that his concern meant anything more than it should to me. “Yeah. I just…I wanted to ask you about something.”

  Nick fell silent on the other end of the phone before sighing. “Look, it wasn’t planned,” he said. “Honestly, I didn’t mean to, Brooke.”

  My brows pulled together with confusion. “Didn’t mean to what, Nick?”

  More silence. “Uh…what is it you’re talking about?”

  “Well, I was calling to ask about Bobby, but now I’m slightly more interested in what you didn’t mean to do,” I told him, sitting back in my chair and wondering if this was the part where he apologized for walking out on me. Not that it would matter at this point. I’d moved on and was finally at a place in my life where I was happy.

  Completely out of character, Nick stumbled over his words before reasserting his confidence. “It’s nothing we can’t talk about soon—in person, preferably.” He paused, waiting for my answer that never came, and then continued. “What is it you wanted to know?”

  I contemplated pursuing whatever he was talking about, but the open file in front of me reminded me of more important things to clear up first. “Back in college,” I began, “you and Bobby were close.”

  “Yeah…”

  “I know that you and he did things together without me sometimes, and I was just wondering what sort of…um, stuff that was.”

  Nick exhaled loudly, and he sounded almost annoyed. “Brooke, if you’re suggesting I was seeing someone else behind your back—”

  “What?” I asked, incredulous. “That’s not what I was saying at all—not that any of that would even matter now.” I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “What I want to know is what kind of stuff Bobby was into.”

  “What do you mean? Like drugs?”

  I bounced back and forth on just how much I could tell him without compromising the case before deciding to just figure out what he already knew regarding Bobby’s murder. I sat forward and leaned on my desk, my hair curtaining one side of my face as I turned away from the few detectives milling around. “Remember when we found him in that alley?”

  “Yeah,” Nick replied with a sigh, and I imagined him running his hand through his hair.

  “Well, remember the mark on his neck? And how he was drained of blood?”

  “Y-yeah…” He dragged out this one word, seemingly curious about where I was headed.

  “Did you…” I stopped, afraid that, while I was able to win over my colleagues, I might seem crazy to Nick. “What I mean is…was Bobby a part of one of those underground clubs that claim all their patrons are vampires?”

  Dead silence. It was so silent, I feared he’d hung up on me. “Nick?”

  “Yeah,” he responded quietly. “I’m here. What made you ask?”

  I shrugged, looking out the window and up at the almost-full moon hanging in a star-filled sky. “A case I’m working on, actually,” I confessed without thinking about it.

  “The woman from the park?” Nick interjected, surprising me.

  “Uh, yeah, actually. How did you know about that?”

  “I read about it in the paper. So, what about it made you think about Bobby?”

  “She had a similar mark on her neck,” I informed him. “One of my colleagues joked about vampires, and it was the only lead we had. We found a few clubs where people gallivant around pretending to be vampires, and so far, we’ve come up with nothing. So I thought that maybe—”

  “Vampires,” Nick repeated, and I swore I heard him snarl the word.

  Groaning, I pressed my forehead into my hand. “I know. It sounds so stupid, right?” Before he could answer, I kept going. “I just thought that maybe the two cases were connected somehow.”

  “They are,” Nick said so quietly I wondered if he meant for me to hear it at all.

  Just to be sure I wasn’t hearing things, I said, “What?”

  Nick cleared his throat. “Can you meet somewhere to talk? Tonight?”

  Part of me wanted to say yes—needed to—and I didn’t know why. It seemed to be a deeply rooted feeling. Almost instinctual. My brain, however, had the final say this time. “Nick, that’s not a good idea.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m working,” I reminded him.

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “So, did you and Bobby hang out at any new clubs back then before the night of our birthday?” I asked, ignoring his question and changing the topic.

  Seeming irritated, Nick exhaled heavily. “There were a couple we thought about going to because they didn’t card, but only one like the ones you’re describing… Brooke, I really think we should discuss this in person. It’s…more complicated than you realize.”

  “What was the name of this club?” I continued, hoping it was one of the four we were investigating.

  Nick hesitated before conceding. “Gianna’s. But, Brooke, I’m serious. You can’t go there alone.”

  “Gianna’s.” I leafed through the papers on my desk until I found my list of nightclubs. “That one’s not on my list. Doesn’t really sound like the type of club I’m looking for, either.”

  Nick chuckled. “It’s not like the owners want to advertise what kind of club they’re running, babe. Not to mention, it’s not exactly a club that everyone is privy to,” he told me.

  My fingers moved across my keyboard at lightning speed as I tried to pull up any and all information about this club as possible. I found nothing except for a couple of Italian restaurants across the country and a hair salon in New York.

  Nick continued speaking. “We only heard about it from some woman at a party who’d claimed she was a regular blood doll.”

  I froze,
a shiver rolling down my spine, and my stomach rolled. “Blood doll?”

  “Someone who offers themselves up to be fed from,” he clarified hesitantly, like he regretted telling me in the first place, and I resumed my typing. “You won’t find anything online,” Nick informed me, somehow knowing what I was up to. “The club moves often, and it’s very secretive. People get in by invitation only.”

  There it was again…invitation only. Why did that try to register every time I heard it? It had to mean something, but what?

  “And you and Bobby went? To what? Be blood dolls?”

  “Brooke, I really don’t think we should talk about this over the phone. There’s so much you don’t understand.”

  Frustrated, I sighed. “Then help me.”

  “I’m trying. But I need to see you. I need to make sure you’re okay.” Concern laced his voice, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

  I ignored his plea to see me again and repeated my question. “Did you and Bobby go to this club?”

  Silence.

  “Nick,” I breathed, feeling slightly betrayed.

  “It wasn’t like that, I promise. We thought it would be different. It’s not like we sought the place out initially. She approached us at that party, we only decided to use the invitations to see what all the hype was about.”

  That’s when it hit me.

  “The club we went to on our birthday,” I mumbled. “Bobby said he got the tickets from some girl at a party.” My anger flared, and I started to growl. “You took me to a secret wannabe-vampire club?”

  “We didn’t think she was serious,” he tried to justify. “We were curious.”

  Taking a beat, I attempted to get back to my line of questions. I couldn’t change the past, but I should be able to use it to help me find this place. “So, are you sure it’s involved in the vampire subculture? What exactly did this woman you met say?”

  “Brooke—”

  “How do I find out where it is?” I inquired further.