“You may also recognize this lady, and he pointed to another portrait of a more mature woman.”
“I recognize her, but I cannot recall from where?”
“Her name is Pricilla, and she has a very interesting history, you may know her from the knitting she does.”
“What is this, the bus of death on a trip to Slaughterville? Hold on tight, please. What were they all doing there with me?”
Coleman wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Yeah, it was damn hot in here. “She is making woolen covers for hand mirrors, to help field operatives identify their prey. They never give a reflection you know. But to answer your question, this team was about to kill a powerful vampire when you stumbled onto the bus and fucked the whole thing up for them. They had been planning that ambush for months, and you jumped on and ruined it!”
“The Creep? They were tracking the Creep? This is crazy, I don’t want to believe you. Why did they just not go ahead with their plan?”
“You cannot go around ramming stakes through the hearts of what look like innocent people in front of everyone. You would end up causing all kinds of hysteria and try explaining that to the police. Can you imagine that conversation?” He asked with full on sarcasm. “Oh, me and my pals stalked a rocker looking dude with an AC/DC shirt on and impaled him on the bus because we think he was a creature of the night. You should be thanking us officer!”
“Fair point,” I muttered as I now too wiped sweat off my forehead. What do I make of this? How far down the rabbit hole was I willing to go?
“Are you part of all this?”
“Oh no, I just document and follow. I am better with a typewriter and a few words of copy. I know where my strengths are and I’m no Van Helsing, as you called your teacher. These guys are not even aware I exist, and that is for the best. They are small in number and have a wider knowledge of their work. Having me around too much would blow their cover. The darkness would then exterminate them. The more people that know, the more chances exist to read their minds.”
“Why show me all this?” I enquired with some hesitation. Wasn’t he worried that they would read my mind after this?
“I am the only person who knows all this, and if anything happens to me, all this knowledge would be lost. You are my backup plan, Levi Wallace. In case, you know… the worst happens.” And with that he took a long thin silver knife from its rack on the wall and placed it carefully in his pocket. As he pulled the door up, he motioned for me to leave, and I turned to walk out of the unit. I then noticed a pump action super soaker water gun resting against the wall.
“Is that full of holy water? Like a vampire flamethrower! Does holy water work too?”
“No Levi, it's winter and that belongs to one of my children. Of course, they’re mostly grown now.” I then saw a big wheel, a box of old toys and four stacked sun loungers. “Yes, holy water works.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least I knew something. “Good idea though, right?”
Charles ignored me as he locked up the unit with the same assiduity, he opened it with.
“I’ll call you this afternoon. Please don’t go to that club without talking to me. I’m going to dig deeper on this blood drive and see what shakes out.”
“Alright, but you aren’t changing my mind. I’m going to see my boss, then go to the house and see if Naomi needs my help with Debbie’s arrangements. I’d like to talk to Mr. Dance, but I’m sure like the rest of the world he’s convinced I killed Melissa.”
Coleman swung the padlock into place and clicked it. “Do yourself a favor and stay at home. Don’t interact too much in case they are watching.”
I actually breathed a sigh of relief. “You do believe me then. I’m not crazy?”
“Yeah, I wish I didn’t believe you, but I do. I’ve seen too much, know too much. I will drop you back off at the deli.”
I jumped out of the car and shut the door. We rode in silence. I guess we both had a lot to think about. My mind roiled with all the horrible information.
“Bye, Mr. Coleman. Thanks for listening and showing me everything. I’ll call you later.”
I left the Top Knot feeling better after having the chance to talk about Debbie but also anxious about what tonight meant.
Was I really going to do this by myself? Maybe I could convince one of my friends to help. I didn’t have many since Melissa had taken up most of my time recently, but there were a few.
And one for sure owed me a favor for not kicking his ass earlier.
Chapter Fifteen—Charles
The kid was right about his neighbor. She was dead, and it wasn’t a suicide. The old lady had been thrown off a building--at least that was the chatter between a few officers. Granted, they were rookies, but it was pretty apparent that the late Mrs. Anita Sherman had been smashed to the ground and with great force. There were bits of her everywhere to prove that theory. The thing was, there wasn’t a building tall enough on this street to have crushed the old lady in such a manner.
Not to mention the two major problems anyone would have had trying to harm Mrs. Sherman. But apparently her two loud-mouthed Dobermans been smashed too. I tried to take some photos of the scene, but Reynolds spotted me immediately and ordered me to get behind the line.
“What happened to freedom of the press?” I demanded as I ducked under the yellow crime scene tape.
Reynolds waved his bear paw at me. “I don’t have time to deal with you, Coleman and I don’t want you interfering with our investigation. In case you didn’t know it, I am a little busy. Last warning, Coleman.” Reynolds tapped one of the uniformed officers on the shoulder. “If he so much as steps a toe past this line, shoot him.” The man nodded grimly and gave me the evil eye. I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
Maybe he was right. It was time to go. I had Levi Wallace to think about and not merely my reputation. I didn’t really have one of those anyway, so I was in no danger of losing it. Not like this Reynolds guy, who was obviously pushing for a promotion.
I glanced at the Wallace home, but the young man’s car wasn’t there. He had not taken my advice and stayed home. More’s the pity too because he was in real danger, beyond nightmares and bad feelings.
I believed every word of his story.
It wasn’t because Levi was such a great kid. I could tell he was kind of a screw-up, but he wasn’t a murderer. The Black Knights were a bunch of blood-sucking lunatics but there were more. Plenty more in the rock scene. No, Levi was not a bad guy, just a young one.
I tossed my keys in the air and caught them a few times, a bad habit of mine that sometimes resulted in my keys being dropped in places where they shouldn’t be. I decided to head back to my office and see if I could recruit some help in the research department.
Levi Wallace had given me some good clues, especially the two names that he mentioned, Sustainers and the Frenzied.
The office was disturbingly quiet when I got there. It wasn’t until ten minutes into my research into old case files that I realized I had missed an office meeting. Hopefully, they weren’t handing out pink slips. If they were, I would be first on that list. I was not an office favorite.
Truth be told, Detective Reynolds and my editor had similar opinions about me. Still, I dutifully wrote whatever stories were requested of me no matter how menial. The good thing was I was fast when it came to writing, which left me a lot of free time to do my own research for the things that interested me.
Including the Black Knights.
One of the young editorial assistants, a guy whose name escaped me, spotted me, and raced toward my desk. Here we go, I thought. Probably sent by the editor himself to harass me. Was that a pink slip he had in his hand? No. It was a slip of paper, but it wasn’t pink. Were those literal? When they fired you, was there some kind of law where they had to write it on a piece of pink paper? That would make sense, and in my experience those kinds of stories had a bit of truth to them.
“Sorry you couldn’t
make the meeting, Mr. Coleman. Had some guys from the Washington Department here. We’re getting new equipment, and they are expanding the division. I think I’m going to cover sports. So exciting!”
He perched his skinny behind on the edge of my desk with the piece of paper still in his hands. I was eager to get this conversation moving along. I had to visit the library and maybe a few other places before I headed back to the Wallace home. I had made up my mind that I was going to talk to Mrs. Wallace before sundown. I could sense some tension between the young man and his mother, at least in Levi’s mind. If I could bridge the gap and bring her up to speed on the dangers her son faced, it might be helpful for him.
And for me. The goal here was to keep everyone alive.
“Great. Is there something I can help you with, Todd?”
“It’s Ted, and actually I think I can help you. A man stopped by while you were gone. Good-looking fellow. Long-haired rocker sort. He said to give you this note. Something about a party tonight at Crush? I was thinking if you needed a photographer--I mean, I’m great with the camera. But you know that. I don’t want to invite myself, but let’s face it, I’m younger. It might help you to have me tag along.”
“Help me how?” I was truly confused by his request.
“You wouldn’t exactly blend into that environment, Mr. Coleman. Crush is one of the hottest places in town. It’s kind of puzzling why he would ask for you and not someone hipper. You know, cooler.”
No, you pencil-neck jerk. You mean younger.
I leaned back in my chair and chuckled. “Hipper? What do you propose then, Tad? Are you going to help me with my wardrobe?”
“It’s Ted, and no but I know the culture. I bet you can’t name one top forty song from the rock charts. What about Elegant Black? Have you ever heard that song? Come on, that’s an easy one. Do you know who sings it?”
My skin took on a clammy feeling as the young man with frizzy red hair grinned at me. I hadn’t noticed how odd his smile was until today. Wider than normal. Yes, a very wide smile. One that reminded me of one of those disturbing underground cartoons, the kind that parents pretend their kids aren’t reading. What was that character’s name?
“May I have the note, please?”
The young man deposited the paper in my hand but quickly withdrew it and said, “Shouldn’t have told you about this. I should have gone myself. That’s what I get for being an honest guy.”
“I don’t know you very well, Tad, but I know people and I don’t think you’re in any danger of being called an honest guy. And please get your posterior off my desk.”
“Don’t blame me if you get booted out before you get in the door.”
“Thanks, I won’t.”
Glancing around the room, I could see that no one was watching me…and for some reason I worried that they would be. No. Nobody would be the slightest bit interested in what it was I had in my hands. Except Ted.
He disappeared down the dusty hallway as the newsroom came to life. Reporters on deadlines began banging on their typewriters. It was a soothing sound. And after glancing at the note, I needed some soothing.
We request the pleasure of your company. See you tonight.
The handwriting was sloppy and rather archaic, but what was more disturbing was the red ink. At least I thought it was ink. Or was that blood? I stared at the note as I reached for my glasses hoping to get a better look at the script. Yes, I think it is blood!
As I bent closer to the note to look for further clues, perhaps evidence of a thumbprint or fingerprint, the paper suddenly burst into flames. Cursing like a madman, I dropped the flaming note into the metal garbage can beside my desk.
As my editor raced toward me with a fire extinguisher, I fell back in my chair dumbfounded. Levi Wallace was right. The Frenzied knew who I was. And they were expecting me.
“What are you doing, Charles? Trying to burn the place down?” I felt dizzy, but there was really no explanation for it. I wasn’t normally the kind of guy who got dizzy because of a weird note. I’d read a few doozies before this one.
Yeah, but none written in blood. And none that burst into flames, Charles.
“No, sorry. I don’t know what happened. Must be gag paper, like flash paper or something like that. You know these kids nowadays.”
My editor growled in agreement and barked at me, “Just clean it up.”
“Sure, I’ll do that.”
He lumbered off with the extinguisher, and the rest of the newsroom began to whisper about what just happened.
Good luck trying to figure that out, guys. I haven’t got a clue.
As I began scraping the ruined papers into the garbage can, I caught the expression on Ted’s face as he crossed the hall. He looked pleased, like he knew exactly what was going to happen and was glad it did. And then I realized that he wasn’t just an ambitious editorial assistant. He wasn’t just a guy looking for his big break. Not merely a nice young man striving to make his mark in the world.
Todd or Ted or Tad or whatever his name was wasn’t even human.
He was one of the Frenzied.
Or at the very least knew who they were and did their bidding.
I couldn’t get out of the newsroom fast enough.
Chapter Sixteen—Levi
I don’t know that I’d ever been to church before. Maybe, when I was a kid, but I didn’t remember it. I did have half-memories of wearing tinsel garland on my head and singing in a white robe with a bunch of other kids. But then again, that could have been from elementary school. Or it could have been a scene from a movie. I’ve heard it said that sometimes people “borrow” memories, especially from things they see on television. But here I was, hoping that sometime in the past I had connected with a benevolent God who would help me tonight.
I recalled my involvement in a nativity play. Was that in kindergarten? I remember the kid playing Joseph wore a Dallas Cowboys shirt due to a last-minute refusal to wear the costume.
I played the third shepherd, or a donkey, or something. The school nativity play is the first societal way hierarchy organizes itself depending on your cerebral station in life.
The most intelligent and good-looking girl was picked to be Mary. This was Bella Ryerson. Strange that I can’t remember much about the play, but I remember her. The only daughter of Judy and Simon Ryerson, who live up on snob hill. Naomi never liked them. I did remember that. The Old Man however, they were his kind of people. Virgil Wallace always admired success. He bragged about other people’s success as if it were his own. Such a damn loser.
From what I remember, Mr. Ryerson owned an accounting firm catering mostly to farmers, while his wife ran a home photography business from a spare bedroom. All because a family member once told her she took good photographs. Oh yeah. Naomi hated her. Mrs. Ryerson had taken out of focus and poorly lit portraits of most of the families attending Sunday School with their children—using their role as elders in the Lutheran Church as an opportunity to make more money. Wait a second! We did go to church once upon a time. A very long time ago. How could I have forgotten that?
I remembered Bella dropping the head of the baby Jesus as we all watched it roll across the stage. While everyone else was mortified, I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean, come on. It was funny!
Curtis Brockmeyer played Joseph. He was the son of Hillary and Jeff Brockmeyer. More snobs that the Old Man admired. They had a country property on the outskirts of town surrounded by over twenty rusty and overgrown cars.
Mr. Brockmeyer missed a chance to play for the Green Bay Packers due to a blown knee. He owned a landscape and gardening business, and his wife worked from home. With any guy from town that happened to drive by for extra marital relations.
Bella and Curtis sat there in front of the manger covered in blue and brown sheets, respectively. They wore matching pillowcases on their head. What can I say? We went to a cheap church, despite the swanky congregation.
The non-speaking roles went to the offspring of
blue-collar workers. Oh, the irony. The children played beasts of burden that worked for hours and never complained. Our future expectations and lives laid themselves out right there for the whole town to see, so no one was in doubt of where we were heading.
Unfortunately, Curtis was heading for Vietnam and never survived the Spring Offensive of 75, and Bella recently gave birth to dark colored twins after a drunken fuck in a corn maze with a guy from the car plant. Second shepherd isn’t looking so bad right now. Or was it third. Sorry, Lord. The memory escapes me but that has to count for something, right?
I need your help. Help me find Melissa. Aren’t you supposed to be kicking evil’s ass? Oops, I mean evil’s butt.
But he didn’t help Debbie. Did he?
I shook the thought away.
God didn’t murder my sister. The Frenzied were responsible for her death and for Vanessa and a whole host of others. And maybe mine. Maybe Melissa’s too, if I couldn’t get my act together.
If today was going to be my last day on earth, I may as well spend it here. I climbed the steps of St. Bartholomew’s Church feeling hopeful but nonetheless doomed. It was bright and sunny inside the church, and it smelled slightly of vanilla.
There were people sitting in the pews, and a few glanced back and gave me a friendly smile but no one approached me. I kind of wished they would because I had no idea how to do this. I took a seat, waited, and cleared my throat as a sign that I was approachable. That probably wasn’t the most grown-up way of asking for help, but I wasn’t sure of the protocol here.
Nothing happened.
Nobody turned around. There were no ushers rushing over to speak with me. My desperation rose as I waited, my hands grasping the back of the pew. I guess they didn’t have time for chit chatting with a sinner like me.
I eased back into the pew and tugged my jacket a little tighter around me. It was chilly here, but not half as chilly as the Creep’s finger brushing against my skin. Soft instrumental music played over the speaker, and even though I couldn’t have imagined the words, it lent the place a peaceful feeling.
The Vampire's Song (Vampires of Rock Book 1) Page 12