That’s what I needed. Peace. And courage. I would need that too. I closed my eyes against the images in my mind, the sight of Vanessa’s wide eyes and her young body crumpling and vanishing into a crowd of writhing shadows.
No, don’t think about it.
I wondered what the faithful would be praying for this evening. No doubt it would be for sick friends or their own relationships. They had ordinary problems, lucky bastards. I had a horde of vampires waiting to tear me limb from limb.
Melissa!
I almost threw up at the thought. Who in this place, or in any other church for that matter, would know how to pray about this? I sure as hell didn’t. But I had to try. I took a few deep breaths and tried to clear my mind, to gather my thoughts. Then the smell of garlic infiltrated my nostrils, was Jesus about to visit me? Was this his aroma? It would be a sad lookout for Christians all over the world if Jesus Christ smelt of garlic, although it may be popular in Middle Eastern cuisine.
Mrs. Khalil at the laundromat was Lebanese and she stank of it.
I closed my eyes and focused once more, but my concentration failed me during the first minute of introspection as now the irritating echo of crumpled plastic filled the ecclesiastical space.
I looked behind me and recognized Mr. Johnson. He stood over the holy water font with an empty water bottle trying to fill the receptacle, by holding it under the surface until the bubbles finished gurgling out. He looked back apologetically and placed a finger over his lips to indicate being quiet but continued with his noise pollution. He screwed the blue lid back on his full bottle and left. The smell left with him. I was not about to call after him and blow his cover, especially in a church.
And then I prayed. Or at least I thought it was a prayer. It was meant to be one and it felt like one.
Hey, God. Hi, I mean.
We don’t talk much, and I know that’s totally my fault. And I’m not sure what to say to you right now, but I could use your help. You see, there are these beings here on earth…you must know about them since I hear you can see everything.
But anyway, these monsters killed my sister, Debbie. Debbie Wallace.
I broke down crying but kept thinking and praying.
God! Why didn’t you save her? I guess maybe you can’t see me. See us? I don’t know. But there has never been a sweeter girl than my sister. It’s not her fault that I wanted to play the guitar, that I wanted to meet Rex Teaser.
And it’s not Melissa’s fault either. I can’t save Debbie, but I am going to try to find Melissa.
I could use your help. I really could. Please, help me.
I heard nothing, but I got the strange sensation that I was being watched.
Help me, oh, please. Please….
I’d barely gotten my prayer out when I heard his voice in my head. Not God’s but the Creep’s. And then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him.
He wasn’t in the church; he wouldn’t dare step foot in here. Would he? The Creep was outside the window, one of the lower windows that had clear, plain glass in it. I could see him perfectly. He stuck his tongue out at me and mocked me. I glanced around, but nobody else seemed to notice that the devil had arrived at Saint Bartholomew’s. I felt relieved that he made no move to come in, but I wondered how he could walk around during the day.
If the Frenzied were true vampires, would they also be able to walk around in the daylight hours? I suspected they could not. Maybe the Creep was not a full-blooded vampire but something else? Did that mean that I could take him?
That I could kill him?
Try it, Levi Wallace. You’ll be dead before you know what happened.
Feeling emboldened by the limited information I was gathering, I whispered to him, “You said I was a Sustainer. I want to know what that means.”
So many questions. Even Melissa doesn’t ask as many questions as you.
“If you touch one hair on her head, so help me…”
The lady in front of me half turned in her seat and cleared her throat as a warning. I heard the Creep laugh in my head.
Hairs have been touched, Levi Wallace, but she still has her head. And a pretty one it is. She’s a favorite of the Frenzied.
And then I heard him chuckle again like it was the greatest joke he’d ever told. And then he growled at me, a low and threatening sound. I walked toward the window and stared at him. His expression changed, and he continued to speak to me but didn’t move his mouth.
You belong with us. She cannot wait to meet you, Sustainer. Be there tonight or we will come find you. And your mother. Melissa sends you her love.
The Creep pressed two pale fingers against the glass, leaving a blood smear behind. And then he was gone.
My hand shook as I rose from my pew and reached out to touch the window, but I could not bring myself to do it.
Please, God, don’t let this be Melissa’s blood. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost them both. Please!
I sobbed again and collapsed back onto the hard pew.
I glanced up at the cross with tears in my eyes just as an odd shaft of light struck it. It wasn’t quite sunlight but appeared to be something brighter, purer. The light surged and then vanished. There was nothing but sunlight now pouring through the windows. A pool of light rested at the base of the cross. Yes, it had only been a flash, and if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed it. But I did see it and it filled me with hope.
Someone above had heard me. That had to be it! I breathed in what felt like pure oxygen. I felt warm all over. And even that sensation left me, but it left behind exactly what I was looking for—peace.
Yes, I would go to Crush tonight and face whatever evil awaited me.
I would find Melissa and bring her to safety no matter the cost.
I wouldn’t be going alone.
Chapter Seventeen—Charles
“Are you a detective?” The woman behind the door had only poked her head out, but I knew immediately that she was Naomi Wallace. Her son resembled her a great deal, same brown eyes, same wild blond hair. I could see that once upon a time she’d been a heartbreaker. Now she was a woman on the edge of an ocean of grief—and it was hitting her hard. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her nose was raw from crying, and her voice was broken.
“Not in the traditional sense. I’m not with the police. My name is Coleman, Charles Coleman. I’m a friend of your son’s, and I’m trying to help him.”
“Oh,” she said as she whispered something to an unseen person behind the door.
“I’m sure I’ve caught you at a bad time, but this is an urgent matter. Levi really needs your help, Mrs. Wallace.”
She opened the door and waved me inside. “Please call me Naomi. Nobody calls me Mrs. Wallace anymore. I’m divorced.”
“Alright, Naomi. I hate to come here like this…oh. Hello, I’m Charles Coleman.” Was this Levi’s brother? He was young enough to be, but I wasn’t getting the mother-son vibe from this situation.
“This is Jackie. Jackson is a family friend. You were saying something about Levi needing my help? Has he been arrested?” The younger guy eased off down the hallway, hopefully to grab a t-shirt. Hanging out with a shirtless, ripped twenty something was more intimidating than I would have guessed.
I followed Naomi into the kitchen and took a seat. She gathered her hair and tossed it behind her shoulders and leaned forward on her elbows. There was a half-empty box of tissues, a glass of water and a few pill bottles on the table. Not a promising sight.
As surreptitiously as possible, I peeked at the label. Ah, Mother’s Little Helper—Valium. Well, it would take a lot more than two bottles of happy pills to make this problem go away. Urgency swept over me. Naomi was sober right now, so she could understand what was going on, but how long would I have until she numbed the pain?
I had to get her this information because her son couldn’t do this by himself.
“Mrs.…I mean, Naomi. I must tell you something that is going to seem impossible�
�crazy, in fact—but I swear it’s the truth. I’ve done my research, months and months of it.”
“You never said what you actually do, Mr. Coleman. Are you a private detective?”
Jackson returned, flipped the wooden kitchen chair around and lit up a cigarette. He offered me one, which of course I refused. Couldn’t stand cigarettes even though I did like the occasional cigar. “I work for the Tri-State Free Press, but I’m not here looking for a story. I’m sorry to tell you this but you are in danger. Levi is too.”
“What?” Her voice shook as she clutched Jackson’s hand. I could tell he didn’t like my being here.
Tough luck, buddy! I’m trying to save her life!
“If you’re here looking for a story--” the young man threatened as he splayed his fingers on the table.
“I said I wasn’t and I’m telling the truth. Let me show you what I mean.”
I dug the folder out of my briefcase and carefully avoided showing the pictures of the dead girls. Instead, I removed the copies I’d made of articles about murders close in time and location to Black Knights’ concerts.
“Everywhere this band goes, people die in strange ways. I’m not some nut job. I’ve done the research. When I first saw the correlation between concert stops and murder clusters, I thought this had to be a fluke, some weird coincidence, but it’s not. Not at all.”
Jackson squinted at me as if he couldn’t see me. Yeah, he’d smoked reefer recently. I could smell it on him. “Are you saying the Black Knights are serial killers?” He shook his head as he puffed on his cigarette. The clock on the wall chimed. It was one of those googly-eyed cat clocks that made a strange whirring sound at the top of the hour.
Oh no, it was seven o’clock! Where had the time gone? I’d wasted hours waiting on Mrs. Wallace to get home, assuming she’d gone to take care of her daughter’s arrangements. Hoping to show some consideration, I’d waited a while before heading to her door, but that may have been a mistake. Levi was going to Crush in a couple hours, and then who knew what would happen? I hated to admit it, but Ted was right. I would stick out like a sore thumb. Nonetheless, I was going. Maybe I just didn’t want to go by myself?
Was it a cowardly thing to come here and get Levi’s mother involved?
Too late now. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“My daughter Debbie didn’t go to any concert. She was supposed to be at a chorus performance. I’m not sure how that’s connected to what you’re saying.” With shaking hands, Naomi reached for her pills, and I instinctively grabbed the bottle.
“Please, don’t take these. Not right now. Levi is going to need you alert, Naomi.” She snatched the bottle away from me and got out of her chair.
“You can’t tell me not to take my medicine. What do you want, Mr. Coleman? Say your piece and leave so I can grieve for my daughter.” She didn’t cry, but I could see that she was fragile and determined to take her pills.
“Perhaps you should explain what you mean,” Jackson said as Naomi refilled her water glass and opened the bottle at the sink. I sighed at the sight. From the look on his face, I could see he didn’t trust me, but at least he was willing to hear me out. I picked the papers back up and put them back in the folder. They weren’t looking at them anyway.
“Each of the victims died from blood loss. I hate to share these details with you, knowing how horrible this must be to hear, but you must hear it. There is a group operating either separately from or in conjunction with the Black Knights that kills young women and occasionally young men. This group calls themselves the Frenzied, and they are the people responsible for killing Debbie. I’m sure of it.”
Naomi muffled a sob and excused herself. I watched her thin frame disappear up the stairs and heard a door close.
“I’m sorry to come here with all this, and I know it seems inappropriate but this group, the Frenzied, they want Levi too. They’ve been in contact with him, and they say Melissa is still alive. They’ve offered Levi a trade, him for Melissa, but I think you and I both know how that trade will go. They’ll kill him and then Naomi will have two dead kids to bury. It won’t end well for Melissa either.”
Jackson stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back in the chair with his hands behind his head, his fingers intertwined. He must at least half believe me since he hasn’t thrown me out yet.
“The Frenzied? I’ve heard that name before. Follow me.”
He walked across the room to the basement door and flipped on a light before leading me down into the dampness. From the look of the place, it was some sort of music room, a hip, cool music room with tons of pillows, papasan chairs and music posters taped on the walls. Jackson made a beeline for Levi’s record collection and flipped through the albums until he found Elegant Black. Flipping the record over, he searched the cover for whatever it was he was looking for.
“Here! Here it is. Look at that.”
I did as he asked, but other than the word “Frenzied,” I couldn’t read the text. “What is this? Latin?”
“Something like that. It’s an older language than that, but that’s not important. It reads, ‘For the Frenzied amongst us. Let the crimson river flow.’”
“That’s not your normal album dedication, is it?” I suddenly wished I had my camera and promised myself I’d stop by a record shop and grab a few photos of this later.
“I’m not saying I believe any of this, but I have to admit there’s been some weird shit going on around here. At least that’s what Naomi tells me.”
“What has she told you?”
“That a dark cloud fell off the ceiling and tried to smother Levi. I wrote it off as hallucinations, you can have those when you take as many pills as she does, but she was sure it was real. And Debbie had a nightmare the night she disappeared, a bad one.”
A scream erupted from upstairs, and Jackson beat a path to the door with me right behind him. It sounded like a tornado was loose in the upstairs portion of the house. As we raced up the stairs, Naomi was running and falling down them. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like she was bleeding.
“Debbie! It’s Debbie!”
“Calm down, Naomi. Let me look at your arm.”
A growl sounded from somewhere above us, and we all froze in our tracks. Naomi fell into Jackson’s arms and cried, “We have to go. It’s Debbie and she tried to kill me, Jackie. She’s sick or something. Oh, Debbie!”
I could see the wound on Naomi’s arm. She had obviously been scratched, but at least she hadn’t been bitten and had her blood sucked dry. She’d come out better than most.
“I’m going up,” I announced. I wasn’t feeling brave at all, but I had to see if this was indeed Debbie. I’d left that part out of what I had intended to tell Mrs. Wallace, that sometimes they came back. Sometimes these dead girls reappeared but the various police departments would never admit that detail. They wrote such activities off as a hoax, perpetrated by horrible pranksters, but that would never explain the families who were murdered. The people these “dead” young women cared most about in life were their victims afterward. That’s where they started and then the killing continued.
No, I hadn’t even shared that fact with Levi.
I remembered the silver knife in my pocket and reached for it. It had cost me a pretty penny, but one couldn’t be too careful, and I figured I’d need it at Crush. Theoretically, silver would do the trick if the Frenzied were vampires. Who could say for sure? That was why I had to see her.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Jackson asked with narrowed eyes. His furrowed thick brows gave him a wolf-like appearance.
Come on, Charles. Get a grip. He’s as human as you.
“Do you think I’m going without a weapon?”
“Don’t hurt her! Please!” Naomi cried as she attempted to follow me up the stairs. Before I could suggest that they wait in the kitchen, I heard glass break. It was so loud it could only mean that Debbie, or whoever this was, had broken a mirror or a window. Or two. The noise of breaking
furniture and the growling from upstairs ceased, but only for a moment.
As we waited on the stairs, we saw the front door fly across the room and heard a low growl coming from the entrance. The cat hissed and fled quickly out of the house. I couldn’t quite see the doorway, but I knew it had to be Debbie.
Devil-ridden vampire-Debbie. She was here for her mother, just like all the other poor girls had been.
She growled again, and it ended in an amused laugh that broke into a cackle. And then the creature spoke, but not well.
“Na-o-mi…come out, come out, wherever you are!”
Naomi’s brown eyes widened and her face paled as she clutched the stair rail with her now white liver spotted knuckles. Her arm bled freely now. No doubt this creature would find us easily enough; all she had to do was follow her nose.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps walked toward us. Even though the floors were covered in tired brown carpet, I could hear every step. I heard another long growl and a series of sniffs. Yes, she was coming closer! I waited, but then the footsteps stopped just out of our line of sight.
I tugged on Jackson’s shirt, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
“What the fuck!” I shushed him softly and placed a finger over my lips before waving him back up the stairs, he and Naomi obeyed as quietly as possible. Here we were, three trapped rats on the staircase. I was too afraid to go upstairs—what if there was more than one of them? And I was afraid to go downstairs too, but I had to see her.
I had to see what poor Debbie Wallace had become.
“Na-o-mi,” Debbie hissed, but made no further move toward us. Then she began to run at full speed toward the staircase. Her morgue gown still hung off her deathly ashen body and fluttered like a white flag in a stiff breeze, but her eyes glistened blue, and her mouth was surely wider than it had been in life. It was open and showing white teeth and bright red gums ready to hoover up the smallest globule of blood.
Naomi screamed like a train whistle in a tunnel, and Jackson swore again as she raced up the stairs. Naomi was the obvious focus of this attack, but none of us would be safe.
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