Blood Street

by Alves, Carl

  “I guess.”

  “Well, I have work to do so I’ll leave you two alone.” Gina went upstairs.

  Enzo gave Tony a half hug. Without speaking they went outside.

  Tony handed Enzo an envelope filled with hundred dollar bills. “I was able to get Slim Jimmy to pay up plus a little extra that I squeezed out of him.”

  Enzo put the envelope in his shirt pocket. “Good, but that isn’t what brings you here. You could have given me this tomorrow.”

  Tony nodded.

  “It’s about Johnny. You know something, but you’re reluctant to say it. Come on, Tony. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  Tony lit a cigarette. He offered one to Enzo, who declined. “You remember I told you about the old lady who saw the man walking outside of the house shortly after Johnny got killed? Well, I told her to call if there was anything else she wanted to let me know.”

  “And?”

  “She called and, um, said there was one thing she didn’t tell me. You see, she was afraid to say it, thinking I wouldn’t believe her, but she had to tell me. Wouldn’t feel right if she didn’t.” Tony puffed his cigarette. “The man she saw, he was there walking on the street with his pale skin and blood on his shirt and then, he just disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?” Enzo asked.

  “That’s what the woman said. Poof. Just like that.”

  “That’s consistent with The Goat’s story. The guy was choking him and then disappeared.”

  Tony nodded.

  “The plot thickens. We might need to get Perry Mason on the case.”

  “Yeah, well there’s more.” Tony threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe. He produced an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Enzo.

  “What are these?”

  “Photos. Two more done just like Johnny and Tina. Some Vietnamese broad, Pham, and some chick Nikki Staretz.”

  Without changing expression, Enzo examined the photos.

  “Brown gave me them.” Despite the cool breeze, a trickle of sweat ran down Tony’s cheek.

  After Enzo finished looking at the pictures, he put them back in the envelope and handed it to Tony. “What makes Brown certain it was done by the same person?”

  Tony put the envelope back into his jacket and wiped sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “He said the way the killings were done made him think it was the same guy who offed Johnny. Almost all their blood was gone.”

  “I noticed the neat little puncture marks on the neck. Now I may not be a detective, but they look like bite marks.”

  Tony sighed. “Yeah, that’s what Brown said. They were made by teeth, actually fangs.”

  “What about the torn abdomen?”

  “He said that markings on the body suggest they was done by sharp talons or claws or something.”

  “Johnny’s liver and Tina’s kidneys were consumed. Did that happen with these two?”

  “Yeah, same deal.”

  Enzo smiled. “I’m a reasonable man. Wouldn’t you agree, Tony?”

  “Sure. You’re the most fair and reasonable guy I know. That’s what everyone says even when they don’t like your decisions.”

  “Then why is it that when I look at these pictures, combined with The Goat’s story and what you’re telling me about the old woman, that I come to an insane conclusion? If I put everything together, what was done here was the work of a vampire, or at least someone who fashions himself as one.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, boss. I ain’t one to believe in ghosts or creatures of the night or shit like that, but I gotta admit, this is fucking creepy. It makes my skin crawl just looking at those pictures. What a fucking way to go, huh?”

  “I want to talk to The Goat again. Before I make any rash conclusions, I want to think this through. Find out more about those two girls. Talk to their families. See if they met anyone unusual lately. Give them the guy’s description. He sounds Eastern European from The Goat’s description. Check out the Czech and Russian clubs in town. Also, go back to Joe Senneca and find out if any recent customers at the Cat House match that description. Don’t rule anything out just because it sounds crazy, because this shit is crazy.”

  “I gotta tell you, boss, I don’t like this one bit. I’ve been in some tight spots before. I can deal with the heavy hitters, but what the fuck’s going on here?”

  “I don’t like it either, but I assure you we’ll find Johnny’s killer. I told his mother at his funeral that his death would not go without retribution. I told her I would deal with her baby boy’s killer in a manner the legal system couldn’t. We’ll get whoever’s responsible. Right?”

  Tony looked down, then back up at Enzo and nodded. “Sure, we’ll get him.” His voice showed a complete lack of confidence.

  After Tony left, Enzo went back inside his office and put aside the work blueprints for the Delaware Avenue land development deal. He logged onto the Internet. He prided himself in being well prepared for every situation. He wanted to be able to handle all eventualities. Although he did not believe Johnny’s murderer was a vampire or some supernatural being, he would learn everything he could about the subject. If the impossible was true, he would know how to face this enemy.

  Chapter Ten

  For the second time this week, Alexei sat in the audience watching the musical 42nd Street. He came back because of the spellbinding play of the flute player in the orchestra. He had long been a fan of the arts and had seen plays in dozens of cities. His ears were so keen that he could pick out the sounds of individual instruments within an orchestra.

  Alexei worked his way backstage using his charm. These mortals couldn’t resist him. He chatted with several performers, then asked where he could find members of the orchestra.

  He found her near the rear exit to the theater, a bottle of water in hand, talking to a trumpet player. The trumpet player’s musical abilities were not so impressive, but he had a soft spot for all practitioners of the arts. He worked his way into the conversation.

  The woman was a fiery, redhead named Denise McKenna. Her skin was fair and lightly freckled. She spoke softly and possessed a quick wit. Alexei could tell she was passionate, but careful with whom she let into her world.

  The trumpet player had a baby face. He was probably close to thirty, but appeared more like twenty. His name was Troy and he was a native of Philadelphia.

  Their conversation lingered, as members of the cast and crew exited. In the middle of Alexei’s story about some time he spent in Mongolia, a security guard told them the building was closing down and everyone had to leave.

  Troy smiled. “Let’s go back to my place.”

  They took a cab to Troy’s apartment. They conversed and drank coffee until the early hours of the morning. “I have enjoyed your company immensely, but I fear I must depart. Perhaps we could meet again tomorrow night.”

  Denise had a look of desire, as if the last thing she wanted was for Alexei to leave. “We have a matinee performance. Maybe you can come by after the show.”

  Alexei smiled. “I’m afraid I’ll be occupied. How about after the Thursday evening show.”

  “That’ll be great,” Denise said. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

  He left them each with a kiss on the forehead.

  He met Denise after the Thursday show. Troy was ill and did not make the performance.

  “Would you like to take a boat ride on the Delaware?” Alexei asked.

  “I’d love to.”

  “Great, bring your flute.” Alexei thought at that moment she would have loved to peel potatoes with him. He commandeered a luxury boat on Pier fifty-three off of Delaware Avenue. He told her it was his, but he had no idea who actually owned it.

  Even though he hadn’t sailed a boat in some time, it did not take him long to figure out its inner workings. He still preferred sailing to flying. It was difficult to find flights that entirely traveled in darkness.

  As Alexei sailed down the r
iver, Denise played her flute. He felt at peace as the melody bounced off the walls of the ship and onto the water. He leaned back against the cushion of the captain’s seat and watched the soft moonlight glisten off her face.

  When Denise finished, he held her in his strong arms as if she were a child. Her eyes beckoned for him to give his sweet embrace.

  “Take me now,” she said.

  He kissed her. “Patience, my precious. When the time is right, I’ll give you such intense pleasure you won’t be able to handle it.”

  She leaned her head onto his chest. Within minutes she was asleep. Alexei carried her to a cot in the lower deck of the ship. He then sailed the boat back to the dock.

  He took Denise back to her condo and returned to the mansion in Gladwynne, expecting to find everybody asleep as day was ready to break. The house was still, but he sensed a presence. A slight rustling in the air told him he was not alone.

  Alexei looked around the living room. It had thirty feet ceilings and an overhanging balcony. The floors were hardwood and carefully treated. The room was adorned with expensive furniture, some modern, some ancient. Members of Magnus’ brood often shipped their favorite items when they moved. To fill the rest of the house, members of his brood purchased furniture, decorations and artwork. As for Alexei, all he needed was his gold-plated coffin.

  The main living room featured a large plasma television and stereo system. Nearby were a baby grand piano and an antique grandfather clock. A plush, leather sofa sat next to an old armoire that was in immaculate condition. The centerpiece was a jade chalice Magnus attained hundreds of years ago. In the corner was a jukebox from the fifties.

  In the next room, two crisscrossing swords that Magnus had taken from a baron in Romania who had tried to kill him over a land dispute were positioned above the walk-in fireplace. Alexei rolled his eyes. It was a feeble attempt by Magnus to show his ability to vanquish his enemies. Alexei needed no such symbols.

  As Alexei sat on the solid oak rocking chair, he again felt the presence of another. He closed his tired eyes, knowing he should retire to his coffin. The hungry rays of the sun would soon be shining. For most of his kind, sunlight exposure was fatal. For him, it was merely painful.

  Despite Magnus’ claim, Alexei was at least as old as the brood leader. He barely remembered the time when he could freely walk in the sunlight. Those days were so long gone, it seemed as if they never happened.

  Born and raised in the Ukraine, Alexei’s life was a simple one. He worked on a farm with his many siblings, raising cattle and sheep, growing potatoes and cabbage. He remembered being content. He thought he had been married, but was not sure.

  One night while tilling the soil, he heard strange noises. He wanted to go inside, but could not ignore it. He walked in the direction of the noise and spotted blood on the ground. He followed the trail and found a calf lying on the dirt with a massive gash near its throat. It was still alive. Before Alexei could react, a creature sitting on a branch of a tree pounced on him. He could scarcely defend himself, grabbing at its jaws as it tried to bite him. The creature’s eyes held a look of insanity. What manner of beast was attacking him?

  He threw the creature off. This thing looked human, but it appeared wild and unintelligent. It grunted and moved in a frenzy. Blood dripped from its stubbled chin. It had torn apart the calf with its own teeth.

  It leaped into the air, an inhuman leap, and pounced on him again. He tried to use his fists to fend off the attacker, but it overwhelmed him with incredible strength. He fought with desperation, but could not stop it from burying its fangs deep into his neck. Alexei closed his eyes and felt his life escape. Yet it felt good. Peace and contentment replaced his initial terror.

  His eyes went wide as blood surged through his body. He felt weak, but death had not won this round. Slowly, sensation returned to his limbs and extremities. He could move his fingers, but did not have the strength to stand. He opened his eyes. The creature was on top of him. Alexei’s mouth was cupped on its wrist, and he sucked its blood. It was this very blood that dragged him from the shadows of death.

  When the creature left, tears welled in his eyes. He never felt so alone in his life.

  It took a great effort to rise to his feet. He was certain he was still alive, but unsure how he escaped death.

  The calf next to him did not share his fate. Alexei tried to move, but it was too strenuous. He stared at his big farmhouse, which now seemed foreboding. He then looked at his tattered clothes and torn flesh. He did not know where to go, but did not want to go back. He was tainted.

  When Alexei regained some strength, he walked away from his farmhouse. His memory of that time was murky, but he remembered walking through fields, meadows and farms with no real destination in mind. He grabbed a chicken and crushed its neck with his hands. Instead of cooking it over a fire, he tore its head off and drank its blood.

  He continued in this haze for some time. He could not bear for his family to see him like this. His condition deteriorated. He killed farm and wild animals, drinking their blood for nourishment. As he moved away from the farms and closer to the city, finding sustenance became more difficult. Physically, he was weak, but he was also on the verge of madness. He was alone and afraid, no longer part of the human race. It was unnatural to live with an unquenchable thirst for blood.

  Before sunrise each day he managed to find shelter, usually an old farmhouse or shed. The light was no longer his friend. Just thinking about the sun hurt.

  When his physical and mental fatigue reached its peak, he stopped walking and wept. He wanted to return to his old life. He was a despicable creature, wandering the lands in search for blood.

  He landed in the streets of Kiev looking like a vagrant. Lying huddled in the street, a constable arrested him. He would die in jail. How could he satisfy his insatiable blood lust inside of a prison?

  “Why are you arresting me?” Alexei demanded.

  The constable slapped him hard across the face. “You’re being arrested for abducting two missing children, you loathsome fiend.”

  Could he have been responsible for these missing children? He could barely remember how he got to Kiev. Perhaps he killed them without realizing it.

  If he had the strength he would break free from his shackles. Prison would kill him for sure. How was he going to avoid coming out during the daytime?

  As the constable ushered him to the prison, a figure shot down from the top of a building like an arrow. Alexei made a feeble attempt at getting out of the way, but he was not the target.

  The assailant knocked the constable to the ground. With an awesome display of strength, he lifted the constable with one hand and flung him to the opposite side of the road. The constable met the outside wall of a house with a thud, instantly rendered unconscious.

  Alexei cowered in fear. The newcomer looked human, but how could a person possess that kind of strength?

  Instead of killing him, the man lifted Alexei and stood him on his feet. With ease, he broke Alexei’s shackles.

  He tried to thank the stranger, but could not form the words. Not having the strength to stand, Alexei slumped to the floor. The man picked him up as he faded from consciousness.

  He woke up at night in a warm and cozy cottage lying next to a fire. He coughed fitfully and shivered despite the warmth of the flame. Alexei looked around, but did not see anyone. Maybe the stranger who saved him was the owner of this place. He called out, but no one answered.

  He tried to keep himself warm, but had a difficult time no matter how close he got to the fire. He wanted to search the cottage, but could hardly stand.

  A door opened. Alexei’s rescuer entered, but he was not alone. Cradled in his arms was an older woman with grey hair and wrinkled skin. She appeared to be unconscious.

  He brought the woman closer to Alexei and sat her on a chair. He slashed her wrist with his teeth, then took her wrist and brought it to Alexei’s mouth.

  Alexei shrank back from it.
“I can’t…”

  “Do you wish to live?”

  Alexei nodded. He did not come this far to die.

  “Then drink. Your transformation is incomplete. If you do not, you’ll die.”

  Alexei looked into the man’s hard blue eyes and saw his concern. He had not seen himself in a mirror lately but could only imagine what kind of ghastly sight he looked like.

  Once more the man brought the bleeding wrist to Alexei’s mouth. He swallowed a mouthful of blood and felt energized. It was like he had been in the desert dying of thirst, and someone had given him water. No longer cognizant of the presence of the other in the room, he tore deeper into the woman’s flesh with teeth that had recently grown in size and sharpness. The only thing that mattered at that moment was the sweet elixir coming from her body.

  The woman fidgeted and shook as Alexei drained her blood. The rhythm of her heart pounded inside his head.

  Before her life expired, the man took her away.

  Alexei frowned.

  “Enough for now. There will be more later.” He took the woman and exited the back of the cottage.

  Alexei licked the blood off his mouth and chin. He inched closer to the fire, which now warmed him. He felt more alive than he had since being attacked by the creature at his old farm.

  Nearly an hour later the man returned. “How are you?”

  “Good.” Alexei rose. “Thank you for saving me from the constable and for what you did just now.”

  The man smiled. “There are not many of us. We have to look out for our own.”

  “Us? What exactly are we?”

  The man roared with laughter. “You still do not know what you have become?”

  Alexei shook his head.

  “My name is Ivan. Tell me your story.”

  Alexei started with the fateful evening he was attacked. He told him everything he could remember, although many details were sketchy. Ivan told him today’s date. He had been gone from his farm for nearly a month. Had his family gone looking for him? Did they think he was dead?