Saved Between the Sheets: An Anthology of Stories that Get to the Point

by R. M. Walker

  “Precisely,” my father’s voice interrupted my musings, thankfully bringing me back to the present. “These people were humans, cut down by the supernatural. It’s our job to find the culprit, and put an end to them, any way we see fit.”

  “Yes sir, I won’t let you down,” I responded, my resolve strengthened.

  “I know you won’t. Now, get to work.”

  He hung up without another word, and I released the heavy breath that sat on my lungs as I placed the phone back in its cradle. I ran my hands through my hair with a sharp tug and squeezed my eyes shut. I still had a few hours left until my date with Renoldo, and a couple of days until I needed to head up to Baton Rouge. It was time to get my head in the game.

  * * *

  The night before my drive to Baton Rouge, I paid off my stay at the hotel, and said my final goodbye to Renoldo. I wouldn’t be leaving until the morning, but I needed everything to be squared away in case I didn’t come back. Renoldo insisted I take his number, since I wasn’t sure when I’d be returning home from what had turned into a business trip. He still had a few more days in Louisiana, and while I knew he wanted to spend them with me, my job protecting humanity came first. I’d spent a fair amount of time with him during the last few days, but we both had jobs to do, and it was time for me to get back to mine.

  Using the lamps on my bedside tables for illumination, I poured through the files my father had sent one last time. Unfortunately, nothing different stood out to me. All of the victims were different ages, ethnicities, and genders. There were only a few commonalities that I could find, but the most damning evidence that linked them together were only footnotes in the files.

  Each of the victims visited a jazz club called Club Brume the Thursday before they were found. They weren’t always lucky enough to be found the next day the way the last three victims were. For the first few, it took several days for their bodies to be found and identified.

  I shivered and looked away from the file of the second victim found, her body bloated and peeling, eyes blank and lifeless. At least there was one positive with the death of a supernatural, our bodies never looked like that.

  I closed the folder and shook my head, taking a deep breath as I reached over to grab the large topographical map of Baton Rouge. The sheer number of ley lines in the area were astronomical and made me wonder if it wasn’t the witches behind the killings. They could always stage a body to make it look like whatever they chose, but they weren’t ones to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. Not after what happened in Salem.

  After locating where Club Brume would be on the map, I began to map out possible exit routes the perpetrator could take if they had to flee the scene. It seemed the only way to make a clean getaway would be to have a car available. Club Brume was literally off the beaten path. Where most jazz clubs would've wanted to be in the center of such a tourist heavy location, the club was almost in the middle of the bayou. There was a dirt road off the highway that lead to the location of the club after a few miles. Apparently, Club Brume was Baton Rouge's best-kept secret.

  At least I wouldn't have to worry about tracking them down on foot. But if this was a supernatural killing, the way it seemed, I could leave nothing to chance. I studied the woods surrounding Club Brume until my eyes grew tired and I could barely keep them open. Satisfied that I'd have an exit strategy should I need one, I packed up the files and maps, and got ready for bed.

  The next morning, I was on the road early. The traffic was thankfully light, and I made it to Baton Rouge with time to spare. After finding a motel to accomodate me on a nightly basis, I went over the files again before finally deciding to feed myself. It wouldn't do me any good to work this hard only to be taken down by hunger.

  The rest of the day went by quickly, preparing for the night's mission without driving myself to the brink of exhaustion. Before long, the sun slowly began to sink in the sky, prompting me to get ready for my night ahead. As music from the radio droned in the background, I dressed in a plain black velour dress, the hemline falling just below my knees. The scoop neckline cut right across my collar bones, leading to the three-quarter length sleeves that were edged in lace. The lightweight fabric hugged the curves of my waist before falling freely at my hips.

  Hiking the skirt up, I strapped on my garter holsters and slid my shiny silver blades into place. I slipped a functional pair of kitten heels on my feet, grabbed my bag off the bed, and stood to let the skirt drop into place. A quick look in the mirror showed that my weapons were fully concealed. I left my raven hair down to draw attention, swiped on my signature ruby red lipstick, and left the room.

  The drive down to the bayou was extremely...scenic. As the houses became fewer and further apart, the large willows took over, beckoning you to leave the safety of your vehicle for an evening of adventure. Chills skittered across my neck as I drove past a small gated cemetery, nothing but stone burial grounds as far back as I could see.

  As if that wasn’t creepy enough, Club Brume was a few miles down and around the bend from the holding place of lost souls. My eyes widened as I made the turn and the club came into view. A modest two story cabin with a wraparound porch and a side dock that led out to the swampy waters of the Mississippi River took up the center of a large clearing between the willows. The front yard acted as a parking lot, situating cars three rows deep.

  I quickly found a spot on the end and parked. Swift steps carried me across the low grass as I weaved through the cars silently.

  Four lanterns hung from their respective corners of the front section of the porch, illuminating the dim sign of the club’s name in the window. The muted melody of jazz music drifted out of the closed door as I walked up the steps, the wood creaking under my weight.

  The inside of the club was smoky and dimly lit. A short bar stretched across the far-left wall filled with shelves of alcohol. The right wall held three plush booths with great views of the stage towards the back and the sea of tables filled with patrons in the center of the room.

  From what I saw of the outside, the club had to take up at least three-fourths of this bottom floor. There was no visible staircase that led to the upper floor, which led me to believe there was more to the house that wasn’t available for public viewing.

  Walking further into the club, I took a seat at one of the empty stools at the bar and ordered an Old Fashion. The bartender was cute, in an otherworldly sort of way. His dark hair and light grey eyes were a weird sort of contradiction that I wasn’t used to seeing in the human world. Come to think of it…

  My eyes narrowed slightly as he set my drink in front of me with a small smile and walked away. I reached out subtly with my senses, feeling the magic in the air around us and had to swallow a gasp as I hit not one, but five different magical signatures.

  I quickly pulled my mental fingers back to me and slammed my mind closed as I picked up my drink and took a healthy sip. My gaze jumped from table to table as the dark-skinned woman on stage crooned into the microphone. I hadn’t been in a situation with this many unknowns in a very long time.

  Five supernaturals in one jazz club out in the middle of fucking nowhere, Baton Rouge, Louisiana? Sounded like the set up to a bad joke.

  I scoffed mentally.

  There was no doubt in my mind that the grey-eyed man behind the bar was a supe of some kind, but who else? There were way too many people in here for me to cast out my feelers again. If one of these supes happened to be sensitive to aura manipulators, then I was fucked.

  With a deep breath, I calmed myself and looked around the room again. I was a good agent, I didn’t need my powers to sniff out a supe.

  Though they would help.

  I took another sip of my drink as the busty lady finished her set and was met with polite applause. The bartender left from behind the bar and strode quickly to the stage to help the lady off. He soon took her place in front of the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentleman, let’s give another round of applause for
the lovely Marcie Ellis.” His thick bayou accent was low and dangerous. It was designed to draw people in and make them feel at ease. Not good. At least that helped me narrow down his species a bit.

  “Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming out to Club Brume. And without further ado, I introduce, for your audible pleasure, Mr. Fabián Gaston.”

  Unlike when Ms. Marcie left the stage, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Most of the women, and even some men, got to their feet as a man stood from the booth closest to the stage. He walked with a purpose. Like he knew every eye was on him and he wanted it to stay that way. He gave the grey-eyed bartender a sly smile and a wink as he replaced him at the microphone.

  Interesting.

  Ignoring the handsome man on stage, my gaze followed the bartender as he wound through the tables, occasionally touching patrons as he asked if they needed a refill. Sipping my drink slowly, I watched him with narrowed eyes. His grey eyes would flash silver every once in a while, as he touched the humans, and that’s when I knew.

  “Empath,” I hissed.

  5

  James

  I watched as her eyes trailed after Éloi while I performed on stage. Never, in all my years of entrancing and seducing people with my voice had I ever been so thoroughly ignored. Was I losing my touch? Was she immune to my powers? Was she deaf?

  How was it possible for me to be up here snatching the attention of every person in the room except for her?

  Who are you?

  At the end of my set, I smiled and thanked the crowd as I always did, but inside I was reeling. This had never happened before. If I couldn’t rely on my power to affect people the way it was supposed to, then what was the point of having it?

  Wait…

  This had happened before. The first time I met Éloi. She’s not human.

  For the first time since I walked off the stage, my smile turned genuine. She wasn't human. She couldn't possibly be. Humans were drawn to me like a bug zapper and here this woman was staring down Éloi like she had a personal vendetta against him. What could he have possibly done in the last half hour to make her upset with him? And how long had she even been here for that matter?

  Thursday nights were for regulars who occasionally brought a friend or a date. This woman was completely alone, and looked to be oblivious to the male attention she was getting. As I relaxed into my booth I watched as a man tried and failed to get her attention. Sure she answered whatever he said politely, but that's all it was.

  I drained my glass quickly and signaled to Éloi to bring me another. I needed to find out what this woman was, and if anyone knew, it'd be him.

  He came over shortly after I'd summoned him, my glass in his hand and another for him as he took a seat across from me. He slid my glass across the table top and took a sip of what I knew to be a whiskey neat.

  "You have an admirer," I said as he set his glass down.

  "I doubt it." His eyes flashed silver as he rolled them. "When in your company, I'm sure I'm just in their way as they try to steal glances at the fabulous Fabián Gaston."

  "A sensation that you created, need I remind you." I lifted a dark brow at him to refute my claim as I took a sip from my glass. "While normally, that would probably be the case, I'm sure my ego can handle the fact that in this instant, you're wrong."

  His brows knitted together as his gaze swept across the room.

  "The dark-haired beauty at the bar," I told him. "In the black dress. Sitting alone, not caring for the company of virle human males."

  His eyes narrowed as he dragged his gaze back to mine. "Maybe she's not interested in males."

  "Maybe she's not interested in humans."

  He scoffed derisively. "One woman isn't staring at you with hearts in her eyes and you automatically peg her to be like us?"

  "Of course. What other explanation could there be?"

  "Maybe she's just not interested."

  "All women are interested." I rolled my eyes and picked up my glass, swirling the amber liquid around before taking a sip. I didn’t even mean it in a conceited way. It's just the way of all Succubi and Incubi. Humans were unable to resist us. Supernaturals, however, are a different story.

  "Bring her to me."

  Éloi raised a dark brow at my command. "You're serious?"

  "She's the one I want for tonight."

  He blew out a puff of air as he sat back in the booth. "She's as good as any, I suppose." At my lifted brow he continued. "Fresh out of evildoers tonight, my vigilante superhero."

  "I've asked you numerous times not to call me that. You know that I only feed here as a favor to you."

  "I don't see the problem as long as you're being fed," he said with a sly smile.

  "Bring me the girl please, Éloi. Let's have some fun with her tonight."

  "Oh," he said in mock surprise. "I get to be included?"

  "When have I ever not included you?"

  "You've never had your sights on a would be supe." Éloi picked up his glass and drained the contents. "I'll ask her to come over. But try not to be surprised if she refuses."

  "She won't refuse. Why do you think I'm asking you to do it instead of going myself?"

  He stood. "Because your lazy."

  "I'll show you lazy," I murmured as he walked away.

  Of course he didn't immediately do as I'd asked. No, that would mean giving me power over him, and Éloi is nothing if not powerful. No, he waited. Served a few of his other customers at the bar before approaching the woman with my proposition.

  I could tell the moment he'd asked her. I'd slid into the center of the booth to watch him. Her eyes narrowed as she looked away from him and over to my corner of the room where he singled me out. She raised a single dark brow, the room's lighting too dim to tell the color of her eyes. She looked back at him and spoke a few words indiscernible over the band playing. He responded in turn before making two drinks and rounding the bar, leading her over to me.

  She weaved through the tables gracefully, the skirt of her dress swishing against her legs with every step. I drained my glass and set it down, wondering if the second glass he held was for me, or for himself.

  "Madam Strong," he announced in his thick accent. "Might I present to you, Mr. Fabián Gaston."

  "I heard your introduction onstage," she said succinctly, lips pursed in displeasure. "Is there a reason why I've been summoned?"

  I noticed the distinct lack of an accent in her tone and knew I'd pegged her right. She wasn't from around here. Which begged the question, how did she find out about this place. While Club Brume was known to the locals, we didn't get many outsiders this far into the bayou. Which means she wanted to be here. She was looking for this place. Why?

  "I only wished to have a drink with a beautiful lady," I told her. "Is that a crime?"

  "There are plenty of beautiful women in here tonight. Why me?"

  "You stood out to me. Care to have a seat?"

  Her dark gaze darted between the two of us before she took the drink Éloi offered her. He placed the other on the edge of the table across from me, quirked an eyebrow, and left.

  She smoothed down her dress as she sat at the edge of the booth. "He doesn't seem too happy that I'm sitting here."

  "Who? Éloi? He's fine."

  "First name basis with the bartender," she commented. "You must come here often."

  "The owner, actually." I smiled. "He's a friend."

  "I'm sure." She took a sip of her drink. "So, Mr. Gaston, why me?"

  "Fabián, please," I told her, keeping with my fake name. "And you looked lonely."

  "I promise you, Fabián, I'm anything but." Her voice was low and smoky, every word out of her mouth making me want to hear more.

  I ignored the way she said my name and asked, "Any particular reason you were at the bar, alone, Ms. Strong?"

  "I came in alone."

  I laughed. "You don't make it very easy to make friends, do you?"

  "That's what you want to be?
Friends?"

  "Can't have too many of those, can you? Would you mind passing me my drink?"

  I was putting every ounce of my seductive power into my words but it wasn't working, she had to be a supe. I needed to get my hands on her to be sure, but only in a way that wouldn't cause a scene. A simple graze of the hands should have done the trick.

  She looked over at the glass in question, lifting hers to her full lips to take a sip. Only after setting hers down did she do as I asked, using a single finger to push the glass across the wooden table top.

  "Afraid you might catch something?" I inquired after the glass was within reach.

  "Not in the slightest."

  She knew. She had to know. Which meant I had to as well. "Might I have your name, beautiful?"

  "Only if I can get yours," she all but purred. The first modicum of attraction slipping into her words.

  "You already have it."

  "Then you have my answer."

  Pulling back on the seduction, since it obviously wasn't working, I sat back in my seat. "Who are you?"

  "Call me a concerned citizen."

  "You're not from around here."

  "That obvious?"

  "How'd you find this place?"

  "A friend of a friend."

  This line of questioning was obviously getting me nowhere. I circled my finger around the rim of my glass as I studied her. She was beautiful, and she knew it, but she didn't play it up like most women would. Her dress didn't dip to expose her cleavage, and it wasn't skin tight. Her makeup was tastefully done and subtle.

  Knowing that I'd get absolutely nowhere with a woman like her if I wasn't upfront about my intentions, I decided to lay it all out on the line and ask the question I really wanted to know.