Elegant Black

by M. L. Bullock

  “Sorry you couldn’t make the meeting, Mr. Coleman. Had some guys from the Washington Department here. We’re getting some new equipment, and they are expanding the division. I think I’m going to sports. So exciting!”

  He perched 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. 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?”

  “You don’t exactly blend into your environment, Mr. Coleman. Not that kind of environment. It’s kind of puzzling why he would ask for you and not someone hipper.”

  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. I know the culture. I bet you can’t name one top-40 song from the rock ’n’ roll 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 good.”

  “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 some kind of 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 the kid’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 had ever been to church before. Maybe, when I was a kid, but I didn’t remember it. I did have half-memories of wearing a 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 some time in the past I had connected with a benevolent God who would help me.

  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 Vanessa’s. And maybe mine. Maybe Lisa’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 St. Bart’s, and it smelled slightly of vanilla. There were people sitting in the pews, and a few glanced back to give me a friendly smile or greeting 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 chitchatting with a sinner like me. I eased back into the pew and tugged my jacket a little tighter around me. It was chilly in 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. 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. Lisa! 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. And then I prayed. Or at least I thought it was a prayer. It was meant to be one and 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 really 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.r />
  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 Lisa’s fault either. I can’t save Debbie, but I am going to try to find Lisa. 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. 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 relief 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 knew 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 Lisa 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. Lisa 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 reached out to touch the window, but I could not bring myself to do it. Please, God, don’t let this be Lisa’s blood. I couldn’t live with myself if I lost them both. Please! I sobbed again and collapsed 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 Lisa 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 favored 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.”

  “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.

  “Jackson is a family friend. You were saying something about Levi needing my help? Is he arrested?” The younger guy eased off down the hallway, hopefully to grab a t-shirt. Hanging out with a shirtless, ripped twentysomething was more intimidating than I would have guessed.

  I followed Mrs. Wallace 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 took a peek 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. Mrs. Wallace 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 have to 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 Tristate 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.”

  “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, 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 that 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 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.�
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  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 have to 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 Lisa is still alive. They’ve offered Levi a trade, him for Lisa, 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 Lisa either.”

  Jackson stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back in the chair with his hands on his head as he thought about what I said. He must at least half believe me since he hasn’t thrown me out yet.