I was very tired by this point, tired of this conversation, tired of feeling left in the dark, just fucking tired. Mike and I had been talking for hours and it was quickly approaching four a.m. He and I looked over a few more photos and compared ideas, all of which were in concurrence with each other. As my eyes burned with sleep, I laid my head back on the couch. I could hear Mike breathing softly next to me; comforting. His mild cologne wafted into my nostrils making me grin. I listened to the sound of his even breaths as I drifted into sleep trying not to think about the many photos I had just fondled. And prayed.
Please God don’t let me dream…
CHAPTER 26
I was sitting alone in a room I didn’t recognize, on a blue velvet sofa I had never seen before. Other than the candlelight, there was not a sliver of light to be seen. The walls were dark and windowless. No hangings adorned the shadowy walls, only a bronze sconce hung sporadically throughout the space. I realized suddenly I was wearing only a black satin nighty. It was tasteful, floor length, and covered most of my chest, but I felt very exposed. Vulnerable. Something moved in a distant darkened corner; a rolling of shadow told me there was something there. Out from the obscurity emerged Cyrus. He was crawling on his knees, hands bound at his waist. I leaned forward reaching to him. I tried to speak but not a word escaped my lips. More rolling shadows appeared in far corners. Cyrus was only feet from me when Dominika and Malcolm appeared, eerily lit by candlelight. The two of them nearly floated over the black carpeted floor as they moved toward me. I could almost touch Cyrus, he was right there. So close. As if they were feral animals, Dominika and Malcolm pounced on me so fast, it was only a blur in my peripheral vision. Less than a heartbeat passed and they were gone - sucked back into the shadows. Warm fluid flowed down my chest settling between by breasts, gliding slowly down my arms. I looked to Cyrus to find his eyes wide. I noticed then that his mouth had been bound with a red sash. A sudden flicker of candlelight gave way to new discoveries. I was covered in blood: my blood. A soft tickle between my legs, sliding down my calf. I lifted my dress to find crimson streaks trailing down my legs. I lifted the dress higher still to discover a perfect bite on my inner thigh. I looked to my arm then, a smaller bite shimmered with fresh blood. Frantically, I touched my throat to find it wet and torn to shreds. I looked to Cyrus once more only to find him standing, free, no rope or red sash. He smiled that ridiculous smile and turned his back to me. Blood poured from my body, chugging like milk from a jug. My voice finally came to me as I screamed, “FUCK YOU!”
I awoke with a start. I had been jostled awake. My eyes finally came to and I realized I was staring at gray sweatpants. My head rolled until I could focus on something else. Mike’s lovely face was staring down at me.
“Well, fuck you too.” He smiled sleepily.
“What?” My head was lying in his lap; Lord knows how long I had been like that. He was sitting upright on the couch legs kicked out.
“You were talking in your sleep. Well, screaming.”
“You kicked me.” I sat up then not wanting to be in his lap any longer.
“You screamed and woke me up. Scared the shit out of me. What were you dreaming about?”
“Ha. Vampires,” I said with a half smirk.
“Oh, well, I guess it’s par for the course.” He smiled again.
We were sitting silently next to each other when his phone rang.
“This is Mike.” He answered like the person calling didn’t already know that. “What’s the location?” He grabbed a tablet and pen from the table. “You sure it’s the same?” I tried to listen to the other end of the line. Nothing. “But these girls all had their heads…uh-huh…no bites though?” I snatched the pad of paper from him. Only an address scribbled in Mike’s chicken scratch. Damn. “Really? Well, I think I know someone who can help us ID the body. I’ll be there. Don’t touch anything.” He hung up and sat there. Not speaking. Not telling me what was going on. I felt like a kid at Christmas. In an instant, I was on my knees on the couch trying desperately not to bounce up and down and beg him to tell me more.
“So?” I said urgently.
“Purple hair you said? That girl. Purple hair?”
“Regina. Yeah.” My stomach tightened instantly. “Why?”
“New body, different MO, but possibly related. Dylan, could you tell me what this Regina looks like aside from her hair. Any tattoos, scars, anything that could ID her?”
“Maybe. Tall, really skinny, maybe tattoos if I saw them. Why?” My voice was beginning to grow deep with insistence.
“The new vic…she has no head.” He said it as though I would fall into a million tiny pieces just hearing the word decapitated.
“Oh my God. How is that similar?” My eyes were wide in marvel.
“She also had a stake in her chest. Sounds vampire like to me.” His voice slid over his lips with little hesitation. After seeing so much carnage over the years, I guess it makes one a bit hardened to the world. Probably one of the reasons why he and I had worked well together. To a point.
“I need to call Cyrus.” I turned to leave the couch.
“What the fuck, Dylan? I told you to stay away from him.” Alright, maybe not that hardened.
“No, not like that. He can help us.” I was almost pleading with him.
“He could have done this, Dylan. Don’t you see that? I need to talk to him, not you. Get dressed. You’re coming with me. Can you handle it? The body?” He referred to it as the body and made a bit of bile roll up the back of my throat.
“I have in the past.” I swallowed hard, but shrugged lightly trying to prove my durability.
“Decapitation is a messy scene. No breakfast this morning and you’ll be alright.” He was trying to be reassuring, sort of.
I nodded and grabbed my bag. While I was in the bathroom, it finally hit me. I was going to see someone without a head. Someone I knew. Someone who had helped me, sort of.
Who could have done this to her? Shoved a stake through her heart…cut her head off.
“Let’s go, princess,” Mike rapped on the door.
“Alright, I’m coming.” I dressed quickly, slapped on some mascara, and threw my hair up. “Where are we going?” We were out the door and strapping into Mike’s black Suburban.
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Cryptic much?”
“Just wait,” he said with tenacity.
Thirty minutes later we were driving down a familiar street. It was seven-thirty in the morning and the sun was running rampant on the city streets. I knew this street, this area. The bright sun obscured the landmarks but I was certain we would soon be approaching Embrace.
“Not here.” I was astonished to discover my instincts were right.
Mike parked haphazardly in the cordoned off road. Police cruisers lined the street; light bars blazing red and blue. Yellow tape sectioned off the worst of it and blocked the public from driving past. They must be tightening down security with these crime scenes. Well, seeing as though my twin ended up on the internet within hours of her discovery, I can see why.
“Yes, here. Where else would we be? What better place to leave a body staked and beheaded than on the front entrance of a vampire club.” He said this as if it was an absolutely average thing to say.
He wasn’t kidding. A nearly white leg was visible from my vantage point. It lay directly atop the red carpet that leads the way to the front entrance. There was no bouncer posted out front this morning.
In fact, in the harsh light of day, the once oddly frightening establishment stood as a ghost town on a deserted road. This was not your typical bar. There were no windows with Bud Light neon signs, no windows period. No pool tables, or jukebox, none of the usual. From the outside, it looked as though it may have once been a house built before this was an urban area; two-stories, peaked roofing, French doors at the entrance. It had been modernized and converted to what it is today, mind you, but in the bright shiny May morning, it looked lik
e grandma’s house with a red carpet and a dead girl. I knew from experience there were a set of stairs in the back that led to the second floor. I had never noticed before if there were stairs inside as well. Someone had covered all the lower floor windows with stucco to match the house, or building, whatever. It looked odd to see no windows on the front of what looked to be a house. The second story had one window in the center peak; it was blackened with dark shades. I had never noticed the building before. Not this much detail anyhow. And now with a corpse lying in front of it, all I could focus on was the architecture.
“You ready to do this?” I was startled into reality by Mike’s baritone voice.
“No. But I never will be, so I might as well do it now.” My heart began to flutter fast now with fearful anticipation.
He lifted the yellow tape and we both slid under it. Uniformed officers moved one by one out of our way as we walked closer to the dead girl. She wasn’t covered up. No sheet to protect her dignity. No body bag. Not yet, too soon for that. I’d bet forensics hadn’t even shown up yet. As far as I could tell, Mike was the first shirt and tie on the scene.
“You only have to look for a second and tell me if you know her.”
“Why do you think it may be Regina?”
“Purple hair,” he said simply.
“She has no head, Michael.” My mind was trying to wrap around the fact that a woman with no head could have purple hair.
“Her hands were bound with wads of long purple of hair.”
“They used her hair?” I was breathing heavily. Heart beating more rapidly now.
The last officer moved away from the body on Mike’s command. There lay the eternally pale, lean frame of Regina Laurent. Bartender at Macabre Saturnine. I would recognize those legs anywhere. Like two little PVC pipes holding her body up. I looked only at her legs, refusing to move my eyes toward the head that wasn’t there. I couldn’t remember if Reggie had any tattoos…none that I could tell what they were anyway. This body had tattoos. Full left leg and sleeved forearms.
Why I had I never noticed this before? Was it really her?
“So?” Mike said suddenly.
“I don’t know. At first, I knew for sure just by the legs, but I don’t remember tattoos. I don’t know, Mike.” My voice was shaking with fear. The dead girl’s wrists were tied with thick clumps of purple hair. Same eggplant color as Regina’s tresses. “Can I touch it?” I asked.
“You want to?” He sounded surprised.
“I need to.” He handed me latex gloves without a word. I slipped my hands into the extra-large gloves and nearly laughed at the wrinkled oversize fingers that flopped around my own. I squatted down next to the pale dead limb. With a gloved hand I poked at the leg. “Can I move her?”
“Hey, you guys photo this?” He yelled over his shoulder pointing down at the body. “No. Don’t move anything.” He said looking back down to me.
“I need to know if she’s been bit.”
“We won’t be able to find that out until the ME looks at the body.”
“Shit. How do we know it’s even the same people?” I said looking at him, purposely avoiding the corpse as much as I could. I could fake being tough for a while, but eventually my inner-pansy seeps through.
“We don’t. Not yet.” He shook his head lightly.
I sighed heavily, dragging a heap of air into my lungs. Mistake. I was instantly overwhelmed by the smell of death. It wasn’t that the area reeked of it yet; she wasn’t that far dead. I was just way too close to a corpse to breathe that deeply. First and last time I ever do that.
Let’s hope this is the last body I’m this close to.
Just in case, I made the mental note. I drudged up the courage to look at the rest of her. She was naked.
Why are they all naked?
Avoiding the area above her boobs, I focused on the expertly placed wooden stake. It looked just as those you see on TV. Like an oversized pencil. There was no blood, anywhere. Only roughly torn flesh where the object had entered.
Trying not to vomit, I stood from my crouched position. As I stood, I caught the sight of a stumped neck atop milky white shoulders. I yacked. Mike spun me around by my shoulders facing me away from the body. Can’t contaminate evidence now can we. I held the majority of it back while I ran to the curb.
“I asked if you’d be okay,” Mike said.
“I was until I saw the…” I swallowed hard holding back bile. No breakfast was an excellent idea. Mike had obviously done this a time or two.
“You don’t have to look at it anymore.” He pulled me into his body with one arm.
“It’s her. I know it is. Why would someone do this?” My body was quivering violently. A side effect of violent vomiting and exposure to extreme gore.
“They always have a reason. Mommy didn’t love them. The dog told them to. Nazis are coming through the soap dish. It will never make sense to anyone sane.” His voice was low and soothing.
“Who did this?” I said, voice beginning to return to normal.
“I don’t know. I was hoping maybe you did.”
“No. In fact, until now, I thought maybe it was her. After last night, I was almost positive she was one of the bad guys.” I pulled away from him and stood on my own just fine.
“Her and who else?” he asked.
“Not sure. There is one name you could check; I don’t have a last name, Diego. It might be an alias, but she had a friend in town, from Fresno, named Diego. Cyrus might tell me if I cornered him. Then again, he might not even know. I have a name and number of a girl in Fresno. I don’t think she’d speak with you though. These people are so fucking secretive. Where’s Malcolm?” I asked out of nowhere.
“Malcolm?” He looked at me like I was insane.
“Yeah. Malcolm McTavish, he owns this building. He has an office in the back up the steps. He owns this one and Macabre Saturnine. And a magazine too.”
“I have some calls to make here. Reports, cop shit.” He smiled. He was trying to get rid of me. I understood why. I had just puked all over his crime scene. I’d get rid of me too. And honestly, I really wasn’t up to standing around a naked body the rest of the morning.
“Okay. I can call Cyrus and Shantressa and see what they know. I can call Tatum and see where Malcolm is, or how to contact him.”
“No you won’t. You’re going to take the car back to my house and wait there until I get home. Then I will make calls. You can speak with this Cyrus, I’m sure you’re right about no one wanting to talk to me. At least no one wants to kill me. You do nothing without me. You hear me?” He held me by my biceps and looked directly into my eyes.
“Yeah, okay. You’ll be okay here? I can wait. I can help you.” I offered help I wasn’t ready to give. But I had to keep up appearances. No one wants a flaky reporter.
“You can help me by getting some breakfast and going home, to my house, and calling me when you get there.” He said slowly and concisely. As if I wasn’t really listening.
“Fine.” He handed me the keys.
“You still carry?” he asked. He was talking about my gun. That was the second time he’d asked about it. Generally, he disliked the fact that I carried it around town with me, but recently, he seemed comforted by the fact I was packing heat.
“Yeah. It’s at your house.” I gave him a smug smile.
“Load it, and wait. You remember how to use it?”
“Point the business end at what you want dead, pull the trigger. I got it.” On his insistence, I allowed him to teach me how to shoot the day after I bought it. I have to say, he did a pretty damn good job teaching a girl how to handle a gun. I wasn’t a sharp shooter, but could kill what I wanted dead.
“Be safe.” He kissed me. Just a slide of his lips across my cheek. No lip action but too close for my taste. I smiled and walked away. There was no way in hell I was letting him start that shit again.
What’s done is done.
I loved his Suburban. It’s new and leather a
nd not a piece of shit. I drove in comfort to the nearest drive-thru. I shouldn’t have been hungry after my barf-fest but strangely enough I was famished. I ordered a coffee and two breakfast sandwiches and added a hash brown for good measure. I shoveled food into my face as I drove home, to Mike’s. I had killed off the last sandwich by the time I was getting off the freeway.
I’m officially a beefcake.
I made the drive to Mike’s house, in Sun Valley, in a record fifteen minutes. After a celebratory pat on the back, I hopped out of the car and made my way to the door. Once safely inside, I called Mike as I promised.
“Hello.”
“Hey, I’m here,” I said.
“Good. Did you eat?”
“Yes, daddy.” I allowed my sarcastic tone to roll off my tongue.
“Lock it up and wait. We have some stuff to go over when I get home. I’ll be a few more hours here. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.” He was always good about checking in, I’ll give him that much.
“How will you get home?”
“Take a cruiser. I’ll see you in a few.” He sounded weird. I wondered what it was he wanted to talk about.
“K. Bye.” I hung up. I avoid long conversations with him at all costs.
I stood in his living room with no sense of purpose. I felt completely helpless hiding out in someone else’s house. I dialed Tatum. He couldn’t stop me from calling my best friend.
“You called me, who are you?” The voicemail talked at me after a half a ring. Either she had it off or she sent my call to voicemail.
Bitch.
“It’s me. We have a…situation. Call me. I’m at Mike’s.” I hung up.
I flopped my fat fast-food-full ass on the couch and turned on the TV. The morning news was on. Breaking news about Regina was gliding across the bottom of the screen on a red and white ticker. That was fast. The colors reminded me of the corpse they were speaking of. There were no new leads; police are baffled, blah, blah, blah. Not baffled, overworked. Actually in my opinion, if the first three girls had been investigated properly, these jack-offs might be behind bars right now, instead of running amuck. We did have leads. Following up on them was the hang up. Shit, I knew where they could find their precious little bad guys.
The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series) Page 23
