Charlie (Bloodletting Book 1)

by Joe Humphrey

  Oddly, her biggest struggle wasn’t with guilt about killing a person, but with the fact that she didn’t seem to feel any guilt about the one person she personally had killed, and that scared her. When she remembered Reggie and the way she felt watching the light fade from his eyes, she felt only satisfaction and a shameful longing to do it again and again. To punish him for being the horrible person he’d been.

  That scared her. Shouldn’t she feel at least a little bad about it? At the time, she struggled with the shock of taking such a drastic and final step, but never any actual guilt about the murder. What did bother her was just how much it excited her to remember it. That scared the shit out of her and was the primary reason she’d resisted Caroline’s gentle urging to find another victim. She was terrified of finding herself enjoying the act of killing. It was so contrary to her nature, and she didn’t like feeling as though something so fundamental was changing inside of her.

  So, it took her by surprise when she saw the preppy guy walk into the bar and felt a distinctly familiar pulling inside her, urging her toward him. She just knew that he needed to die. She didn’t know why yet, but there was certainty about it in her. Something about him – his posture, the way he laughed at something the bartender said, the set of his brow – it was all wrong. She knew the guy was bad news.

  - 2 -

  They were in a little dive bar just off Interstate 17, halfway between Flagstaff and Phoenix, called Wranglers. It was one of those odd places that seem to exist solely for people who don’t want to be found, which is exactly the sort of people Charlie and Caroline were looking for.

  They sat together at a small round table in the corner of the room, each with their own untouched bottle of Michelob, watching the odd assortment of characters milling about. Kenny Rogers and the First Edition played on the jukebox, singing about how his heart was on "fi-rah for Elvira." The patrons of the bar didn’t seem to be in a dancing mood and appeared content to sit in their dark corners, drinking in silence. The room smelled like decades of spilled whiskey and broken bottles of beer, and just under the surface, the sour stink of puke and piss permanently soaked into the wood.

  Charlie noticed the man walking into the bar right away, and deep in the back of her mind, a single string plucked and the hair on her arms stood up. Her first instinct was to get up and leave, immediately, but that would mean walking past him and the thought of that was paralyzing. He stood next to the bar and seemed to scan the patrons, looking for who knows what. His Cheshire Cat grin would have been corny and possibly even charming if it didn't make Charlie's stomach sink and anxiety balloon up in her chest, pushing against her throat.

  Caroline nudged Charlie with a gloved finger.

  "You okay, hon? What's going on?"

  "Who is that guy? Do you recognize him?" Charlie said, nodding towards the man standing at the bar, now talking with the bartender. Caroline narrowed her eyes, then leaned forward.

  "Yes, I know who he is. I need you to go out to the car and wait for me, understood?"

  "What? I don't want to."

  "Just do it, girl," Caroline said, making sure Charlie understood that it wasn't a request. Charlie closed her eyes for a moment, then gathered up her purse and stood, leaving her untouched beer on the table. As she walked past the guy, the feeling that she'd seen him somewhere only became more pronounced and a sense of deep, foreboding dread settled in. The guy, who was wearing a grey turtleneck shirt and a vest, glanced at her as she walked past, then laughed at something the bartender said. It was a sound that sent Charlie's head spinning. An awkward and distinctly phony laugh. Ah-huh ah-huh ah-huh.

  Charlie had to steady herself against the door frame as she stepped outside. She thought she was going to pass out. Once outside, she glanced back through the door in time to see Caroline approach the man. It seemed as though they were starting a perfectly pleasant conversation. Caroline was clearly in full-on flirt mode, and the guy seemed to be falling for it, hard. The door closed and Charlie staggered to the Cadillac, nausea washing over her in waves. She put her hands on the fender of the car and leaned forward, drying heaving. Nothing of substance came up, but saliva dribbled from her mouth and she was sure she was going to faint.

  She managed to get upright and into the passenger seat of the Caddy. The window was cool against her face and that helped. She wondered what Caroline was doing and if she would have to see the man again, hoping that the answer was no. She just wanted to be home. They had been driving further and further out from Flagstaff. Caroline said that with Charlie participating in the hunts, it was becoming necessary to expand their hunting territory. That made sense to Charlie, but it meant that they were getting progressively further from the safety of their little house.

  When Charlie heard Caroline's distinctive voice, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her and the man with the phony laugh walking towards the car, and she sank deeper into her seat, not wanting to be seen. She closed her eyes and tried to send Caroline a telepathic message, begging her not to let him get in the car with them. As their voices got closer, Charlie fought the urge to get out of the car and run off into the night. They approached the back of the car and Charlie heard Caroline say "The tools are in the trunk, with some jumper cables. Thank you so much for helping me with this!"

  "Don't thank me yet, I haven't done anything, but I'll do my best!" he said before letting out another fake laugh. Charlie looked in the mirror again in time to see Caroline open the trunk lid and step back. The man stood over the open trunk and Charlie watched with wide eyes as Caroline reached into her purse and pulled out the club Bruce the truck driver had shown them.

  "Where are the tools?" the man asked, standing back up. That's when Caroline struck him in the head with the club, sending him spinning and falling to the left. Caroline caught him under the arms before he could collapse completely and lifted him into the trunk. She slammed the lid shut and hurried to get in the car.

  Once seated, she looked at Charlie, smiling more than Charlie had ever seen her smile before.

  "It's going to be okay, I promise," Caroline said, and leaned forward and kissed Charlie on the forehead. For half a confused moment, Charlie thought she was going to kiss her on the mouth and felt entirely conflicted about that. So when the kiss landed on her forehead, she closed her eyes and smiled. Even though it didn't feel like anything was okay, she believed in Caroline and accepted what she said.

  - 3 -

  Caroline kept the Cadillac at a cool five miles per hour above the speed limit but was clearly in a hurry to get home. Once they were on the highway, she looked at Charlie and smiled.

  "What are you so happy about? I don't understand what's happening," Charlie said, trying not to sound upset and failing. Caroline patted her on the leg.

  "That is a very bad man, and I don't want to spoil anything, but I think he might be our ticket out of here," Caroline said, unable to contain her grin.

  "I'm so fucking confused," Charlie said, letting out a huff of a sigh.

  "We just have to get him home and decide exactly what we're doing with him. I need to make some phone calls." Caroline said, pulling her pack of Chesterfields from her purse and shaking one out. She offered the pack to Charlie, who declined with a wave of her hand.

  "Who IS he?" Charlie said, frustrated. Caroline nodded, putting her hand up. She lowered the window and tapped ash into the wind before speaking.

  "His name is Ted and he's a fucking monster. I can't tell you what we're going to do with him, because I don't know yet, but I can tell you that he's going to die, and he deserves it. He hurts women. He might even kill them."

  "Wait, did you learn that by drinking his blood?" Charlie asked.

  "No," Caroline said, looking at Charlie. "By drinking yours."

  That's when Charlie put it together, her mouth falling open.

  "I'm going to be sick," Charlie said, lowering her own window.

  "You're not going to be sick, you're going to be fine. This is good.
This is a really good thing," Caroline said, taking Charlie's hand.

  "It doesn't feel like a good thing!" Charlie yelled. "It feels fucking terrifying!"

  "And it is! That's okay. It's still a good thing. I'm going to take care of you. That piece of shit in the trunk hurt you. Do you understand? He's the one that hurt you."

  "I know! I don't want it!" Charlie shouted, yanking her hand away and pushing her balled up fists against her eyes. "I don't want it! I just want to go to sleep and never think about any of this again! You're forcing this on me and I don't want it!"

  They rode in silence for a long moment.

  "I'm sorry," Charlie muttered, looking down at her hands.

  "Don't apologize, it's fine. It's a touchy subject, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

  Charlie looked at her and nodded.

  "I trust you."

  Caroline smiled.

  "Thank you," she said.

  "Can we talk about what we're going to do with him?" Charlie asked, putting her window back up.

  "Absolutely we can," Caroline said with a grin.

  - 4 -

  The scene was an eerily familiar one. A man tied to the chair in Caroline’s kitchen. His own belt was now wrapped around his head, holding a balled-up washcloth in his mouth, damp with spit. A blue lacy sleep mask rested over his eyes. It was Caroline’s, but it also made a fine blindfold.

  “Are we going to kill him?” Charlie asked softly, barely above a whisper.

  “We can’t. He’s too valuable,” Caroline said, her hands on her hips.

  “I still don't understand what that means,” Charlie said.

  “Smell him,” Caroline said, and poked her on the end of the nose.

  "What?"

  "Go ahead. Smell him," she said, holding her arm up at the sleeping man. With immense trepidation, Charlie leaned towards him and sniffed. She looked at Caroline and shrugged.

  "I don't smell anything," she said.

  "EXACTLY," Caroline said, grinning. "You can't smell him! And he can't smell us!" she said, emphasizing her point with a clap of her hands. "He is Untouchable.”

  Caroline looked at Charlie, expecting a response. Charlie had none.

  “I don't know what that means,” she said finally.

  Caroline nodded her head in the direction of the living room. Charlie followed her out of the kitchen. Caroline flipped up the lid on her turntable and dropped a shiny black disc onto the spindle and lowered the arm. Smokey Robinson started in about the tracks of his tears.

  "We've talked about The Scent, right?" Caroline asked.

  "Okay," Charlie said, waiting for Caroline to explain what she means.

  “Here’s the thing about our dude in there. He’s what us gifted folks call ‘Untouchable’ which means that he isn’t influenced by the scent we give off. What you’ve been calling a pheromone. He gets none of the lovey-dovey happiness or sedative effects.”

  “Okay. So?” Charlie asked, impatient.

  “So, what that means is that Untouchables are extremely valuable to our kind. Especially the older ones. They seem to really get a kick out of them,” Charlie started to speak but Caroline held up her finger.

  “The reason is that we tend to get bored. You know this better than anyone. There are only so many ways to kill a person, and for those of us who aren’t as... let’s say compassionate as we are, it gets incredibly repetitive. Especially when the people they’re killing are in the dopey state of mind you see in the marks we hunt. Now, you give a bored old fogey someone like him to play with, someone who will feel every cut and every poke with a clear head, someone who isn’t stoned on this pheromone or whatever you call it, that’s something exciting and new. That’s a rare thing in our world. That makes him valuable.”

  “I don't care about money!” Charlie said, getting frustrated. She leaned over and looked toward the kitchen, checking to see that Ted was still asleep. Caroline injected him with a sedative when she opened the trunk. Charlie had never seen Caroline use an injection before and something about it made her uncomfortable, but she chocked that up to the awful mixture of emotions she was desperately trying not to process. Caroline grabbed her by the shoulders, not unkindly, but firmly.

  “It's not about money. It's about freedom. Our freedom! He's leverage! I wish I could explain it better," she said, looking at Charlie with an intensity that made her uncomfortable.

  - 5 -

  They dragged the man Caroline called Ted into the ‘pantry’, which is what they called the little kid’s room Charlie found so creepy. Caroline had an entire IV rig with saline and Ketamine set up and hooked into his arm. He lay sprawled out on the kid-sized bed, his feet hanging off the end. Caroline and Charlie stood over him, arms crossed.

  “So, here’s the plan. I’m going to take him to my friend tomorrow. It’s a four-hour drive, and I don't know how long the meeting will last, which means that I’ll probably be gone overnight. You’ll have to stay here alone. I’d take you with me, but it’s complicated with my friends you see.”

  “What’s complicated about it?” Charlie asked, fighting the feeling that Caroline was ashamed of her.

  “A lot of reasons. The first is that they can be a little... intense. They’re very old, very paranoid, and have strange values. The other is that I haven’t actually told anyone about you yet. It’s kind of a big deal when someone takes on a protégé, and I haven’t made an official declaration about you.”

  Charlie looked at her sideways.

  “What exactly does that mean?” she asked, suspicious. Caroline put her hands up as if to say ‘no big deal’.

  “Nothing really. It’s just a process and I haven’t started it yet. It’s a bit of a pain in the patoot and I wanted to get you comfortable with yourself and this life before I start introducing you to people.”

  That didn’t exactly make Charlie feel any more comfortable with what she was saying.

  “I trust you,” she said, realizing that there wasn’t much point in pressing her. Caroline was good to her, but she certainly had a lot of secrets.

  “Look, I’m private — we're private people. There’s a whole social aspect to what we are that I like to participate in as little as possible. You’re going to have to learn the basics of it eventually, but for now, let’s stick with the pony before we put you on a bronco, alright?”

  “Yeah, like I said. I trust you,” Charlie said, trying to keep the disappointment and fear out of her voice. Caroline smiled and patted her on the cheek.

  Something dawned on Charlie and her eyes went wide.

  "Are you going to California?!"

  Caroline pointed at Charlie, as though to say 'You got it'.

  "Not quite, but close. I'm going to Las Vegas," she said.

  "To meet vampires from California?" Charlie asked, getting excited. Caroline nodded. "You're going to trade him to the vampires to let you back in California?"

  "Maybe, yes, it's not 100% yet, but I'm working on it."

  "OH MY GOD!" Charlie shouted, grabbing Caroline by the shoulders. Caroline laughed and took her hands.

  "Let's not get ahead of ourselves! I have to make some more calls and finalize the deal, but it's looking good."

  - 6 –

  Charlie’s eyes opened in the darkness of her bedroom. She looked around the room and already felt the queer energy of being alone in the house. It wasn’t the first time she’d been alone since being born again into her new life with Caroline, but it was the first time she’d been really alone. There had been plenty of instances that Caroline had gone out for an hour or even three or four hours, while Charlie stayed at home, but she never went far, and Charlie always knew that she could hear the big Caddy pull into the garage at any moment. Not this time. Caroline was far, far away.

  The clock in the living room counted off the seconds. The pump in the refrigerator hummed. The house was otherwise silent. Charlie kicked her sheet to the bottom of the mattress and hopped out of her bed. Caroline had, some
how, come up with a bedframe and box-spring to go with the mattress that had previously been on the floor and served as Charlie’s bed. The first early morning that Charlie had stretched out in the bed had been a good one. While the walls were still unpainted, they were now decorated with posters of rock singers and movies, all ordered from the backs of magazines. Charlie’s books, magazines, and records were filling up a bookcase that leaned against the wall.

  Charlie walked over to the door and opened it, stepped through the bureau that blocked the opening and hid the room, and stood in Caroline’s bedroom. It was, as usual, immaculate. And, for the first time in a long time, it was dark. Caroline always woke up before Charlie, and typically, the lights were on throughout the house. Tonight, the house was dark, and it was more unnerving than Charlie expected. She walked into the hallway, which glowed green with the light from the little green cactus nightlight that was plugged into the wall, and turned on the light.

  The pantry was empty, as Charlie knew it would be, and all signs that there had been a man tied up and drugged in the room just a few hours earlier had been scrubbed from the room. It, again, looked like a little boy’s bedroom, and again, it gave Charlie the creeps. She turned the light off and closed the door and headed to the living room.

  For a moment, Charlie considered the idea that Caroline might never come back. Several possible unfortunate fates that could befall Caroline danced through Charlie’s mind. She pictured a brutal car crash, with Caroline’s Cadillac flipped over in the desert and the sun crawling up over the horizon to do whatever awful thing that supposedly happened to people afflicted with their particular condition. She pictured Caroline meeting with her “friends” and being attacked and left bleeding in some hole in the Las Vegas desert.