by Carly Fall
As he stared at it, he knew in his soul his life would change if he opened it. Of course, he could always ignore its contents and go on living the pathetic life he had made for himself, a hero who could barely feed himself, let alone wear a costume.
After ripping it open, he unfolded the white parchment carefully. In flourished calligraphy, it read:
* * *
Mr. Dickson,
You are invited to join our organization, Operation Underworld. Your skills and knowledge will be a huge benefit for us, and we are prepared to offer you the resources to help make your job easier and make you more effective in your fight against evil.
Along with generous compensation, all your living and travel expenses will be covered for the duration of your assignment.
If you wish to accept this invitation, light a candle and burn this packet of sage on your windowsill. After that is done, we will be in touch with you shortly.
* * *
He stared at the letter after he’d finished reading it. How the hell would they know whether he’d burnt the sage or not? He was tempted to do it simply to see if this was some stupid joke. The only way they could know whether he lit the crap on fire was if they had someone monitoring him.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked over to the window. Peering out between the metal, slatted blinds, he searched for any sign that someone watched him.
The parking lot looked like a damn morgue of beat-to-shit cars.
He returned to the bed and sat down. Picking up the letter, he reread it, then looked inside the envelope. A small packet of greenish-brown stuff sat at the bottom, reminding him of a bit of dried-up hay.
A feeling deep in his gut told him that this wasn’t some trivial thing. These people meant business, and if he lit the sage, he had to know he wanted join their group.
Did he?
Just then, he heard his neighbor’s door slam, a male voice, and a woman’s laugh. Penny had picked up a late customer, and he knew what came next.
After a moment, he heard deep, male groans. Unfortunately, the walls were as thin as the sheets he slept on, and every word, gasp, and moan slipped into his space.
“Yeah, baby. That feels so good.”
“You like that, honey? You want some more?” Penny’s playful voice asked.
Another moan. “Oh, yeah.”
He glanced at the clock. Penny usually worked pretty fast, and he hoped she wouldn’t have a lapse in her work ethic now.
“Well, come and get it, sugar.”
The squeak of the bedsprings met his ears, and he sighed. Holding his head in his hands, he tried to block out the sounds and concentrate on his decision.
“You like that, Penny?” the man said, his voice husky.
“Of course I do, baby. Give it to me.”
Her headboard began knocking against the wall, and as always, it sounded like the whole bed would be coming through the thin sheetrock between their apartments at any moment.
More moans, more groans. Promises of a magnificent ending and of Penny seeing stars when the guy was finished.
Urging her customer on, Penny really amped it up. “Us coming together tonight was fate, because nothing has ever felt so good!”
Connor grinned. Penny was the best with the lines.
A few more groans, a shout, and then silence.
And … Penny scores another minute-man.
Finally, he could concentrate on his decision.
After a few moments, Penny’s door opened and shut. He heard low voices outside, then the guy left.
A soft knock had him on his feet. He slipped on his slippers and grabbed the bathroom towel, tying it at his waist.
When he opened the door, Penny stood there smoking a cigarette and wearing her bathrobe. Her black hair lay in a matted mess around her tired, pale face. Based on past conversations, he guessed her to be around thirty, but she looked closer to forty. Life hadn’t been kind to Penny, and she had long ago quit fighting and accepted her fate.
“Hey, Connor,” she said after blowing smoke up in the air. “Just wanted to apologize for that. I had a bad night, and he was willing to pay a hundred for a blowie and pussy.”
“No worries,” he replied, unaffected by her language. He’d heard a thousand times worse, and had used it himself. “I hadn’t gone to sleep yet, anyway.”
She nodded. “Well, I’m off to do exactly that and then get up later and live my glamorous life like no one’s business.”
He grinned, glad she could keep her sense of humor. He had no idea what had brought her to this life, but he liked her and only wanted her to be as happy as possible. “See you then, Penny.”
He shut the door almost in unison to when she did, dropped the towel, and returned to the bed.
Was this what he wanted for his life? He lived in a shithole. He didn’t work, but stole from others to get by, and lived off protein bars and Red Bull. Then there was the fact that he hunted vampires into the deep hours of night.
His thoughts once again traveled back to the woman in the alley, the smell of blood choking him as it had done that night. His eyes welled, and his heart raced in panic as he tried to inhale past the imaginary blockage.
He ran to the bathroom, turned on the sink, then sucked water directly from the faucet, hoping it didn’t contain too much metal. After he could breathe again, he wiped the tears from his eyes and looked around at his horrible apartment.
No, this wasn’t what he wanted for himself. His curse allowed him to see another world that most people couldn’t. Hell, he might be the only human alive able to see vampires. Because of his unique ability, and what he’d witnessed with the death of that woman, he had important work to do, and he couldn’t ignore it. He had to do it.
As he heard Penny sneeze through the wall, he read the letter again. Light a candle and burn this sage on your windowsill. He didn’t have a candle, but he knew Penny did.
Slipping on his jeans, he went to her door and knocked softly.
“Who is it?” she yelled. “Business is closed.”
Although he liked Penny, and she’d offered to do business with him, he’d never taken her up on it. He preferred to keep their relationship in the friends-without-benefits zone.
“It’s Connor, Penny.”
A moment later, she answered the door, stark naked. He’d learned when he moved in she had no qualms about who saw her body. He’d seen it many times, and knew that she needed to eat a few hamburgers to get some meat on her almost skeletal frame and that she had her belly button pierced. A small angel tattoo sat on her right breast, but he’d never asked what it represented.
“What’s up?”
Out of respect of their friendship, he kept his gaze on her face. “I need to borrow a candle.”
“Sure.”
That was another thing he liked about Penny—she never asked any questions. He could have asked to borrow her Glock, and she’d hand it to him without batting an eyelash.
She disappeared for a moment, then returned with a small, blue, column candle that had been burned about half way down.
“It smells like rosemary. It reminds me of my mom cooking in the kitchen when I was younger.”
Well, hell. That was sad, as he knew Penny had lost her mother when she’d been fourteen and had gone into prostitution shortly afterward. However, he knew Penny hated pity probably even more than he did, so he ignored the comment.
“Thanks. I’ll bring it back later today.”
“See you then.”
Returning to his apartment, he set the candle on the windowsill as instructed, then took the small bag of sage and placed it in his only bowl. He looked around for some matches and found none. A gas stove stood in the little kitchenette, and he lit a piece of paper, then set the sage on fire and lit the candle wick.
He watched the sage burn. The acrid smell almost choked him, but he focused on the smoke as he coughed. The grey tendrils licked the ceiling and surrounded him, almost as if t
he long, slender wisps caressed him. He had to admit, it was a little freaky.
At any moment, the smoke detector would be set off. It was surprising the place even had one, because it would probably be a blessing to the owner of the complex to let it burn to the ground. He opened the door, and the smoke wafted out.
When he couldn’t take the smell of sage any longer, he poured water into the bowl and blew out the candle.
After shutting the door, he returned to his bed, the pungent scents of rosemary and sage still prevalent in the room. Thankfully, most of the smoke had cleared. He had no idea what would come next, but anxiety and excitement pulsed through him.
At this rate, he’d never find sleep.
4
Connor stood in front of the three-story house in New Orleans and felt it in his bones that his life was about to change in a very significant way, even more so than when he’d almost choked to death on the damn sage.
Joe Smith rolled his wheelchair up next to him.
“Are you having second thoughts, Connor?”
Hell, yes. He’d already had second, third, and fourth thoughts about this.
“Just hear what they have to say,” Joe continued, not waiting for an answer. “I think your presence in this organization will be good for you, as well as them.”
That remained to be seen.
The well-maintained house didn’t look like a place that would be headquarters to any ‘organization.’ The old Victorian’s top and middle floor each had three blacked-out windows that reminded him of a horror movie where the kids went into the abandoned building and proceeded to get chopped up. The building-wide balcony on each floor offered just enough room for a chair while black, wrought-iron trellises weaved up the front.
With the full moon hanging just above the roof, it definitely gave him pause before walking down the path and stepping up to the door.
“Come,” Joe called as he wheeled his chair up the cement walk.
On a low curse, he followed.
Joe rang the bell, and they waited. Even though the nighttime temperatures hung in the sixties, a chill ran down his spine. As they waited in the dark, he almost hoped no one answered the door, but curiosity also ate at him. He’d followed Joe a long way from Las Vegas to New Orleans, and he was supposed to be a badass marine. Instinct told him to get the hell out of there, but with his gift of being able to sense vampires, he’d also come to the conclusion he didn’t fit into the human world anymore. Joe said he’d find his tribe here.
“I think it may rain,” Joe murmured.
Connor glanced up at the sky to see a few clouds drifting over the moon. Maybe Joe was right, but there were other things more important to discuss than the weather.
The door opened slowly, creaking on its hinges. A black woman came into view, her long onyx and grey dreadlocks framing her face and hanging down to her waist. Somewhat heavyset, he placed her in her fifties. It seemed as if hundreds of candles burned in the room behind her, their flames waving and dancing.
“Dedou. It’s lovely to see you again,” Joe said with a smile. “This is Connor Dickson, the gentleman I told you about. I think he’ll make a wonderful addition to your organization.”
She eyed him warily, her gaze running over him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.
Despite feeling as though she looked him as she would a dead carcass lying in the street, he stepped forward and extended his hand. “Hello, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
Ignoring him, she stepped aside and gestured for them to enter.
Well, someone hadn’t been taught any manners.
As he followed Joe inside, he realized the candles provided the only light in the room. They moved up a center aisle with tables on both sides of them. Each held many products, everything from oils, books, herbal blends, and incense. As he passed a basket containing homemade dolls, he read the place card and sighed. As if the past year hadn’t been strange enough, he’d now sauntered into a Voodoo shop. Yes, he had ridden the crazy train right into the station.
The pungent smell of rosemary and sage wafted around him, reminding him of his little ritual the other morning. He glanced over his shoulder at Dedou. She still eyed him guardedly, and he tried to stare her down, but she didn’t flinch.
“Dedou, how is Charlie?” Joe asked, breaking the silence.
She moved past Connor to sit behind an old, wooden desk, its top scuffed and marred. Marble mortar and pestles littered the surface among the piles of herbs that she’d been grinding. An old-fashioned, black rotary phone sat on the corner.
“He is well, Mr. Smith.”
Her Haitian accent flowed so thick, it took Connor a moment to understand what she had said.
“Excellent. Next time you speak to him, please give him my regards.”
Her lips turned up in a small smile. “I will.”
Joe gazed up and motioned him to sit down in the chair next to Dedou’s desk. “Have a seat, Connor. I must take my leave, but Dedou will take good care of you.”
As he lowered himself onto the chair, confusion tore through him. They’d just arrived, and he’d come to trust Joe, but he didn’t know anything about Dedou, except she had poor manners.
“Why are you going?”
“My job was to deliver you to Dedou. She’ll explain everything and is capable of giving you more details than I can. Just remember, your gift is needed in the fight against evil, but it’s up to you if you wish to use it.”
Without another word, Joe wheeled himself out of the house.
For a brief moment, Connor considered going after him, but then decided against it. He’d stay planted in this creepy room with this weird woman—he was, after all, a marine. He’d seen far scarier and stranger shit than this place, but at the same time, he’d found comfort in Joe’s presence.
He turned back to Dedou as the door shut.
She stared at him, her gaze hard, as if she’d already made up her mind she didn’t like him.
Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest. Being as tired as he was, his patience ran pretty low with Dedou.
“You must sleep here tonight to complete the application process, and tomorrow, you let Charlie know if you accept your assignment.”
When he’d first met Joe Smith, he’d felt a kindred spirit in someone else who knew about vampires. He still couldn’t believe that lighting a candle and burning sage had let them know he’d accepted the invitation—obviously, he’d been watched.
He still didn’t know how all that had worked, but Joe had shown up on his doorstep again twelve hours later and flown him here.
Glancing to his left, he saw a basket with a sign that read Frog Legs. Another read Ritual Kits. To his right, one read Spells.
Jesus, this place was bizarre. Although, after the year he’d had, he probably should be used to things that didn’t meet the status quo of ‘normal.’
“I see you looking around my shop as if you are disgusted or in disbelief of what you see. You do not hide your feelings well, Connor. Before you open your mouth, remember that this is my religion. I would never dismiss your religion, no matter what it may be.”
Even though he’d grown up in a Catholic orphanage complete with nuns that beat the shit out of the kids, he’d let go of his religion, but remained spiritual. “I don’t have one.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dedou stood and motioned for him to follow. He trailed after her as she led him up a swooping staircase to the second floor, thinking that perhaps he should have given her a better answer, but then he wondered why he even cared if Dedou understood his spirituality.
As they stepped on the landing, another man caught his gaze. Connor placed him in his mid-thirties, probably Hispanic based on his light brown skin. With his muscular build and smart brown eyes that studied Connor very carefully as if he memorized his every feature, Connor wondered if the guy had served in the military, or maybe he was a cop. He definitely had that air ab
out him.
They nodded at each other, then the man entered the room to Connor’s left.
“You stay on this floor,” she said as she opened the first door on the right, completely ignoring the other guy.
Two double beds with sky blue comforters greeted him. As he stepped into the room, his boots echoed against the shiny hardwood.
He had a dresser, even though he’d left his meager possessions in Vegas. Joe had told him he wouldn’t need them, and he’d be provided for.
A nightstand stood in between the two beds, and a second door remained closed, which he guessed was either a bathroom or a closet.
“You shower, and I’ll bring you some soup and tea. Bathroom is over there.”
She pointed to the panel he’d wondered about a second ago, then Dedou shut him in. He would have preferred a beer and sandwich, but she hadn’t given him the chance to argue.
Sliding open the dresser drawers, he noted a pair of pajamas in his size, as well as some jeans and shirts that would also fit him. At the side of the dresser laid a pair of military boots, similar to what he wore now.
He walked over to the bathroom and found that it joined with another room, but the door had been locked.
After slipping off his boots, he turned on the water and undressed. As he stepped into the white, claw-foot tub, he sighed with complete contentment as the hot spray hit him. Sometimes, the little things—like warm water—were appreciated more than a million dollars would be. However, he could buy a lot of warm water with a million dollars. Anyway, right at this moment, he wouldn’t trade this shower for anything. What a change from the blue, plastic box with the artic trickle of water he had left in Vegas. After a moment, he realized he felt safe and relaxed for the first time in the past year.
He hadn’t wanted any of what had been given to him.
As a marine, he’d loved his unit and had been happy with his life, both on and off duty. Although he’d grown up in an orphanage, he’d finally found some semblance of a family in his fellow marines. That had been destroyed in the jungles of Guatemala, and had left him and the others with supernatural abilities. Of course, he hadn’t known about that until Joe found him.
