by Martha Woods
“I think that’s enough for today,” Rick says.
“Hey, do you think you can teach me how to use a knife hand-to-hand?” I ask.
Rick gets a look of surprise on his face. I know basic martial arts already, but not a lot of hand-to-hand combat. It isn’t as if it is really necessary in my line of work. I’m really looking for some training on how to remove the head of a shaman werewolf. I don’t think Rick can teach me that. Even the thought of it gives me chills.
“I can find someone to start teaching you,” Rick says after a long pause.
“Thank you,” I reply.
He drives me home. I try at conversation, but little comes up. Rick talks about the murders and reassures me that he is going to get someone to train me in combat.
“I put a protection detail on you,” he says as he pulls up to my apartment complex.
“You did what?” I blurt out.
“Stay inside as much as possible. I’m going to make sure we have an eye on you till we find this freak,” Rick says.
“You have no right to interfere with my life like that,” I say, genuinely angry.
“I already had one heart attack seeing that picture of you; I’m not going through that again. Police officers are being placed at your apartment complex just in case. It’s best you tell that friend of yours, Cara, not to go out either,” Rick lectures me.
“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” I say.
“Look, we’re closing in on the perpetrator, or he wouldn’t be becoming more active. You know that means he’ll be more volatile, more dangerous than before,” he says.
I can feel my face burn red. It’s not like I can’t survive a week or two without getting out of the house; Netflix is great for that. But everyone wanting me safe, trying to protect me, is getting under my skin. I go silent. It is already done – until Elric is gone, it looks like my life can’t go back to normal.
I don’t invite Rick back up to my apartment. I’m too angry at him. He doesn’t apologize for what he’s done, just tells me he’ll be calling me soon to set up my hand-to-hand combat training. Now I’ve got a lot of free time to do nothing.
On my way through the lobby, I run into Damon and freeze. I’d forgotten he’d moved into the building. He doesn’t look like he’s had a decent night’s sleep in several days, but when he sees me his face lights up in a smile, showing off his dimples. Instantly my legs are wobbly, and the anger is being replaced with the healthy nerves I get around Damon.
“Hey, Amy,” he says. He leans casually back against the wall.
“Hi, Damon,” I say.
“Still think I’m stalking you?” he jokes. I can feel the blush come to my face. Damon doesn’t seem to notice. He looks like he wants to ask me something.
“I don’t know what to do with you, Amy. I want to get to know you better. Would you be willing to go out to dinner with me tonight?”
My brain freezes over. Did Damon just ask me on a date? I stare at him, shocked. It’s like all my little day dreams are coming true, and yet it’s the most reasonable thing to happen to me since this whole thing started.
“Don’t answer right away,” Damon teases.
“You look like you need to get some rest,” I tell Damon. What? You need some rest? Am I trying to tell him he looks like crap? And I haven’t even accepted his offer.
“Yeah, I’ve been up all night. I’m going to go in and sleep,” he says.
“Do you work night shift?”
“Something like that,” he says. This guy is a total mystery to me –lurking suspiciously at crime scenes, calling me in the middle of the night, by some coincidence moving into my apartment building – but I am being given the opportunity to get some answers, at the very least, and maybe even get to know him more. And if I am out with him I won’t have to worry about a vampire coming in to harass me with his supernatural drama again.
“So…dinner? Where’d we land on that?”
“I’m down,” I say, trying to sound smooth.
“I could pick you up at your apartment, seeing as we both live here and all. What number are you?”
I tell him, because I don’t think he’s a threat to me. And anyway, if he really has been stalking me, he could have found out on his own easily enough. I’ll gauge his actions tonight at dinner and decide for sure whether can trust him or not.
“Cool, I’ll knock on your door around 7, when the sun goes down. Is that okay with you?”
“Sounds perfect,” I say as I run a hand through my hair, attempting to look casual.
His eyes dart down to the gun that is holstered at my hip.
“Been to the range?”
“Yeah, a little target practice. A girl can’t be too safe,” I say.
“If you have a conceal carry you’re welcome to bring it. Just don’t shoot me,” he flashes a smile.
He is inviting me to go out with him armed? Really? I feel a flush deep inside, liking Damon more and more.
“I’ve got one too,” he says. “I hope you don’t mind me being armed. It’s been a little unsafe walking the streets these days.”
“No, not at all,” I say.
He nods his head and starts towards the elevator. I need to go up as well, but now I feel awkward riding the elevator with him, seeing as we’ve basically finished our conversation. So I linger in the lobby. I’ll just check my mailbox and then catch the next elevator. I may be as awkward as they come, but at least I’m tactical about it.
“I’ll see you at 7 then,” he says. “Want to drive separate or is riding with me okay?”
“I can ride with you,” I respond.
“Cool, see you then.” He does a little wave and disappears as the elevator doors shut him in.
I wait anxiously for the next elevator. I have it all to myself, and as soon as the doors slide shut I do a little dance to get the jitters out. Damon just asked me on a date, he wants to date me and get to know me. Oh my god! I can’t believe it. After all the awkward conversations I’ve had with him, he doesn’t think I’m a complete idiot. But what does he do for a living? I wonder. He said he works the night shift. Where? I guess that’s a question I can ask over dinner. The whole dating process is really a mystery to me. I usually just sort of fall into my relationships. It’s the leaving them part that I do deliberately.
Once I’m calmed down I pull out my phone and dial Cara’s number. After two rings, I hear her sleepily pick up the phone.
“Damon asked me on a date,” I blurt out.
“Amy?” she says sleepily. Even though it’s early afternoon, I’m not surprised. It’s the weekend. She’s probably catching up on some much needed sleep.
“Yes, sorry for waking you, but Damon and I are going to dinner tonight!”
“Oh my god, are you for real?”
“Yes! He just asked me. Oh god, what am I going to wear?” I say. Well, something that I can wear my concealed carry under. That certainly limits my wardrobe on sexy outfits.
“Just be casual with him. It’s the first date. Don’t want to overdo it. I don’t think he’ll take you anywhere too fancy,” Cara says. I can tell she is waking up more.
“Right, casual.”
“It’ll be fun. In all this madness, at least you get to go out,” Cara says.
“What do you mean?”
“My parents begged me to stay inside because of all these murders. They want me to come home.”
Right, the murders. My good mood starts to slip away no matter how hard I try to hold onto it. Suddenly, the memories of my nightmares feel very real again as I think of all the women who have been murdered. Their faces appear in my mind, as if their ghosts are standing right in front of me. I hear Cara talking, but I can’t concentrate on what she’s saying. I’m standing in my kitchen, and suddenly the dead are surrounding me. I don’t know if I should scream or apologize to the girls who are staring at me, their faces forlorn and accusatory.
“Amy, Amy are you there?” Cara says, her voice jarr
ing me back to the present. I watch the apparitions disappear. I touch my face, and tears are coming down my cheeks.
“Y…yeah, I’m here, sorry.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just got distracted.”
“I’m worried about you there alone, Amy,” Cara says.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got Bella—” a horrible guard dog, really “—and I can ask Damon if I need help,” I say. “Maybe I could ask him to sleep on my couch if things get any worse.”
“You should ask him to sleep in your bed,” Cara says.
“Not on a first date!” I don’t have anything against that, but I tend to find that the guys stick around longer if you make them wait a bit. Usually, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference to my non-romantic sensibilities, but Damon…I am starting to seriously crush on Damon.
“I’m just saying, might do you some good; you’ve been so uptight lately.”
“One thing at a time, Cara. Let me see if I can survive having a normal conversation with him first,” I tell her.
Cara laughs over the phone. I can hear her moving around – likely getting out of her bed.
“Okay, I’m heading out of town. Anything to make my parents stop having a heart attack about me. Let me get dressed and packed. I’ll text you later when I get to my parents’,” she says.
“Alright, thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime. You have fun tonight. Give me all the details in the morning,” Cara says.
I agree and hang up the phone. Bella is looking at me wagging her tail so I take her down for a quick walk. Usually I’d take her for a run, but not today; I’m actually exhausted. I’ve got goose bumps on my arms thinking about what I saw while I was talking to Cara. The girls looked real enough to touch. What is happening to me? A vampire can’t get inside my head, a shaman wants to kill me, and now I see ghosts of dead girls. Either that, or I really am going crazy.
Back in my apartment, I start to Google vampires, reading up on all the internet has to say about them. But it’s hard to discern fact from fiction. I research older books to see if they have anything to say, books I can find from before Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. I get the feeling that it’s true they can’t come out during the day, and that they have some sort of ability for mind control. I’m not sure if they can transform into bats or if garlic will keep them away, or if the sleep in coffins. The legend about them having to be invited in is obviously false. I’m used to having proof of things – hard evidence that can give me black and white answers to questions that could otherwise trip someone up. This supernatural crap I’ve stumbled into is a whole different world. I need to know its rules.
Time goes faster than I expected it to. Before long it is 5, and I need to start getting ready for my date. I opt for tight jeans but a long shirt underneath which I can hide my gun. The shirt is a dark blue, falling lightly off my shoulder. I strike a pose in front of the mirror. Casual, but sexy. Somehow I manage to pull it off. It feels strange going out armed, but with a shaman werewolf out to get me, it seems like the best option. Bella whines her approval at my outfit so I bend down to give her a belly rub.
I put light makeup on, focusing on my lips to make them look more kissable. I still feel I look dull, nothing exciting about me, but Damon must see something I don’t. I try to muster more confidence – he did ask me out after all – but it is hard to see what a guy like Damon could see in me. I can be confident with a gun, I can be sure against a vampire, but when it comes to him, my heart rate goes through the roof. I don’t know what it is about him that makes him like him so much. It’s likely the mystery that surrounds my neighbor who stays up all night and for the most part keeps to himself. I do like to solve a good puzzle; call it an occupational hazard.
He knocks promptly at 7. I open the door and hold my breath. He is wearing jeans and a button up shirt, tight fitting. I’m not sure where he has hidden his gun, but my hands are itching to explore that form to find it. He smiles at me, scratching the back of his head. He has his hair combed for a change, and…is he acting shy around me?
“Sorry, I'm actually not used to asking women to go on dates,” he admits.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah, my job doesn’t allow much free time,” he says. “Especially of late.”
“My job keeps me busy as well,” I say.
“I can imagine. Being a cop and all.” He offers me his arm. “Shall we go?”
I shyly take it. I can feel his muscles tense as my arm winds around his. Maybe he’s as nervous about this date as I am. I say goodbye to Bella and close the door, locking it. Hopefully, Vincent isn’t here when I get back. I have a sudden fear that the vampire might have a taste for the dog, but he seemed disinterested in her before, so I shake it off and try to keep my head in the moment.
“M’lady,” Damon teases, gesturing for me to step into the elevator first. I flush.
We walk to his car, an old white pick-up truck that can only fit two people comfortably. He opens the door for me, and I slide in, trying to be graceful. Graceful isn’t really my thing. The inside of the truck is clean, even though the outside looks pretty beat up, as if it has seen more trails in the woods than actual roads. I buckle my seatbelt, and Damon climbs into the driver’s seat beside me.
“Is sushi okay with you?” he asks.
“It’s been a while since I’ve had any.”
“I know this really nice place that’s quiet, so we can talk and stare into each other’s eyes,” he says, not looking at me. He’s being playful, but he’s still shy, I can tell.
“You’re going to have to stop making me blush so much,” I say.
“But it’s so fun.” Now he breaks out into a genuine smile as he pulls out of the parking lot. “It’s what I like about you. You’re so open about your emotions. Most girls tend to be guarded.”
“It’s not nice to make generalizations,” I say.
“You’re right. It’s probably just because of my limited experience with women.”
“How can you have little experience?” I ask.
He keeps his eyes on the road but reaches out to take my hand and bring it to his lips for a kiss. It feels so natural, like this is how it is supposed to be, and the feeling slows my heartbeat down. Just a small kiss, so old fashioned of him. I remember holding Vincent’s hand in my own suddenly, but quickly beat that out of my brain as I focus on Damon’s profile.
“I work a lot,” he says.
“What do you do?”
Damon goes quiet, and I see something flash across his face. A mixture of emotions, like he is trying to bury something deep inside. Automatically, the curiosity in me is spiked, and I want to dig until I find what he’s pushing down. I’m a forensic investigator; it’s what I do.
“I do security,” he says finally, as if he’s unsure about his own answer.
“Security for who?” I ask.
He kisses my hand again, distracting me from the question. “I’m sorry, Amy. I can’t really talk about my job,” he says.
* * *
I narrow my eyes. I don’t like that. It makes me nervous. Especially with everything that’s been happening lately, I’d feel a lot more comfortable with someone who could be straightforward with me. Still, I feel I should give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for the duration of the date. What do I know? Maybe he really can’t talk about his job. Who should understand that better than a member of the police? But what are we supposed to talk about if not each other’s lives?
He pulls up to the sushi restaurant and I’m distracted from my line of thought, curious about the restaurant. It is indeed small, quaint and quiet. The lighting is a soft blue on intimate tables for two. It’s empty other than the wait staff. Damon helps me out of the truck and takes my arm again to lead me inside.
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself? Why did you get into forensics?” Damon asks as we take our seats.
“I’m not sure. I’ve just…always been draw
n to blood?” It comes out as a question. Probably not the most romantic thing to say, I admit.
Damon seems taken aback by that, but the waitress is by to take our order. Damon orders a sushi boat for us to share that has a sampling of all the sushi restaurant has to offer. Sushi isn’t my favorite thing to eat, but it is a nice healthy change from the BBQ and burgers I’ve been ingesting of late.
“Okay, how about this: do you believe in love at first sight?” Damon asks, trying to change the subject.
“To be honest, I’ve see too many relationships fall apart. People are not meant to be monogamous; did you know only 5 percent of mammals actually are?” I say.
“I didn’t. But I’m going to change your mind,” he says confidently, making my face flush.
He orders warm sake for us to share, pouring me a glass first. The warmth of it fills my belly as we continue to chat about different things. The conversation ends up coming naturally as the waitress brings food and we start to eat. Damon tells me about growing up in Kentucky on a farm, and that he hasn’t upgraded his truck in years, just fixes it himself whenever it breaks down. I tell him about my job and some of the most ridiculous cases that I have run into, which he laughs at.
I feel his leg idly rubbing against my own. He isn’t flirting with his mouth anymore, but with the movements of his feet and hands. He reaches out occasionally to squeeze my knee, and I don’t bat him away, the whole time somehow able to carry the conversation without struggling or saying something stupid. Maybe it is the small amount of alcohol in my system, but what Cara suggested seems really tempting. I’m not a prude; I don’t have a standard I hold my dates to. I’ve had one-night stands before and not felt guilty about it in the morning. The problem I’m running into now is that I really like Damon, and somehow sleeping with him now might be taking things too fast. I am just getting comfortable talking to him, how could I get comfortable being naked with him?
