by G. A. Rael
Jordan couldn't smell anything and eyed the cup with growing suspicion.
"Just try it," urged Hermes. "I think you'll like it."
Darren sighed in resignation before taking a sip, then another. "This is good actually," he said, pausing only long enough to speak before he kept drinking.
"Your voice is different," said Jordan. "It's not as hoarse as it was a minute ago."
He nodded but didn't stop drinking to answer her. Jordan watched hopefully. When she glanced over at Hermes, the demon was wearing a look of keen interest, almost like a scientist observing his subject. It was rarely a good sign when he was interested in something.
"What is it?" Jordan asked. "I'll run and pick up more."
"Brains," Hermes said casually. So casually it took her a moment to react.
"What?" she and Darren asked in unison.
Hermes laughed. "He's a zombie. Just because some of the stereotypes aren't true doesn't mean none of them are. Or is it, 'all of them aren't?' Language was so much simpler before you humans had to go and build that gaudy tower."
Darren stared at the empty cup and let it fall to the floor as all the color that had gradually returned to his face drained away. "You're telling me I just sucked brains through a straw? Human brains?"
"With gusto," said Hermes, stroking his own cheek with a nail that had been freshly manicured into a sharp point. "What did it taste like? Just out of curiosity. I prefer the heart and the prime cuts, myself."
Darren groaned, burying his head in his hands. "I just drank a fucking Soylent Green milkshake."
“You’ll live, in a manner of speaking.”
"So, are you gonna be okay?" Jordan asked worriedly. ”If you need me to stay the night..."
"No," Darren grumbled. "I'll be fine. Besides, you're the last person I want to be around if I do snap."
She winced. “That’s not going to happen. We’ll take this thing one day at a time, and you have my number. I could always leave Hermes here…”
“Hello? I’m in the room,” Hermes said, raising his hand.
“You could make yourself useful,” Jordan snapped. “Especially considering this is your fault.”
"Thanks, but like I said, I'll be fine,” Darren insisted. “If you want to help, keep your freaky cat away from me."
Jordan laughed a little. "I'll do my best, but he's not very obedient."
Hermes disappeared in an indignant flash and Jordan was more than relieved to see him go, even if she had her doubts about leaving Darren alone.
"Oh, and one more thing," Darren said as she reached for the door.
Jordan turned around expectantly. “Yeah?”
"You can forget about bringing him in for those rabies shots. Holy water would probably be a lot more effective."
"Spoken like a true believer."
He smiled and it was so hard to believe that the man standing in front of her was the same man who hadn't even been able to talk an hour ago. "Goodnight, Jordan."
"Goodnight, Darren."
As the door to his apartment fell shut, Jordan made her way out into the crisp night air and froze as soon as her feet hit the pavement. The air wasn't just crisp, it was frigid. Low fog hovered above the pavement, forming a halo around Darren's building.
Jordan could feel someone watching her but when she looked around, there was no one to be seen. As nervous as she was about running into Natalie again, part of her was more afraid of what she wasn't able to see.
Chapter Six
Jordan
Darren awoke from the first restful night of sleep he had known since Jordan had been abducted. Abduction was still the only explanation for what had happened that he could cope with, even if Chase had turned out to be innocent. The man might have been far less of a scumbag than he had been in high school, but he fired up Darren's temper more than ever.
As much as it pained him to admit it, Darren knew he posed the greater threat to Jordan at the moment. With each day that passed, he woke up stiffer and sorer than the last. The concoction Hermes had given him was wearing off and with the fog already creeping back into his mind, he knew it was only a matter of time before his humanity faded entirely.
He knew it was probably a testament to his soulless state, but the look on Jordan's face when she had truly realized what he was had become his primary reason for resisting the temptation that was growing by the moment. Childhood friends were starting to smell like meat and the slightest nuisance was becoming justification to kill in his damaged mind. Being in the town square was like going to a damn barbecue half-starved. He had a newfound appreciation for Jordan's vegetarian diet if it took half the discipline he found himself exerting in even the most mundane interactions.
Still, there were four-legged patients to attend to and he wasn't even sure if he still had his position on the town council. He figured he would find out at that night's meeting, assuming that Cindy didn't turn him away at the door.
After all, it wasn't like he could use the disappearance of the love of his life as an excuse for his behavior. Not when she was with another man and had been for some time.
Darren dressed and tried not to pay attention to the fact that buttoning his own shirt had become an almost insurmountable task with his clumsy hands. At least he didn't have much to do before the meeting other than to pick up his mail and make his way through a few appointments. The greatest irony of his predicament was that the cats, which were usually his least favorite patients, were the only ones that hadn't turned on him. Probably because they recognized him as a creature of the same infernal origins, he decided. Eight years of taking care of every dog, horse and pet guinea pig in Cold Creek and they had turned on him in the drop of a hat.
The logical part of his mind, which seemed to be shrinking daily, recognized that it was probably just the change in his scent. Darren had figured out, with no small amount of dismay, that he no longer had a heartbeat. No heartbeat at the very least meant dead blood, which would undoubtedly be enough of an explanation as to why the dogs hated him. The less logical side of him couldn't help but feel the sting of betrayal anyway.
With his shuffling gait, it took longer for Darren to reach the post office than usual, but the fresh air did him good. When he opened the door, he was more than a little relieved to find that there was no line. In fact, the place was empty.
"Be right out," called a familiar, husky voice from the back room. Max had been the town courier ever since Darren had returned from veterinary school. While the age difference between them meant that their high school careers had only overlapped by a year, Max was the kid brother of Mike Danbridge, who had been Darren's best friend until they drifted apart after college. As it turned out, his friendship with Max was destined for greater longevity.
Darren couldn't quite be sure of when Max had gone from being his best friend's annoying shadow to his closest confidant, but he certainly knew why. He had been surprised to discover that Max shared his taste in everything from Russian literature to music--and women, if his bizarre reaction to Jordan's Equinox Festival costume fitting was any indication. Darren’s own life had been too chaotic to be sure whether Max had been intentionally avoiding him since then or not, but he was desperate enough for human interaction to test the waters.
Small talk usually made him break out in hives, but today it was just what the doctor ordered. Anything to make him feel human for a moment. The television set in the back of the post office streamed the morning news broadcast. The anchor had been discussing the death of a former factory worker and father of four in the vaguest terms, but it didn't take a detective to know that the poor fellow was just the latest in a long line of lives claimed by the factory. When the anchor started talking about the meteor again, he found himself wishing she would just go back to the morbid story.
When Max finally appeared, he didn't notice Darren right away. His nose wrinkled in distaste like he had just caught wind of something foul. When he finally did look his friend’s way, an al
l too familiar look of horror contorted his face and the box he was holding slipped from his hands. The crash that followed didn't sound terribly promising for whatever was inside. Darren had expected surprise, perhaps even a bit of anger for disappearing without telling anyone, but not for Max to look at him like he knew exactly what kind of monster he was.
Looked like it was just going to be one of those days. Max kept staring at him long enough for Darren to realize that the look on his face wasn't horror so much as rage. Of all the people who had reason to hate him--from the clients whose appointments he had missed to the beneficiaries of all the other responsibilities he had shirked--he couldn't recall anything he had done to Max to warrant that kind of reaction.
"Everything okay?" he asked warily, desperate to break the silence. "That didn't sound good."
The anger faded a little, but Max was still slightly crouched, almost like he was ready to leap over the counter and attack. "What?" He looked down as if noticing the box for the first time. He kicked it away and stepped up to the counter, having regained some composure. "It's fine. What can I do for you, Darren?"
"Just here to check my P.O. Box," he said, clearing his throat. "Like I have every Tuesday for the past eight years?"
"Every Tuesday except one, you mean," Max said, opening one of the boxes behind the counter. Darren couldn't help but notice that Max never took his eyes off of him. He reached for the huge stack of mail the clerk brought out only to have him pull it back at the last second. "Where the hell have you been?”
So this was about his disappearance. “Around. I just needed to clear my head after what happened with Allison and I kind of lost track of time."
"Lost track of time?" Max snorted. "You go to the bar a few hours and stagger back home at five in the morning when you 'lose track of time,' you don't shut yourself in for a damn week.”
"I know," he muttered. He had never been good with words, but his brain was even less capable of formulating a suitable excuse than usual.
Max frowned. "What happened with Allison, anyway?"
So much for small talk. At least Max didn't look like he wanted to rip out Darren’s throat anymore. Of even more relief was the fact that Darren didn't want to do the same thing to him. In fact, Max didn't smell like the others at all. Like Hermes and Jordan, his flesh didn't have the aroma that had turned humans into prey in his mind's eye. Darren’s heightened sense of smell could only pick up on the vague scent of the woods and the cologne Max had worn for as long as he remembered.
Before he had time to marvel at his new discovery, Max snapped his fingers in front of Darren’s face. "Yo, you in there?"
"Sorry," he said, wishing his voice wasn't so raspy. "Long night."
"I'll say. Forget Allison, you do know Jordan is back, right?"
"Yeah, I ran into her the other day," he lied.
"And?" Max demanded, searching his face for some emotion he just couldn't muster. "You were on a crusade to find her, how are you not freaking out right now?"
"She's been found," he said quietly. "The time for freaking out is over."
The answer obviously didn't appease Max because his frown deepened. "Yeah, well, I formed my own little search party when you didn't show up at the last council meeting. My aunt has been flipping her shit, convinced that Chase Wylde put out a double hit on you and Jordan. Uncle Luke sent her out on a spa trip just so she wouldn't have a stroke."
"I'm sorry," Darren said, feeling the first pang of guilt that wasn't directly related to Jordan in months. He grabbed it and held on for dear life. "Like I said, I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Looks like that hasn't changed," said Max, crossing his arms. "Have you been drinking again?"
"No more than usual."
"Drugs?"
He frowned. "No, of course not. Why?"
"Something is just...off," Max said, casting a suspicious glance over him.
"Cut me some slack. It's been a hellish few months and Jordan is marrying the pod person," he muttered. It had always been their “affectionate” nickname for Chase.
"That's still on?" Max asked, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Shit."
"Tell me about it."
Max sighed and leaned against the counter. He seemed to have relaxed somewhat, at least to the point where he didn't need to worry about getting lunged at. "This is a clusterfuck. First Jordan goes MIA, then you, now there's a murder."
“A murder? Since when?”
“I don’t know much, but there's a big investigation." Max started giving him that wary look again. "You'd better stick around, Darren. Something weird is going on and your reputation is on its last legs. People keep going missing and sooner or later, they're gonna start looking for the nail that sticks up."
"You're not seriously saying you think I had anything to do with the murder?" All of a sudden, Darren wasn’t sure. There were periods he couldn’t account for here and there, but wasn’t that to be expected of someone who’d been through what he had? Then again, most people tangentially involved in missing persons cases didn’t also have a hankering for human brains…
"All I know is, wherever Jordan is, there’s chaos. You guys might have broken up, but you're still tethered to her as much as you ever were. At least in the town’s eyes.“
Darren frowned. "Jordan hasn't done anything wrong, and I don't appreciate the insinuation."
"I'm not saying she has," Max said, raking a hand through his slick black hair. "She just chooses bad company. That weird white-haired guy she's always hanging out with, Chase, and now..."
"Now me.”
Max’s mouth became a hard line, but he didn’t try to correct him. “Just watch yourself. I say that as someone who cares about you.”
"Are you worried about me or because of me?" he challenged, putting his hands on the counter as he leaned in.
Max held his stare. “Both, and I'm not the only one."
"Thanks for the warning, then," Darren said, gathering his mail.
"Darren, wait."
Darren ignored him, shoving the door open. By the time he made it outside, he found himself wishing he had never gone there in the first place. After taking a moment to cool off, he collapsed on a bench near the park entrance and began sorting through his mail for a distraction. The lines between anger and hurt were blurred— in fact, all of his emotional categories seemed to have been simplified and condensed—but Max’s reaction had caused him plenty of both.
There was more mail than usual, which was only to be expected after his absence. Pet supply catalogs. Bills. An angry letter from someone whose poodle had hurt feelings as a result of his "lack of bedside manner." It was all par for the course until he found one from The Law Office of Chase Wylde.
The pit in his stomach began to gnaw. Please be a lawsuit. When he pulled the formal stationary out of the envelope, his heart sank.
You are cordially invited to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Chase Wylde and Ms. Jordan Adams. Join the happy couple at The Wylde Country Club for dancing, a live band and an open bar on Friday, August 19th at 7pm. Due to short notice, no RSVP is necessary.
"He doesn't waste any time," Darren muttered. He’d planned to stay as far away from the engagement party as possible, but it was a public gathering and he could count on Chase to show up. It was probably the only safe place for a confrontation and Darren had more than a few questions that needed answering.
It was just one of those days. At least Darren knew who to bring as his date.
Chapter Seven
Jordan
"You did what?" Jordan cried.
"Darling, we've been engaged for a while, notwithstanding your disappearance," Chase said consolingly, his hands folded on his desk. "Now that you're back, I didn't see any reason to put it off any longer."
Jordan stared at him as she came to the realization that he probably would have had the engagement party without her, if it was possible. "I get that, but in case you haven't been paying attention, I'm kind of caught in the
middle of Risk: Apocalypse Edition. It's not an appropriate time for parties."
"If the Apocalypse does happen, this might be the only time for parties," he said casually, pouring himself another glass of scotch. Supposedly only men on retro TV shows actually drank in their offices, but Chase never seemed to have gotten the memo.
"I don't even know how to respond to that," she said, staring out his window with her arms folded over her chest.
She heard his chair creak and a moment later, his hands came to rest on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, love. If I'd known the invitations would upset you, I never would have sent them."
"It's not the invitations," she muttered. "It's just that so much is up in the air right now."
"That's exactly why I think this party is a good idea," he said, spinning her around to face him. "When was the last time you let yourself have a good time, Jordan?"
When she opened her mouth to speak, he silenced her with a finger against her lips. "I mean a good time where you could just completely relax without having to do anything at all? No volunteering, no running charity booths, just relaxing."
"Never," she said grudgingly.
"Exactly. I've already hired a planner to take care of everything. This is just a simple affair between us and the few hundred of the people who love us most."
"Excuse me?"
"Give or take."
“Chase, I know a few people, not a few hundred."
"I may have invited a few clients," he said carefully. "You won't even know they're there. I mean, have you seen what a crowd of four-hundred people looks like?"
She had, but she decided not to remind him of how that evening had ended.
"Clients? Chase, you're a defense attorney. Are you telling me you invited criminals to our engagement party?"
"Alleged criminals, dear.”
Jordan ran her hand over her face. It was the only way she could keep from making what she knew would be a very hurtful expression. “Chase, I love you, but this is all going way too fast."
