Vampire Magic

by D C Young

  “What are you smiling so goofy at?” Anthony teased as he came walking out of his room lugging a laundry basket.

  “Not the thought of doing your laundry, son. That’s for sure!”

  Anthony rolled his eyes at her. It wasn’t the first time his mom had commented on the condition of his dirty clothes, particularly his underwear.

  “Well, don’t fear, fair mother!” he replied, putting on his best superhero voice. “This is just the top layer stuff. I think it’s time I started washing my own underwear.”

  A look of horror mixed with shock and disbelief covered Sam’s face. “What?” She rushed over to him feeling his forehead and neck. “Are you feeling well, Anthony? I think you might have caught some dangerous virus… it’s affecting your brain function.”

  “Very funny, Mom. I’m serious. Aunt Louie said I should try to be more responsible about stuff seeing as I’m the man of the house and all.”

  “Man of the house, huh? I think I might have to have a talk with your aunt about putting lofty ideas in your head.”

  “I could just leave it if you want.”

  “Oh, no! Go ahead, Anthony. Knock yourself out.”

  “You don’t sound very sincere, Mom.”

  She moved in and hugged him close… but not too close. “I want you to try new things. It’s important for you to learn how to do stuff and for you to grow up and be more mature. I support that one hundred percent. Just remember I’m here to help if you need it.”

  “Sure thing, Mom,” he said, letting go of Sam and taking up his laundry basket again. “But I think I’m good for now. I can figure out a washing machine. I need a few of these to finish packing, anyway.”

  As her son walked confidently down the hallway, Sam couldn’t help but feel extremely proud of him. After all they had been through over the last few years; he was turning out to be a really awesome kid. Before she could dwell on those thoughts too long, the doorbell rang.

  “Well, so much for that,” Sam said to herself, turning towards the door.

  She’d been expecting a few deliveries of clothing and supplies for their East Coast vacation so the doorbell wasn’t an entirely unwelcome sound. Still enjoying the fact that she no longer had to bedeck herself in layers of protective clothing to do so, Sam turned the lock and pulled the front door open. A uniformed postal worker stood on the step ready to make her delivery but instead of the boxes Sam expected she carried only a thick flat rate document envelope.

  “Hi, there!” Sam greeted her cheerfully. “What have we got?”

  “Small package for you. Could you sign here please?” The lady handed Sam a digital device with a plastic stylus attached to it and she tried her best to sign the screen legibly. When she handed it back, the woman turned over the envelope, said her goodbyes and made her way back to her mail truck.

  Closing the door behind her, Sam took the package into her office and sat behind her desk to open it. The sender’s address was more than familiar; Kingsley’s L.A. office. A pull of the strip released the flap that held it closed and inside Sam found a crisp manila folder with about a half inch thick stack of paper in it.

  She heaved a soft sigh and opened the folder to read its contents; Kingsley hadn’t said anything about a referral or needing her help on a case. In fact, she hadn’t even spoken to him in about two weeks. He’d been in Sacramento dealing with a particularly difficult client.

  She read the first few pages carefully then scanned through the rest of the document before turning back to the first page. A bright yellow sticky note had been carefully attached to the inside cover of the folder. It read: Call me when you’ve had a chance to look these over. Kingsley.

  Sam took a deep breath and picked up the phone. She dialed Kingsley cell phone number and listened to it ring all of three times before he answered in his usual upbeat, professional way.

  “Hi, it’s me,” Sam said, “I got the case notes just now. Fill me in. What do you need me to do?”

  “Hi, Sam. I know you’ll be going off on vacation in a few days but I was really hoping you could check out a few things around town for me before you leave.”

  “Okay, I don’t think that’ll be a problem, my desk is really clear right now.” Sam looked around the desk as if to confirm the statement to herself. She’d had a steady stream of clients since her introduction to the Immortal Council a year prior and though neither Julia nor any of the other inhabitants of Elysium House had confirmed it as such, Sam had a strong feeling they had something to do with it.

  She’d investigated numerous missing person cases as well as a few straight out paranormal activity phenomena and it had all been really good for business. She’d stopped taking anything on that needed her immediate attention for the last two weeks so she could prepare for her trip but that hadn’t stopped her from filling up every available consultation appointment for a month after her scheduled return from Tybee Island.

  “Great!” Kingsley said. “Let me fill you in. Do you have a pen and paper?”

  Chapter Four

  The Mysterious and Intriguing Mr. Rennie Telfair

  When she’d hung up with Kingsley, Sam entered the witness’ number into her phone and pressed ‘send’. Rennie Telfair answered the call very promptly.

  “Good morning, Rennie Telfair here. To whom am I speaking?” His accent was distinctly southern but very refined.

  Good morning, Mr. Telfair. This is Samantha Moon, an associate of Kingsley Fulcrum. He asked me to contact you so we could discuss some important information you might possibly have about a case he’s working on.”

  “Ahh, yes. Lovely to hear from you, Miss Moon. I informed Mr. Fulcrum that I wouldn’t tell my story over the telephone, so I appreciate him making the arrangements for a proper interview to be done.”

  “I’m glad you approve, sir and please, call me Samantha. I’d just like to get a feel for your current schedule and also find out if there’s anywhere, in particular, you’d like us to meet.”

  “My schedule is pretty clear for the rest of the day and all day tomorrow,” Rennie replied. “Are you familiar with Westminster?”

  “Oh, great, so is mine and yes, I know the areas around Los Angeles pretty well.”

  “Excellent. Then meet me at the Esscenxe bookshop at 4pm. We can enjoy some afternoon tea in my office there.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll see you then, Mr. Telfair.”

  “See you then, Samantha.”

  Sam ended the call and pressed the wake up button on her keyboard. The screen sprang to life and she pulled up Google maps to get an idea of exactly where she was going. The address popped up without any delay and she was given three routes to get there. It was about a twenty minutes drive from Cal State Fullerton; south on fifty-seven, west on twenty-two, then south again on thirty-nine.

  Satisfied, she then clicked on the information offered on the bookshop. It seemed to be some sort of New Age herbal place that coincidentally sold books so had therefore been named as such. The look of the place was a little witchy and that put Sam on her guard. Considering everything that had happened in the paranormal arena lately, witches weren’t at the top of Samantha’s list of favs. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what interest Rennie Telfair held in the establishment and why he chose it for their meeting place.

  It was a fairly uneventful drive down to Westminster except for a short delay at the intersection of routes twenty-two and thirty-nine and soon Sam was pulling into the parking lot. She looked around for the sign then parked in front of a quaint place that looked like an herbal medicine shop. Why that hadn’t been mentioned on their website, Sam wasn’t sure. She got out of the car and took a closer look at her surroundings. Esscenxe was surrounded by various shops whose signs were written in both English and Korean and catered to the needs of the local community. Otherwise, nothing stood out as strange or out of place.

  Inside, she was greeted by horrid dark lighting. If it hadn’t been for her vampiric eyesight, Sam would hard
ly have been able to see anything. As soon as the door closed behind her, a woman greeted Sam from behind a counter. She returned the greeting and looked around the store. Vitamin bottles on endless shelves surrounded her. They were laden from top to bottom with natural cures, supplements and remedies, ranging from cod fish oil to colloidal silver.

  With her initial observation of the store complete, Sam turned her attention to the counter clerk. She looked to be in her late forties/early fifties and had a full head of had jet-black hair with large streaks of gray. Certainly some sort of rarity, especially in Los Angeles; an older woman who still wore her hair long and lustrous instead of short and angular.

  “Hello. How may I help you?” the woman asked. She was looking at Sam in an almost condescending way, impatiently waiting for her to say something more, for her to ask the right question or say the right thing. I didn’t know why I was afraid of asking. Maybe because once I’d asked, I would have let another person know I was interested in Black Magic.

  Finally, Sam said, “This may sound strange but I’m supposed to be meeting someone here.”

  Without any hesitation, the woman replied, “I’d probably have a strange answer if I wasn’t sure that you’re Samantha Moon. Mr. Telfair is waiting for you in his parlor.”

  Sam smiled timidly. Was this the clerk’s way of letting her know she was in a safe place? Perhaps.

  “Well, that’s that then,” Sam said.

  “Indeed, it is. Would you follow me this way, please?” she asked as she stepped from behind the counter and walked towards the same door Sam had just come through.

  “Ummm, excuse me,” Sam said confused. Is Mr. Telfair’s office next door or something?”

  “No,” the clerk replied without looking back at Samantha. “The office is in the back. Right through these doors.”

  “What doors?” Sam asked.

  “These,” the older woman stressed. Her agitation was beginning to show in her voice. “The ones you came in through.”

  “But those lead back out to the parking lot.”

  “Do they?”

  At that point, Sam wasn’t sure whether the woman was just messing with her or if she was about to experience one of the weird paranormal things she’d come to know existed since her initiation into the world of the supernatural. She decided to run with it. Worst case scenario, the woman was being a smart ass and if so she would head straight back to her car and go home. Kingsley could come interview his own damn witness.

  Just then, Sam’s mind went back to the completely sincere and respectful exchange she’d had with Rennie Telfair over the phone. He hadn’t struck her as someone who was deceitful or liked to play games, he’d come across as quite the opposite, in fact. So Sam decided to run with it.

  She opened the door and expected to immediately feel the warmth of the afternoon sun on her skin and its brightness blinding her, but there was no sun. In fact, as soon as Sam opened the door, it was obvious that she wasn’t outside. She stepped over the threshold into a reasonably large reception lobby as if she had just exited some kind of inter-dimensional elevator. There was no seating area for waiting; just a large desk for a receptionist and when Sam got to the desk and looked down, there sat the older woman with the gray-streaked black hair.

  “Welcome. You must be Miss Moon,” she said as if she had never seen Sam before. “Mr. Telfair has been expecting you. Follow me, please.”

  “Okay,” Sam replied. “But we aren’t going through another creepy door are we?”

  The woman didn’t answer. She led Sam to a pair of double doors to the right of her desk and pushed them open. She stepped to one side to allow Sam by her, then said, “Mr. Telfair. Miss Samantha Moon has arrived.”

  “Miss Moon,” Mr. Telfair said, standing from his chair and walking towards where Sam stood. “Welcome, welcome. Will you join me for some afternoon tea?”

  ***

  Of course, Sam couldn’t actually eat or drink any of the usual fare that would have been offered for afternoon tea, so luckily Mr. Telfair’s version of the repast was actually bourbon and coke. He offered Sam a glass of crisp pinot grigio.

  “Very good for the digestion…no matter what you might be digesting,” Rennie said as he handed Sam a wine glass. There was only a conservative amount of the beverage in it. It was quite apparent that the man knew more about her habits and tolerances than she’d expected him to.

  “So, Mr. Telfair…”

  “Please, call me Rennie,” he insisted. “I have a feeling we will be fast friends by the end of all this, Samantha.”

  “All right then… Rennie. How is it that Kingsley came to believe that you might have pertinent enough information as to exonerate his client? I mean the man is facing some serious charges.”

  “Murder in the first, from my understanding and an investigation as to whether it was just workplace violence or domestic terror is underway.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I can tell you that it was neither of those things. The man was outright attacked and he defended himself. It’s unfortunate his attacker died in the process but from what I saw it was almost impossible to avoid.”

  “So you’re saying you saw the whole thing?”

  “Samantha, I would take no joy in wasting either Mr. Fulcrum’s time or yours if I hadn’t witnessed the entire altercation and could testify truthfully as to that man’s innocence.”

  Sam reached into her handbag and pulled out a tape recorder, notebook and pen. “Okay, Rennie. Would you tell me what you saw that day?”

  “I certainly will, in time.”

  Sam looked questioningly at the strange man and set her things down on the table in front of her. She’d dealt with her fair share of eccentric, even difficult clients and witnesses before in her time as a federal agent and later as a private investigator, so Telfair wasn’t going to get to her that easily. She would be patient with him.

  “Okay, whenever you’re ready, Rennie.”

  The slender man sipped his drink and set his glass down. He really was a strange fellow. Tall and lanky with a complexion that revealed he’d spent a lot of time in the sun, even if that was a lifetime ago. His hands were worn and yet still delicate. His facial features were a mixture of traits that indicated Irish and German descent. His reddish-brown hair, distinct mouth with pronounced cupid’s bow, strong chin and straight nose were all characteristic of his European heritage.

  For the next hour, Rennie Telfair regaled Sam with stories of his family legacy is South East Georgia. As it turned out, his family was quite a pillar of the local community with institutions such as hospital wings and art museums bearing the name of some of his ancestors. At present, Rennie resided permanently in the prestigious community of Hilton Head Island in South Carolina, just about an hour’s drive from downtown Savannah.

  “I understand you and your family will be on the way to my home time for a vacation soon,” he said. “I can’t think that could be just a lucky coincidence since I am also scheduled to be heading back there tomorrow.”

  “Yes. We’re headed to Tybee for a couple of weeks. My sister arranged it.”

  “Well, ain’t that just precious. I insist you all come out to my place for a weekend visit. I would be honored to host you and your family.”

  “Oh, we could never impose on you that way, Rennie.”

  “But I insist, Samantha. In fact, I refuse to give you your interview until you arrive at Seagull Point.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card and handed it to her. “My address and number on Hilton Head Island are on the back. Let me know when you arrive in Savannah.”

  Sam opened her mouth to reply but before she could, Rennie cut her off. “There’s no point in arguing, Sam. I’m a very difficult person to negotiate with, furthermore, I am convinced that once you’re at the house, you’ll have a greater understanding of why I have such resolve about my testimony and giving it in this case. That is, if even half of what I’ve heard about your abilities is
true.”

  “Alright, Rennie. I accept. We’ll see you next weekend at Seagull Point.”

  “Excellent. I’m looking forward to it.”

  Chapter Five

  “Smite My Womb!”

  Los Angeles, California.

  “What would you like to talk about, little one?” Julia asked, taking the glass from Bridget’s hand.

  “Tell me about who you were before you came to be a vampire.”

  “You can read that in any of the history books in this library. There isn’t much more to it, really.”

  “Seriously, Julia. You know that the renditions written down for general consumption are mostly biased. They were recorded by men, and of course, a woman’s story is never as important as a man’s. They’re all gutless… these historians; afraid we might seem as interesting, as powerful, as important.”

  Julia admitted to Bridget that the story of her first life had best been told in a rendition by a local fiction author named Chanel Smith. The book had been published about three years before and had sold well. Chanel had made a name for herself chronicling the activities of several members of the international paranormal community; hunters were her favorites, of ghosts and of other creatures.

  She told Bridget that she had suspicions about who the books were about for quite a while. Their names had sometimes been changed, but not always. Veronica Melbourne was a prominent character in one series Chanel wrote and the use of the vampire huntress’ real name gave Julia reason to think that perhaps it was the author’s name that was the biggest piece of fiction in the equation. The Greek had never been concerned about validating those suspicions; she admitted that she enjoyed the stories too much. The accuracy with which her story had been related in one of the Veronica Melbourne books had given her pause though; she had only told one person about her past in such great detail.