After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2)

by Titus, Rose

  “For God’s sake, Martin.” She took the keys from Leon and unlocked the door. “Think of your little girl. What if she sees you this way?”

  Martin mumbled something incoherent and swore.

  “Leon, good luck with him. You’ll certainly need it.” She began to walk away in disgust as Leon pulled him inside. “Come over to my place when you’re done with this mess, I’ll drive you home.”

  Martin was dropped on the couch and Leon went to find a blanket. “Expensive lookin’ place you got, too bad you don’t take better care of it, man. I only got a couple of rooms, but my place is nicer than this. Look! I am gonna say this again! Rick did not kill that guy!”

  “Shut up!”

  “No. I won’t.”

  “That thing bites. “

  “We’re trying to help you and you’re just being an asshole.”

  “Fuck you.” he mumbled.

  “Martin, good night. I’ll just get out of your life now.”

  Martin arrived late for work. People asked what was wrong and he told them he had a flu virus, or something. He had a splitting headache, his eyes were red, his throat hurt still.

  McMurphy laughed at his misery, leaned over his desk, and asked him if he was hitting the bottle again. He told him to just shut the fuck up.

  Martin woke up with his head pounding. It was early in the morning and still dark, and someone was knocking at his door. He got up off the couch weakly to answer it. It was Alexandra. “Leon went back out to the street to get your gun.” She handed it to him and it was unloaded. “Shouldn’t leave a thing like that laying around, you know.” And she silently left to go back to her own apartment to sleep the day.

  Then it all came back to him. He had been a complete idiot. He started drinking when his wife died, after a while he got it under control, or so he thought. My name is Martin and I am an alcoholic. I am also an idiot.

  It was out of control again.

  “Have a little too much fun last night, Marty?” McMurphy wouldn’t leave him alone. He wouldn’t ever leave him alone.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Party too hard?”

  “Yeah, right,” his whole body hurt like hell. He would probably feel better if he just died.

  “You never could hold your beer, Marty!”

  “That’s enough.”

  McMurphy laughed.

  Keisha drove back with her son and went in with the key Lina had given her. The first thing she noticed was that all the curtains were drawn. The house was dark, and it would stay that way. That was just the way it was, she told herself.

  At work she concentrated on inventory and tried to forget. She could not. It was just too much to take.

  Tirrell was now on the kitchen floor with the dog. At least the dog took his young mind away from it all.

  “Momma, can we get a dog?”

  She put her heavy purse on the kitchen table. “Someday, Tirrell, you will have anything you want. All the dogs you want, and all the different colored sneakers you want, and when things get better, I’ll be able to buy myself a car that runs good and maybe even finish school. But we need to get through all this. Did you do your homework?”

  “No.”

  “Well, do it!”

  “Do I hafta?”

  “Do your homework! Right now!”

  He pulled a book out of his book bag and pretended to read. When his mother looked away, he played with the dog. Keisha could hear the shower running. She had a long day, and when Lina got out she would take a shower herself. On the answering machine there was a message from the insurance company, but it was after hours. She would need to call back tomorrow.

  “Momma, I’m hungry,” the little boy got up and went to open the refrigerator.

  “No!” She stopped him. “Sit down! You just do your school work. I will get it.” She opened the refrigerator, gazed warily at the corked bottles filled with cold blood, and then looked toward the bottom shelf. “Okay, we got milk, eggs, cheese, bread.”

  “Cookies!”

  “You are having a cheese sandwich and that’s that!”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  “No, really. Be honest.”

  “You are really doing fine. Just don’t forget to use your directional.”

  “Oh. That’s right.”

  He did not bother to wear a seatbelt; her car was moving quite slowly. “There, now, you see, Laura, you’ve finally discovered something you can do well.”

  “Really?”

  “Not bad for a first time on the road,” he shrugged. “Not bad at all. So, you say you were driven everywhere?”

  “Yes. Daddy never let me have driving lessons. We had a chauffeur. Thinking back, I wonder if it was part of his plan to run my life by not letting go anywhere on my own. Oh, and I figured out how to balance a check book today.”

  “Okay, good.”

  “And I figured out how to iron something without burning a hole in it,” it had taken her a while to learn that. She had already destroyed four new silk blouses. Not that it mattered much to her; she would only buy new ones.

  “I never iron anything, but that’s just because I’m a slob.”

  She laughed. “And next I must figure out how to properly clean my apartment.”

  “Yeah? I know nothing about that sort of thing.”

  “Rick, do you think I am the first person in the world to start learning to drive when it’s nearly midnight?”

  “No. That’s how I learned. But there were fewer cars on the streets then, and fewer pedestrians,” he almost said fewer drive by shootings, as he read of one in the evening paper. But he kept that to himself.

  “I almost feel like everyone else now, Rick. I mean, I almost feel as if I could be as good as everyone else,” it was because she was driving, moving along with the flowing stream of traffic, becoming one with the small city itself by driving into it and moving as one with it.

  “You are as good as everyone else, Laura. You just got to believe in yourself.”

  “You’ve been so good to me, especially with the way I barged in on you. I wish I could make you dinner, or something.” My God, she thought, what did I say? He’ll think I’m offering myself for his dinner. Will he? No. He wouldn’t think that. She hoped.

  “Well, there is one thing, if you don’t mind?”

  “What?” she froze.

  He began to explain, “I just need you to talk to someone for me…”

  Dimitri quietly delivered Pavel’s food at midnight. He rose up quickly from where he sat at the hearth, ready to fight even though he had no weapon. But when the door finally opened he sat down again. “I thought that I had been locked in here to starve.”

  “No, my lord.”

  “No. Perhaps his majesty the king has more terrible things planned for me.” He took the heavy goblet Dimitri carried on a silver tray. “I do not suppose you would know of his majesty’s purpose?”

  “No, my lord,” the servant answered in his dull, spiritless monotone.

  “Of course not, you probably know less than I do. And perhaps your master is so cunning and vicious even he does not know.”

  Outside in the hallway the guards laughed. They were trying to prevent a servant woman from passing by unmolested. Pavel watched in disgust.

  “She is working still, at this hour?”

  “She has been tending the princess, who is ill.”

  “An illness of the lady’s own making, is it not?” he wondered out loud.

  “I do not know, my lord.”

  “And, do you realize I have never been called by that name by anyone before? As long as I have lived?”

  Dimitri grew fearful. “Forgive me, my lord.”

  “It matters not.” He finished the contents of his cup.

  The guards continued to laugh. This time they were staring through the partially opened door, watching Pavel. He glared at them, which caused then to laugh harder.

  “Your wine not good enough for you?” the la
rger and fatter one mocked. “They say you drink only the strongest wine in the world!”

  An excellent idea, Pavel thought. Yes!

  “Dimitri, if you wish to serve me well, then the best wine the castle has to offer, right away, for my two good friends!”

  The men laughed. “So!” The shorter one growled, “It does speak, after all.”

  Pavel kept quiet, allowing the men to mock him. He sat silently by the warmth of the fire and watched them carefully, hoping Dimitri would hurry.

  The servant woman once again attempted to pass by to see to her mistress, this time carrying hot water. They tripped her and the water spilled, severely burning her. The men laughed.

  Dimitri arrived and they ignored the woman when they saw him come with the wine.

  “Dimitri,” Pavel called out. “But that is not quite enough. Good men deserve more than just that small amount. Get them more, be quick about it.”

  Dimitri brought the men more wine, and then more still at Pavel’s command. Soon Pavel was able to relieve them of their weapons and step over them as they slept outside the door they neglected to lock. He drifted silently into Mikhail’s room, clapped a hand over the young man’s mouth. “Wake up, but do not speak,” he whispered. “You must leave now if you will leave at all.”

  They pulled up beside the Pontiac. “Your Pavel is a clever one,” she yawned. “I don’t think anyone else would think of it.”

  “Simple, he uses their own foul habits to his advantage.”

  “Rick, I know you must go,” she began, powerfully wanting to say something. But she did not know what she wanted to say. “I’ll see him right after work, I promise. I will.” And she left it at that.

  “Laura, thank you.” He unlocked the door and was about to open it.

  “Rick—” She couldn’t say it. She almost tried to say it out loud, but could not.

  “Yeah?”

  “Well. Thanks for the driving lesson.”

  “You did real good, Laura. Really. You did fine.”

  She was anxious about the meeting. She did not know what to say. Would the police detective believe her? According to Rick, he would, maybe.

  What could she say? The truth. That’s all.

  Hi. I’m Laura. Laura Rivers. I’m supposed to be dead, but I’m really not. I ran away from home, that’s all. Rick was with me the night that the homeless man was murdered. Yes, that Rick. The vampire. Yes, the same Rick. What were we doing? Oh. Just talking. No! Really. We were talking. He taught me how to do the laundry and stopped me from killing myself. No. I’m not making any of this up. Yes, I was a little depressed about things. No. I really don’t think I’m imagining any of these things.

  A crayon flew by.

  “Who did that?” She finally heard anger in her voice, finally, for the first time.

  He did it! No! She threw it! He’s lying, Miss Rivers!

  “Never mind all that! Today, we are going to draw pictures of our family in front of our homes. If you have a dog you can draw him, too, in front of your house.” She passed out more boxes of crayons, then large sheets of paper, “and no more noise!” She heard herself say it. No more noise!

  She walked slowly around the room to give them encouragement. “That’s very nice, Nancy. It’s so pretty that you made it all purple and pink. But where is Mommy? I see Daddy, and I see your dog, and do you have an older brother?”

  “That’s Daddy’s friend Bruce!” the little girl chirped. “He lives at my house too.”

  “Oh. That’s nice.” She walked on. Johnny drew an apartment building with a police car driving by outside on the street below. Sara drew two houses, “because Mommy and Daddy don’t live together no more.”

  But the next paper was blank, completely empty. “Tirrell? Why aren’t you drawing anything today?”

  “Because I don’t got no house!” He got up from his desk and ran from the room.

  Martin did not have a private office, so they met in the corner of a small coffee shop. “You’ve known this person for how long, Miss?”

  “Just a couple of months,” she answered shyly.

  “How well would you say you knew...” He did not wish to use the phrase how intimately are you acquainted? He did not want to imply anything. He gazed steadily at her delicate neck. Not a scratch.

  “We’re friends, I guess. I’m new in town, sort of. I just don’t know many people in town.” She sipped her coffee, hesitating to continue.

  “How did you meet him?”

  “It’s a very, very long, complicated story.”

  “I see. Were you two introduced, or—?”

  “No. No. It’s really silly how we met, and, it’s not that important, but I just wanted you to know, he was with me the night of the murder. I know he can’t be the killer. I just feel very certain that he would never kill anyone.”

  Rick had a chance to kill him, easily. He almost wished he had. “Ever notice anything unusual?” He wondered if she even realized.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Unusual habits, maybe? Eating habits? Anything odd like that?”

  “Oh, he says he doesn’t eat anything solid.”

  Then maybe she did know. She stated it matter-of-factly. “You seem rather comfortable with that.”

  “I don’t know any others, though. It took a little getting used to. I mean once I looked in his refrigerator and...” She hesitated, not wanting him to know about that terrible morning. “But he’s so regular, so much like everybody else. He has a sense of humor, and...But I don’t know any other people like that.”

  “I see,” he mumbled.

  “He’s sort of good looking too,” she giggled. “Maybe I shouldn’t say that. Now I feel silly.”

  “No, no. Go on and say anything,” he prodded, hoping to manipulate her into saying too much.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she went on dreamily. “Yes. I suppose he is one of the most unique people I’ve ever met, but then, I’m not very worldly.”

  “And you say that you trust him?”

  “Yes,” and she seemed definite.

  He wondered about her. If she wasn’t what he considered a gourmet dessert, then what possible purpose could she serve? She was certainly very attractive, and she seemed to dress very ladylike, very upper class. He looked her over: she was thin, small and delicate, almost frail. He could imagine how easily she could become an easy meal. What kind of game was he playing with her?

  “You say you’re only friends?”

  “Yes, just friends. “

  “Would you lie for him?”

  “No! I’m not lying. He’s innocent. I know he is.”

  She left, hoping that she had said the right thing. She got into her car and drove home slowly. It was only a very short distance, but she drove because in that short time she realized that she enjoyed driving. She felt as though it made her almost like everyone else, like normal people. Because of the way her father had always treated her, she came to think of herself as not normal somehow, as somehow less than other people. But slowly she was awakening to the fact that she could learn to manage her own life without constant control and interference.

  And she realized that maybe she was becoming like everyone else. Before, her clothes were usually chosen for her by a nanny or handed out by the maid. Now, instead, she watched what other young women were wearing, and if she liked something, she would purchase something similar. Money was never the problem for her that it was for most people. She learned to cook, somewhat, after discovering that some packaged foods had recipes and cooking directions right on the back of the box.

  And she learned to budget and control her money. Although she did have much of her inheritance left, it was not infinite.

  Yes, she almost began to feel as if she could like herself. Rick liked her, and if he liked her, then it might be all right to like herself. Even the way she was. Rick liked himself the way he was, even if other people did not. After talking with the policeman, she was certain of that.
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br />   She parked her car in the lot by her apartment building, got out, started walking and looked up at the late afternoon southern California sun. It was hot, and powerfully bright, even late in the day. At least her car and her apartment were air conditioned.

  Rick was away safe, in his small dark room with no windows. He would sleep through the hot unbearable days to come. Perhaps he was lucky. Or perhaps not? She wondered. Could it really be a handicap of some sort? He had no extraordinary abilities, he assured her of that. His kind only survived by their wits, courage, and luck. He told her that for much of history they were pursued, hunted and destroyed. The thought disturbed her.

  And she realized that he could never eat most things, or even simply walk out in the afternoon sun to get his own mail. Yet they all survived, for thousands of years. How?

  Simple, she whispered, as she walked up the stairs to her place. Adapt. Life must be all about adapting. Fighting, struggling, escaping, hunting, and then, finally finding a safe place to rest for the day, to rest and grow stronger for the next desperate fight. That’s what it was really all about. And that was what he was trying to tell her all along. Maybe that was what the story was about, whether it was true or not? But how does it end? She would have to wait to find out.

  She opened the door to her apartment after digging her keys out of her small purse.

  She had gotten a book on medieval history at the library. She had gone in through the side entrance to avoid stepping where the police had found the body. She tossed her frozen dinner into the microwave and flipped through the book’s illustrations. War. Poverty. Plague. Witch hunts. The Inquisition. All the horrors let loose from Pandora’s terrible little box. The world, she was sadly discovering, was still in the same torment today. All over. Everywhere, everyone. And so she knew she was not alone at all; she was not that different.

  She turned on her television and ate her overcooked food while she watched the news. Another bombing in another country far away. She was glad to not be there. An angry employee raged into a corporate office with an assault rifle. In local news armed robbers boldly held up the exclusive jewelry store Chez La Chapelle in broad daylight. She shivered. It was across from her building. She often looked in the windows as she walked to get to the bus. Needles were again discovered on the beaches, no information on their origins. No suspects apprehended yet in the case of the serial killer. Police once again say they have few leads.