Fiona Frost: Order of the Black Moon

by Dr. Bon Blossman

  I peeked outside to the driveway, and Agent Bronson was parked in his Lincoln, looking at his iPad. I dropped down on the couch and grabbed the remote, switching on some mind-numbing show about how to cook pasta.

  After getting bored of watching the monotone chef knead the dough, I called to check in with Detective Chase, and as I waited for him to answer, I flipped through the channels, trying to find something more stimulating. After three rings, he answered the phone in a chipper tone.

  “Hello, Fiona. How are you doing?”

  “Hi! Just checking in with you. I am sick, home, but I had to tell you the news I just heard from my father.”

  “Oh, sorry to hear you’re sick. It’s good news, I hope.”

  “Yes, wonderful. My training grant was renewed for four more years at one hundred thousand dollars a year!” I exclaimed softly, grabbing the blanket from the end of the couch, pulling it up to my chest as I stretched out my legs.

  “That is wonderful news. I assume they reinstated your lab, correct?”

  “Of course, immediately. As soon as I can get up there, I’m going to finish processing the rest of the cave samples we got.”

  “Well, if you feel up to it, I’m going to go over to the county jail and speak to Damien Lee later today. I have questions I need him to answer.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I’m still a touch under the weather, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure? No need to come if you are sick.”

  “I’m okay, taking medicine, getting out of bed will take my mind off it, so please, let me come along.”

  “Alright, I can pick you up, or maybe I’ll just call Agent Bronson and have him bring you to the jail to meet me there. But only if you feel up to it.”

  “Deal, that sounds like a plan. Hey, did you ever find out if Gerald Smith and Sydney Sergeant are connected in any way?” I stumbled with my words, grabbing my glass of water from the end table, gulping down a swig to clear my flaming throat.

  It was time for my anti-inflammatory.

  “No evidence of that in the least. I think it was a coincidence he walked on the side of her house. It’s connected to the alley. The alley behind your house, Fiona. We believe he was on foot, stalking your house, so Agent Bronson and the others are watching closely.”

  “Great. That’s just great,” I said, not able to hide my sarcasm.

  “Okay, we’ll go in about two hours. I have some other stuff in the lab to take care of first. Hold tight and get plenty of fluids and vitamin C.”

  “Already on that, Detective. See ya in two.”

  Unease oozed through me that Gerald Smith had been in my neighborhood. This was one man I certainly did not want to encounter—especially since he was a hardened criminal who was angry with my father.

  Over the next two hours, I rested on the couch watching television. I started to feel slightly better, albeit the medication was straining to do its job for me. My phone alarm signaled for me to get ready and within minutes, my doorbell rang.

  “Ready to go to the county jail, Fiona?” Agent Bronson said, smiling as he gestured towards the open passenger’s side door. “Do you feel good enough to go?”

  “Yes, I do, and I’m ready. Thank you for taking me. I feel as though I have a chauffeur.”

  “I guess you can consider me that. Or more like your personal bodyguard,” he chuckled as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

  Inhaling deeply, I couldn’t enjoy the spicy pine scent of his pristine car. Annoyed, my sickness had altered my senses. At least I could still hear the soft, relaxing melodies of the classical music from the radio.

  “How long will Damien, Victoria and Sydney be in the county jail? Will they be moved to Huntville Prison if they don’t post bond?”

  “No, not until they are convicted, Fiona. They’ll stay where they are until they can post bond, or they are found innocent.”

  “Wow, I can’t imagine how scary that would be to be my age as a prisoner.”

  “Makes you want to do the right thing, huh?” he smiled, adjusting his rear view mirror.

  “I want to do the right thing, anyway, but jail and prison are definitely deterrents for me.”

  Within minutes, he veered the car into a parking space next to the beige Impala, immediately in front of the entrance where the detective, wearing a fawn-colored suit, was waiting for me, looking at his phone.

  “Thanks! I’ll see ya in a bit,” I said as I climbed out of the car, nearly forgetting I was ill before a burning wave of pain in the back of my throat reminded me.

  The county jail was only a block away from the police station. It was more modern in appearance than the station as it had been rebuilt within the last ten years. I walked down the pathway towards the detective, pulling out a throat lozenge from my pocket. He surveyed me, making sure I was well enough for the excursion. He was a medical examiner and forensic scientist, so I was in more than capable hands with a little case of strep throat.

  “Hello, Detective. I’m ready. Don’t think I’ve said a word to Damien since elementary school.”

  “Don’t run in the same crowds?”

  “No, not for a long time.”

  “By the way, Sydney Sergeant might be released sooner than the others. Her story is checking out as far as not being a full-fledged member of their group. She told us she hadn’t been awakened yet, and the other two in jail have corroborated her story. Also, she doesn’t have the NA burn mark on her wrist and was only recently spotted hanging around with this group.”

  “Not into this vampire lingo. What does awakened mean?” I said sheepishly as he opened the heavy glass door for me.

  “It means once a member drinks the blood of another person, they become awakened into their vampire life. She hadn’t done this yet. You get the initials of the House that awakened you burned into your wrist as part of the ceremony.”

  I winced at the thought of it as I stepped towards the entryway, a huge gust of wind coating me as I crossed the threshold.

  “But her prints were on the sword, and she was at the scene of the crime. How could she be released?”

  “Story checks out, Fiona. Waiting for your dad to sign the papers for her release.”

  “But if she lives on my street, her parents have to have enough cash to pay a bail bondsman, right? My street doesn’t have mansions like Willow or Camber, but I mean…I can understand Victoria and Damien’s situations, but Sydney’s parents leaving her in jail doesn’t make sense to me.”

  He opened another heavy glass door, nodding for me to proceed. My eyes were drawn to the marble floor. It had sparkly specks, they were beautiful. The sun domes in the ceiling allowed the sunlight to blast inside, illuminating the floor as if it were a pure, white glitter. It was incredible.

  “Her parents are teaching her a lesson, Fiona. They feel if she got herself into trouble, they are not going to bail her out. They obviously had warned her about this vampire cult, and she disobeyed them.”

  We entered the foyer with another gust of wind blowing my hair like a supermodel. The building obviously had differences in pressure from the outside. It smelled remarkably clean, like a hospital and in great contrast to the police station. It was ultra-modern with contemporary white leather and chrome chairs in the waiting area. There was an ultra-thin television mounted high on the wall.

  “I see. That makes sense. My dad would do the same, but my mom would be the first one at the jail to get me out. She popped Haley out within an hour after breaking into my lab.”

  He smiled, shaking his head.

  “Your mom is a tender soul, Fiona. She puts a lot of stock in family.”

  I agreed with his assessment.

  We checked in with the receptionist at the front and a bulky guard soon escorted us to the interview room where Damien Lee would be waiting for us. Turning the corner from the main waiting area, the hallway turned basic. The tile changed to a muted white, no glitter flakes, the walls a matte finish, white. I was glad to see the chan
ge; a jail shouldn’t be so glamorous.

  The guard opened the door, and we shuttled inside as he took a position in the corner of the room behind Damien, nodding at Detective Chase. Damien was sitting at the table, his head resting in his hands. As we took our seats across from him, he slowly raised his head and glared at us with black-as-midnight eyes—his pupils indistinguishable from the irises. His appearance was nefarious, but he was an intentional outcast of society. He sat up straight, put his clenched fists on the table, the tattoo LIFE SUXX displayed across his knuckles. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit—different from the black leather adorned garments he typically chose to dress in. He had another tattoo of a dragon on his forearm spitting out what appeared to be blood on his palm.

  “Hello, Damien,” Detective Chase said as he opened his notepad and grabbed a pen from his coat pocket.

  “Hello.”

  Damien glared into Detective Chase’s eyes for an awkward moment. I felt intimidated; he seemed like he could easily be a murderer. I envisioned him holding the bloody sword, and his presence seemed to fit the image. I could imagine how a jury, upon seeing this kid, would instantly want to convict him without even hearing the evidence.

  “Damien, we are here today to talk to you about the Jody James murder case you are being held for at this time,” he stated formally, opening his leather bound notebook.

  “Obviously,” Damien sneered, turning to glare at me. I looked down, towards the table, hoping he would switch his gaze by the time I raised my head. “Nice, you’re bringing nerds from school to make fun of me, Detective. I know who you are, by the way.”

  My heart kicked into fifth gear as I fought to remain calm. I didn’t want Damien to detect fear as he would feed off it and taunt me more. My eyes remained focused on the table, my fever radiating from my blushed face. I looked at my phone to check the time; I was due for my next dose of medicine. It would have to wait. I casually slipped a cough drop in my mouth and ushered it to the side of my cheek.

  “Fiona has a federal training grant, Damien. She assists the police to solve criminal cases. She also has helped us tremendously in the past and might be the one to clear your name in this case, so I suggest you give her just as much respect as you do to me,” he reprimanded as he pointed his index and middle finger towards Damien.

  He scowled at the detective as he hesitated, narrowing his black eyes into slits, shifting the long side of his hair to cover one eye.

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Now, can you please tell us what the tenet meaning is behind the rituals for increasing power? Does this mean you are to kill someone for a sacrifice?”

  At the sound of the detective’s question, his lips curled up at the corners.

  “Somewhat. We don’t do that, though. I mean, we killed the deer out of mercy. The Northern Vampire Alliance performs human sacrifices, not us. From what I know, they only sacrifice the willing.”

  The detective frantically wrote down some notes before he continued. I was mortified at his words there were vampires that admittedly killed people who wanted to be killed. I wasn’t sure what was more disturbing—the vampires being murderers or people wanting to be killed by them.

  “Why would people go to these people to be killed? Who would be willing and why?”

  “If you die by the hand of a Nosfu Vampire, you go on a VIP list to the underworld. You leave this world, but go on to something far better.”

  “Damien, are you a Nosfu Vampire?”

  His face lit up with a wicked grin as he cocked his head to the side, chuckling.

  “No, not me. I’d be the leader of the Order if I were. We don’t perform those rituals. We didn’t kill this lady. I never saw her before. But I know you will judge my appearance like everybody else and send me to my death. You might as well, Detective. My life sucks.”

  Damien displayed his knuckle tattoos towards us.

  “We don’t support wrongful accusations and injustice. If you didn’t do this crime, we will clear you and get you out of here. If you did do it, we are going to know you did in due time. It’s that easy. Remember, you need to tell the complete truth if you expect us to help you. We know you were in the cave that night. There is no other way your bloody fingerprint would be on the sword, Damien. Your fingerprint, the victim’s blood, on the murder weapon. You need to give us your story.”

  Damien glowered at the detective with malevolent eyes. Feeling awkward, my eyes wandered about the four white walls of the room, stopping on the only dash of color—a large brown spider clinging onto her web that dangled from the ceiling. After a period of silence, the detective spoke clearly and concisely.

  “Thanks for talking to me today. I’ll be in touch.”

  He folded his notepad and signaled for me to move towards the door.

  “How’s that curse working out for ya, Detective?” Damien mumbled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He paused as he rose from his chair, his face full of concern.

  “I’m just asking if you feel alright.”

  “I feel fine, Damien.”

  He held open the door for me, and as I exited, a gust of wind from the hallway cooled my feverish skin. I had to get another dose of medicine quickly, or I’d start to backslide.

  “What was that about?” I said quietly as we exited into the hallway.

  “Obviously, he spoke to Dimitri LeMorte, who is about to be released for time served on the parking ticket warrant. Maybe we should speak to him as well? I’ll tell the guard.”

  We had waited for a few minutes in the sparkling foyer of the jailhouse before a different guard escorted us into another interrogation room. We entered the empty room and took our seats in the black plastic chairs around the bright white table.

  “Brace yourself, Fiona. I already told you what this man looks like, so do not be surprised when he walks through the door. People like that will feed on fear.”

  I mentally prepared myself for the worst, trying to envision the man based upon his description. I winced when the doorknob twisted, turning my head slightly to the side so I could use my peripheral vision before launching a full view.

  A demon, or so I thought. I slowly turned my head towards him, stifling a scream in the back of my tender throat. Awkwardly tanned in the few places his actual skin could be seen, he had many Gothic tattoos on his face and neck—and bright red, spiked hair. A solid black rectangle was tattooed between his eyes, and horns jetted out from his forehead—just as the detective had described. His teeth yellow, jagged, his canine teeth were golden fangs, his lips tattooed with black stripes. The surfaces of his eyes were covered with a black ring, probably contacts.

  “Hello, Mr. LeMorte. Or should I say—Mr. Bing.”

  “I prefer LeMorte,” he snapped, dropping into his seat across the table from us.

  His accent was hard to place. It sounded like he was trying to speak with a false foreign accent, but it came off as a villainous cartoon character.

  He glared at Detective Chase like a primitive animal, a predator, hunting from the other side of the table with blackened eyes. He made Damien Lee look like a Boy Scout. I felt horrible, but it was difficult not to blame the way I felt on his menacing appearance.

  “I would like to speak to you about a couple of things. Let’s start with Gerald Smith. I understand you’re his first cousin, is that correct?”

  Dimitri lowered his chin towards his chest, focusing his eyes on Detective Chase as he paused, sneering.

  “Yes, Gerald Smith was my cousin in the natural sense.”

  The detective had jotted a few notes before he continued, “Do you know his whereabouts at the moment?”

  “No, I do not. I heard he broke out of Huntville, but I have no idea where he would go. I guess you can say we’ve fallen out of touch since his incarceration many years ago,” Dimitri jeered as he formed a malevolent grin.

  “I would ask if anything changes with that, please notify the police immediately. You woul
dn’t want to be charged with harboring a fugitive.”

  Dimitri cocked his head to the side, pausing.

  “Is that a threat, Detective?”

  As if pulled up by puppet strings, he rose fluidly in his seat, narrowing his eyes into an ominous grimace.

  “I want to inform you of what will happen, is all. On another note, I would like to ask you about the tenets you wrote for the Order of the Black Moon. I understand these are five guidelines for all vampires to follow within your group.”

  “Yes, Detective. I wrote them, and they were accepted by the entire Southern Vampire Alliance—such an honor,” Dimitri boasted coldly, sounding Russian.

  “I would like to know the details and meanings behind the ritualistic tenet.”

  “What would you like to know about it?”

  “Does it imply that human sacrifice will give you power?”

  Dimitri slunk into his seat, looking downward at the table.

  “No, it doesn’t promote human sacrifice if that is what you are asking. That’s what the northerners do. We prefer not to spend our time in jail; human sacrifice would be illegal among the naturals.”

  “What are the naturals?”

  Dimitri puckered his striped lips, tilting his head to the side like an anxious bird about to snatch a worm.

  “You’re a natural. Non-vampires. Your society laws would put us in jail if we were to murder someone, even if they ask for it. I choose not to encourage that behavior. We only engage in consensual feeding when we need to.”

  Dimitri lowered his head, pointing his horn implants towards us. He remained in this position for a time before straightening up in his black plastic seat and dropping his elbows onto the bright white table. The guard in the corner of the room took a step towards Dimitri to be cautious.

  “Did you know that little Victoria is the one who broke into the blood bank and stole some blood a while back?” he said sarcastically.