It had been those brief seconds of contemplation, that had given Genevieve enough time, to not just clear her head, but calm herself down.
“Look, I know that it's none of my business, but were you sleeping with Nathan Mark?”
While, she didn't want to pry too much into her little sister's personal life, she had to ask her this question.
It had been a total shock to see her sister's name in Mr. Mark's little black book of conquests.
Nathan Mark had definitely been a busy boy, and, possibly whoever he was busy with last, might be his killer.
Jewel was so surprised by this question, that she had no time to feel that typical emotion over her privacy being invaded; instead all she could do was take a step back.
When the surprise gradually wore off, and she was able to think again, all she could do was stare at her sister, trying to figure out why she would ask such a question. Yet, once she was over the shock, completely, she realized that Genevieve wouldn't ask, unless there was a really good reason behind it – she wasn't Amelia, who just pried for the sheer enjoyment of it.
“Nathan and I...were not having sex...Why?”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Genevieve said, “We found your name in his little black book.”
While Genevieve was relieved to know that her sister was not sleeping with her murdered victim, she now found herself even more curious on what was happening in Jewel's personal life. Yet, she knew that Jewel's personality was very standoffish; she rarely complained about anything and kept her emotions buried deep inside herself.
The whole time that Genevieve had been standing there across from her sister, pondering, she had been observing Jewel. Yet, it was this slight fluttering of something upon Jewel's desk, that had her attention, suddenly, adverted away.
Silently going over to the desk, she looked down at the scattered books, papers, and etc, that was situated upon the desk.
As she moved these things around on her sister's desk, it was then that she came across the drawing that had caught her attention.
The moment she picked up this drawing, and stared down at it, she was blown away by the detail – she honestly thought she was staring down at an actual person.
Yet, she had never seen anyone, with the exception of Cirpian, who looked this exotically handsome. Both this man and Cirpian had the looks of men that had just jumped off the covers of romance novels.
It was possible that this man, had come forth from Jewel's imagination. Yet, there was something about his face that said otherwise.
“Who is this?”
Coming over to her, Jewel took the drawing away from Genevieve. It was that familiar twinkle in Jewel's eyes, that told her that her little sister knew this guy in more than just the casual way.
So, this was the guy that Jewel was having or wanting to have sex with.
“I don't know.”
“What?” she bafflingly looked at her sister. “He's not a guy you've seen around campus.”
“I don't know...I might have...”
“Possibly he's a student here?”
“No way...” her adamant response had Genevieve raising an eyebrow. “Come on, Gen, most of the guys on campus still look like teenagers...he has manly looks.”
As Genevieve looked from the drawing to Jewel, she couldn't help but smile. Even if her sister had drawn that from her imagination, it was pretty impressive.
As she looked back down at the desk, she saw that there was a lot more drawings. A whole scene was playing out in front of her eyes. After putting down the drawing in her hands, she picked up four of these scenes. All drawings of the same mystery man – the mystery man that her sister was obviously infatuated with – was running from scene to scene in fighting stances.
It was so much like watching a movie, that it took Genevieve awhile to realize that her sister had said something.
When she quizzically looked up at her, Jewel repeated her question, “How do you like my new graphic novel.”
“You've been drawing graphic novels?”
“Yea...” sitting on her bed, she said, “I thought you knew that.”
“I knew you were writing novels or stories.”
Smiling, she said, “I do both...With graphic novels I get to put my artistic abilities to work and with the other, I get to practice my creative writing skills...neither has really made me a profit, though.”
“Well, this one looks like a winner to me.”
Taking her graphic novel from her sister, Jewel said, “It might be...”
“You don't think it will be?”
Shrugging, she said, “It's been my experience that if you want something real bad, most likely it won't happen...” putting the drawings back down on her desk, she said, “I'm just not going to get my hopes up.”
For a few minutes, all Genevieve did was stare at her sister. She didn't really know what to say. All and all, Jewel had the potential to be famous. If Jewel could come up with something – like the graphic novel, she had just been looking at—that was that realistic and unusual, then Jewel had a real future a head of herself.
“Hey, Gen...” at the sound of Jewel's voice, Genevieve was abruptly drawn out of her thoughts. “Don't tell, Amelia...She already gives me a hard enough time about this.”
Sighing, Gen nodded her head. “Don't let what Amelia say bother you, she's just...confused and being influenced by the wrong person.”
Before Jewel could reply, there was a knock on the door.
“Who is it?”
“Kyle...Gen, we need to talk.”
Before opening the door, Genevieve said, “Jewel...I don't want you going to work...If you need money, I'll give it to you, but it's best for you to stay in...At least until we catch this guy.”
“Gen..., there's always going to be some crime going on...especially here in Tucson...You can't expect me to live in fear...”
“I'm not..., just...”
Smiling, Jewel said, “Gen, you have nothing to worry about...Besides..., I got fired today.”
XXX
The moment they walked into the morgue, Genevieve was met with this overwhelming smell of death. While the morgue was always pristine, with clean white floors and this smell of Clorox, it still made her sick to her stomach.
She didn't like the morgue.
Yet, in the past few days, she had ended up here more times than any other place.
After signing in, they made their way to the back, toward Albert's office. The moment they entered his office, both her and Kyle instantly noticed how distant he was. In fact he didn't even seem to notice that they were standing there.
He sat in his chair, his face white as a sheet and his eyes shrunken. For a fifty year old man that had always looked to be in the prime of his life, he, at that moment, looked years older.
“Albert...” Genevieve gently rapped her knuckles against his door.
The moment Albert heard that slight tapping on his door and her addressing him, he surprisingly looked over at her.
“Gen...” getting up, he was about ready to come toward her, when he noticed Kyle. “Detective Ernesto.” his voice, like his face, became harsh at just the mere sight of Kyle standing there in his doorway.
It was obvious that both men were very much disdainful towards each other. And while Genevieve was somewhat clueless on why that was, she had noticed that their dislike had gradually gotten worse over the years.
Deciding to ignore the evident tension between the two, Genevieve came the rest of the way into Albert's office. If both men didn't like each other, what was she suppose to do about it—besides she had a job to do.
“Albert..., did you do an autopsy on Mr. Mark?” as much as she hated to ask, there was just no easy way around it.
For a few brief moments all Albert did was strangely stare at her. Eventually he pulled his gaze away from hers, and, after getting up from his chair, he picked up the file on his desk.
After handing it to her, he swiftly brushed past h
er.
Genevieve had to read through the autopsy report, at least three times before she could truly understand what she was reading. Swiftly heading out of the office, with her partner trailing after her, she followed Albert, who had already pulled the body out to show them.
“Albert...,” he sullenly looked at her. “you're telling me, that someone...,” she motioned to the body. “ripped his arms and legs off?”
“That's what it says in my report...”
Looking down at the partly covered body, she noted how the once handsome face now was more or less drained of the vibrant color that it use to have. If any of his friends or family saw him now, Genevieve was positive that none of them would have recognized him.
In some ways, she was glade that she couldn't see the rest of his body; only down from his face to part of his torso.
As she continued to stare at what was left of Nathan Mark's lifeless body, it was upon closer inspection of his neck, that she noticed the two faint marks on his jugular.
Leaning over to the examining table, she retrieved a glove.
As she traced the little pin pricks, that, to the untrained eye, looked like nothing more than faint mosquito bumps or a hickey; she looked quizzically over at the doctor.
“Albert...,” he pulled his harsh gaze away from Kyle, to curiously look over at her. “have you seen these?”
Coming over to her, he looked down at where her fingers were and, it was upon his own closer inspection of these little marks, that all the color drained from his face.
“That...That's what I was trying to show you the other day.”
“What?” the sound of Kyle's voice, had Genevieve inwardly flinching; she had almost forgotten that he was there.
“Those drug dealers..., had the exact same marks on their jugulars.”
Chapter Twenty
“I can't believe you didn't tell me about those drug dealers.”
“Oh come on, Kyle...We, or for that matter, any other homicide detectives, weren't even called out, which means only one or two things; nobody was looking at these deaths as a homicide.”
They had driven for the past hour and a half in complete silence, with Kyle sneaking her the occasional brooding stares. When he had finally spoken, she hadn't been at all surprised that it was to reprimand her for not confiding to him about Albert calling her in over the mysterious deaths of three drug dealers.
“You still should have told me...”
“Should have would of could of...”
“Gen, don't be a smart ass.”
Blowing a raspberry at him, she said, “Kyle..., I'm almost positive that this case and the one involving the drug dealers are not related.”
“And how do you know that...? There are supposedly two identical sets of pin pricks on all four bodies...If that's not the only thing in common, these two marks are situated in the same place on all four bodies...Try to explain that to me?”
It had been a mistake letting Kyle look at the three drug dealers autopsy reports. Yet, there was really nothing she could have done about it. No sooner had Albert mention that there were similar marks on the drug dealers' jugulars as the ones found on Nathan Mark's jugular, was Kyle asking to see those autopsy reports.
While Kyle had in turn jumped to the same conclusion as Albert, Genevieve wasn't, yet, ready to follow either one down the rabbit hole. The pin pricks, at least, the way Genevieve rationalized it, could be easily explained away. It was possible, that all four men had either gotten hickeys from girlfriends or gone up into the mountains and gotten bit by mosquitoes.
It had been a mistake for her to even mention the two small marks on Nathan's jugular. Yet, the mistake had been made, because of her unhealthy curiosity over these two pin pricks.
Of course, she should have known, that Albert, convinced that something was foully amiss, would drag her partner down with his murder conspiracy. Now there was no reasoning with Kyle, and he would bitch all the way back to the precinct.
For a few brief minutes, Genevieve silently stared ahead at the traffic in front of her—pondering on how to reply to Kyle's question.
When she finally spoke, she was somewhat surprised by the raspiness of her own voice,“Possibly there's a new drug out that you have to inject into your jugular...” the moment she said this and from Kyle's incredulous expression, Genevieve instantly wished that she could have taken it back.
If there was one nice upside about her ridiculous statement, it was that it at least shut Kyle up for the rest of the drive back to the precinct.
XXX
From the moment he got out of his car and laid eyes upon the foreboding wooden structure in front of him, he felt this new bout of nerves hit him. He had been jittery the whole drive out of Tucson and up into the mountains.
Yet, he had built himself up to finally doing what his mistress had ordered him to do.
She had told him that the reward would be worth it. Ever lasting life sounded a whole lot better than dying with the rest of the human race.
In layman's terms, the whole feat sounded easy.
All he had to do was kill the person that was inside the beautiful, ominous, mansion, that now stood in front of him.
The only problem was, was that, being as selfishly evil as he was, he hadn't a clue that his mistress had set him up. He didn't even know, that this whole situation was not but a plan to gather information.
His mistress could have cared less if he failed; in fact, she was counting on it.
She wanted to know if the legendary vampire slayer was as strong as he was rumored to be. If this fool came back alive, it meant either one or two things. He was either successful or her enemy had let him go, because of his weakness towards all humans – good or bad.
Yet, if the fool didn't come back at all, while not a total loss, she would have to question whether or not the vampire slayer had decided on a different path. One that had him no longer protecting the human race, but wanting to rule it; like herself.
She could see herself sharing her throne with this vampire. For a Queen needed an equally strong King.
Yet, this patsy, who was starting up the walk, was as clueless as any mindless fool. His brain couldn't seem to convince him, that the perspiration soaking through his shirt; was a bad sign. In fact he had mostly convinced himself that the perspiration, was in fact, brought on by the triple digits in Tucson. He refused to take into account that he had driven up the mountain with his air conditioning on full blast – even after he had rolled down the window, he had left his ac on.
He couldn't seem to grasp that the real reason for the cold sweat running down his back, was because of an unfamiliar sensation, that he, himself, had never felt: fear.
Fear was an unfamiliar emotion to him. During those countless time of cold blooded murder, not once did he feel this emotion. Yet, now, he was overpowered by this new feeling:
Unbelievable terror.
He couldn't understand it.
From what he had heard, this new potential victim, while muscular, was nothing compared to himself. He was over two hundred pounds of pure muscle and he knew how to kill with his bare hands. He had strangled women, men, and even children to death. Yet he got more of a sick enjoyment out of killing children rather than adults; there was just something softly arousing about wrapping his hands around a little child's throat—he got even more enjoyment out of watching a child's life drain from their eyes.
As it was, though, he wouldn't have to use the same tactics on the slayer. In fact, his friends had persuaded him to use something different. He had plenty of ammunition and once he had finished with shooting this person, he would use the blades in his trunk to dismantle his body. He would bring his mistress the head of her enemy and then she would reward him with what she had promised him.
Everlasting life...Immortality.
After ascending up the porch's steps, he stood there, just inches away from achieving his goal. Yet, before he could make a move to grab the door handle, he felt a
new wave of fear wash over. Yet, it was just that thought of his red headed mistress, that him quickly squashing this new bout of fear down. He sure wanted to rule the world with her and, possibly, if he succeeded at killing the slayer for her, she would let him.
At this thought, he reached out for the door handle. Yet, before he could even turn it, it came open by itself.
It was strange, the moment the door came open, this icy chilliness, belted him in the face.
If that wasn't strange enough, he got this unsettling feeling that someone or something, was welcoming him into this house.
While the chilliness, erupting forth from the inside, should have had him a little more warily – for he had even taken a hesitant step back – this still didn't discourage him from leaving.
Granted it was true, that he wasn't discouraged enough to leave. Yet, it was also true, that he wasn't wanting to enter the house anytime soon either.
As he continued to stand there on the porch, his conscience, that he had ignored all the way up until now, finally started getting through to him.
“Turn around and go home...”
He was just about to listen to it, when another voice intervened on his conscience.
“Are you a coward...? If you are, then you don't deserve your mistress. For she needs a strong companion that won't fail her. If you want her, then go inside and do what she ordered you to do.”
Taking a deep breathe, he hesitated slightly before fingering the piece tucked into his waistband.
It brought him some comfort to know that if he needed his gun, it was there.
Eventually squaring his shoulders, he walked into the house.
As he stood on the front entrance's landing, which led down into a beautiful foyer, just looking around at all the valuable items he was going to try and sell once he was finished with this job; it was then that the door inadvertently slammed on its own.
The door's sudden slam had him so surprised, that he would have jumped out of his skin; if he could have.
There wasn't even a breeze outside.
So, how could the door have closed without one?
As he turned to open the door again, it was then that a shadowy figure rushed behind him. He was so content on trying to get the door open, that he didn't even notice that for a short time this figure had stood behind him; watching his feeble attempts at trying to get that door open.
The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning Page 17
