by Zoey Kane
“Sounds great.” Claire again linked her arm around her mom’s and they walked toward Claire’s VW outside the police station with tired expressions.
“Zoey!” a man called from a few cars over. It was Kellen, picking up his niece.
“Oh, Kellen!” Zo waved, her fleeting excitement squashed by the remembrance of her flat, wet hair, and the fact that he was blood-related to a demon child.
“I’ll see you tomorrow still?”
“Of course.”
TEN
Zo’s headache was almost gone by the time she and Claire got to the beauty salon the next morning overlooking a wharf. There would still be two tender spots on her head from last night’s little adventures.
The two sat, having their feet in their own warm, bubbly baths in preparation for their pedicures. Out the window a couple seals could be seen lounging on a dock. Once in a while they’d bark like they were trying to get the attention of the men sea fishing in the distance.
Since Zo didn’t feel the need to hide her frustrations, she vented about everything to her nail technician, except for the church invasion, and finding Isobel’s body there. At least the gossip would do a public service, helping the townsfolk see that everything was just smoke and mirrors. It could actually do Lacey some good, if word spread fast enough.
For good measure, Zo went down to the coffee shop and told Cheryl, as she worked behind the counter, all that was found out about the cult party with its strawberry-syrup ceremony, Beth’s cat allergy, the fake black hair, and Dracula’s bedroom mirror.
Cheryl took off her apron and told her coworker that she was going on break. On her way to the shop’s backroom, she paused and said, “Tonight I’m going behind the smoke and mirrors. You’ll see there’s something more to all this.”
“What do you mean?” Zo asked, and Claire’s brows raised in curiosity.
But Cheryl just shook her head gravely and quickly entered the backroom, closing the door behind her.
“Well, that was worrisome,” Zo said. “I wish she would’ve told us what she’s up to.”
Claire sighed and crossed her arms. “I guess we’ll soon find out…”
*
Kellen’s house was nestled on a hill in a beautiful neighborhood consisting of newer model homes. His was a one story with a long driveway to a separate, three-car garage, gigantic potted plants lining the walkway.
The day was sunnier than usual, not a spot of sea fog anywhere. To match the weather, Zo wore a billowy blouse that draped off one shoulder over a tank top, long shorts, and golden heels. Claire wore a colorful sundress. Jim got invited too, dressed in a pink polo, jeans and loafers, carrying a grocery bag with a raspberry German chocolate cake.
Kellen opened the door with a smile. This time he was clean-shaven and dressed more casually, though still stylish. His short-sleeved, baby blue button-up shirt hung over faded-to-perfection jeans that fit him as though a personal tailor had sized him. “Hello! Hi, Jim, I’m glad Claire brought you along. Come on in!”
The foyer had a poster-sized black and white photo framed of Kellen doing a ballet leap, legs scissored into splits. Jim did a double-take, as did Zo. The inside of the one-story home felt airy, with its vaulted ceilings and open floor plan. The kitchen and dining room connected without a wall to block them from view of the living room. Hardwood floors shone throughout. And the scent of something surely only a gourmet chef could make filled the air, a bit of mushroom mixed with some sort of wine sauce. A skillet sizzled, making pop noises like a campfire.
The guests sat on a black leather couch, and Kellen brought over Shirley Temples for everyone. He had added a couple watermelon balls, and grapes to the cherries, plus mint sprigs. “I was thinking,” he said, taking a chair across from Zo, “that we can stay here for the private lesson. If we move the couch and coffee table, that alone should give us enough room.”
“Oh? Sounds good to me.” The thought delighted her. To be in a more casual setting, in his home, felt more romantic. Again, she had to tell herself to stop her silly fantasies, since surely it was actually just more convenient to do the lessons there.
Claire crossed her long shapely legs and said, “Jim and I would love to join you, but there’s a show we want to catch at the little theater that starts right after this lunch. Can we work that out somehow?”
“Yes, it’s quite all right.” Kellen placed his lips over his fruity drinks straw. “This means you’ll need a ride home?” He looked back at Zo.
“If that’s all right,” Claire confirmed. “If it were at the studio, then it would have been walking distance from us, but…”
“It’s no trouble at all,” the dance teacher assured her.
The meal lived up to expectations—the corn truly was the best Zo ever had in her life. They all talked a bit about their pasts, what they were all up to now, and there were a few jokes that made them all feel completely, socially fulfilled for the day. There was just one thing Zo couldn’t help but wonder—where Kellen’s partner was. She surely expected to see him, or at least a picture of him somewhere, framed by the huge TV, or posted to the shiny refrigerator.
But no, there was just a fabulous oil painting of a dragon with amazing, angry lavender eyes that had large round pupils over a wrinkled muzzle, flashing huge, dangerous teeth. It was framed in gold and copper over Kellen’s black wraparound couch, a masculine preference for decor.
When Claire and Jim said their goodbyes, Zo suddenly felt nervous. She was going to be alone with a stranger—a handsome man, in his handsome home … dancing! Yet under peculiar circumstances.
As Kellen slid the couch toward the foyer, Zo couldn’t help but glue her eyes to him. When he came back to move the coffee table and a couple recliners, she got to admire his … dexterity.
“All right, we should be ready,” he said, going over to a remote and turning on some surround-sound Latin music.
Kellen came right over to her and got in dance position, holding her hand and pulling her waist close to his.
“All you’re missing is the rose between your teeth,” Zo kidded, feeling self-conscious.
And the dance lessons began…
“First, Zo, I want to formally apologize for what happened last night,” he said, moving his hips with hers to the music.
“Oh, what was that?”
“My niece. Once again, Lacey’s antics have caused me to reach my boiling point. One of her friends actually knocked you over the head, yes?”
“Well…” Zo paused. “Some of the partygoers say they witnessed someone drop me off. They figured it was one of them who wanted me to meet new people and make friends.”
“Really?”
“Well, and it’s true—nobody tried to hurt me … except for the hag who dropped me off. So their defense is it was all a misunderstanding. And they didn’t know who dropped me there because she was wearing a mask.”
“Hmmm.”
“A detective is investigating further, although we both know that your niece is off the hook.”
“What do you think happened?” he continued, holding his frame and moving his hips in rhythm with hers.
“I’m not sure what to believe, actually. There was a shovel laying around in the graveyard, but Claire says I was hit with a skillet. She says that’s what the attacker was holding.”
Kellen said with confidence, “It had to be one of Lacey’s friends. They don’t see how they’re going to really hurt someone one of these days. I am so, so sorry about that.”
“It’s okay … I’m okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. She’s been in trouble for other things around town. This wasn’t the first time she and her cult friends have been interrogated by the police.” He suddenly stopped dancing, teaching her how to hold her frame firm, before continuing.
“Consider this lesson a gift,” he said, looking into her eyes sincerely. “I wasn’t going to charge you anyway, when I invited you.”
“Oh, really?”
&
nbsp; “Really…” His gaze settled on hers. She took in a deep breath, drinking in his beautiful eyes, a smoldering blue. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve thought his lips were actually drawing dangerously close to hers for a kiss. Before she could think about it further, he spun her out into a twirl.
Zo was relieved when the dance was over and they parted, mainly to take in a breath. She felt she could soon pass out for lack of air, being totally consumed by his tremendous good looks.
She blurted, “Are you gay, Kellen?” Why she said such a stupid thing to burst the moment was beyond her. She decided it was because she had to be absolutely certain about him.
He pulled his head back and opened his eyes wide in surprise. “Me? Gay?”
“Well … yeah…”
“Mmm, nope—not gay. What made you think I am?”
“Umm … you liked my heels…”
“Can’t I appreciate a lady’s sexy shoes?”
“But … you got highlights.” She looked up at his handsomely styled hair.
“Can’t I get my hair done?”
“You drink Shirley Temples, like me!”
“And?”
“And the other night you mentioned your partner!”
He had a chuckle at that, and started more music and pulled her into a dancing embrace. “Partner, as in half owner of the studio. A good friend from high school days, who can’t dance but likes investments.”
Zo suddenly felt really stupid. “And, uh, what about the other dance teacher full of energy? Patrick?”
“Him? He’s neither my dance partner nor my partner-partner. He is gay, though. So, you weren’t completely off.”
“The lady at Cocoa’s, being Cocoa, says you are.”
“No, Zoey.” He smiled and gave her a one-armed hug. “She’s my stalker who I have no feelings for … and she is actually married to a doctor, although not seriously it seems.
*
Claire enjoyed strolling along the downtown outlets, holding Jim’s hand which didn’t at all feel clammy anymore, just wasting some time before their movie would start. The theater was at the edge of a pier, with just one screen playing classic black and white movies back-to-back. This afternoon’s showing was Marilyn Monroe’s Some Like it Hot. With tickets already purchased, nothing urged them to be there forty-five minutes early.
Flocks of seagulls flew overhead, barking their calls. The happy couple weaved through others meandering around as well, window shopping.
Jim didn’t have to talk Claire into a double-scoop vanilla ice cream waffle cone, with whip cream and a cherry on top. He ordered mint chocolate chip for himself, and the two decided to take a walk down one of the piers.
A group of friends in their early twenties sat cross-legged at the edge of The Sea Witch, a restaurant with giant purple tentacles curled around the building. Cheryl from the café was sitting in the middle of the group, talking excitedly. As Claire passed, she heard only a bit of the conversation.
“Things aren’t what they seem,” Cheryl said, wide-eyed. “Yeah, I know things others don’t, and I’d tell you all right now if…”
If what? Claire’s ears were pricked for more info. Sometimes she wished she could be just as easily nosey as her mother. She paused her steps anyway, pretending to show interest in some flyers on an arcade’s windows. Jim stopped with her, chatting about what was posted before them, but Claire didn’t really care about the flyers. She just said “Mmm-hmm” to her date, trying to focus back on the conversation now behind them.
“You can’t leave us hanging like that,” a guy’s voice drifted to her ears—one of Cheryl’s friends. “Tell us what you saw.”
“I will, but not now … just trust me. Keep your eyes open, and you might find out, too.”
Claire licked the last of the whip cream off her cone, feeling disappointment over the girl’s response. Why should they keep their eyes open? For what in particular?
Her focus settled on the window before her. There was a picture of a striped tabby cat with the word “LOST” above it.
“Another missing cat?” Claire said. She then read the name and address of the owner; it was Cocoa, from the little boutique.
Jim licked his mint-chocolate dessert and asked, “What? Have you seen that cat?
“Uh … no. It’s just … when I was at the café the other day…” She lowered her voice. “The girl talking right over there, behind us, told my mom and I about a cat whose blood was drained. She said there were vampire marks in the neck.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, for once being skeptical over supernatural matters.
“That’s the story. I don’t believe it, of course…” She decided not to tell him it was their very own dinner mate, Lenora, who was the suspect of such a crime. “It’s just interesting.”
Jim simply nodded, and resumed eating his ice cream.
They stopped at a souvenir shop, checking out their many ships in bottles, seashell collections, shot glasses, and key chains, until they decided it was time to head back to the theater to order popcorn and grab their seats.
Walking by, a woman wearing a T-shirt with a picture of Dracula’s castle and a big red slash across it, passed Claire a flyer. While waiting in line for popcorn, Claire turned over the piece of paper to study the message, expecting it to be some sort of ad for one of the local shops. Instead, it was a notice about the hotel: “Say no to vampires! Let’s clean our streets! Call Mayor Smith today to kick out Dracula … and all his vamps!!!”
She crumpled it, and almost tossed it into a garbage, but upon second thought stuffed it into her large purse.
Sitting in that small theater, which besides buttery popcorn smelled like ancient carpeting, Claire’s phone soon buzzed, lighting up the inside of her purse sitting beside her. To her surprise it was her mother. Thinking it must be an emergency, Claire quietly excused herself as quickly as possible to the theater’s little hallway. “Yes?” she answered, worried.
“Honey, guess what I am doing right now?” Her mother’s voice sounded secretive.
“Out to eat? What are you doing calling me in the middle of my date?”
Zo’s voice was too muffled to understand what she was saying.
Claire brushed a hand through her brown hair and narrowed her eyes in frustration. “What, Mom? I thought this was an important call. I was really worried.”
“Kellen is not gay. That means I can flirt with him. Thought I’d take a moment to call you.”
Claire sighed and forced a smile, deciding to humor her. “I know you think you have power over all mankind, and I don’t know how you got Kellen to lie to you, but you are not going to convert him, Motherrrrrr.”
Close by, a man’s voice came through the receiver. “Zoey, time to return to Kellen. You can tell your daughter all about whatever later.”
Claire’s mouth dropped in surprise. “Mother! I will never doubt you again! Geez, Mom. I’m hanging up now.” She hit the “end call” button and shook her head in surprise.
Meanwhile, Zo’s dance instructor positioned her into a Tango stance, and they danced away, all friendly, but professional.
Back at the theater, Claire was soon laughing at the crazy jokes Jim was telling all the way through the movie. They actually got up and moved back into a corner, because they didn’t want to annoy the serious people around them.
Sitting at a seat in the next row over was Gus, the man at the castle who had been frightened by what he thought was a ghost in his room. He was happily eating a jumbo popcorn, watching the film intently.
The afternoon seemed to turn into night too soon. Claire called her mother and found her having just finished dishes from yet another great meal of grilled steak and baked potato Kellen had prepared. Jim offered to come by and pick her up, as he was taking Claire back to the castle now. Zo accepted and told Kellen she’d enjoyed his meals and dance lessons. She thanked him and he set up another dance appointment—at the studio. She accepted, feeling a little di
sappointed.
*
A young woman dashed through the graveyard, feeling a scream at the edge of her throat. She had abandoned her loose-fitting sandals soon after the chase was on, hoping to pick up speed. Her bare feet ran through mists of darkness. Just before making her way past the old church toward the road, she tripped on tree roots crawling above the earth like giant spider legs. Her head smacked the ground hard, tossing blond hair over her face. She pulled herself up and wildly took off running again. Something dark wrapped around her, restraining her.
ELEVEN
As Zo and Claire neared the turnoff to the castle with Jim in his blue Buick, Claire noticed a dark car with glaring red taillights in the mist drive away from Hall Cemetery.
“Someone visiting there late?” she said, peering through the windshield. “Let’s stop. I want to take a look at things, Mom.”
“Of course.” Zo’s eyebrows cinched together with uncertainty. “How brave of you wanting to trespass across the dead in the dead of night. What time is it, Jim?”
“Half past dead … six.” He pulled up and parked. “It gets dark fast now, doesn’t it?
Doors opened and the three got out and began their walk across the rough grass. After a couple minutes they could see something lying on a bench not too far away. As they approached, Zo and Claire discerned it was someone sprawled on their side.
“Sleeping?” Zo asked.
“I sure hope so,” Claire whispered, and wrapped her scarf up higher around her neck, to warm the chill she was feeling at her throat.
As they stepped closer, they quickly saw the stranger was wearing all black, and was curiously barefoot. She had her back to them, her blond hair tousled by the breeze, hiding her face. They had the same thought at the same time: “Lacey.”
“You two know her?” Jim asked, following behind, quickening his step.
