by Anna Rainn
“Fine,” he raised his hands in feigned surrender. “Fine, back to business.” He sat down.
“There is more?” I didn’t know if this was some sort of ploy to keep us taking or if there really was more murder related things to discuss, and detective Chase wasn’t here, so I had no choice, but to oblige. I sat opposite him.
“What you have seen today was probably a vampire. This is no joke. I need you to understand this, because if you don’t, if you think this is a joke, you won’t be prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you will be in even greater danger.”
He was talking slowly, trying to lay things out simply as if talking to a child. And he was serious about this supernatural angle.
“A vampire. Okay, I’ll try to believe this,” I tried not to sound sarcastic. He was being respectful right now, and I owed him the same, right?
“I know it’s hard to believe, and I honestly hope you don’t go through anything to make you believe, Marissa. But I at least need you to act as if you believe. Can you do that for me?” There was a hint of pleading in his previously authoritative voice. He truly feared for me, and he really believed that the threat was big, supernatural.
“Okay.”
“You will?”
I nodded.
“Say it!”
“I will, okay?”
“Perfect.” He pushed the table and got up. “This place is closed until further notice.”
“Excuse me?!”
“No word of vampires, glowing eyes, or bitten women gets out to anyone. Anyone.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything - I’m sure there will be a perfectly natural explanation,” I said, then reverting to what matters, “Black and Foam will not close.”
“Your parking lot is an active crime scene, and this place will need to be locked up for at least a couple of days anyway. This is not me; this is the police. Why don’t you let your employees take a couple of days off?”
“If this is routine procedure, why did you have to put it in your rules?”
“Because if the crime scene is released before I do what I do, I will still need you to keep your coffee shop closed.”
“And what is it that you do?”
“Catch vampires.” He shook his head as if I was stupid, as if the insanity he was spewing was some basic knowledge, and I was slow to catch up.
“So I keep the café closed, not until the crime scene is released, but until you catch a vampire.”
“The vampire,” he corrected.
“Okay,” I humored him. There was no point arguing anyway; the café was going to be closed for a few days anyway, and when the time comes, I will at least have had some sleep, and I will have more energy to push back, maybe even get detective Chase involved. Now, my caffeine was fading, and I was coming down fast. I wanted to get this over with and go home to sleep.
“Okay. Now until the threat had been neutralized, you can stay safe by sticking to two rules,” Nick held two fingers out to stress the point. Great, more rules!
“Number one: You don’t leave your house after sunset. Not to hang out, not to get a drink, not to grab an emergency carton of milk, not even to visit your sick mom.”
“My mom is in perfect health, thank you very much,” I rolled my eyes at him. He ignored me, and holding the second finger, he continued, “The second rule is you don’t invite anyone in your house.”
Before he could continue, I interrupted him, “Not even my sick mom.”
“Exactly.” There was no humor in his voice. “No vampire can walk in sunlight, and no vampire can enter your house uninvited. Stick to these two rules and you should be fine. If you need anything after dark, call me.”
Oh, so he wanted to make late night deliveries to my place, how convenient.
He went on, “I will have the vampire who did this in no time. Just follow the rules until then. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Nick looked surprised at my agreeability; he obviously expected me to fight back. He paused when I said nothing to counter his last sentence, then he physically relaxed.
“All right then. Let me take you home.”
“My car is out back,” I started, then realizing how screwed I was, I added, “in the crime scene.”
“Exactly,” he smiled, “Let’s go.”
Okay, agreeing to Nick’s rules when it came to a murder case was one thing; getting into a car with him was out of the question. There was no way I was going to allow myself to be alone with him in a closed environment in the middle of the night. It just wasn’t safe. And he shouldn’t think he has the right.
“Thank you. I’ll Uber.”
“You will order a ride from a perfect stranger at four am from the very spot the murderer knows and expects you to be. Have I been talking to someone else about safety?”
It looked like I was driving him crazy. This time, he had a point, though. And I was more interested in staying alive than I was in making him angry.
“Why doesn’t detective Chase drive me?” I asked sweetly.
“He left.” The flash of anger in Nick’s pale eyes was so satisfying. It didn’t help, though, that I ended up in a car with him, angry as he was, as I had made him.
Chapter 7
Nick was silent the whole ride home. He made a point out of not asking me for directions, easily gliding his Manhattan grey Audi into the fastest route to my place. I remember, his actions said. I remember where you live, and I remember what we did. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part. It was the first time I saw his car. That night, we took my car back to my place. I never knew how he left in the morning. He probably ordered a ride from a perfect stranger at four am from the very spot he fucked me for all I know. In other words, he probably Ubered back to his stealthy dark Audi, which he kept squeaky clean and lightly fragrant by the way. I like a man who takes good care of his car. For one thing, he is less likely to be a slob at home. And it also shows he appreciates things even after he acquires them, instead of just taking them for granted and becoming neglectful. Or maybe it just means he is freaky neat; I don’t know. I just know that my previous three boyfriends all had more liter in their cars than I did in my study’s wastebasket. So this was a welcome change.
The car pulled up quietly across my building. I took a deep breath, turned to Nick, and thanked him quickly, before opening the door and jumping out, happy to be rid of the silent anger I had to endure the whole ride here.
I heard the car lock up, but I didn’t hear his footsteps. Instead, I found Nick walking beside me, perfectly at ease on the sidewalk, on the stairs to the entrance. He was too familiar. I ignored him.
Finally, when he had followed me into the building, I turned and looked up at him.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m walking you to your door. There is no telling if you’re being followed.” He maintained a perfect poker face, and I couldn’t figure out if this was an excuse to get him to my door or if he really was concerned.
“Fine.” I started climbing the stairs with him following close behind silently.
My heart had already started to beat faster. He was here again, just like last time. Soon, he’ll be at the door again. No! This had to stop. I was there.
I hesitated at the door. Nick was standing right behind me as the key turned slowly in the door. I turned and looked at him, something sharp and witty on my tongue ready to come out, then I saw the way he was looking at me, and the words melted away. I was left just standing there in front of an open door, pinned in place by sparkly blue eyes. What was it about his eyes that carried so much power? It wasn’t just the unusual color; his looks could speak, pull, touch. I pulled my jacket, wrapping it around me.
We had been standing there in silence for minutes, neither of us uttering a word. Was he waiting for an invitation? An image came to me of him carrying me up the stairs, then putting me down at the door. He had stood in this very spot with a bulge in his pants and fire in his eyes as I u
nlocked the door before I pulled him inside.
“Do you want to come in?” The words left my mouth without making any detours to brain tissue of any kind. I was mentally slapping myself before the question was complete.
“I should,” he said, but he was still standing outside. “I need to make sure your house is secure.”
I took two steps back, still facing him, then opened the door and moved to the side. For a few seconds, we stayed this way. Me inside the house, waiting for him, and Nick outside with an unreadable expression on his face, his eyes two shades darker, a darkness I have seen before.
“I have to go,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”
And like that, I was left alone in my house, this time rejected by the guy who used me a year ago. I stood frozen in place as his tall frame disappeared down the stairway, not looking back once, by the way. Then I went back inside, locked the door, and let breath rush out of my mouth.
I fell on the sofa like a ragged doll. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how being near Nick was making my every muscle tense, every fucking minute. I had been suffering the push and pull of his presence for hours now, and finally alone, the tension seeped out of me in streams of exhausted frustration.
I will think about what he did tomorrow. And I will beat myself up about what I said tomorrow, I decided, using the last fumes of energy I had left to drag myself to bed.
It was only a few steps to my room; I lived in a luxurious, yet small one bedroom. With clean white walls, hardwood floors, a brand new open plan kitchen, not to mention a great location, my apartment came with a hefty lease despite its small size and the less than ideal condition of the building. I didn’t mind that the elevator was out of order almost four days a week; I welcomed the exercise. And I could live with the absent superintendent. But the lack of proper security suddenly seemed like a huge disadvantage.
In the cloudy zone between sleep and consciousness, I found myself rolling in bed with Nick again. This time, his eyes glowed a beautiful, peaceful white in the dark as his tongue glided down my neck, wet and steaming hot.
“Why did you leave?” I asked him, “I needed you in my life.” My arms were tracing his back muscles, soaking up the strength of him.
He didn’t answer. “That’s a story for another time,” he whispered, lifting his head up at me, his lips taking hold of mine. I moaned into his mouth and forgot all about the cold loneliness. I am asleep, I thought, I am dreaming, I can do whatever I want.
“Do me like last time,” I asked the hot stranger on top of me.
“Beg,” he answered.
Chapter 8
A second after I closed my eyes, I was jerked back to my darkened room by an insistent siren. My eyes went instinctively to the bedroom window expecting the blue and red flashes of earlier in the night. But the only light in the room came from under the pillow, white and vibrating.
“Fuck,” I pulled my phone, already knowing what name was going to be on the screen.
“Caleb, I’m sorry.”
After all the struggles over the iPhone last night with all the ground it cost me with Nick, I had forgotten to call Caleb.
“Marissa, are you okay?” Caleb’s voice was panicked.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
I glanced at my phone screen quickly, then put the phone back on my ear. It was four. Caleb is the one who shows up to prepare Black and Foam for opening at five. Yes, it is unusual that he is the one who does this instead of one of the newer employees, but this was the way we did things at Black and Foam; we were hands-on, and we did as much if not more than our employees.
My stupid head was hung up on flashes of lips, contracting muscle, and scorching touches to remember to call Caleb and tell him not to come. He arrived at his workplace to find it yellow taped, with no sign of me, and no word from me. Of course, all kinds of things would be running through his mind now.
“Nothing happened to me,” I paused, calculating how much to tell, then I decided to hold on to the news for a little bit. “Someone was attacked in the parking lot,” then feeling like I owed him a bit more, I went on, “and the attacker chased me to Black and Foam, but he couldn’t get in.” Probably because he wasn’t invited.
“Oh my god.”
He didn’t ask me why I haven’t called him, and I was so grateful for that.
“Where are you now?” Caleb asked practically.
“Home safe.”
“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll call the staff, and I’ll call you back,” he said. This is why Caleb was not only the best manager, but also the best friend I could ask for. He always took things off my plate without me having to ask, and we were always on the same page.
Now that I had woken up, it was impossible to fall back asleep. I kept sneaking looks at my phone, expecting Caleb to call back. With this taking longer than expected, I slipped out of bed and started checking all the windows, making sure everything was closed. Yes, Nick told me nobody could come in uninvited, but relying on this piece of information when my life was in the balance required a huge degree of suspension of disbelief. In the much, much, much more likely case that the attacker was human, he could get into the house with or without my permission. At least my apartment was on the third floor.
The terrace door was locked, the fire escape looming in the shadows as if to cast fear in my heart. I turned away and double-checked the bathroom window and the kitchen window. All was good. I poured myself a cup of orange juice and collapsed on the sofa with my phone. A horror flick was playing on TV, and I had no taste for those. I switched the channel to a rerun of a sitcom and started scrolling through socials. Black and Foam’s pages on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter already had a professional banner announcing that we will be closed tomorrow and promising more updates soon. Caleb was already taking care of everything. Good.
I sighed, curled on the sofa, and tried to distract my special consultant Nicholas obsessed brain with the funny bits happening on TV.
The next time I woke up, I was still on the sofa with studio laughs echoing enthusiastically in the background. Two missed calls waited on my phone and three texts.
Caleb had tried to call soon after I fell asleep, then he texted me: Everything is taken care of. Sleep tight.
The other missed call was from an unknown number. A text from the same number identified the caller in its first line. This is detective Owen Chase. Please come to the station first thing in the morning.
I skimmed through the words quickly, before opening the last unread message on my phone, another unknown number, but this one didn’t bother identifying himself. Thought you should have my number in case you needed something at night.
My fingers hovered over the touchscreen, three different replies fighting on the tips of my fingers, then I locked my phone and put it on the dark coffee table. I’ll do this in person.
Chapter 9
Walking into a police station for the first time in my life wasn’t as intimidating as I had expected. Deciding I needed something a bit more formal for this visit, I opted for a knee-length blue dress, then too reluctant to wear heels and look like I’m trying too much, I put on white lace espadrilles and gathered my hair up in a high ponytail.
All these efforts - yes, okay, I was making an effort to look good, went to vain. Nick wasn’t at the station. In his place, I was greeted by someone who took me to detective Owen Chase’s office.
The quiet lean frame of him was seated behind a desk, with tens of files piling in front of him. His white shirt was slightly sweat-stained due to the exceptionally hot day. Chase looked up from a few papers he was studying, then he got up and closed the door.
“Please take a seat, Miss Cooper.”
I didn’t mind being Miss Cooper. I quite liked it actually. With all the craziness going on between Nick and me, I needed some formality in my dealing with law enforcement, especially that I was a murder witness.
“Sorry I had to leave on short notice yesterday before gi
ving you my card. I trust special consultant Hayes told you about what we needed to do today?” He slid me a dull-looking business card. I thought I detected a glimmer of amusement in the detective’s eyes at the mention of Nick and me. Unfortunately, I had no idea what he was talking about.
“He didn’t mention anything about me coming to the station.”
“He is not here,” Chase said, smiling. I had been studying the office and the work floor outside through the glass walls curiously. Looks like the detective thought I was looking for Nick, which I sure as hell wasn’t. Well, not consciously, at least.
“I don’t care if he is here,” the words fell defensively from my mouth before I could stop them, then I tried to recover, “I just want to know what I had been called here for.”
“So, he really didn’t tell you. That’s unlike him,” detective Chase pushed a few buttons on his office phone. “We’re ready,” he said to someone. “No, in my office.”
Then he hung up and turned to me. “You’re just here to help us draw a portrait of the killer. The artist is on his way. Nick did remember to stress on the information that can and cannot be shared, right?”
No mention of glowing eyes to the artist, then. I nodded.
The task took the better part of an hour. Strangely enough, remembering the face that had been plaguing me ever since last night wasn’t easy. I saw the face as a whole unit in my head, but I couldn’t zoom in on the details that would help the artist paint a close picture. The only detail I remembered vividly was the one I couldn’t share with the artist: the rings of red light in the murderer’s eyes.
With the drawing that faintly resembled the face I had in mind finished, I found my way outside the station and took a cab to meet Caleb.
“She had it coming,” Caleb whispered.
“Don’t say that!” I objected. I don’t care what Bianca’s conduct was, or what her attitude was with me, badmouthing her was not okay.
“Really? You don’t agree?” He raised an eyebrow at me. Now, Caleb wasn’t in the habit of being mean in any way, so I was less inclined to storm out of the restaurant. Fighting with him was sufficient.
