It was hard to think of everything. For occurrences that were unplanned there had to be a contingency plan to deal with it. When you deal with things that are outside the realm of reality, the number of contingency plans needed goes up dramatically.
Next to the bed sat several books, neatly stacked, detailing eyewitness accounts of vampires and how to dispatch of them. His journal lay open on top with a pen. Lofgren noticed Kasparov idly looking through his books and the few trinkets he had brought with him. He watched as his partner wrote down occasional notes in the notebook he carried and considered what the man must be thinking. His partners face was difficult to read. If Kasparov had concerns about any of it, he wasn’t showing it.
“Are you alright, Scott?” Lofgren asked.
“Huh?” Kasparov appeared startled by the sound of his comrade.
“I said are you alright? Is something bothering you?” Lofgren asked again.
“I’m ok, considering all that has happened.” He answered. “What is all this stuff?”
“I make my own bullets sometimes, when needed.” Lofgren explained. “I also have a great interest in the paranormal and occult. The unknown and the forbidden offer greater rewards to those who seek them out. Anyone can learn about history, medicine, mathematics, or literature. It takes someone willing to earn their knowledge to pursue the strange and mysterious.”
“What’s with the silver, and all the vampire books?” Kasparov asked as if he had heard Lofgren’s thoughts. “You think this is the work of a blood sucker or did all the blood just pique your curiosity?”
“I think it’s irresponsible not to be prepared if it is. You have to understand, I have seen what these people do. It’s not pretty. That’s why I have these particular books and the bullets.” Lofgren explained calmly. “A lot of people have died, Scott. Every time we catch up with the people behind this they have left a final victim to lure us to their den. When we get there the evidence of their actions is heinous. Floors, walls, and ceilings covered in blood with too many bodies discarded like food scraps in some twisted compost heap. They have brutally murdered their victims and drained any remaining blood. I thought they were a cult at first, but there is nothing ritual in the way they kill. It’s pure brutality. As for the silver, I have found that these things are sensitive to it. I believe it is a genetic mutation that causes their accelerated healing and their unnatural bloodlust. There is something about the chemicals used to refine silver that doesn’t mesh well with the chemical structure of their bodies.”
“A bullet is a bullet any way you look at it. It doesn’t “mesh well in anyone’s bodies. Besides, what makes you think they are drinking the stuff?” Kasparov asked.
“There is a symbol drawn all over the place that I have come to find is an alchemical symbol for blood. These symbols are surrounded by the very words that were written on the wall of the holding cell. Consume. Sanguinem. Mortem.” He explained. “It means consume blood death. I believe they are drinking the blood to celebrate the death of their victims and perhaps prolong their own life. I admit it seems counterproductive on account of the fact that they are bound to develop Kuru”
“Kuru?” Kasparov asked.
“It is a disease contracted by cannibalism. It is most prominent in New Guinea but I would be surprised if no one from this group has died from it.” Lofgren was surprised by how well Kasparov was taking the strange information.
“That’s stupid.” Kasparov laughed. “It probably is just a bunch of crazy cultists or something like that. Maybe the symbol has something to do with their little blood club. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of sexual thing. That’s what most of those cults boil down to. Sex. Grab your silver bullets, and let’s get some food. I’m dying over here.”
Lofgren wanted to be offended by Kasparov’s comments, but he was relieved that he didn’t immediately leave. It would have been just as easy to call him crazy, try to report him, or even run. Kasparov hadn’t done any of these things. Instead he insisted on getting lunch. Lofgren was looking forward to working more with Kasparov. He may not believe in vampires, but he still wanted to work on the case and that was more than could be said about those who had come before him.
Kasparov had stepped outside to smoke while Lofgren collected his things. He made sure to load his side arm with the silver bullets and stored some backup ammunition to bring to Marian’s. Arresting Jared was the goal, but there was nothing that guaranteed things would go as planned. It was important to come prepared for any event. Before leaving Lofgren remembered he had a small guidebook on vampires that he had gotten several tips from when he had started his research months before. He grabbed it to give to Kasparov in the event something happened to him during the investigation.
The two men made their way across the road to the restaurant being careful not to cross when traffic was heavy. Kasparov lit another cigarette as they walked silently. It was even colder than it had been that night and the air fogged anytime Lofgren let out a breath. He found the weather here to be harsh and sobering. He was so glad to finally arrive at Oishī, and didn’t wait for Kasparov to go in.
The restaurant was much warmer and smelled amazing. Lofgren hadn’t noticed how hungry he really was until he smelled the air. His insides ached from emptiness. Once Kasparov came in the men made their way to the table and ordered. They were served quickly and the wait staff had been friendly enough. Kasparov had never been to a place like Oishī, and Lofgren had been to too many and had standards that were too high to fully enjoy the meal. To him, the steak was too dry and the rice was too salty. He took comfort in the tea, which was perfect. Neither of them spoke much during the meal and it seemed right that way. Instead, he watched as his partner made strange faces at the zucchini on his plate.
Once the two had finished eating they found themselves back at Lofgren’s hotel room looking through the books that were stacked on almost every surface. Lofgren was preparing for the evening and his new partner was simply looking for entertainment. At some point Kasparov received the call that the warrant was approved and he went to retrieve it before coming back to find that Lofgren was still reading through the books and taking notes. It was important to him to have any information that could benefit him in what they were about to do.
After several hours they agreed it was time to head to the club. The drive was somber and neither of them spoke until after they were inside of the club. Kasparov quickly found Randall at a table and joined him but Lofgren wasn’t ready to settle in just yet. He wanted to talk to Missy first to find out where all of the exits were and where they could potentially lead in case Jared made a break for it.
“Welcome back stranger.” Missy greeted Lofgren as he approached the bar and took a seat. “What can I get you?”
“Just a water for me, please.” Lofgren answered. “I’m on duty.”
“Oh, how professional.” Missy replied with a laugh. “So did you come to talk to me about those tapes? Did someone else disappear?”
“Not exactly. We are here to make an arrest. Bernadette Hodge was murdered last night and we have reasons to believe the suspect will be here tonight.” Lofgren explained. “I need to know where all of the exits are and where they end up.”
Missy inhaled sharply. Her eyes began welling with tears as she stood silently. Lofgren hadn’t considered that she was close to Ms. Hodge when he told her about the murder. He felt guilty for telling her this way, but he couldn’t change it now. He needed his question answered should Jared escape.
“I see.” She replied after a moment, her voice cracking as she tried to hide her emotions. “The front door leads to the parking lot. The back door is through the dressing room. It leads in to a brick walled alley way before opening up to the main road that runs behind this place. Then there is the side door that leads out to the patio. It’s closed off to the outside but only with a small fence that runs around it to make it look nicer. Lastly there is one in the kitchen. It leads to the trash bins but it�
��s blocked by the bins so no one could get out that way.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your information and I am truly sorry for your loss. I know she was your friend.” Lofgren left the bar without asking for his water again. He wanted to leave her to her thoughts. Back at the table Kasparov was half way through his whisky and was talking to Randall about a girl they had met recently. She was a bartender at a chain restaurant he had been to the previous week. Apparently he had found her attractive and she ended up going home with Randall. Lofgren found it strange that Kasparov seemed to be moving on so soon after losing someone close to him.
It had been twenty minutes since their arrival when Jared walked in to the club. Lofgren nudged Kasparov and gestured toward the man. It was time to do that they had come for. They waited just long enough for him to sit down and get comfortable before approaching him.
“Jared Halivers?” Lofgren asked.
“Yeah. What can I do for you?” He replied.
“I am Agent Lofgren, this here is Detective Kasparov. We are investigating some disappearances in the area.” Lofgren explained. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“I can’t say I do.” Jared answered.
“We have you on tape talking to the victims.” Kasparov replied.
“I talk to everyone, what of it. You can’t seriously think I know anything about any of that.” Jared spoke faster now than when the conversation began. Lofgren knew he was getting somewhere.
“We have reason to believe you may be involved. We need you to come to the station and answer a few questions.” Lofgren explained.
“You have the wrong idea. I just come here to see the ladies.” Jared replied.
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Halivers. Now please come with us. I don’t want to do this the hard way.” Lofgren warned.
“I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t done anything.” Jared spat back.
“Then we will have to arrest you. I have a warrant with your name on it, Jared.” Kasparov retorted.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Jared insisted. He frantically looked around before turning to run. Kasparov lunged at him to restrain him and he began his arrest. He had one cuff on before Jared managed to get his other arm free and reached for Kasparov’s gun.
The sound of the weapon going off echoed in the air as everyone went silent. The moment lasted only a second but it seemed to go on for an eternity. Kasparov fell hard to the ground and Jared bolted through the dressing rooms making his way to the back door. Lofgren wanted to make sure Kasparov was going to pull through, but if he let Jared get away it wouldn’t matter. He chased after him tearing through the dressing room toward the back door. Racks of clothes clattered to the floor as Jared shoved them in front of Lofgren. He maneuvered quickly over them and made his way out the door after the suspect.
Another shot rang out in the alley. Jared had stopped running and now fired at Lofgren. The bullet came so close he could feel the air around it move past his face. He knew he had no choice but to fire back. With a smile he quickly aimed and put one round in Jared’s knee. Now there was no escape and he could be apprehended. Jared screamed in pain as the silver bullet entered his body. He writhed on the stone ground in the alley and fired another shot at Lofgren. The anguish he felt had affected his aim and the bullet missed entirely.
“Don’t shoot!” Lofgren yelled. “If you do I will have to use an appropriate level of force. I would hate to have to clean your skull off the side of this building.”
“Fuck you! You’re not going to get me. Not like this.” Jared yelled back.
“I don’t think you’re working alone. Let me help you. If you just cooperate, this whole thing can get easier for you. I don’t want to kill you, but you aren’t leaving me much choice here.” Lofgren reasoned with him.
“You shot me with a silver bullet. Who the fuck uses silver bullets? I’m going to die if I don’t get it out, and fast. What could I possibly gain helping you?” Jared asked.
“I can remove the bullet. I can get you to a hospital. Before anything you have to let me arrest you.” Lofgren offered.
“I’m not going to jail.” Jared replied. “And I can’t tell you who I am working with. Even if you save me they would kill me. How is that any better? You think I wanted to be this person? You think I wanted to kill your friend in there? Well, maybe that part wasn’t so bad.”
“No. I don’t think that’s true” Lofgren reasoned. “I think you’re scared. I want to help you. I can protect you. Just let me take you in.”
“Like you protected the junkie whore? I may not always like what I am, but that was fun. She may not have been able to scream but her eyes were loud enough for me. I’d rather take you with me than give up the only people who took me in knowing who and what I am. There are too few of us to turn on my own now” Jared retorted. “I hope this answers your questions. You can spend the rest of eternity searching for us.”
He unloaded Kasparov’s pistol in to Lofgren’s chest before throwing the gun to the side and trying to pull the bullet from his knee. Lofgren had been knocked back by the shots but he was still alive. He managed to push himself up just enough to take aim and pull the trigger. A silver bullet ripped through Jared’s head leaving bits of bone and brain splattered against the red brick walls of the alley way. For a few moments he lay on the pavement. His chest hurt from the impact but he had thought to take measures against being fired at. Kasparov, on the other hand had not. Lofgren pushed his ruined shirt aside and loosened the bulletproof vest he wore underneath.
He pushed himself up and leaned against the wall looking at what remained of Jared. Something glinted around the man’s neck that caught his attention. Looking closer it was a necklace bearing the same symbol he had seen at the sites of the suicide confessions. A quick search of the dead man’s pockets revealed a cell phone. Lofgren took it along with the necklace and limped inside to check on Kasparov.
Inside the girls were in a panic. A few of them worked frantically with Randall to try to stop the bleeding from Kasparov’s wounds while others sat and cried. It was strange to see his friend laying there almost dead, being able to do nothing to save him. Missy was trying to clean the area around the wound and Randall was applying pressure. Ginger had tried to pack the wound with a clean bar towel. Diamond was on the phone with emergency services. Claudia held Kasparov’s limp hand. None of it seemed to be helping.
A team of emergency responders rushed in and set to work immediately. It didn’t take long to get Kasparov in to the ambulance. Lofgren wanted to go with him, to make sure he would live but he knew he had to stay and straighten out the mess that had been made here at the club. As soon as he could, he would visit Kasparov.
“Is Scott going to make it?” Randall asked with tears in his eyes.
“I’m not sure.” Lofgren responded sorrowfully. “He was hurt pretty badly, but his chances are still good.”
“Did Jared get away” Randall asked.
“No.” Lofgren replied. “I stopped him, but he fired back at me. I had to put him down.”
“Good” Randall said hatefully. It was strange to hear the small man sounding so bitter. Lofgren assumed it was because of the friendship he shared with Kasparov. If he was close to someone, maybe he would react the same way.
The police had arrived to document everything that had happened and Lofgren had to get back to work. He told them what had occurred leaving out anything related to vampires. He also neglected to tell the officers about the phone or the necklace. As soon as they were done with the report he left them to finish up so he could catch a cab to the hospital. He needed to know Kasparov was going to live. He couldn’t stand the thought of causing another death so soon, especially someone who had not forsaken him once his theories were discussed. Not only would he lose a partner, he would once again fail to close the case before the death toll began to rise again.
VII.
Kasparov had been lucky back at Marian’s. Ja
red’s bullet passed strait through him without severely damaging any major organs. If he had been struck any further one way or another it was likely he would have been dead, rather than coming out of the anesthesia from his surgery. The memory of what all had happened was blurry in his mind. As Kasparov went through everything over and over he had enough clarity to know that Jared had shot him and that he had gotten away. It was somewhat likely Lofgren had apprehended him, but the memory just wasn’t there. The idea of Jared behind bars was one that brought a smile to his face, and the thought that his partner had shot the man who killed Bambi was even more satisfying.
Any time he tried to think of what had happened there was a nagging feeling that something was wrong. He couldn’t reach the thought that was eluding him no matter how hard he concentrated. For the next several hours he would drift in and out of conciseness as his body worked hard to recover from the trauma that it had experienced. The dreams he had while sleeping were unusual and terrifying. They depicted dark monsters, extreme evils, and oddly arousing women. It was like something from the Heavy Metal magazine. When he woke, Kasparov would write the dreams off as fever dreams and try to remember the details of what happened at Marian’s.
An older woman came had come in to check in on him and make adjustments to the devices that monitored his vitals. She was a nurse and seemed to be rather efficient in her workings, although not entirely pleasant. She was a bit rough with him anytime she had to adjust anything and spoke scarcely. It wasn’t that she was rude, or even that she meant to cause him discomfort, Kasparov considered, she was just busy. There had been a party shooting and a multiple car collision that sent at least eight other people in to the same ward of the hospital at nearly the same time. As much as he wanted to let her be to go to her next patient, he needed to let Lofgren know he had pulled through and was going to recover.
Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine Page 7
