After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2) (11 page)

“No. Then I wouldn’t get to hear the rest of the story. If it is true, I want to hear it.”

“Yeah.” He raised his voice so she could hear him from the kitchen. “Well, if that’s the only thing making you want to live. “

He finally returned from the kitchen. “Come on. It’s one a.m. If you don’t get some sleep, you won’t be able to deal with the little monsters in the morning. Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“In case I meet the serial killer?”

“Or something worse, like a second grader.”

She sighed and followed him out the door.

She couldn’t help looking as they passed it. She often felt drawn down into it, hearing the faint whisper of music, the sound of quiet voices.

But she was told to stay away.

“Nothing exciting goes on down there, just people getting together, to socialize, that’s all.” He noticed her watching the door and he reassured her.

“I think it must be very interesting. I mean, I don’t have many friends. Except maybe you.” She still wasn’t sure if she could safely consider him her friend.

“Sorry, but it’s members only down there.”

“Is it no mortals allowed?” she was surprised at herself for even daring to ask.

“Well, yes.” He didn’t feel like explaining it to her that he wasn’t truly immortal, that he would really only live two or three centuries, a short time compared to eternity. But he was satisfied that she understood. He started walking again to encourage her to keep moving. “I don’t know where you live. We are going in the right direction?”

“I at least know my way home,” she protested. “And! You would be proud of me today. I did figure out how to run a washing machine, all by myself, and I don’t think I damaged anything.”

“Lose any socks?”

“I think one could be missing, but...” She thought about it. Did she make a mistake counting?

“Good. You’re learning then. So if you can’t tame the wild animals, how come you joined the circus?”

“What?”

Rick was finally beginning to realize that her lack of experience with the real world made her a little slow in understanding his sense of humor. “How come you became a teacher?”

“Oh. I see. I had a terrifically rotten childhood. Well, I told you about that, but I wanted to bring joy into young people’s lives, to make up for what I lost. But they walk all over me. Rick, do you think I’ll ever be happy?”

“Not if you do yourself in.”

“I told you. I’m too much of a coward.”

He followed her around the next corner, letting her lead the way back to her apartment. “Look, you have got to learn to just be.”

“Be what?”

“Just be. That’s all. Stop trying so hard to fit in. I know I’m different, but I don’t try to fit in or be like everyone else. And what happens? No one even notices! The thing some people see is that I don’t have a tan, like most people in this town. And sometimes I wear sunglasses around dusk when it’s only half dark out. If you’re a klutz sometimes, so what? Lots of people are. Does it really matter? Learn to leave yourself alone.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He wanted to tell her about Leon. He had such a terrible childhood that he never talked about what happened. Leon was found bruised and beaten behind a dumpster in an alley clutching a ragged stuffed bear. He refused to speak to anyone for months. But Irina gave him constant attention, doted on him, and gave him everything.

Leon fit in with everyone. He was part of both worlds.

“Here I am,” she said suddenly. “This is my building. I’m on the third floor.”

He looked up at the new building. “Not bad.”

“See my new car? That one, the blue one.” She pointed towards the parking lot.

Rick noticed about seven different blue cars in the area but guessed that hers must be the BMW. “Oh. Very nice!”

“I’m afraid to drive it.”

“It’s easy. Look, next time you come by, we’ll figure that out, okay?”

He was almost relieved when she did not ask him to stay with her. He needed to be with his own kind for a while.

His sister Alexandra and his brother’s wife Lina were at a table together when he came down into the comfortable darkness where they usually gathered.

He joined them. Lina was laughing hysterically when he sat beside her. She was in the middle of telling Alexandra about the Mystical Zontar of Atlantis. “What an awful strange costume he had on. It was so tight.”

“How tight was it?” Alexandra asked.

“Oh, really, really tight. And anyway, Alex was just so mad. He just hates these freaky types.”

“I know! Tell me about it!” she laughed.

“Hey,” Rick interrupted. “Hey, is this the same space ranger that we saw prancing around in pantyhose?”

“Yes!” Lina giggled. “Sky says he is a psychic, or something,” she called out to the waitress who brought a tray to their table.

Rick asked, “So, who is this damned fool?”

“I don’t know. Sky says he’s called Zontar, from Atlantis. And he is,” she tried to remember what she called it, “A trance-channeler, or something.”

“And he wears a tight costume!” Alexandra chirped, “I do wish I had seen this interesting person.”

“How long has this weirdo been in town?” Rick asked, taking a sip from the heavy cut lead crystal glass, and half wondering if Zontar had anything to do with the recent problems in town.

“Well,” and Lina took a deep sip from her own glass, “that early morning was the first time we saw him, remember? But I don’t know how long Sky has been hiding him. God, that’s right. Her rent was due again this week, and again, nothing.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, “No money, no nothing.”

“So, then get rid of her.”

“It’s not that easy, Rick. There’s all sorts of stuff about tenant’s rights.” She finished her drink. “Alex is totally disgusted. And she is not the only one who won’t pay up, but most people are not as bad. They at least try, most of them.”

Rick quietly changed the subject, “Hear anything else, then, Alexandra? You know, from Martin?”

“No,” she answered simply. “I haven’t spoken to him since the other night, but nothing new. But I’m worried still. He really seems to believe we have something to do with it.”

He left after leaving a large tip for the waitress. The women did not want to talk anymore about the serial killings, and he didn’t either. But, someone, somewhere, had to know something.

A brisk walk in the cold night air would do him good, help him think. He did not like it that Martin suspected them. He did not like it at all. He need to find some information, somewhere.

The murder victims were mostly homeless, vagrants, or prostitutes. People no one cared about.

He knew some homeless people hung around in some of the less popular parts of town, and the police would often harass them away from the places where tourists might see them.

Maybe if he could talk to some of them, ask questions, find out if anyone had been bothering them lately.

It was near dawn and the streets were finally almost silent. Rick could hear a cat howl in a distance, the voices of people speaking quietly, he could smell the smoke of a fire lit in a rusted metal trash can. He headed in that direction.

The smell of smoke became stronger; he slowed when he saw the men surrounding the flames to warm themselves from the night’s chill and be near some light. They were behind the delivery entrance to one of the restaurants that had closed down many hours ago. One of the men picked through the trash behind the large delivery entrance, pulled something out, sniffed at it and ate it swiftly, as if he did not wish to take the time to even taste it.

Rick watched. The man continued to dig through the trash for more food. It sickened him to watch it.
Why? Why do these people not feed their own kind? Even if they were on drugs, or drunk and useless, or insane, they should not be made to eat garbage.

Beside him, sleeping below the trash cans were two men, a young one and an older one, sleeping on concrete amongst emptied beer cans, the greasy papers that once wrapped other people’s food, and pools of vomit that were drying yet still smelled strong when the wind carried it with the night air. It sickened him to see it all. They slept on concrete, ate what other people threw away, lived worse lives than dogs.

The man going through the trash finally found something that interested him. He pulled it out and held it up to see it better with the help of a street light.

Rick could see that someone took one bite out of a sandwich and tossed the rest away.

The man hid the food in his coat and began to limp down into the darkness of the alley. Rick silently followed. And he found him sitting on the pavement, leaning against the brick wall, eating quietly so no one else would see him and try to get his sandwich.

“Hey, excuse me?”

No answer.

“Hey, look man. Can we talk?”

But he continued to greedily eat the last of the sandwich.

“Want some money?”

He finally looked up. “Get lost, pervert.”

“It ain’t like that, man. Wanna ask some questions.”

The man rose and quickly limped away. “Stupid social workers.”

Rick continued through the alley. It would take him in the direction of the street that would bring him home. He froze when the scream echoed out so powerfully against the brick walls that it seemed to be coming from everywhere, from out of the heart of the darkness itself. Another scream, the crash of trash cans falling and rolling against pavement.

He hurried to it.

The man who escaped him was lifted off the ground then hurled against the brick side of a building, he hit the wall and fell. A steel pipe was raised above his head.

“Hey! You! Stop that!” Rick doubted shouting would help.

The attacker stood up to his full height, turned and gazed through the darkness trying to see Rick in the blackness of the alley. Rick stayed hidden in the darkness but he could see well. The beast was well over six feet tall, at least two hundred and fifty pounds of vicious muscle and insane rage. He advanced toward Rick like a locomotive, gaining speed as he moved, steel pipe raised.

Rick bolted out of the alley, headed swiftly down the street and did not look back.

He finally slowed when he came through the darkened back street that ran behind his home, he looked around, saw nothing, and slowed to a walk.

His wine red 1968 Catalina convertible was in his small patch of a back yard, there to silently greet his return. Its large chromed grille flashed in the darkness, as if to placidly smile at him. He heard the crickets that sang out loudly under his back doorstep, and in the distant hills that surrounded the town a coyote bayed, singing to the stars in the deep velvet blue night sky.

All seemed pleasant, and good. His own peaceful unexciting part of the world was still preserved safe for his return, intact without invasion.

He reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket for his keys and ascended the steps to the second floor of the Victorian house. Before he could enter a small black cat leapt away, out from under his feet. It was the stray he had seen before wandering the neighborhood, searching for food. Later, if he remembered, perhaps he would go out to buy it some cat food.

He went in and closed the door tightly, and made certain it was locked. The window facing east began to glow with the coming dawn, he quietly drew the curtains, then went to the refrigerator. The long run didn’t exhaust him, but it made him hunger. Soon he would sleep for the day, but first he would once again check the locks, all of them.

The children had been quiet that afternoon, and for that Laura was grateful.

The bus stopped and she rose to get off. It was air conditioned and comfortable. When she got off the bus and stepped onto the pavement she again felt the full blast of the late afternoon heat. She needed to walk nearly a half mile. Her new car was air conditioned. Soon she would also try and force herself to gather up the courage to drive it.

She needed to stop at the market; she would purchase some vegetables, perhaps pasta, and maybe spaghetti sauce. She had recently found that some food packages had recipes on the backs of them. Slowly, somehow, by trial and error, she was actually learning to cook for herself.

She left the grocery store with only one bag; it felt heavy and she tried balancing it on her hip but it did not make her much more comfortable. It would be less difficult if the southern California sun was not so intense.

Her expensive silk blouse glued itself to her soaked skin; sweat dripped from her forehead and ran into her eyes. Perhaps Rick was actually very lucky, she wondered. His entire existence was spent in the cool soft night air. And in the darkness. She looked up. The sun was strong and burnt into her eyes. The darkness. She almost longed for it.

Where was he now? Asleep. Where else? He was comfortably and peacefully asleep. He said he would teach her drive. And she would never need to walk in the heat again.