After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2) (14 page)

His own family had been killed, hunted down and butchered long ago, when things had begun to change. When the night ceremony was outlawed, all those found participating in secret under the cloak of darkness were put to death. Yuri’s own father was hauled away to be hanged; the temple, once filled with silver, was looted, and Pavel’s people were slaughtered or driven away.

Few people remembered. His people were legend now. Some said that it was because his people had too much influence. The nobility wanted for themselves the hearts of the people. And they were now free to terrorize unrestrained, burn homes, destroy villages.

Pavel rose out of the uncomfortable bed and reached for his boots, his sword and cloak, and gathered the few things he traveled with.

He needed to begin moving on again, to deliver the treacherous girl home to her murderous father. But he wished he could simply leave, exit through the rear door to the inn, go to his horse and ride away, abandon the wench to fend for herself. And he could not.

“Why couldn’t he?” she demanded. “That’s what I’d do!”

“Why? People were different then. They had this unheard of thing called honor, and duty, and—”

“And why didn’t he just do whatever he wanted with that other girl, whatever her name is? Helena.”

He grew irritated. “I told you why.”

“Well, I don’t understand.”

“I do not think any modern person could understand.”

Instead of continuing to contradict him she began to laugh uncontrollably. “I do not see what is funny. Oh well, at least it’s good to see you happy about something, finally.”

“You’re just so serious all of a sudden.”

“Me? Now, look,” he continued.

The forest was dark and soundless; Pavel knew that was a bad sign, for if there was no song of night birds or cries of animals, then there had been trouble. Or there soon would be trouble.

Perhaps during the day while men ventured into the forest there was a hunt, with many men and horses and hounds. He hoped that was all.

Or perhaps there were bandits nearby; the silence betrayed their presence? He listened, but could hear nothing.

Could there have been a battle close by? He inhaled for the scent of blood in the air. No. Another village burned? No. There was no trace of smoke.

He attempted to converse with the woman as they rode but she remained silent, and so he ignored her until she let out a sharp wailing cry.

“The gods save us! Not now, woman! It is too early.”

“I am ill, you fool. Do not mock me!” She choked, coughed, then vomited onto the forest floor, but much of it landed on the mare’s soft brown coat.

“You are indeed not well, I see. There is a stream ahead. You may get some water.”

“I only wish to die. Why do you not let me? I am miserable.”

“Yes, so am I! Come on, you shall wash your face, have some cool water, and be in your own bed before the dawn,” but Pavel did not know where he would rest.

Martin rose up from the edge of the toilet bowl. He spat the rest out, trying to get the taste of vomit out of his mouth. He had been a cop more than 20 years, but it was the first time the job made him throw up. “Shit, oh shit.” It was terrible. He could not get it out of his mind.

He stumbled out of the bathroom, shuffled weakly to his little girl’s room, and opened the door. She was there, in one piece. Everything was okay.

Thank God.

He shut the door.

He knew he would not sleep at all now. God, he thought, how the hell long can they keep this all covered up? The papers had a tiny feature on “a body found in an alley, cause of death unknown. Police are investigating for a possible homicide.”

Cause of death unknown! She was butchered.

There was not much in the local papers about the mess found on the doorstep of the library, right in the center of town, either. Only that a homeless man was discovered, cause of death unknown. Someone, somewhere, held onto some very tight puppet strings. And he was beginning to wonder if Rick and Alexandra were telling the truth, about their people not being involved, at least. They ran stores and nightclubs, but they didn’t run the town newspapers.

And tonight there was a new victim, this time a woman.

He shivered when he thought about it, felt his guts heave. He choked it back, swallowed. Her face, her whole face, was just so brutally done in, it would take a while to identify the victim.

He wretched, coughed, and thought about it. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Her stomach had been torn open, also; a bloodied, empty cavity. In his hallway, he fell to his knees and let go. He threw up a second time. It spilled onto the carpet. Martin sunk to the floor and wept quietly.

He somehow felt responsible for it. He deserved to be the one in the alley, torn apart, not her, whoever she was. Because he couldn’t stop him, it, them, whoever, whatever, was responsible for the hell that existed on the dark streets.

Help me, man! Help me! Don’t let him kill me, man —

He wept silently, buried his face into the carpet to muffle the sobs so his little girl couldn’t wake up and see her daddy falling apart.

The homeless man was finishing his food; he ate like someone who had never seen food before. He smelled bad. He looked bad. And everyone in the cheap, greasy, brightly lit fast food place was glaring at them both. “You don’t eat at all, do you?”

“What kinda question is that?” Rick wore his metal framed amber sunglasses. The artificial lights annoyed him.

“I think I know who you are now.” He loudly slurped his large Coke.

“Jimmy Hoffa?”

“Come off it, man.”

“Okay. I admit it. I’m really Elvis. The aliens from Pluto brought me back to earth.”

“Don’t shit me, okay? You don’t eat nothin’, right?”

“So?” He smiled slightly, a tight lipped grimace. He knew what was coming, and he didn’t care. He had ceased to care long ago.

“We know you guys are around, you know. We see you, hanging around that place together, we see what sometimes falls off the delivery truck, we see it when it spills and gets all over the pavement.”

He would need to remind Leon to speak to the delivery people, again. “Yeah? So?”

“So, like why the hell do you care about us? No one else does.”

“Okay, that’s simple. If we don’t locate this dirtbag, a lot of people are gonna start looking at us. ’Cause you’re not the only one who knows. Want some more fries? You can have all you want.”

“Why me? I mean, don’t you guys, like, you know, just eat people?”

“Nope. And the stuff that fell off the truck was from a slaughterhouse. And I won’t do nothing to you,” he spoke quietly. “Look, you’ve seen it. You got a look at it.”

“Yeah, people on the street say it’s an ape man, like a primitive guy, or something, a cave man. It don’t talk at all, just drags people off, rips ’em apart, dumps the bodies somewheres. Police let it go on, too. Yeah, and I do want more food. And coffee, too.”

“Will you talk to someone for me?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause you’re a little scary yourself. Can I still have the food? I want another burger now, too.”

“Yeah, sure.” Rick hid the fact that he was annoyed. “Stay here. I’ll get it for you, okay? Look, if I promise no one will hurt you, will you talk to someone then?” He stood up to get in line.

“I dunno. Who?”

“A cop.”

“Don’t like no cops. I had a nice cardboard box to sleep in once, and the cops took it away. It was all I had.”

Rick sighed and stood up to go wait in line. “Look, I’ll get your burger and coffee, then when I get back we’ll talk more, okay?”

The old man in line in front of him smelled worse that the young vagrant; he smelled of cigarettes and sweat. Finally after a wait he got up to the counter. The girl who took the order had four inch purple nails and pink hair, and a gold ring in her nose. She handed him the food, took his money and gave him change, and then told him that he was cute. He ignored the girl and made his way back to the table, but the vagrant was gone.

“Oh hell.” Rick tossed the food away in the large plastic trashcan that had
We Are Happy to Serve You!
printed on it. He was glad that he never frequented the place. He left.

It was a few hours before dawn, yet everyone was there. After Dark was filled to capacity, yet the music was stifled, its dark interior was quiet. Rick sat in the corner by Alexandra. Lina and Alex were across from him. He looked around. Yes, they were all there, everyone, even Leon. Especially Leon. He wasn’t really one of them, but he was there. He was always there.

Irina slowly stood up before them and spoke. “Most of you have heard about the recent troubles. There have been several violent deaths, of an extremely savage and brutal nature. One was close to our location, with some incriminating graffiti. “

Anxious whispers filled the room.

“Most of the information has not been released to the papers, but it is only a matter of time before we are all in terrible danger. Many of you are not old enough to remember the terrible persecution of the old country, but it can happen again, and it can happen here, if we allow it.” She spoke until it was nearly daylight.

The soft morning light poured gently through the window and Rick went to close the curtains.

“I wonder if that strange fool who is new in town has anything to do with any of this scandal,” Alex grumbled. He and Lina lived a several miles away, in the less crowded part of town, where people had small yards and gardens in front of their homes instead of pavement and streetlights. Rick had asked them to spend the day at his place, as their drive home would not be comfortable.

“Oh, he is harmless,” Lina nearly laughed at the idea. “A harmless New Age type, or so I hope.”

“None of them are harmless,” her husband growled.

Rick pulled off his black leather boots and let them drop on the floor by the couch. His leather jacket landed on top of the boots. And he landed on the couch, rested his head on the single small pillow and pulled the woolen Navajo blanket over him. “You guys help yourselves to the fridge,” and he shut his eyes.

In minutes Rick could hear Alex wander into the kitchen and start to complain about the state of his disorganized home. “No, Lina, I won’t shut up. And I don’t care if he hears me. He ought to clean this clutter up.”

Rick laughed quietly. He loved to annoy his older brother, his very much older brother. Born in the old country, son of Irina’s first husband. They both had their mother’s dark hair and dark eyes, yet they seemed worlds apart and could almost never agree on anything.

“Rick,” Lina whispered.

He lethargically opened his eyes and turned to see her kneeling by the side of the couch staring at him. “Yeah?”

“What’s her name?”

“Huh? Who are you talking about?”

“The girl. You know, the one you said was suicidal ’cause her crazy rich parents drove her nuts.”

“Laura.”

“Laura What?”

“Rivers. Why?” He was tired and grew irritated.

“Could she be the daughter of Augustus James Rivers the Third?”

“August James Who?”

“You know, he’s got this big, big estate in the northern part of the state. Kind of an eccentric, they say. Gives to extreme political causes. Someone wrote a tell-all book about the family, that he’s a real control freak or something. He owns vineyards, breeds race horses, and has a private jet, owns several companies, and everything.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is the same family. I never bothered to check it out. I’m too busy keeping her from going through with it.”

“I read in the paper where she’s supposed to be already dead. But Jim Ellison says there’s a rumor that she’s still alive, that she ran away from her crazy family. He says he interviewed a maid when he was digging into that family awhile back.”

He thought a moment and recalled some of what she’d told him. “Yeah. I know. She told me when she went out on her own that he disowned her and claimed to everyone outside the family she died in a yachting accident, or something like that, and she said he even staged a funeral, put an obituary in the paper, all that. She told me one night she even saw pictures of her own funeral in all the newspapers. Can you imagine? The kid says she’s depressed ’cause she doesn’t fit in, but her father sounds really bad. I guess she wasn’t making any of that stuff up, then.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What?!”

“Is she pretty?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So. She’s pretty!”

“Lina!”

“Rick, Gabrielle would have wanted you to go on with your life.”

“Come off it.”

“You can’t mourn her forever.” She suddenly became serious.

“She’s just a kid,” he moaned. “Just twenty four, or something.”

“So? Gabrielle was twenty two when you met her.”