The Scene (20 page)

             
“Not really.” I figured I’d better keep it vague.

             
“Not really to which question?” He pressed on.

             
“All of them.” See, vague.

             
“Now Dylan, there is no need to be reserved with friends. I am only concerned for you. I would like to see you again.”             

Yeah, fucking, right! Why do you want to see me again? So you can humiliate me? So you can make me feel like a fat loser while you prance around with your skinny perfect girlfriend.
  

There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I didn’t. I kept it in. I felt like I was in high school all over again. It’s not fun to be fat in high school. And I learned way back then
, to not let shit like this affect me. Sometimes people, well guys, are just stupid. And occasionally, they can be downright fucking cruel. I tried very hard then to keep my cool. It was a losing battle.

“Yeah, you’ll see me tonight. Macabre, remember? I just told you that. And if you were so damn concerned with me then
, why did you leave with that….” I stopped myself. A rant about his extracurricular activities right then would only egg him on and piss me off all over again.  

             
“With whom?” His voice resounded smugness.

             
Bastard.
“Nothing. Never mind. So all you wanted was to see how I was doing?”

             
“Yes, of course. And to see if you knew anything about the bodies. I am very interested in the case, Dylan. And in you. The two just, so luckily for me, go hand in hand.”

“Yeah, whatever. I
’m fine. I know nothing. I’ll stop by at opening tonight. Be there.”
He’s so fucking interested in me. Yeah right. I’ll believe that when pigs fly.

             
“My lovely cantankerous, Dylan. I have done nothing to you, please be pleasant. It suits you better. And me for that matter.”

             
“I couldn’t care less what suits you. Did you know that girl who was killed last night?” As long as he was talking, I figured I could attempt a real question or two. Nothing too serious, clearly. Didn’t want to frighten the poor boy off.

             
“No. I don’t believe so. She did not look familiar. I was not at Macabre last night. I spent my evening alone at home.” He sounded a tad forlorn at the thought of being alone. Bullshit.

             
“Alone? You? Okay.” I scoffed. “Did they release her photo to the media already?”

             
“Umm, no. She was unfortunate enough to have been photographed by a citizen. Her photo was on the internet before the police even arrived on scene.” His voice held the sound of actually pity for the girl.

             
“I see. And you just stumbled upon this unfortunate photo?” I smelled the distinct scent of bullshit.

             
“Dylan, you are out of the loop as they say. There is a website dedicated to these so called Vampire Massacres. I assume you have yet to view this site?”

             
“You would assume correctly. What’s the website?”
There’s fucking website now?

             
“I will text you the information once we are finished speaking. I will warn you, the photo is quite gruesome. And the site itself is crude to say the least. The horrendous jargon being spewed of vampires is deplorable.” He was in a huff now.

             
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, I guess. I’m sure I can handle whatever photo some bystander could have snapped with their cell phone. Send me the name of that site, I’ll check it out as soon as I get internet signal.”
Oops, too much information.

             
“Are you out of range? Where have you run off to, Dylan?”

             
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tonight.”

             
“As you wish. Be careful. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

             
“Me either.” I hung up. I couldn’t deal with his penetrating, obscure, sexy ass one more second.

             
“Well, that was curious. Was it just me or was he a little too inquisitive?” Tatum had only heard the last half of the conversation, but it was the most pertinent.

             
“No, it wasn’t just you. I want to see this website he’s talking about. Maybe we can get some additional info. Or maybe we will be jam-packed with a bunch of crap. Either way, it’s something to do on the drive.”

             
“Who would take a picture of a dead girl? That’s a little sadistic, don’t you think?” Tatum said with disgust.

             
“Just a little. Everyone has become obsessed with this case. With vampires in general. It was only a matter of time before something like this started. I get that this is not a new idea, vampires in literature and whatnot. But for whatever reason, the last few years has lent itself to the fantasy that vampires are amazing creatures that reside in modern society. Hell, half of the recent philosophies of vampires describe them as law abiding citizens; drinking blood from bottles and all that jazz. The mass media has portrayed vampires as acceptable beings in pop-culture as of late. Why wouldn’t someone believe themselves to be a blood-sucking-fiend-from-beyond-the-grave? They would only be accepted into society with open arms and pocket books anyway. No stakes. No hammers. Just lusty babes and all the blood they can drink.”
Fin.

             
“Did you write that down? It would make for the beginnings of a killer article.” Tatum Price, always on the job. 

             
“Commit it to memory,” I responded coldly.

             
“Is this going to turn into a serious brainstorming session? I need to know how mentally prepared I need to be.”

             
“At some point in this tangled mess of bloody bullshit my inner grown up has to come out. Better sooner than later.” I felt a mental purge teetering at the edge of my lips.

             
“Or dead-er.” Trust Tatum to dumb-down a situation. “This is reality, not movies or books or television.” She picked up where we’d left off. “Sometime soon, the fantasy will meet a violent end. And all this vampire drivel will too.”

             
“Why is everyone so fanatical with this bullshit? What’s so damn special about vampires?” I actually crossed my arms over my chest and tucked my chin into my neck. Pouting like a master.

             
“A new way to make money. Everyone and their mother is writing a book about vampires, that becomes a movie, then enters the TV spin off. It’s a venomous circle that will continue to repeat itself until people are sick of it. Which does not appear to be anytime soon. As of right now, there are websites going up dedicated to dead girls missing blood. Evidently, no one’s scared off yet. I doubt they will be, until more people start getting killed. Even then I doubt it. Open your arms and embrace the mania, Dylan. It’s not going anywhere.”

             
“They should be scared. I’m scared. There’s some weird shit going on here. What’s with Cyrus and his twenty questions? And how did he know so much about the girl from last night and the other day? In all actuality, he and his band of misfits are on the top of my shit list. With the Fresno oddities coming in at a close second. I doubted his involvement from the beginning. And Reggie, I never even suspected. But after talking to that little girl, I’m beginning to think they have something to do with it. Plus, I think the kids in Fresno know way more than they’re letting on. And I think Reggie will be able to tie it all together. Or I could be absolutely wrong and it’s someone else entirely.”
This could prove to be absolute reality.

             
“Always a possibility. On the other hand, there are other avenues we’ve yet to consider. Superficially, there are no real vampires because they have fangs, no need for the use of hypodermic needles. But, I would not rule that out. Vampire seems a logical explanation. Why not, right?” She seemed quite serious, and then she smiled.

             
“Sure, why not? Well, let’s say someone is a vampire. An honest to goodness vampire. Could it be an already listed suspect? Or would we have to find Buffy and hunt the son of a bitch down? Hmmm….” I tapped my finger on my chin, thinking.

             
“If I had to vote, I’d say that Dominika was definitely a vampire,” she said swiftly and pointedly.

             
“Agreed. I’m surprised you didn’t say Mike. You blame him for everything. What about Reggie? Or Sandora? They have predator qualities.”

             
“Mike? A vampire? No way. Sandora was a freak of nature, but I don’t know about an actual vampire. If Reggie were a vampire, she’d have to be like a flunky. A gofer. Like a vampire lackey. Not a head honcho at all. Too weak. Cyrus, on the other hand, he has potential. Gorgeous, hangs with the right crowd, suspicious background, definite possibility. But I don’t think any of them did it. I think we’re looking for someone we’ve yet to meet.”

             
“A shadow. A last-chapter-villain. But that’s no fun. The best part is the twist at the end of the who-done-it. The seemingly innocent neighbor, the honest boyfriend, or the reliable informant,” I stated surely.

             
“The trusted best friend.” I looked at the side of her face when she spoke. She never looked at me. I stared at her a moment before deciding to move on from the thought that Tatum was a bloodsucker.

             
“Maybe. But in all reality, vampire fantasy aside, there is a real killer out there. And he or she knows who I am, feasibly anyway. And I don’t think I’m too comfortable with that. No, in fact, I’m not.” I nodded my head once to prove it.

             
“You’ll be fine. Quit freaking out. There are no vampires remember? No mist floating under your door. No mystical mind fucks. No super human strength. Just some asshole who thinks he’s a bloodsucker. No need for a stake or holy water, just shoot him if it comes right down to it. When all else fails, use bullets.” She was right. A bullet would work.

             
I have plenty of bullets.

CHAPTER 20

              We were approaching the Grapevine and would be home in a few hours. Less by Tatum-time. I figured I’d better call Mike before I lost all signal on the hill. Cyrus hadn’t sent the web address I asked for yet. I may just not have had enough signal to get it, but I wouldn’t doubt that he’d flaked and didn’t send it. I only had a few bars so I dialed Mike hurriedly from my call log and listened to it ring, forever.

             
“Hello, you have reached Detective Michael Petersen. Please leave your name and phone number and I will contact you as soon as I am available. Thank you.” It beeped.

             
“Hey Mike, we are coming up on the Grapevine, we’ll be home in a few hours. Got a weird call from someone I met at Macabre Saturnine the other night. I think I might need you to back me up tonight when I talk to him. I’m going home to get my shit and then I’ll be over. We can go from your place. Call me so I know you’ll be home. I’ll be at my place till you call. Bye.”

             
I hung up. I waited a few minutes and decided to call again. It rang, forever.

             
“Hello, you have reached Detective Michael Petersen…” No need to leave a message again. I hung up, again.

             
It had only been a few hours since I talked to him and he was all concerned.

Why would he not answer my call?

I told myself I was being a little arrogant and that Mike was not sitting around waiting for my call for hours on end. 

              “I wouldn’t doubt he actually is.” Tatum spoke out of nowhere. We hadn’t said much for the last hour or so; consequently, her voice was shrill in my ears.

             
“What?” I asked, not believing I had just heard what she said.

             
“I wouldn’t doubt Mike waits for you to call for hours on end.”

             
“Umm…hello sudden-psychic-ability. How the fuck did you know I was inner monologue-ing?”
Creepy
.

             
“Because you were talking out loud. Are you high?” She wasn’t laughing when she said this.

             
“Not right now, no. I didn’t know I was actually forming words. Sorry. I must be really tired. I tried to call Mike a few times and he didn’t answer.”

             
“I know, I was there. I heard your hour long message.” Still not even a smile from her.

             
“My brain hasn’t been functioning properly the last few days. Oh, I need sleep.” That sounded like a wondrous idea.

             
“I guess so. Or a good detox.” She laughed quick and wild at that. She never took her eyes off the road.

             
“Sleep will work for now. Then food. Then home.” Tatum didn’t respond.

             
I watched as flat land made way for slanted views from my passenger window. The Grapevine is a forty mile long steep gradient and decline over the Tehachapi Mountains. Most direct route apparently. I say it’s a travesty to California’s natural mystique. But who am I to say yay or nay?

Cars and trucks lined the roadway. At the foot of the hill you can see upward to what seems to be the top; a lovely view of what is to come in Los Angeles traffic.

Wonderful
.

I watched as we passed minivans and sports cars. Our little black sporty zipped in and out of traffic at a speed I would have kicked Tatum for yesterday. Today, I just wanted to get home.

              “In a hurry?” I asked, just making conversation. Right.

             
“Aren’t you?” She had her bitch-face on. Not good.

             
“Yes. Yes, I am. But I’m not sure killing ourselves in the process is the solution. Perhaps a decrease in speed? Just a suggestion. We are on a notoriously dangerous stretch of highway here. Let’s not make the statistic list shall we.” I was trying to keep my voice calm. White-knuckling the door handle was working alright.

             
“Scared? I’m not. There are far scarier things than dying in a car accident. Like, maybe dying in a plane crash? Or, I don’t know, being kidnapped, drugged, and having Lord knows what done to you before having all of your blood drained from your body. In my opinion, I’d rather die on my terms.” Her foot never wavered on the pedal. Up ahead of us a spell, brake lights were popping up randomly. There was a good chance we were going to need to stop soon; slow down, at the very least. Tatum may rather die in her little sports car, but I’d take my chances with the dumpster-droppers thank you very much.

             
“Tatum! You may have a death wish but I don’t!! Other cars are stopping, why don’t you follow the crowd for once?!” My white-knuckles were nearly purple with the strain I was putting on them.

             
We were rapidly approaching the red lights ahead. I was breathing too fast. My stomach clenched in preparation for the grave horror that awaited me. We were only five or six car lengths behind the stopped car ahead. A large eighteen-wheeler was coming up on our right, I could hear his airbrakes activating. I forced myself to focus on the tires of the car in front of us. They were moving, slowly, but it wasn’t completely stopped. Maybe they would start moving faster before we came crashing into the back of them. Other vehicles were slowing around us. Tatum stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. Her face was slack, as if she were about to lay down for a nap.

How the fuck am I getting out of this one?

I decided at that moment I wasn’t. There was nothing I could do. I thought about pulling the emergency break but that would only cause everyone behind us to barrel into the back of Tatum’s shiny black car. I really didn’t want to single handedly cause a fifty-car pileup. Instead I closed my eyes and folded my arms over my chest. I shot a prayer up to the Big Guy, crossed my fingers, and prepared myself for death. What felt to me like an eternity was only mere milliseconds of life. I could feel the force of our speed pushing me into the seat. I heard a sudden, loud, low-pitched horn. I was startled for long enough to realize we should have made contact with the extremely slow car in front of us. I used adrenaline to force myself to accept my fate and open my eyes to watch my death occur. My eyes popped open as if I had been injected with epinephrine. It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what it was seeing. We had somehow moved into the far right lane, passing the slowest of the traffic, and were now cutting back into the lane we had once occupied. I took the chance to look back before the jumble of cars was a fragment of shiny metal in the rear window. There was a slow moving Big Rig in the wrong lane slowing traffic. His signal was on; an attempt to enter the right lane.

Had we just missed death?

             
“What are you thinking!? You are trying to kill me!! How did you get around that mess without losing life or limb?” I was frantic with adrenaline.

             
“I’m not an idiot, Dylan.” She never looked at me. Not once.

             
“Get me home.” I said through clenched teeth. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to shake her and slap her across the face and ask why she did that to me. I figured it best to let her drive as peacefully as I could until we got home. Just in case she had further ideas of mayhem. I didn’t want to fuel that fire.

             
I leaned my head back on the headrest and closed my eyes. If I was going to die I’d rather sleep through it. My heart was still thudding against my sternum. I breathed slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. I breathed this way until the sweet taste of sleep consumed me.

             
We had made it through the Grapevine in a staggering thirty-seven minutes and were now descending upon Hollywood and home. I had slept only a handful of minutes before my own heartbeat woke me. I was feeling suspense of something unknown. Tatum had slowed her speed out of necessity, due to L.A. traffic, but not by much. She jerked the wheel every now and then moving from the car pool lane to the far left and back. Not much different than the norm for her. Apparently she wanted to get home real bad. I did too, but not enough to injure myself or others in the process. I was pissed at her and didn’t care to share my thoughts or even glance her way. I glared out the window at the slow setting sun. My stomach tightened. I was sick and tired of being scared. And more than anything I wanted out of the murder-death-kill wagon. I figured I’d have a better shot at surviving a vampire attack than ten more minutes in the car with Tatum.

             
Tatum made the exit ramp to my place by the grace of God and some seriously good driving skills. Only a few minutes longer in the death-machine before I could kiss home soil. I counted the seconds.

             
“Just stop here.” I said. She hadn’t even pulled over yet. I wanted out.

             
“Are you going to Mike’s?” she asked, not looking at me.

             
“Yeah.” I reached in the back and got my shit, nearly smacking her in the back of the head with my smaller bag. Too bad it wasn’t the big one. Her eyes remained straight ahead. I nodded. She couldn’t see me. Too fucking bad.

             
“Be careful,” I said half-heartedly as I shut the door. Hard.

             
I walked around the back of the car. You can never be too careful. Tatum sped away before I even cleared the trunk width. I shook my head and dragged my ass up the treacherous stairs. Grumbling under my breath as the dog barked erratically; I’d hardly cleared the evil tree limb when I heard a familiar, albeit unwanted, voice.

             
“Dylan, my darling you’re home.”

             
I jumped nearly tumbling down the stairs. I instinctively checked the sun. It was falling rapidly and cobalt blue sky was taking over. My stomach tightened again.

             
Shit.