After Dark (The Vampire Next Door Book 2) (28 page)

Rufus sat silently between them, took the cigarette from Jimmy and passed it to Charlie.

“Thanks. Got a light?”

“Hey, smoke that on the back step, kid,” Rick called out from the kitchen. “Don’t stink up my place any more than it already is.”

“What is it that you boys do for work?” Laura wondered, as she set the table.

But Rick didn’t want her to know. “Boys! There’s a rock video channel, you know. Why don’t you watch it?”

“That’s what’s on. Want us to turn it up?” Jimmy reached for the TV control.

“No! Never mind.” Rick sat at the empty place at the table with his own supper. Laura politely acted as if she did not know what exactly it was that he was drinking.

“Rick,” she whispered, “Is everything all right?”

“No.”

“How did...or should I even ask?”

“Sex trade.” He finally said it. “The serial killer is out after homeless people, street kids, hookers, that’s how they support themselves, buy food.”

She was speechless, her face went white. “But they’re—”

“Just kids, I know.”

“We’re gonna die, lady,” Jimmy called out boldly. “So what, everybody gonna die.” He grabbed the remote again and turned up the volume. “Everybody except Rick. Everyone dies but him. We just don’t wanna get dismembered, that’s all. We’re scared. We’re more scared of the killer than we are of the vampires. Great world, huh?”

She sighed, and went back to stirring the noodles.

Jimmy kept talking. “Our parents threw us out, for various reasons, got no money, so people use us, then they throw us away when they’re done. Sometimes people beat us up and stuff. We eat when people pay us, we live in a truck, under a bridge. The only guy who cares is a bloodsucker.”

“I would appreciate it if you boys would not use such bigoted and crude language to describe my people; we prefer to be considered ultra violet radiation challenged,” and Rick got up from the table to put another in the microwave, waited for it to heat. “That’s right, Laura, it’s a great world.”

She gazed at them sadly. The pasta was done, but somehow she no longer felt hungry.

Charlie got up to go out to the back step to smoke.

“Well,” Jimmy demanded, “If people were like, after this guy, why didn’t he just run off, and leave everybody else, and get away, you know, just take off like my dad? Like, how come he waited around to get people together?”

Rick let out a breath slowly, and it came out as a sigh. “Because, as I said before, it would be dishonorable to do so.”

“Huh? Like, if it was me, I’d just run like hell, never mind making sure everyone else was okay.”

“I am telling this, not you. And turn off that TV if you want me to continue.”

“Was this a movie?” Charlie asked. He was back inside, sitting on the floor in the TV room, eating Laura’s noodles while she listened from where she sat in the kitchen. “This had t’be a movie, right?”

“No, Charlie, this was never a movie. Now, they continued to ride through the dark forest, but soon it would be dawn, and they desperately needed a safe place to stay.”

A wolf howled to signal the end of the night, and the birds began their song. The horses were weary, and Katarina could not remain awake.

“He says it will be soon,” her brother told her.

“But why can we not rest here?” she whispered, for she could not comprehend Pavel’s need for immediate shelter.

And soon they reached the cave that hid the long forgotten altar. It once housed silver and gold, colorful tapestries, and was lit by candlelight. Pavel descended down in, remembering the warmth and smell of fresh blood. But now it was cold, silent, and alone. Nothing left but the altar, forever stained dark red.

The sisters followed him. They too remembered better times, the offerings, the good will of people, the freedom to walk freely without suspicion. Next descended Mikhail and Katarina. “What is this cold place?” she asked. But her brother did not truly know. And Dmitri, after seeing to the horses. He slept by the entrance, remembering only the superstitions told by old women. Pavel slept by the great stone table and gazed at it with longing as he surrendered to sleep.

“Don’t stop,” Jimmy demanded. “I wanna hear the rest of it.”

“Hush, she’s asleep,” Rick whispered. Laura rested silently on the couch. “She’s had a rough time. And I’m going out.”

“For what?” Rufus was suspicious, as always.

“To check on things,” and he bent to cover her with the Indian blanket. “I won’t be long. Stay and look after her.” He went for his leather jacket, and the keys to his car were always in the pocket.

“What’re you gonna do with us?” Rufus blurted out suddenly.

“Put up with all your crap, I suppose,” he whispered. “And I said to be quiet.” He went out the back door, down the steps.

Rick guided the car down into a tight alley, dimmed the lights. “So, is this where you want me to park?”

“Yeah, the homeless girl you saw come in a while ago, the one with the kid, she said she saw something big and ugly stalking around.”

“Bigfoot maybe.”

“Yeah, without the hair.”

They sat, silently watched, and waited. Hours passed. Nothing but the sound of a drunk mumbling in his sleep under a pile of trash bags.

“Wanna quit?” Leon grew frustrated.

“We should ask some people, go to where they usually hang out, what they know. It could help.” Rick started the car. “You know where to find them, right?”

“Yeah, there’s like this shanty town, little houses made of boxes and crates, cops keep breaking it up, but they come back and set up camp again.”

Rick remained in the car while Leon walked about and did all the talking. Many of the street people already knew of him—of his kind, and were obviously apprehensive. No one was sure how they knew. Perhaps it was simple street talk, gossip. The recent serial killings did not help the situation. It only drew suspicion.

He suddenly realized the people were staring. Did the bright street lights reflect in his eyes? And display his pale countenance? Probably so.

And he watched them as well.

Leon returned, got into the car. “That old lady over there, see her sitting in front of the cardboard box, she says she had a friend who was a junkie who disappeared last week. No one has heard anything about him since.”

“Are we supposed to look for this junkie, or something?”

“No. She wants to talk to you.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. Go on over.”

“Leon.”

“I’ll wait here. Don’t worry. It’s cool.”

Rick got out of the Catalina, walked slowly past the row of used crates, scrap plywood, and cardboard turned into people’s homes. The people watched him move in dead silence. He reached the end of the row. “Hello?” He looked at her in the darkness. Her gray hair had not been cut or washed since he was afraid to guess when, nor had her face or hands been washed. Her clothes also appeared to have never been cleaned. Her shoes had holes that revealed bruised toes. “Hello? You wanted to see me?”

“When are you gonna stop all this?”

For a moment he did not understand. “We are not doing these terrible things. We have nothing to do with this tragedy.”

“We know that,” she croaked. “It’s the government, using the police, to get rid of us, get us off the streets, out of sight, make the town nice for tourists again, clean the place up. We all know that. But you have to stop it. No one else can. We’re all helpless. You’re our only hope.”

Rick spun around, hearing soft and cautious footsteps. Three middle aged men, ragged and tough from life on the street. The appeared to have him cornered. “What do you want?” he whispered coldly.

“Please,” began the oldest one with the salt and pepper beard, “Don’t get mad with Evie. She only wants your help. Look, we know you people don’t really care about us, why should you, no one else does, so why should you? We’re just scared out here, all night long. If it’s not one of you, then please, can’t you help us?”

“I do care,” he said quietly, “I just don’t know what to do.” He started back to the car. The men parted to let him through.

“They’ll be comin’ after all of you next!” the old woman howled.

“They already are, or haven’t you heard?” Rick continued to stalk back to the Pontiac. He got it beside Leon, started it, and drove away.

Rick brought Leon home and then returned to his own place. He parked the Pontiac beside Laura’s car in the backyard and let himself in almost immediately before dawn. He drifted in slowly. The boys, Charlie and Jimmy, were asleep, on the couch and in the chair. Rufus was awake, still. He was as usual in front of the television.

“You even stay up later than me, kid.”

He startled at the sound of Rick’s voice, spun around to look at him warily in the darkness.

“You ever sleep?”

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled cautiously, “I do.” His voice shook on every brief syllable.

“Never mind,” Rick sighed, and he wandered on to the kitchen to his refrigerator, almost desperately hungry after the long night. But he knew that eyes were watching him intensely from the living room. He heated it up and drank it anyway, then went for another, knowing he was being watched.

“What’s it like?” the boy whispered.

“It’s just food, Rufus. Nothing more. And you’re not on the menu tonight, so don’t worry about it, okay?”

And he put the heavy large cups into the small dishwasher, drifted back to his darkened room. She was there, he could see her in the darkness, flat on his bed, throat exposed. Sometimes it wasn’t just food. He looked down at her, gazed down at the delicate flesh of her throat and hungered deeply. He looked away.

She had gotten up while he was out, moved into his bed, and the three boys, three immoral feral children, were down the hall, in the living room. And he had to set an example for them all.

He went to the closet and reached for an extra blanket, slept the day on the hard floor.

Another damned homicide.

Martin sipped his coffee and watched McMurphy. He was smiling again. Smiling brightly like the sun overhead coming through the window. Every time another worthless junkie dropped dead in town, McMurphy would be so happy. But this time, McMurphy was quiet too. He simply smiled to himself. All day long.

Martin just hated to see people happy when he was hung over. And he also did not like that strange lady teaching at his little girl’s school. At least his daughter wasn’t in her class. Could she have any part in all this? Did she know who, or what, was doing all the killing? Maybe she did. Maybe she was covering for the real killer?

That afternoon when Laura returned, the boys were watching rock videos, except for Rufus, who slept soundly on the couch. The two boys sat on the floor, surrounded by emptied food containers, coke cans, and ice cream cartons. The music was loud and harsh. She gazed at the video image. A large overweight man in a tight black leather dress with fishnet stockings and heavy combat boots was screaming into the microphone, pounding on his electric guitar.

“Why, what on earth is all that?”

“It’s this new band called I Crap On Your Mother’s Grave. Aren’t they cool? Like, I’ve been following this group’s career since I was, like, real young.” Jimmy watched the screen in admiration.

“Cool?”

“Yeah. They’re so cool. See this guy? His name is Femme Morbide. He ate a jar of live cockroaches on stage last month. He’s like, real talented. You can really admire someone like that. You know? He’s got so much artistic and musical ability.”

“Oh, I see,” Laura didn’t quite understand. Perhaps she didn’t really want to. “We had an attempted kidnapping today at school.”

“Awesome!” Charlie spun around to see her while Jimmy continued to simply watch. And Rufus still appeared to be quite dead on the couch despite all the noise. “Like, did anyone get killed?” Charlie asked.

“No, thank goodness. Just a lot of commotion and excitement, that’s all. Nothing too serious, I’m glad to say.”

“Like, what happened?” Charlie was still interested.

“Some terrible person tried to take away a poor little girl, but she screamed, and ran away from him. We called the police, but no one was apprehended for it.”

“Did he like, molest her and stuff?” Charlie tried to keep her in the conversation that she really did not want to have. Jimmy still watched his favorite rock star, gazing blankly into the screen.

“I don’t know, really.” She did not witness it. She only heard of it, and was highly disturbed by it. She was confused by Charlie’s enthusiasm.

“Hey, here’s the good part,” Jimmy nudged Charlie to get his attention. “Here’s where he throws up all over the audience.”

But Laura had stopped listening. She looked curiously at Rufus. He seemed to sleep all day, almost like Rick. And he was so delicately pale, so thin. If she didn’t know better she might almost think that he was...