Pool of Crimson (4 page)

After sliding on my boots and fitting the knife in its sheath around my calf, I studied myself in the mirror. I looked pretty good; more importantly, I felt good.

Amblan used her key to come in, and I called out to her. “Hey, Am, I’m still up here.” Her heavy boot-clad footfalls on the hardwood stairs echoed in my silent house as I continued primping in the mirror.

She filled the doorway, leaning casually against the doorjamb. “Damn, you look good enough to fuck,” she said with a playful smile.

“You know I’d let you but I don’t want you to get too attached,” I teased, taking in her stunning outfit. I hated her. She was 6’1”, gorgeous, and weighed about 135 pounds without even trying. I had to work to lose every pound but she existed in a world of high metabolisms and effortless beauty. Am had dyed her hair red, black, blond, black cherry, and brunette so many times that I couldn’t remember what her original color was, and I wasn’t sure she could either. The current color was black with blue highlights and frosted tips. She had an affinity for tattoos. Her piercings were the kind that accentuated her pleasure and not just for show. She was absolutely beautiful and didn’t even know it.

“Do I need anything else?” I asked, glancing in the mirror one last time.

“Just your sexy self and some cash for the auction,” she said as she grinned at me.

“Should I bid on you?” I asked, shaking my head in playful disbelief. I already knew the answer. I wouldn’t be going otherwise.

“Only if it gets above $100. Megan said she could only afford that much, and I don’t want Gillian to win. She’s psycho. I don’t want to spend a single night with her, that’s for damned sure.” She smiled at me like a kid who wants something expensive from their parent. Trust me, Am was an expensive date.

“Do you think I’m made of money?” I snipped as she continued to grin at me, ignoring the fact I sounded like my mother. I appreciated that. “You’re paying for my drinks tonight then.”

“Sweetie, trust me. In that outfit, you won’t have to pay for a damned thing.”

The Box was a lesbian dance club and bar hidden on a back alley downtown. It was situated right next to the YMCA, which at 2 a.m. was a frightening place, even for me. Humans can be just as scary as the undead. They’ll kill you for much, much less. Vampires kill mostly for survival. The creeps in the alley at 2 a.m. will kill for kicks, cash, or crazy. The YMCA was home to some of Columbus’s premier residents; nut jobs, crack heads, drug dealers, and those not permitted to live within a 1,000 feet of a school.

Amblan and I walked through the door without paying a cover. Big surprise, she was a favorite with the owners and hadn’t paid a cover in over three years. She was a favorite everywhere she went.

The music pumped, and the beat pounded in my chest as the bass thumped. Every joint in my body throbbed with the deep booming tones. People pushed against each other on the dance floor in a mash of bodies. I merged into the sea moving in a steady current toward the bar as claustrophobia made my muscles clench. Bodies pressed so close together there was no breathing space between me and the rest of the room, filling my senses with body heat and adrenaline.

Bolts of white, red, and black fabric draped from the ceiling, creating a pinwheel above the bar. The servers were dressed in angel costumes with slender white wire halos hovering above their heads, white tanks, tutus, and go-go boots to match. The dancers on the pedestals at the corners were in tight red vinyl cat suits with long pointed tails and horns. Yes, a little cliché, but for the first time since we left my house, I smiled.

We pushed our way through a faceless mob to the bar where I ordered a glass of tonic. A very masculine woman to my right plopped a ten-dollar bill down on the bar with a smile in my direction and picked up the tab. She was nice, a little handsy, but personable, and I screamed a “thank you” into her ear over the loud thump of music filling the club.

As I sat on the edge of the bar stool listening to her talk about her last girlfriend and how much she missed her, a brief flash of a familiar face in the crowd caught my attention. My eyes narrowed on his olive complexion and the ample supply of black chest hair peeking out from his orange paisley shirt. We were long overdue for a proper introduction.

Smarmy sat on a high stool across the dance floor on the other side of the bar with two other men who were a little too muscular and well groomed to be straight. Standing alongside Smarmy was a tall, ebony-haired woman who was absolutely stunning with high cheekbones, almond shaped dark eyes, and full, pouty lips. Her oval face was soft and petite.

The men were clearly muscle and a little too pretty to be effective. I doubted they had even ever been in a fight. The ebony-haired woman’s long arms moved gracefully, shifting her hands smoothly through the air as she spoke. The shining black hair falling easily down her back brushed lightly over her butt. Ebony was lean, with a dark olive complexion that radiated a bronze shimmer. In the flashing disco lights of the club, she looked like she was covered in glitter. The black spandex cat suit she wore clung to her lithe body, displaying every curve. She got plenty of nibbles from the women around the dance floor, without even trying.

The crowd around the Ebony Goddess listened to Smarmy, but watched her. He stuck out. You don’t see many straight men in a lesbian club, and if you do, they don’t look like a Mediterranean bohunk. The whole group looked peculiar, out of place.

The group of women surrounding Smarmy and the Ebony Goddess got larger with each seductive smile and flippant swish of her hair. They had attracted at least five more women to their school of fish since I’d been watching them. I edged away from the bar, completely ignoring the woman who bought me the drink. I had a twinge of regret but when I looked back, she had moved on to someone else. Good for her.

I had to get close enough to hear what was going on without Smarmy recognizing me. I had no doubt that the moment he laid eyes on me, he’d raise the alarm, and I’d lose the only lead I’d had in almost a week.

I passed through the dance floor, bumping and grinding as I went, trying to get through the crowd. More than one hand pressed inappropriately against the inside of my thigh and ass as I made my way through the dancers. I leaned up against the railing circling the dance floor and listened, trying to appear inconspicuous.

Smarmy and the Ebony Goddess were behind me. The cool push of vampire power nudged against my skin, sending a shiver up my spine, despite the heated club air. I could barely make out bits and pieces of what Smarmy said over the thump of the music.

“... killer party ... tonight ... as many as you can find.”

I glanced down at my boot with a panicked jerk of my head. I wasn’t properly armed for a full frontal assault.

I ducked under the railing, keeping my head low and my face turned away from Smarmy. I joined the fish as they followed the vampire and Smarmy out. As the group started to move toward the door and out to the street, I motioned to Amblan on the dance floor and, with a turn of my wrist, silently asked her for her keys. She threw them to me over the heads of a few dancers without question, but gave me a puzzled look. She raised her hand to the side of her head and signaled me to call her. I nodded with an apologetic grin as I left. I knew she could find a ride home without any trouble. There were any number of women that would love to do her a favor. She’d be mad if Gillian won the auction but that just meant I’d have to buy her breakfast in the morning. Maybe lunch, too.

“Here’s the address,” Smarmy said over the music. “Come as you are. It’ll be a killer party,” he finished with a horribly creepy smirk, exposing too many large teeth.

I glanced down at the address another woman had written on her hand and had a vague inkling I’d seen it before.

The house was on Divers Street, just off Goodale Park in Victorian Village. The wealthy had lived there a hundred years ago, and the well-off professionals lived there now. The area was littered with Victorian homes, tree-lined streets and beautiful green spaces. The people who lived in Victorian Village were busy and didn’t know each other. They walked their dogs, went to and from the local bars, and the area was close to a quick getaway, the interstate. It was an easy neighborhood to hide in.

I committed the address to memory and headed for Amblan’s truck. I checked the gas gauge. A hair above empty. I was going to have to fill it up for her, too.

When I got to the address, I realized it was a house I’d seen a hundred times. I’d admired its gothic revival architecture since the first time I’d seen it. The house was enormous; built in red brick, resembling a real life castle encircled by the city. I’d always thought the house was a museum or a banquet hall. I couldn’t imagine someone actually paying a heating bill for it. The grounds covered an entire city block with the house taking up most of that area. It had always seemed too quiet, too pristine, and too sad. Now I knew why.

I knew better than to enter the ‘party’ with the rest of the group. I hadn’t been recognized at the club, but I wasn’t holding my breath and taking the chance I’d go unnoticed this time.

There had to be some way to get in without Smarmy or the vampire with him seeing me, hearing me, or smelling me. I banked on her losing my scent in the plethora of other humans walking around, but I needed to find another way to get in other than the front door. I ditched my loud bangle bracelets in the glove compartment of Am’s truck and stepped out onto the street. The crisp autumn air hit my bare skin like ice grazing my body and gooseflesh spread across my arms and legs. I shivered in the cold air and rubbed my skin to keep it warm.

Perfect!

I approached the house from a few blocks away. A window was propped open on the third floor. There were no lights shining through, no curtains, and no furniture that I could see. It had to be the attic.

“Well, shucks, if I’d only thought to bring some repelling equipment and a grappling hook,” I whispered under my breath. A large oak tree next to the house soared up into the night sky, getting close enough to the open window that I hoped I could make the roof at least. I wasn’t dressed for scaling a tree trunk or in the mood for a hospital visit when I fell the three stories to the ground. I wasn’t Batman for Christ’s sakes. I walked around the house, hoping for a better option.

“I guess it’s the tree or nothing,” I breathed to myself.

A low branch hung over the next-door neighbor’s garage and looked sturdy enough to hold me. I climbed up onto the roof from the trellis and made it shakily to the branch across the shingles.

After about fifteen minutes of climbing, I’d ruined my hose, ripped my skirt, and snagged my lacy bra, but I was glad I hadn’t worn a jacket. Sweat ran down my forehead, blurring my vision and stinging my eyes.

“I’m going to have to add rock wall climbing to my regiment. Jesus,” I breathed as I continued to climb higher and higher so that I could drop down onto the roof and walk across the shingles to slide down into the open window. “I had better fucking fit in this God damned window,” I said through clenched teeth as I lowered myself. I gripped the edge of the small roof jutting out over the open window. The hard grain of the roofing shingles burned the palms of my hand as I slid down.

“Please tell me I didn’t just shimmy up a tree for nothing,” I grunted as I lowered myself down onto the windowsill, holding on to the small battlement. I pushed the round, hinged window open farther with my foot. I slid easily through the window onto the solid surface of the hardwood floor and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. I almost kissed the floor as my entire body slipped inside the house.

The air was cold, almost frigid in the open space of the empty attic. Goose flesh spread across my skin as I pushed myself up off the floor with roughened and still tender hands. There was no insulation to trap the heat but there didn’t seem to be any heat to trap. It was 60 degrees outside, and it felt like 40 degrees in the attic. It was colder in the attic than it should have been.

A chill ran through me and my muscles tensed a second before a blast of wintry ice cold air bombarded me. It surrounded me, whipping my hair and skin like a December windstorm.

My mind filled with the shrieking terror of death as a semisolid mass of thick fog flowed into the attic. I gasped as pain-gorged shrieks invaded my brain. Images consumed my mind and pierced my consciousness, like someone had taken an ice pick to my brain. I was surrounded by anger, warning, fear. My legs went weak and disappeared out from under me. I collapsed into a helpless heap, squeezing my head in an attempt to keep the unwanted sensations out.

I’d never met anyone who could do what I did. From the time I was five years old and was caught talking to the woman who no one else could see, I knew I was different by the horror on my mother’s face. I didn’t tell her when I saw others. I couldn’t take that look in her eyes, the fear, the shame, and most of all the disdain.

I closed my eyes as tight as I could. There were so many ghosts filling my ears with their terror, my nostrils with the smell of decomposition, my skin with their painful chill, and my eyes with tears as I tried to push them out of my mind. I couldn’t pick out one spirit from another. There were too many of them. They were all mashed together in a mass grave of energy, pushing the weight of their anguish down on me. Everything was tangled together; each emotion, each hurt, and every fear so that I couldn’t distinguish one from another.

I had to shut them out.

I tried to breathe and focus my mind. I’d gotten good at that over the years, but this was different.

They wouldn’t let me ignore them ... not this time.

“Stop,” I whimpered. “Please stop.” My brain felt like it was seeping out of my ears and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

They finally relented enough that I could open my eyes without a searing pain through my brain, but their heavy weight on my body as they pressed down on me and the fog filling the attic, smelling faintly of sulfur, didn’t pull away. I was completely consumed by their fear, and all I wanted was to crawl in a dark corner and hide.