Sacrifice (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult) (7 page)

“Your eyes were white, man. That’s not cool. I need a little
more detail than that,” I pushed.

 
“After you left me to
gather your things –“

“You mean, after you tossed my big ass like a doll across
that overly waxed floor? Yeah, go on.”

An annoyed look slid across his face, but he continued, “I
was alone on the first floor.” He paused in anticipation of my interrupting. I
kept quiet so he went on. “I was leaning against the post at the end of the
stairs when something pulled me toward the doors. It was a compulsion stronger
than any other I have felt in my life. I fought the feeling at first, but after
a few minutes, I couldn’t withstand the pull any longer. Reluctantly, I went
for the door. I hadn’t so much as twisted the knob before the French doors
flung open and slammed against either wall. Your pal, Azelie, of course, was
there on the porch, grinning and laughing.” Her laughter filled my head
suddenly. I tried to shake it off, but the bitch persisted. “I threatened her
and tried to close her out, but she was too strong. A few words and a powder
tossed in my direction, and I was lost. I can’t recall anything until I was
suddenly running through the streets of New Orleans headed for the airport.”

“How did you catch a flight right after mine?”

“Secondus comes with its perks.”

“The power of flight?”

“
Mastercard
.”

Close enough.

“Private charter. Malcolm is not the only Primus with a
little pull in their home city. I couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes
behind you.”

“I hope you don’t get offended and eat my face, but your
story seems a little…well…bullshit.”

Honestly, Cyrus eating my face came across a tad less
frightening than the future currently at my heading.

“Believe what you will. I know you will regardless of my
telling you, but please know, I don’t care either way.”

Indifference, the first sign of honesty. If one is spouting
the truth, they tend not to give a shit who believes them or not. Liars need
you to believe their bullshit or it doesn’t exist.

“So what brought you back? I slapped you square across the
face and you didn’t budge.”

“I don’t know. I was actively running when I came around,
the gods only know why or how I came to be where I was.”

“What did it feel like? To be…
under her spell
.” I made the last more dramatic with a stupid voice
and more ridiculous hand gestures than necessary.

“Nothing. It felt like nothing. Whatever makes me…
me,
was gone. Not outside of my body
looking down, or trapped inside my own head. I literally mean gone. Until this
moment, your confirmation of my physical presence on earth, do I understand my
body was
present.
Only my essence was taken away.”

I chewed on that for a while. Azelie was capable of removing
someone’s
essence
and move on to
royally kick my ass without blinking an eye. That was power I’d never seen in
my lifetime. As if I’d ever seen or experienced anything close to magic. Having
nothing to compare it to, I could only ask myself one question.
Do I think she is otherworldly?
At this
point, I had to say yes. Five months of vampires—supposedly—and one tiny witch
bitch changed my worldview in a matter of twenty-four hours. Magic was real.
Curses, hexes, spells, shit-smear to keep the evil away, real. Now, about those
vampires…

“So…”

“No,” he answered without hearing my question.

“No, what?”

“No. I’m not a vampire.”

“What about…”

He answered again. Never looking in my direction. “Yes.”

“Shit. Stop! Yes, what?”

“Yes. Malcolm. He is everything you think he is,” he said,
creating more insults in my head than I could possibly spew out in one
sentence.

“Well, I knew he was a douche. I didn’t need you to tell me
about that.” I kept it simple.

“Funny. You know, deep down you always knew, what he is.
What they all are.”

I closed my eyes slowly and scoffed. “Vampires. Goddamned,
shit-sucking vampires,” I quoted.

“You could say that.” His plain and straightforward words
were out of character to say the least, but honestly, he really hadn’t said anything.
He’d only alluded to what he assumed I already knew. He was right, though.
Somewhere inside, deep in there where I keep my plans for dieting and quitting
smoking, I figured all the crap I’d seen on HBO and shit was true, and my
stupid ass had dove in head first.

Well, I’ll be fucked
sideways on a bed of Legos. Vampires. Someone call the WB.

Chapter Five

Fresno, the
t’ain’t
of California,
filled the horizon with its mediocre sky rises and freeways. Downtown wasn’t
much to ogle. In fact, it was mostly tramps and trash mingling about. From high
atop the freeway overpass, it looked like the intro to a post-apocalyptic
zombie flick. People wandering about amongst filth and dilapidation. This angle
of town was not flattering, and honestly, set a shitty tone for a not so awful
place. Entering the city from its asshole, does not a good first impression
make.

I knew the one and only logical place to start would take me
to a place I didn’t ever want to visit again. There was one being in the entire
town of Fresno that even knew I existed, and judging by our last encounter it
was highly implausible she would want anything to do with little ole me. But
there wasn’t another choice. Barring any latent psychic ability, there was only
one option to find the boy. And that was Angie, my lesbian, pixie-vampire
friend.

Thinking of Angie and Sandora reminded me of the
conversation regarding Regina and a certain man toy who appeared from the south
to fetch her.

“Oh, Cyrus,” I said condescendingly.

“Yes.”

“When were you going to tell me about Regina?”

“What about Regina?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you are the reason
she left Fresno. It was you who brought her to that place.” Months of ignoring
them, the whole lot of them, had created more questions than it quelled. Now,
stuck in the car with the answer man, I had all the time to get the answers I
desperately wanted. And I was being drowned by thoughts and worries of my own
demise. Priorities, man.

“Malcolm is the reason she left her home. I was just the
means.”

“Can we just please talk like two twenty-something Los
Angelenos
. Stop with your cryptic, I’m a stoic bastard;
it’s getting old. Honestly, between my inner turmoil and your Gemini behavior,
it’s a miracle I’m not already locked up tight in a rubber room by now. Jeez!”

“Fine.” Through pursed lips, he sucked in a big gulp of air.
“Well, like, Malcolm sent me to Fresno to snatch up this new model chick he was
interested in. He thought, like, I’d be nice eye candy for the girl, so there
wouldn’t be any, like, issues.” His mousey ‘Valley Girl’ speech made me want to
punch him square in the dick. “You feel me now?” he added in a much more
annoyed monster-man tone.

“In which he was interested,” I added under my breath.
I’ll show you to teach me a lesson.

“Petty doesn’t look good on you. Stop it. You’re better than
that.” I bit my cheek to stop the girly smile fluttering around in me, from
hitting my face. “I was here at Malcolm’s request. I didn’t know Regina and
neither did he. I never got an explanation as to why or how he was interested
in her. I just followed orders, as they say.”

“Do you question anything? What about Diego—the little
bastard—and Sam and all that murderous nonsense? Where do you stand there?
Likewise uninformed? Ignorant.
As they
say
.”

Tensions were rising in the tight space, but only on my
side. Cyrus was as cool as a vampire cucumber. Or something like that.

“They weren’t even on the radar. Sam had been working
security with Malcolm in various projects for about a year before Regina joined
the scene. She was intended to partner with Dominika for a new marketing spin
he was working on to promote Macabre Saturnine, but it didn’t work out that
way. Dominika took one look at Reggie and laughed. She can be a hell cunt, but
she’s not an imbecile. She is quite good at reading people.”

“Or she’s just a bitch.”

“That is never overlooked,” he agreed.

“Why didn’t you ever mention your connection with Regina
before? Like when it could have saved lives?”

“You already assumed me a killer. Mentioning my connection
with those people, no matter how minute, may have exacerbated things. I could
ask you – why did you not question me before today?”

“Between dead girls in my backyard and asshole Tatum-
nappers
, I didn’t get much of a chance.” Oh, and the five
months I was trying to pretend none of it ever happened, while secretly boiling
over with curiosity.

“How are you going to find this Zephyrinus? Lupe showed you
something back at her shop. What was it?” He changed the subject quickly,
obviously not interested in discussing vampires, his involvement in the murder
and subsequent exsanguination of a gaggle of hookers. Under the circumstances—
you know, my little curse
—I let him get
away with it. For now.

“She showed me a place I’d been in Fresno. I had seen this
boy; I just didn’t know it. I remember he
creeped
me
out. Him and his witchy buddies. At least, that’s what Angie said they were.” I
pulled my phone from my bag and looked up Angie’s number. Taking a deep breath,
I let it out and dialed.

After a very short and no less awkward conversation, we were
set to meet Angie at her apartment, but under one condition. Money. It was
always money. Thankfully, Cyrus had plenty of it because I was a broke bitch.
She didn’t actually say whether or not she knew where I could find this lost
soul I was hunting, but she seemed eager to make a buck. Motivated informants
are always welcome.

With the address punched in to his fancy GPS thing, we were cruising
through the back streets of Fresno near the college where I’d seen Zephyrinus
and his buddies being creepy.

“You know, I won’t push it now, but in the very near future,
I am going to get the full story from you, even if it requires violence. And please
know I am quite fond of fire.” My threats were only half-empty. I’d gladly beat
the shit out of him for information, but he’d be naked when I did it.

He nodded, a small grin tickled the edges of his mouth.
Maybe he was thinking of the same nude abuse I had in mind. Either way, he
agreed to spill his guts and I’d hold him to it. It would never happen if I
wasn’t alive to hear it.
First things
first, save my ass.

 
I watched out the
window, two-story houses complete with shutters and full porches, lined the
streets behind decades-old trees and shrubberies. We cruised through an oddly
quaint portion of the city I would have never imagined existed. Orange and
yellow leaves scattered in the wind as we drove near the piles along the
gutter. The quiet hum of the engine under the hood was the only sound that
filled the cabin. Serene was the only word that came to mind. It was the first
time in quite a while I’d had a moment to just breathe. A moment to simply and
unequivocally appreciate being alive.

Green lawns stood guard before turn-of-the-century homes.
Each a shining example of pride and care and the age-old American dream.
Keeping with the laws and regulations set forth by the City of Fresno, Cyrus
drove not a hair over twenty-five miles per hour, allowing my brain a few extra
moments of serenity before facing my payment for salvation. The voice of our
navigator came over the speakers and announced our imminent arrival. Only one
more turn and our destination would be on our right.

In the center of an immaculate lawn, five or six houses from
the corner, a tall, lanky pale woman stood. My eyes widened as we passed. The
woman and her gooey stump atop her shoulders seemed to move as if watching us
pass with phantom eyes. Safely in the car, I didn’t scream or cry out. There
was no need. This had happened once before. A few times before. Each time, the
corpse dissipated like dispersed fog. Every time, other than this moment,
they’d caught me alone.

We turned the corner and the voice again announced our
arrival only several hundred feet away. I turned my body in the seat to watch
the dead thing, making sure it hadn’t followed behind. Hadn’t glommed on to the
car in some spectral terrorist fashion. We were alone as far as my measly
little human eyes could tell.

“What? What is it?” Cyrus inquired.

“Nothing. Just another dead bitch.” I swallowed back fear
that crept up my throat and closed my eyes. I let my head hit the headrest, not
caring how it might make my chin jiggle unattractively. It did, of course, but
no one seemed to notice. No one being Cyrus. Who else? He was likely more
concerned with the fact that I’d just witnessed yet another dead girl.

“What are you seeing?” The car slowed to a stop. We had
arrived. Yippy fucking
skippy
.

“It’s the same thing each time. Pale, bound, naked,
headless, and obviously very dead. I hadn’t noticed they were all different
until all eight were in my apartment at once.”

“All eight?” His confusion was warranted. It was my turn to
spill it, as much as I had to spill anyway. With all that had happened in such
a short amount of time, it was growing harder and harder to decipher fact from
fiction. Not to mention the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion that was
clouding my brain.

“Azelie informed me last night there had been eight just
like Reggie. Mike also verified something to that effect. I don’t know how
linked they all are, like if there are also eight other
Sams
,
and eight other Diego-
Philippes
, but the decapitated
thing is across the board. Each of them worked, in some facet, for Azelie.” I
opened my eyes and stared out the windshield. “It really didn’t matter much
after the voodoo cunt did her thing with me. I just don’t want to become a
headless, shambling, oozing zombie like them.”

“My life’s mission, my dear.” He leaned over the console and
laid a kiss on my cheek.

How true that statement was or not, I wasn’t banking on him
or anyone else to get me out of my pickle. It was about time to man the fuck up
or go the fuck home. If Azelie, and whatever evil scheme she had brewing, was
the culprit behind so many dead things, there was no doubt she had the stones
to do with me as she pleased. Whatever her plans, they didn’t involve girl talk
over strawberry margaritas and
mani-pedis
.

Cyrus and I climbed the flight of dilapidating wooden stairs
up the side of a building, not too far from the college where she and I had
first met. It wasn’t too different from my piece-of-shit apartment. Shitty
staircase, not so hot area of town, apartment above someone else’s garage.
Okay, maybe that last one was just me.

A swift knock on the door from Cyrus and we were both left
waiting for the response. Shuffling and coughing came from the other side of
the door. A full minute passed before the clicks of a deadbolt could be heard
through the cheap wood. A moment later, the cracked wooden door opened, and
revealed the tiny blonde I’d come to see. Only she wasn’t exactly how I
remembered her.

Her dark, sad eyes rolled over the two of us before she
opened the door wider and waved us both in. Her expression was indifferent. Not
checking out Cyrus was the first sign of something wrong. Lesbian or not, he
wasn’t something one just passed over.

The two of us entered and stood in the center of a cluttered
living room. The shaggy brown carpet felt crunchy underfoot. Angie squeezed
past Cyrus and I, and plopped down on her circa 1974 brown and yellow couch.

“What do you want?” she asked in the mousy tone that I
recalled, but it seemed she’d acquired a few cracks and creaks over the last
few months.

She sounded normal, but her eyes told me otherwise. Deep,
dark circles hugged her lower eyelids. Pockmarks and scars had replaced the
porcelain skin I remembered. Angie, or Shantressa, as she preferred to be
called in her dark life, was a faded shadow of the perky little pixie-vampire
girl I’d met back in May. If I had to bet, I’d guess…

“Do you have the money?” she continued, pulling a glass pipe
from the clutter on her wooden coffee table.

Drugs. It was always drugs. And judging by the style of
paraphernalia she was brandishing, it wasn’t the fun green sticky drugs she was
hooked on.

“When did you start smoking dope?” I asked like I was her
mother.

Drugs were bad,
m’kay
. Not to get
me wrong, people could feel free to take a toke of weed every now and then, but
steer clear of powders and pills. It was just common sense.

“Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” She flicked
the flint on her lighter and sparked up her bump. “Where’s the money?” she
demanded again, this time with a mouthful of smoke.

“Look, do what you want on your own time, but don’t smoke
that shit with me in the house.” I lifted my shirt to my nose to smell
something different than the sickly stench of burning plastic that meth carries
through the air. “I have money. I need to know you can help me first.”

“You want to find
Zeph
?” I nodded.
“I know where he is. If you pay me.” She put her pipe back where she’d gotten
it, and put both of her tiny bare feet on the table. The bottoms were blackened
and speckled with gray ash from the carpet riddled with it.

A sassy sneer spread across her face as she sat there
watching Cyrus and me. Her legs opened and closed, knees bent, feet on the
table. Her short shorts rose and fell up and down her thighs as she did, flashing
just enough crotch to make it obvious what she was doing.