Samantha moon phantasm, p.8
Samantha Moon Phantasm, page 8
part #9 of Vampire for Hire Series
No, I thought. Not hard at all.
Chapter Twenty
I was sitting with Detective Sharp at a Carl’s Jr., a popular fast food chain here in Southern California. At least, it was popular to flesh-eating mortals, of which there were, apparently, many.
Detective Sharp was looking at me curiously as he worked his way through a hamburger that would have fed my entire family. Or would have fed them back in the day. The burger was called the Six-Dollar Burger. The catch being, of course, was that it was only $3.95. Brilliant advertising. You’re getting more than what you’re paying for. It also implied that you were getting a restaurant-quality burger without the restaurant price.
“You’re expecting me to believe that she hid in a vent in the men’s bathroom?” said the detective, after a few minutes of chewing. He had mostly swallowed when he spoke.
“Maybe not the men’s bathroom,” I said. “The women’s has an identical vent under the sink.”
He took another healthy bite from his burger. Admittedly, it looked like a six-dollar burger. It also looked delicious. What I wouldn’t give to—
“Then go buy one,” said Sharp.
Oops. He’d read my mind. I guess the detective and I were getting a little closer. I immediately placed my internal wall around me.
I said, “I dunno. Six bucks seems too much for a burger...”
“They’re not really six bucks,” said Sharp. “They’re like three ninety-five or something. Four bucks.”
I shook my head. “Says right there on the sign. Six bucks.”
“It’s called a six-dollar burger, but it’s really four bucks.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Look, it’s not really six—oh, you’re fucking with me.”
“Ya think?”
“Screw you, Samantha Moon,” he said, but laughed.
I said, “Looks good, but I’m on a diet.”
“What kind of diet?”
“Liquid diet.”
“Suit yourself, but this is damn good.”
“I’ll remember it for next time. The six-dollar burger that isn’t six dollars.”
He shook his head, reached for some fries. “So these vents in the bathrooms...you think a woman could fit in them?”
I nodded. “I know I could, but not comfortably, and I wouldn’t want to stay in there long—or at all. But yeah.”
“And, is it safe to assume there was no woman in it now, dead or otherwise?”
“It’s safe to assume it.”
“Any indication that someone had, you know, been in it?”
“Nothing that I could visually confirm. Her fingerprints might be there, though.”
“Yours, too, I assume.”
I didn’t, of course, leave fingerprints behind anymore. To do so implied I had oils on my skin, oils that transferred from my skin to say, metal. No such oils existed in me. No, I hadn’t seen any signs of prints, but that was often hard to tell with the naked eye. Even a supernatural naked eye.
I said, “I was careful not to leave any prints behind. My guess, though, is that she would have cleaned it thoroughly.”
“Why?”
“To leave no sign. To give the illusion that she truly disappeared.”
“Not to mention, she was in a bathroom. She might have had plenty of time to clean up behind her.”
“There’s that,” I said.
“So what do you want me to do?” he asked.
“You know what to do,” I said.
He shook his head. He didn’t like it. The idea seemed preposterous to him, but he finally acquiesced. “Fine. I’ll send a team over, ASAP. Hell, we’ve got nothing else to go on.” He paused, set down his burger. “Was there any sign of force?”
“No sign of force. No blood that I could see. No scrape marks, no hair, nothing left behind.”
“So you’re saying she went in there willingly?”
“That would be my guess,” I said.
“This is getting crazier and crazier.”
“I do crazy well.”
“Well, I don’t. I like things neat. I like things explainable. I like things to make sense. This makes no sense.”
“Not now,” I said. “But it might. Someday.”
He sighed and picked up his burger.
I tried not to drool.
Chapter Twenty-one
Kingsley and I were having dinner.
While he ate and I slurped idly at the blood that pooled around my very rare steak, I found myself eyeballing the cute waiter. I wondered what I would say to lure him into the bathroom, since that had worked so well back at the Starbucks. That I still hadn’t felt guilty about attacking him should have concerned me, but it didn’t.
“You’ve got that look in your eye, Samantha Moon,” said Kingsley. He had just bitten into a healthy bite of steak, and so I had the pleasure of seeing the half-masticated meat in his mouth. He might be a power attorney during the day, but he was all animal at night. At least, around me. Good thing he couldn’t read my thoughts. Most immortals couldn’t.
“I imagine I do.”
“You don’t even hide it now? Tsk-tsk. How far you have fallen.”
“Hide who I am?”
He set his fork down and momentarily paused in his chewing. Then he reached for a frosted glass of beer and drained it. Yeah, the man was an animal. Had we been dining in his spacious home, he would have wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Instead, he used a napkin, and didn’t seem happy about it.
“Well, the Samantha I know and love was a fighter. She didn’t give in to the cravings.”
“Well, that Samantha was weak.”
“I beg to differ. She was the strongest I’d ever seen. Which is why I loved her...and love her still to this day.”
The demon within me recoiled at his words. “You’re making me sick.” Had I said those words, or had she?
“The Samantha that I know and love is a mom, a friend, a damn fine investigator, and, most of all, unshakeable in her belief in the inherent good within herself. Within most of us.”
The big oaf was pissing me off now. Royally pissing me off. Who the fuck was he to judge me?
“The Samantha I know would have listened to criticism with an open mind. She wouldn’t be fighting herself, even now, from leaping over the table and strangling me in public.”
“I hate you,” I said.
“No, you don’t, Sam. The creature within you hates me. Hates love. Hates all that is good in your life.”
“You’re not good in my life. You’re not good for me at all. You’re a fucking cheater.”
I had raised my voice. People were staring at us. Kingsley didn’t care. He reached across the table and took my hand. Or tried to. Instead, faster than I had any right to move, faster than even he was prepared for, I flipped my fork around, caught it in mid-air, and drove it down through the back of his hand, impaling him and it to the wooden table.
“Go fuck yourself, asshole,” I said, and got up and left.
Behind me, someone screamed.
***
We were in his oversized SUV.
I’d been crying for the past twenty minutes while Kingsley wrapped his meaty arms around me and rubbed my shoulders.
Had he been able to read my mind, he would have known what was going on, why I had lashed out, and why I had impaled his hand to the table. Then he could have explained it all to me, because I still didn’t know what the hell had happened.
When the waterworks were finally done, and I was reduced to a sniffling mess, I heard a curious sound.
It was chuckling.
Kingsley was laughing to himself, even as he continued rubbing my shoulder—yes, with the very hand that I had stabbed, no less.
“What’s so funny?” I asked looking up. We were in the Mulberry Street parking lot, which was part of a bigger chain of parking lots for lots of other local businesses. Many of the cars parked near the restaurant had left quickly over the past twenty minutes.
I suspected I knew why.
“You should have seen the looks on their faces,” said Kingsley, and now he was chuckling louder. “One woman—” and now, Kingsley quit rubbing my shoulders, and retracted his hand. He needed his hands because he was now holding his belly. “One woman fainted right there in the restaurant.” Now, Kingsley was wheezing, fighting for breath.
Damn it, his booming laughter was infectious. Hell, the whole SUV was shaking. I found myself giggling at first. Mostly, I was laughing at him.
“She, literally,” he gasped, tears streaming down his face, “toppled right out of her chair—splat on the floor.”
And now, for the next two minutes or so, Kingsley was laughing so hard that he couldn’t speak. Worse, I found myself laughing, as well. Not quite as hard as Kingsley.
“And then, and then she looks up from the floor—” Kingsley didn’t sound like Kingsley. He sounded like a wheezing, asthmatic school kid. He tried again. “And then she looks up from the floor just as I pull the fork out of my hand—and faints again.”
And now, he lost it again, completely and totally, gasping and kicking his feet.
I got myself under control... certainly faster than Kingsley did. “That poor lady. Is she okay?”
“Yes,” he said, still chuckling. “The floor had carpet.”
Unfortunately, that set him off again, and I waited for him to get some control over himself. “Okay,” he said, gasping, gulping air. “I think I’m done. But no guarantees.”
I shook my head. “How’s your hand?”
“Ah hell, it’s fine. You know that.”
“Jesus, it wasn’t silver was it?”
“Naw, and even if it was, it wouldn’t have done any real harm.”
“I’m not sure what got into me. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, I know what got in you, Sam. Or what’s in you now, more accurately.” Kingsley sat back and wiped his eyes. That he filled the seat to overflowing went without saying. “It’s in me, too. Or something similar.”
“Except yours comes out each month,” I said.
“Yes,” said Kingsley. “And that seems sufficient for it for now.”
“She wants to possess me fully. That’s her goal. I know it. I can feel it.”
Kingsley nodded, suddenly somber, although his eyes still twinkled in the ambient lights.
“It’s usually the way, Sam.”
“Then how do vampires fight their own demons?” I asked.
Kingsley looked at me sideways, looked at me long and hard, his thick hair piled up on his beefy shoulders. “Most don’t, Sam. Most succumb.”
“I didn’t want to hear that.”
“But some also come to an agreement, I think.”
“What type of agreement?” I asked.
“They let the inner demon out, so to speak. But only sometimes.”
“They let it control them?”
“Yes. For some, it’s the only way to have peace.”
“She’s not controlling me,” I said. “Not ever. This one, this one is different. Powerful. She’s looking for a crack. All she needs is a crack. If she finds it...I don’t think I’ll ever come back.”
Kingsley nodded, listening, still breathing hard from his outburst. “Some demons are more powerful than others. Some have other agendas.”
“What does that mean?”
“She might have a reason to be inside you, whatever that might be.”
“Like she picked me, on purpose?”
“Maybe, Sam. I don’t know. But trust your instincts. Don’t let her out, fight her.”
“I’m trying.” I took in some air. “I mean, I have to. I have kids, a career. I have a sister, a family. I can’t let this...psychotic bitch...loose. Who knows what the hell would happen?”
“Agreed,” he said.
“I have no idea what she is capable of, who she might hurt. I have no idea if I would ever be me again.”
“I understand, Sam. Perhaps better than most. I, too, have a fear that I may never return. That I would stay chained to the walls of my own mind.”
I shook my head. “Fuck her. She’s not going to win. She’s not getting out. Ever.”
He reached over and gripped my hand tightly. I let him, and we held hands like that in his oversized SUV, an SUV that just might have been tilting slightly to one side—his side. After a long moment, he said, “I think we might need to find a new restaurant.”
“I think so, too.”
“Do you want to come over tonight?”
“We’re friends, remember?”
“Friends can still come over.”
“I suspect your intentions are more than friendly.”
“My only intention is to hold you tight.”
“I need to go,” I said, and attempted to pull free, but his big, ogre-like hands anchored mine.
“I still love you, Sam,” he said, “and I’m sorry for hurting you.”
I worked my hands free.
“I need to go,” I said, and left his SUV.
Chapter Twenty-two
We were at Hero’s.
No, it wasn’t the same without the cute bartender with the shark teeth hanging around his neck, but it was still our hangout. It was also one of the few places where my sister and I got to relax together. Where we could be ourselves. In hushed voices, of course. No kids. No men. No work. Just sisters. That one was mortal and one was immortal was irrelevant. Not here, not in this place. A safe place.
That one sister got mortal and immortal confused was just, well, plain cute.
Only this time, Mary Lou wasn’t saying much. We were sitting in the far corner along the crowded bar, where we usually sat. A post separated us from the person next to us, which was perfect.
“You’re still mad,” I said. We were both nearly halfway through our first glasses of wine and she still hadn’t said much. In fact, I was pretty certain she hadn’t said a thing...or looked at me for that matter.
Seeing her now, the way she set her jaw, the way her left knee bounced agitatedly, reminded me of our fights when we were young. Mary Lou could hold a grudge with the best of them. It was always, always, my job to break the ice. I either broke it...or I got the jaw and knee business.
“How was your day?” I asked. I didn’t want the jaw or knee business. I needed my big sister. Badly.
“Fine.”
“Anything exciting happen at work?”
“No.”
“You’re telling me, in that big insurance office of yours, not even one person had a birthday today?”
“No, Sam.”
“Well, any meltdowns?” I asked. “Someone’s always having a meltdown at your—”
“No, Sam.”
“Where did you go for lunch?”
“I didn’t eat lunch.”
“You should really eat lunch.”
“Oh my God, you’re driving me crazy.”
“That’s what sisters do.”
“No, they don’t. And they especially don’t keep secrets from each other.”
“Can you trust me when I say that there are some secrets you might want me to keep from you?”
She looked at me, that jawline of her still rippling. If she wasn’t careful, she might crack a molar. That she didn’t catch that thought was, of course, the source of her irritation. Mary Lou and I had always been close. Best friends throughout our lives. Sometimes, we were closer than other times. But always, always, she was there for me.
Now, of course, she felt left out, and I didn’t blame her.
“We weren’t keeping secrets from you, Mary Lou.”
“Then you were making fun of me, laughing at me behind my back, or inside your heads or whatever.”
“We weren’t laughing at you, either,” I said. At least, I didn’t think we were. Truth was, how the heck was I supposed to remember an off-the-cuff telepathic conversation I’d had with Allison?
“Then why do you do it?”
“I guess we did it because we can. It’s easy and fast—”
“And rude.”
“And rude, yes.”
“But you do it anyway, even when it makes other people feel uncomfortable.”
“What can I say, Mary Lou? I’m sorry. I’m learning how to be a better freak.”
She looked at me, and finally unhinged her jaw, to the great relief of her molars. She instantly looked prettier, and more relaxed. Too bad she couldn’t read that thought.
“You’re not a freak, Sam. Maybe a little inconsiderate, but not a freak.”
“Remember, this is still all new to me. I hadn’t known there was a telepathic etiquette.”
“Well, there is. At least around me.”
“Just know that I will always try to include you in the conversation, but there are going to be times when thoughts slip through, thoughts that don’t always need to be vocalized.”
She set her jaw, looked away. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“It’s the best I can offer.”
She didn’t like it; mostly, she didn’t like being left out. I scooted my stool closer to hers, and put my arm around her shoulders, similar to what Kingsley had done with me not too long ago.
I said, “I don’t know why I am the way I am, or do the things I do. I don’t know who makes the rules or why there are, in fact, any rules. But one such rule is that I can’t communicate with family members telepathically. You’re as family as it gets. It still doesn’t mean I don’t love you, and it doesn’t mean I’m closer with Allison than I am with you. If anything, Allison annoys me to no end.”
“She is kind of annoying.”
“But she has a big heart,” I said. “And, well, there’s something special going on with her.”
“Dare I ask?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
“Okay, fine. But I still don’t have to like any of this.”
“Trust me, I don’t like any of it either. For instance, right now I smell chicken wings and fries and beer, and they’re driving me crazy.”
She looked at me, and then gave me a half smile. “You’re still pretending to be a vampire, huh?”
“I make a good vampire,” I said.
