Moon River
“You know a friend of mine,” said Sanchez, as he pulled off onto Los Feliz Boulevard—along with about half of Southern California.
“Oh?”
“Well, he’s not so much a friend but a great admirer of mine.”
I groaned. “Knighthorse.”
“How did you know?”
“Because you two are the cockiest sons-of-bitches I’ve ever met.”
Sanchez chuckled. “Does he know about your…secret?”
“No,” I said. “Which raises a concer…”
Sanchez, perhaps even catching a whiff of my own thoughts, nodded. “I know what you’re going to say: what’s to stop me from telling Knighthorse—or anyone else for that matter—your secret? That is, before you erase my memory.”
“Right,” I said. “For all I know, you could have texted your wife that you’re on a ride-along with a vampire.”
He chuckled. “Ride-along. Funny. But, no, I haven’t texted anyone. Is texted even a word?”
“My kids use it, so that’s good enough for me.”
Sanchez grinned, but then turned somber. “Truth is, I’m damn nervous about having my memory erased. I mean…how much of it will you erase?”
“I can be fairly exact,” I said.
In fact, I had been practicing the technique for the past few months with Allison, or, as I called her, my guinea pig. She didn’t mind being called my guinea pig, and she also didn’t mind helping me practice my various vampiric talents. Mostly, she didn’t mind me feeding on her. In fact, she encouraged it.
Strange girl, yes, but there was a reason for her madness—the more I fed on her, the more her psychic skills developed. The more they developed, the stronger she got. The stronger she got, the more of a pill she became.
Sanchez shot me a look. “How does it work?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s based on autosuggestion.”
“Like hypnotic suggestion?”
“Right.”
“Are you kind of new to all of this?” he asked.
“Being a vampire?”
“Yes.”
“New enough. Turns out, there’s more to it than running around graveyards at night.”
“Do vampires do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But that’s what I always thought. In my ‘before’ life.”
Sanchez laughed a little and made a right into Griffith Park, thus bypassing what looked like hours of traffic ahead on Los Feliz Boulevard.
“I read somewhere that Los Feliz Boulevard is the busiest street in Los Angeles,” he said, seemingly out-of-the-blue.
But it wasn’t out-of-the-blue. Little did Detective Handsome realize that he was already picking up on my thoughts. I must have been feeling pretty comfortable with him. Comfortable enough that our connection was growing stronger. Granted, getting comfortable—or cozy—with Sanchez wasn’t an entirely an unpleasant thought. His psycho wife, however, was an unpleasant thought.
As he pulled into a parking space along the perimeter of the quiet park, he looked at me curiously. “Did you just call my wife a psycho?”
“No, I thought it. And I’m sorry.”
“No worries. She is kind of psycho…wait, you what?”
“I thought it,” I said. “As in, you just read my mind, Detective.”
“No…”
“Oh, yes.”
“I heard you.”
“You heard my thoughts, Detective. In your head.”
“This isn’t happening.”
“I’ve said that a thousand times, Detective, but yet, it still happens. And it’s happening now. To both of us.”
“Shit.”
“You can say that again.”
“I’m a detective. I don’t read minds. I read…” he stumbled for words. The handsome cop looked truly perplexed. He reached up and removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I read police reports, study crime scenes, deal with real facts, real people.”
I reached over and pinched his shoulder. “That’s for insinuating I’m not a real person.” And, yes, I wanted to pinch something else, but I didn’t want Mrs. Psycho Wife showing up on my doorstep.
“She’s not that bad,” said Sanchez, and then started nodding. “Yes, I’m aware that you didn’t actually say anything, that your words just appeared in my thoughts. I…think I can tell the difference now. The words are softer, whispery.”
“Like a ghost,” I said.
He snapped his head around. “A what?”
“You scared of ghosts, Detective?”
“Who isn’t?”
“Well, you’re safe. I’m just your garden-variety bloodsucker.”
He kept looking at me. Sweat had appeared on his brow. Some of it had collected at his temple and was about to trickle down. And, as I thought these words, he reached up and wiped the sweat away.
“Yes,” he said, “I heard that, too. Does this happen with everyone you meet?”
“No. But this is certainly the fastest.”
“What does it mean?”
“Maybe we were married in a past life.”
“Are you being serious?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But it might explain what’s happening.”
“And what is happening?”
I gave him my biggest grin. “Congratulations. You’ve just mind-linked with a creature of the night. Your life, I suspect, will never be the same again.”
“Until you wipe my memory clean.”
“We’ll talk about that later,” I said.
He nodded and rubbed that spot between his eyes. His oversized ring caught some ambient lamplight and flashed brilliantly. He got control of himself, took in some air.
“Can we talk about something else now?” he asked.
“Like murder?”
He exhaled. “Like murder. After all, this is where the bodies were found. Come on.”
Chapter Four
We followed a narrow trail.
Dusk was a special time for me. The disquiet of the day was forgotten. That I could ever feel less than I did now was inconceivable. Now, at this hour, at this time of day, I felt like I could conquer anything and anyone. Literally. I was bursting at the seams. I wanted to climb the highest cliff or tree or whatever the hell was out here. The Griffith Observatory was nearby, with its massive dome that was visible for miles all around. It could see into the universe and all its secrets. Not my secrets, I thought. Yes, the observatory would work. Give the astronomers something to really look at.