Vampire Moon

Monica touched my forearm and leaned over and whispered into my ear. "I need to use the restroom."

I patted her hand. "Okay." I turned to Mary Lou. "We’re going to the restroom."

Mary Lou nodded and kept her eyes on the bartender. Monica and I left and I held her hand as I threaded our way through the crowded bar. She kept about as close to me as she possibly could. Inside the surprisingly uncrowded bathroom, I waited outside the stall for her to finish her business. As I waited, I had a very bad feeling I couldn’t shake. I looked over my shoulder, but we were alone. I frowned.

Shortly, we were working our way back through the bar to where we found an ashen-faced Mary Lou staring at us. We took our seats on the stools next to her, and as I sat, Mary Lou leaned over and whispered in my ear: "There was a man here."

"Who?"

She shook her head. My sister looked completely shaken. "I don’t know. He came up next to me and ordered a drink."

"So?"

"He looked right at me and smiled…the most horrible smile I have ever seen."

"You’re not drunk are you?"

"No, dammit." She kept shaking her head. "He looked… wrong. Off. Evil. He looked what I would imagine a killer would look like."

"A killer?"

"A hired killer."

"Is he here now?"

"No, he ordered a Red Bull, paid cash, and left. Right before you two came back. He wanted me to see him. He wanted you to know he’s watching."

"And you’re not drunk."

"Goddammit, no."

My first instinct was to run out after the guy. Maybe that’s what he wanted me to do. Maybe. The sun was still an hour or so from setting. I wasn’t at my strongest, and I wasn’t going to leave Monica.

"Okay," I said to Mary Lou. "Hang on."

I motioned for the bartender. He saw me immediately and, even though he was talking to someone else, said something to them, laughed, and came right over. He looked curiously at my mostly full drink.

"You need something else?" he asked.

I nodded. "The guy who ordered the Red Bull a minute ago. Have you ever seen him in here before?"

He shook his head. "No. Why?"

"How tall would you say he was?"

He shrugged. "Six foot maybe. Why?"

"How old would you say he was?"

He shrugged again. "Hard to say. Forty, fifty. Is everything okay?"

"We’ll see," I said. "Can you tell me any more about him?" I wanted a description of the guy from someone who wasn’t nearly three sheets to the wind.

The bartender studied me with his big brown eyes. His shark teeth glistened whitely at his throat. He had been working here for a few months, but he had never really spoken. Still, I often caught him catching my eye. I think he thought I was cute. Go figure. Finally, he said, "White guy. Thin. Black hair. Black eyes. Probably brown eyes, but they looked black in here."

"Anything else about him?" I asked.

"He was wearing a sign around his neck that said, ‘I am exhibiting suspicious behavior.’ Does that help?"

"I don’t tip you to be funny," I said.

"The humor is free."

I looked away from him, scanning the room. I didn’t sense any immediate danger. The sensing of danger is tricky business for me. Lots of things set off my warning bells. If the man honestly didn’t intend any sort of physical violence at this moment, I probably wouldn’t have picked up on anything. Now, had he been charging us with a pocket knife at this very moment, my spidey-senses would have sprung to life.

I turned back to the bartender, who was watching me curiously. "So that’s all you remember?"

He grinned easily. "Hey, he just ordered a Red Bull to go. I think I did pretty good remembering what I remembered."

"Bravo. You get a biscuit."

"So what’s this all about anyway?"

"Official undercover chick business," I said.

He nodded. "I see. Well, be safe under those covers, young lady," he said, and then moved quickly away to get another drink order filled.

I turned to Monica; she was staring at me, having heard everything of course. "Is he a bad man?" she asked.

"I don’t know," I said.

"Does he want to kill me, too?"

"I don’t know," I said, frowning. "But no one is going to kill you or hurt you or anything. I promise."

She smiled, or tried to, and gripped my arm even tighter.

Chapter Thirty-three

I called right at 7:00 p.m.

Danny picked up and told me to hold on. No other pleasantries were said. There were never any pleasantries said. While I waited and while I listened to him breathing steadily on his end, I thought of us standing together in the shade of the Fullerton Arboretum. It had been a small wedding. Just forty or so family and friends. It had been a beautiful, sunny day. Danny had looked so handsome and awkward in his suit. He kept folding his hands over and over at his waist, trying to look dignified standing in front of everyone, but mostly looking nervous as hell. I had watched him the entire way as walked down the aisle with my father. Danny had watched me, too, and the closer I got the more his nerves abated. He quit fumbling with his hands. He then smiled at me brighter than he had ever smiled at me before or after.

I heard something akin to a hand covering the phone, heard muffled voices, then more scraping sounds and Danny spoke into the phone. "You’ve got eight minutes."

"Eight!?"

A second later, a squeaky little voice burst from the line.

"Mom!"

"Hi, baby!"

"Don’t call me baby, mom. I’m not a baby."

"I’m sorry, Mr. Man."

"I’m not a man, either."

"Then what are you?"

"I’m a boy."

"You’re my big boy."

He liked that. I could almost see him jumping up and down on the other end of the line, pressing the phone into his ear with both hands, the way he usually does.

"Daddy says you can’t come see us tomorrow. That you are too busy to see us."

"That’s not true – "

"Yes, it is true, Sam," said Danny’s voice. He had, of course, been listening in from the other phone, as he always does. "You’re busy with work and you can’t see them."

I took in a lot of air, held it. Let it out slowly.

"I’m sorry, angel," I said to my boy. "I’m going to be busy tomorrow."

"But we never get to see you – "

"That’s enough, Anthony. Get your sister on the line."