Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case (18 page)

It followed.

She walked slowly towards the front entrance, allowing the dog to trot, but yanking its leash occasionally to keep it moving towards the door. It kept about six or seven feet behind. The aroma of the woman’s fake sweet scent was almost enough to drown out the scent of the pooch. It didn’t like the smell of dogs, foul creatures that they were, serving no purpose but to warn their masters of danger. This dog didn’t seem to sense any threat though.

As the woman got to the entrance, It closed the distance. The woman put her key in the door and opened it. It walked right up. She looked up quickly, then smiled and held the door. It grabbed the metal door, allowing the woman and the dog to enter first.

“Thank you,” the woman said.

It nodded and followed the woman into a hallway. It noticed no man guarding the entrance like the building next door had.

The woman pressed a button in front of a metal wall, and looked over her shoulder at It with strange eyes. She didn’t appear alarmed, but perhaps she was concerned. It smiled a soft smile, which seemed to set the woman at ease. The dog sniffed its feet.

“Stop it,” the woman said, and the dog’s head turned away from its feet and towards the wall.

The wall slid open to show a room with mirrored walls flanked with wood handrails. The woman walked towards the empty room. She yanked the leash and said, “Come on, Peanut. Let’s go.”

She stepped into the room and the dog followed. It stepped into the room next. The woman pressed a button. It looked ahead, saying nothing.

“Are you going to four, too?” she asked.

“Yes. Going to four.” The voice was exaggeratingly high pitched, but It did its best to sound like the young females It had heard talk earlier. When in doubt, it was always best to agree. Four what? It wasn’t sure, but she’d been given the answer she was expecting to hear, and so it was safe to simply nod and agree.

The woman seemed satisfied. Peanut sniffed its feet, first at the toes, then its tiny snout moving upwards towards the leg.

“Peanut,” she said in a harsh tone, and the dog stopped sniffing and again faced forward.

Soft music played as the wall slid closed. Violins and violas began to ring pleasantly in its head. Then, the room began to move. Its stomach didn’t like it, nor did its ears, which filled with pressure. It stumbled, then grabbed the handrail. The soothing tune helped settle its nerves, allowing It to get its bearings. The room was moving up, nothing to be alarmed about. The woman and the dog seemed to expect it.

A soft bell rang. The wall slid open and some crooked lines lit up at the top of the elevator.

A muted horn played the melody while the bass and percussion held down the rhythm.

She stepped out of the room, lightly yanking at Peanut’s leash. It followed a step or two behind, happy to be out of the odd, moving room. She turned her head slightly to the side but didn’t look back. The wall slid closed, but the muted trumpet still hummed a sweet sound in its head.

The woman walked down the hall, passing two doors. She stopped abruptly at the third door. It walked slowly past, towards the fourth door.

The woman put the key in her door and turned it, then looked at It. It closed in quickly, and pushed her into the room behind the door. Peanut was dragged along with them.

Peanut began to bark. The bark wasn’t quite soprano but lacked any bass. It was annoying, but not startling. The neighbors probably heard it all the time.

It slammed the door closed with its tail. It was an instinctive move, although It realized instantly that the human camouflage on its ass was ruined.

“What are you doing in here? Get out!” The woman screamed. It didn’t appear that she’d noticed the tail in the darkness of the unlit room. There was a small amount of light from the street coming in through the windows, but the room was otherwise dark.

It tackled her and smacked her head into the hardwood floor. Peanut stood and barked.

“What do you want from me? I don’t have much money. You can have my jewelry. You don’t need to hurt me.”

It wrapped the leash around her neck with one hand while holding her down with the other. Her face reddened and mouth water slid down her chin.

Peanut barked, then pecked at its legs. It ignored the dog until Peanut took a bite into its heel, ripping off the human cover and breaking through a layer of scaly skin.

It jerked back. The pain wasn’t excruciating, but it was enough so that It turned towards the dog and backhanded it. The opportunity wasn’t lost on the woman; she was fast with fear. She ducked under the leash and broke free, and went running down a long hallway towards a glass end table and grabbed for a rectangular box. She was able to separate the top piece of the box from the base and It could see they were connected by a long cord. The woman tried to press buttons on the box, but before she could, It launched its tongue, extending down the long hallway. The scratchy tongue latched onto the back of her neck and yanked her back. Her limbs sprung in four different directions. The rectangle box flung into the wall. She was able to shake free for an instant but then lost her footing and fell headfirst into the glass table. The table smashed into many pieces. She collapsed and lay face down.

It hurried down the hallway and rolled her face up. Bits of glass covered her face and shimmered from the light sneaking in through the window.

Peanut was barking frantically. The pitch now truly was soprano. It ignored the dog, who just stood by, barking but doing nothing else to stop It.

The trumpets in its head were no longer muted. They were bursting with a medieval victory song.

It took her head in its hands and opened her mouth. Its tongue slid out and licked the bits of blood from her face, gently spiting the glass fragments aside. The tongue went into her mouth and stretched down into her belly. It stopped at the stomach and parked there, where it could slowly enjoy the taste.

Her stomach was near empty, but her bowels were tasty and full.

A noise from outside interrupted the meal. There was a knock at the door, and a voice heard.

“Mrs. Olsen?” the voice outside the door questioned. The voice spoke differently from the others It had heard speak; much like its own, the voice seemed a little less confident with the human language.

Peanut looked towards the door, continuing to bark, but not leaving its master’s side.

It lopped up one last gulp of entrails, then stood up and walked towards the door, tucking in its tail and solidifying its camouflage as It huddled in the entrance hall.

“Mrs. Olsen?” The voice was a little louder, and a little more intent. There were three knocks on the door, followed by three harder ones. “Mrs. Olsen. Are you okay in there? It’s Juan.”

Peanut whined.

It heard keys jingling on the other side of the door.

“Mrs. Olsen. It’s Juan. I’m coming in. Okay?”

The door opened and It charged. The man in a blue work shirt with red stenciling over the breast pocket barely had a chance to think before he got bowled over, its lowered shoulder connecting directly with the man’s ribs. The man fell and It ran out into the hall. It wanted no part of the moving room but knew It had to get down. It saw a sign that was lit up in red which It recognized from its days at the music school.

“Exit,” It said to itself with recollection.

It ran towards the sign and opened the door beneath it, then ran down four flights of steps and out into the street.

It wasn’t long before It picked up the girl’s scent again. The trail headed north. It was strong, and another transformation took place. An old vagrant that drew first glances but rarely second ones journeyed north following the scent of hair paint, fake sweet scent and feminine sweat.

* *

A skinny, brown-skinned girl walked alone on the hard ground. There was a swagger in her hips that attempted to portray confidence beyond her years. The intention in her movement was clear—her tiny waist in such contrast to her round ass—but It wasn’t fooled.

She walked underneath the tracks where the loud rectangular boxes rattled by and crossed the usually busy hard ground. When the red, hot ball was out, the wheeled boxes flew by. At this hour, however, she didn’t even bother looking both ways before crossing.

Her pace quickened, and she breathed a bit heavily but didn’t look back at the sloppy man that wandered a bit too closely behind her. Blinking red and yellow enclosed lights coming from a small manmade tree were growing close.

She walked up to the small manmade tree and there was a man whose head was wrapped in a dark-colored cloth, standing behind glass. “Can I get a Newport?” she asked him.

“A pack?” he asked, his voice sounded short, as if he already knew her answer and didn’t like it.

“
Naw
, baby. I need a
onesy
. I only have ten cent.”

“No
onesy
. We can’t do that anymore.”

“Come on. I just need one.”

“Sorry. Can’t do it.”

She brushed aside the purple, fake animal fur she wore around her neck and reached into her purse. Counting coins and unraveling bills, the frustration mounted on her pock-marked face.

“I only have four bucks.”

“Can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

“Come on, man! Hook a
sista
up, dammit. I spend a lot of money here.”

“I can’t. Now either buy something or I call the cops.”

“Fine. Can I have some matches then?”

“Alright. Just leave now.”

The man tossed the matches through an opening at the bottom of the glass. Then shook his head, scratched his grayish beard and turned away.

She grabbed the matches, and walked on. The girl took a colored box from her purse and took out a stub. She scraped a piece of match against the case and pulled fire from her finger. She lit the stub and took in a deep inhale. She blew out the smoke as her eyes flittered.

It ducked into an alleyway that separated the small manmade tree from a larger and more brightly lit manmade tree. Many wheeled boxes stood next to the large, well-lit manmade tree, but they seemed to be sleeping.

Flashing red lights caught its attention; they came from a wheeled box that was colored blue and white. The wheeled box quickly cut off the brown-skinned girl’s path as she walked along the edge of the hard ground.

The glass from the box went down, and a man wearing a blue shirt said from inside the box, “Are you looking for trouble tonight?”

“No,
babydoll
. You know I don’t want no trouble.”

“Then go on home.”

“Why? I
ain’t
botherin
’ nobody, officer. Why you
trippin
’ on me?”

“Knock it off.”

“Knock what off?”

A brown, wheeled box slowed down then stopped underneath a hanging red enclosed light. The shadow of a balding, middle-aged, pale man could be seen alone in the car.

 “Friend of yours?” the man in the blue shirt asked.

“I don’t know him.”

“You sure he’s not your date?”

“I said I don’t know him.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just get off the streets. Hear me? I see you again tonight and I’m bringing you in.”

“Yes, sir. I’m headed straight home.”

The man nodded as his window went up. Then the blue and white wheeled box purred and pulled off, just as the red enclosed light disappeared and a green one lit up.

The brown, wheeled box started forward as the pale man inside it looked the girl’s way. She smiled at him and jiggled her perky chest balls. Despite her small frame, she had a healthy ass and large chest balls; she’d make a nice meal. The man appeared to like what he saw but also gave off nervous energy. The brown, wheeled box continued on, and soon the red enclosed lights in its ass faded.

“There he goes,” she said as she scrunched her face, “along with my cigarette money.” She shook her head and started walking. “Man these shoes,” she said as she twisted her legs inside boots with tall stumps.

She turned off the well-lit hard ground and onto a darker, quieter hard ground.

It followed.

The ground was long and quiet, and when she reached the end, she turned again, to an even darker and quieter section of hard ground. A sound from an oncoming wheeled box was heard, and soon after its enclosed front lights became visible around the corner. Just a few seconds after that, the brown wheeled box slowly rolled down the hard ground, then came to a stop, the box squeaked, but only for a split second.

The box settled at the edge of the hard ground, and its side glass rolled down.

She walked quickly towards it. “You
lookin
’ for a date, baby?” she asked. Her voice was suddenly like a child’s.

The man inside the brown wheeled box pushed the small sliver of hair he had on his head to one side and in a confident voice, a voice he’d obviously used many times in this manner, asked, “How much for a blowjob?”

“How much for a blowjob,” It repeated, quietly, not knowing what it meant but guessing it was another odd mating ritual.