Vampire Moon (44 page)

 
      
 
Chapter Fifty-nine

 
      
 
It was the next night and I was getting ready for my big date. I didn’t often get nervous these days, but I was nervous as hell now. And while I got ready, my AOL account
twirped
. It was Fang.

 
      
 
See you in one hour, Moon Dance?

 
      
 
You bet
.

 
      
 
Are you nervous?
he asked.

 
      
 
More than you know.

 
      
 
Don’t worry. I don’t bite.

 
      
 
I would have laughed if my stomach wasn’t doing somersaults. I took a deep, shuddering breath. I really didn’t need such deep breaths, but they did help to calm me.

 
      
 
How do I find you?
I wrote when I had calmed myself down enough to focus on the keyboard.

 
      
 
Look for the man with a twinkle in his eye.

 
      
 
Smartass.

 
      
 
Trust me, Moon Dance, there will be no mistaking me tonight.

 
      
 
What’s your name?
I wrote.
I mean, your real name?

 
      
 
I will tell you my name tonight, Moon Dance. Deal?

 
      
 
Okay, deal. I have to get ready.

 
      
 
See you in fifty-six minutes.

 
      
 
So we’re really doing this?

 
      
 
Yes,
wrote Fang.
We’re really doing this.

 
      
 
I shut down my laptop and went back to work on my hair. My hands, I noticed, were shaking.

 
      
 
* * *

 
      
 
I was driving down Chapman Avenue when my cell rang. I looked at the faceplate. Another restricted Number. At this late hour, it could only be a cop. I even had a sneaking suspicion who it was. I clicked on.

 
      
 
“It wasn’t me, officer, I swear. Please don’t use the rubber hose again.”

 
      
 
“We don’t use rubber hoses
any more
,” said Sherbet.

 
      
 
“So what do you use?”

 
      
 
“Proper interrogation techniques.”

 
      
 
“And if that doesn’t work?”

 
      
 
“We dig out the rubber hoses.” He paused. “Do you have a couple of minutes?”

 
      
 
“Anything for you, detective.”

 
      
 
“I’ll remember that. Anyway, we had numerous eyewitness reports of something running through the streets of Fullerton a couple of nights ago, and I want your opinion.”

 
      
 
“And because I have a rare skin disease and I’m forced to stay out of the light of day, that makes me an expert in all things that go bump-in-the-night?”

 
      
 
“Something like that.”

 
      
 
“Was this
something
about nine feet tall and covered in fur?”

 
      
 
“How did you know?”

 
      
 
“Was there also a grave defiled?”

 
      
 
“Yes, over on Beacon Street, but—”

 
      
 
“Just a lucky guess, Detective.”

 
      
 
“Don’t give me that bullshit, Sam. What the hell is going on in my city?”

 
      
 
“You would never believe it, Detective.”

 
      
 
“Try me.”

 
      
 
“Soon. I promise.”

 
      
 
He was silent on his end of the phone. Finally, he said, “How soon?”

 
      
 
“Soon.”

 
      
 
He sighed. “I can be your best friend, Sam. Or your worst enemy. I have a city to protect.”

 
      
 
“We will talk soon, Detective. I promise.”

 
      
 
He didn’t like it, but accepted it.

 
      
 
“Get some sleep, Detective.”

 
      
 
“With a nine-foot creature running around? Hardly.”

 
      
 
“You’re safe,” I said. “At least until the next full moon.”

 
      
 
“You’re shitting me.”

 
      
 
“We’ll talk later, Detective.”

 
      
 
And we clicked off just as I pulled into the Downtown Bar & Grill parking lot.

 
      
 
Chapter Sixty

 
      
 
I was in the same parking lot where a young lady had been killed not too long ago in connection with a case of mine. A case that had involved Kingsley.

 
      
 
The parking lot was mostly empty. It was late Sunday night, so no surprise there. I was in a spot that afforded me a perfect view of the parking lot’s entrance.

 
      
 
I’m really doing this,
I thought.

 
      
 
I was a few minutes early. To my right was an alley that ran behind the restaurant. The alley was clean and dimly lit and led to the back entrances to the stores that ran along Harbor Boulevard. Potted plants were arranged outside the bar’s back door, and a nearby fire escape appeared freshly painted. The alley itself was composed of cobblestones, like something you would see in an English village. I remembered the way the girl’s blood had soaked between the stones, zigzagging rapidly away from her dying body.

 
      
 
The moon was bright, but not full. Clouds were scattered thinly across the glowing sky. Glowing, at least, to my eyes. A small wind made its way through my partially opened driver’s side window. I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking, and so I kept them there on the steering wheel, gripping tightly, my knuckles glowing white.

 
      
 
A car turned slowly into the parking lot, making a left from Chapman Avenue. Its headlights bounced as the vehicle angled up the slight driveway and into the parking lot.

 
      
 
I’m really doing this.

 
      
 
I hadn’t expected to be this nervous. Fang knew everything about me. He knew my dirtiest secrets. So what did I know about him? I knew he was a lady’s man. I knew he had a massive fascination for vampires. I knew he was mortal.

 
      
 
And that was it.

 
      
 
In a way, I loved Fang. He was always, always there for me. In my darkest hours, he consoled me. He lifted me up and reminded me that I was not a monster. I shared with him my heart, and in return he accepted it with tenderness and compassion. He was the perfect man. The perfect confidant.

 
      
 
I didn’t want to lose what I had with Fang.

 
      
 
The car continued moving through the parking lot. I could hear its tires crunching. The car, I soon saw, was an old muscle car. A beautiful thing. Not quite
cherried
, but obviously well taken care of. It gave off a throaty growl, not unlike the growl of the werewolf the other night.

 
      
 
I didn’t want to lose Fang. I love what we have. Our connection was so rare, so helpful, so loving, so sweet, so important to me.

 
      
 
I can’t lose that.

 
      
 
I wrapped my hands around my keys, which were still hanging in the ignition.

 
      
 
This was a bad idea. I should never have agreed to this.

 
      
 
“What am I doing?” I whispered, feeling real panic, perhaps the first panic I had felt in a long time. Far worse panic than when a nine-foot-tall werewolf approached me in my hotel room.

 
      
 
And what if Fang isn’t who he says he is? What if he’s someone completely different? Someone untrustworthy?