Midnight Sunset

 

I made my way down to church next morning. Sister Anne saw me right away and informed me that I could find Father Jonathan in the confession box before I could even say good morning. Her action were not unusual, every member of the church knew that Father Jonathan was my godfather.

“Hello, Father,” I said sitting inside the empty booth.

“Hello, child,” he answered. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” I told him, cutting to the chase. “The people you told me to approach weren’t any good. They took one look at the pictures and told me I needed some mental help.”

“Hm,” he exhaled. “That doesn’t sound like the Xero I know . . . Did you say something to him?”

“No. I told him that I believed a monster had killed my dad and all his ‘yes, ma’am’ façade just disappeared. He got up and left with his assistant named Sweets,” I said struggling to prevent myself from cursing in church.

“Something must have gone wrong,” he said. “The Knightly Eye has been helping humans with supernatural problems for a long time. Xero refusing now makes no sense.”

“What should I do now?” I put my head against the wooden partition and asked. “I can’t give up on this.”

“Oh, I can’t believe I am saying this,” Father Jonathan huffed. I could almost see him shivering at the thought of his next blasphemous words. “There is a, erm, night club called Midnight Sunset that has just open in town. Word on the street is that it is being run by some vampires. Now, just because I have informed you about this ungodly place doesn’t mean you let go of your morals completely.”

“How do you know what the ‘word on the street is’? You are supposed to be a middle aged Catholic priest.”

“Tamara,” he warned. “This is not a joke. Vampires are very dangerous. They are lustful, ruthless psychopaths who only care about their convenience. You will have to be extra careful around them. None of them can be trusted.”

“I know,” I told him and stood up. “Thank you, Father. I will see you later.”

“Don’t forget to pray,” he called out as I left the confession box. “Oh Holy Spirit . . .”

 

---

 

My holy Angel Guardian, ask the Lord to bless the journey which I undertake, that it may profit the health of my soul and body; that I may reach its end, and that, returning safe and sound, I may find my family in good health. Do thou guard, guide and preserve us. Amen.

 

I laughed as I said it to myself. Then I remembered that I didn’t have any at all family to return to and felt worse than the people who were held up in the queue by the bouncer. I made my way through the dance floor to the bar.

“Yo,” an Asian girl with bright red hair and a fake tan said leaning across the polished table top. “What can I get you?”

I had read thirteen Cosmopolitan articles for this moment. I was prepared. “Anything,” I blurted out. I have failed miserably.

The bartender rolled her eyes and turned away murmuring, “Newbies. Why can’t they decide before coming on a Friday night?”

I coughed awkwardly. “So,” I said taking a seat. “How are you?”

I fail at using my womanly charms.

“What do you want?” she asked grabbing a frosted bottle off the top shelf.

“I don’t understand,” I said watching her pour the transparent liquid out in a glass the size of my palm.

“People only talk to me when they want something,” she replied, screwing the lid back on.

“I―”

“I ain’t hookin’ yo’ ass up with no dope,” she cut me off, “so don’t even bother askin’.” She put the drink in the counter and slid it towards me.

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed nearly knocking the drink over. “I-I am not looking for any drugs. I am actually a reporter working with a local newspaper. I am writing an article on the death of a famous archaeologist. You might have heard of him, he was all over the news earlier this month. His name is Richard Dragomir.”

The girl ran her tongue over her teeth and scanned me from top to bottom. “Why the hell would you come here to find out about some ol’ ass dead dude? This is a nightclub, sweetie. Not a freaking old age home.”

I wanted to smack her square in the face. “We got an anonymous tip.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, blowing a bubble. “What’s your name?”

“Holly Clark,” I lied. “You?”

“Lola, a.k.a. the last face yo’ will be seein’.” She look behind me and whistled. A felt a swish behind me and then found my arms held in iron grips.

“What the―” I gasped as two men dressed in black pulled me of the chair. “Let go of me!”

The one on the right chuckled as I tried to pry their hands off. I looked around to see if anyone had notice me being dragged out by men twice my size but everyone was too busy swaying to the beat. “No one can see you, honey,” Mr. Chuckles said. “Papa makes us puts a little something-something to make sure everyone here has a good time.”

The howled together. “Makes our job way easier,” the one with the strong smell of cigarettes said.

“Help me!” I yelled, trying anyway. I pushed them into other dancers on the floor. Eventually Mr. Stench got irritated by me and let go of my arm only to grab a fistful of my hair.

“Listen here, you bitch,” he said. “I am going to snap your head right here if you don’t shut up and stop shoving. Maybe if you play nice we will let you live a little longer, okay?”

When I didn’t reply he yanked my hair to get an answer. “Alright!” I exclaimed. “Alright! Alright!”

“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear, letting go. They took me off the floor and out a small door behind the live D.J.’s stage. We were in the alley behind the club. Mr. Chuckles pushed me face forward on the concrete surface. My exposed arms and legs underneath my black dress burned with the friction. I flipped around on my back and used my raw palms to back away.

Mr. Chuckles’ and Mr. Stench’s faced turned. Their eyes turned red shining brightly against their pale skins. They snarled at me.

I was dead tonight. “Why did you do it?” I asked wiping the water out of my eyes. “Why did you murder him?”

“Girl,” Mr. Stench called out mockingly. “If you really know what’s best for you, you will stop talking. The longer you run your damn mouth, the more we will drag this out for you.”

“WAS IT YOU?” I screamed louder than I have ever before. My throat burned. “WHY DID YOU KILL HIM?”

Mr. Chuckles looked confused momentarily but that didn’t stop him from advancing slowly with hungry looking in his eyes. I made a silent prayer.

Just when I that this moment would mark the end of all that I was and ever would be, the back exit opened and two familiar figures appeared.

“I still can’t believe that you would refuse that girl,” Sweets ranted. “She needed our help. Plus she was from the Hamptons! The freaking Hamptons!”

“I don’t get why you’re still angry at me,” Xero huffed, animatedly throwing his hands up in the air. “I told you that it won’t affect your pay―”

Two things happened very quickly; Mr. Stench jerked around in surprise and Xero grabbed a cane from a dumpster and thrust it through his chest. The smelly vampire shuddered and turned to grey powder that spilled all over the road.

Sweets horrified scream was drowned by the roar Mr. Chuckles gave at the sight of his friend’s ashes being blown away by the wind. He moved away from me and sprinted to Xero. Xero had just enough time to push the shocked Sweets out of the way duck out of the way of the vampire fist. Sweets hit a bricked wall and his eyes rolled at the back of your head.

Xero’s foot collided with Mr. Chuckles’ abdomen, sending him skidding a few steps back. He reached for the cane again but it had broken in half after the staking. I suddenly realized that I was still on the floor and got up. The vampire saw me move from the corner of his ruby eyes and changed his attention to me. Xero saw this as an opportunity to attack and threw himself on Mr. Chuckles back.

They plunged forward with the vampire’s face hitting the ground with a sickening crack. Xero flipped him around and brought his fists down repeatedly on the bloodsucker. Blood oozed out of the vampire’s face. I remembered something I had heard countless times in my father’s seminars; something every race and tribe believed in when dealing with monsters.

If it bleeds, it can die.

Vampires could be killed. I just saw one turning to dust. Xero had staked him through the heart with a cane. I glanced around to see something that could be used as a stake. I pulled more hair on my already tender scalp. Think Tamara, think! My eyes fell on a piece of broken glass and I saw my own beat up self, but that wasn’t all. I had found my weapon. Heck, it had been underneath my feet the entire time.

            I turned around and moved towards Xero who was having a difficult time holding Mr. Chuckles down. I put a hand on his should her pulled his head out of the way. He looked at me as if I was insane. He gave the vampire another jab and straddled his waist. “What are you doing?” he asked in a rough voice.

I walked around to the opposite side so that a very confused Mr. Chuckles laid right in the middle of us. “This is for pulling my goddamn hair,” I said and bought to my skin inch heal down on his chest.

His body was gone before my stiletto touched the ground.

Xero got up shakenly and dusted the vampire residue off his blue jeans. “That was . . .” he started.

“Impressive,” I suggested, raising an eyebrow. “Want to help your friend now?”

Realization hit his face. He spun around and ran towards Sweets. The assistant was out cold. “Should we take him to hospital?” I asked kneeling beside them. “He might have a concussion.”

“No,” Xero shook his head. “He’ll talk when he wakes up and will land himself of a ticket to psych hold. Help me get him up to my car.”

We pulled Sweets up and each slung his arm around our neck. Their car, a simple silver Toyota, was on the end of the parking lot. We laid a groaning Sweets on the back seat and closed the door. “I guess this mean that you are taking the case,” I remarked, rubbing my red arms.

“No,” he answered. “This doesn’t mean I am taking your case. Look, I know this is all tough―”

“Tough?” I exclaimed, raising my voice. “This is more than tough. I had to see my father’s corpse, I had to use a fake ID, and I had to kill a bloody vampire.”

Xero stretched his neck and stepped closer until all I could smell his mint body wash mixed with sweat and a faint scent of blood. Although the latter could have been mine, I couldn’t tell. “This isn’t a game,” he snarled. “This isn’t like playing cops and robbers. So forget about your little quest to find the truth and leave back through the door you came. This is supernatural world. Here, people die all the time and no one gives a damn. This world is too scary for little girls like you.”

And that was one I snapped. I shoved him hard against his own car. “I have been brought up on stories about creatures of the night. I have had them for breakfast. They very stories that make little children wet their beds have been casual dinner table conversation for me since I was old enough to talk. Nothing scares me anymore. Nothing surprises me anymore. I will find whoever is responsible for Richard Dragomir’s death and I will watch them burn. I will never stop; not now, not ever. But I am not dumb enough to do this on my own, you will help me. Like you said, this is a quest not a suicide mission.”

“Oh, yeah?” he sneer, his eyes burning with rage. “What makes you think you can make me do anything?”

“We both know that I obviously have no idea about how many monsters there are here or how their hierarchy works,” I laughed; I had never thought a weakness could be a strength. “We both also know that I will get myself in trouble, and when I do, I will lead them all to you. Every damned monster this world has known will be knocking at your doorstep.Plus, something tells me there are far worst things in this town than just some vampires.”

Xero looked at me with clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t.”

I spread my arms out and backed a few steps away. “Try me.”

For a minute no one spoke. We both stood still in the cold of night running warmer than most.

He exhaled and reached behind him to open the front door of his car, “Get in.”