L.F.B. by Ewen Rendale

Chapter One

2009-12-08T01:40:00.000-08:00

Perched deep within the branches atop the lofty willow he was essentially invisible to the mortal eye. Typically he remained out of sight whenever he stopped at Riverside Park, though he always took the vantage point to maintain the best view. The full moon was on a slow rise over the Ambassador Bridge and beneath it the deep blue-black waters of the Detroit River fed a smooth breeze along the shore. He looked over the familiar night sky, the faded aqua towers and streamlined steel cables dominated the view. Ever since its construction, the aging behemoth symbolized the industrial influence over the landscape, both in style and function. From the distance, even to his refined eyes, the crossing traffic looked like nothing more than a parade of toy motors moving back and forth across an automated track. For him, it served as an animated reminder of a feast of fresh possibilities pouring over from Canada, night and day.

He inhaled the cool night air, tasting the flavors of the park as it mingled with the pollution that emanated from the decomposing city. Lingering about those that gathered throughout the squalid grounds, sounds of distant music blended with raucous laughter. Barbequing and drinking, revelers of the night were doing their best to enjoy the last bits of summer before the inevitable chill of autumn returned. Along the breakwater a couple of elderly men had lines cast in the river, and from his hidden perch he watched in repulsion, considering the contamination that the shore had seen over time. He remembered fishing, once upon a time long ago, but he wouldn’t bother with anything from the Detroit River, even if he could. What was once a naturally pristine waterfront teeming with life seemed nearly lost to a rusted-out wasteland that industrialization had left for dead. Yet, despite the decay of the stark streets, the crumbling ruins of Detroit still held an ironic beauty. Concealed deep within its skeletal remains, Riverside was one of the few places reconnecting with nature; quiet hints within the creeping weeds revealed traces of the wild as it began to return. Even the river’s indigenous beavers were slowly reappearing after a century’s absence, and now started to inhabit a few areas along the deserted waterfront. He sighed in deep reflection, considering the many transformations that the once-marshy riverbanks endured over the years; from the initial struggles to secure the wetlands, on to all the expansions that eventually spawned the tri-county sprawl of suburbia. He saw the current collapse of it all as a careless result manufactured by capitalism with all its glory beholden to shareholders, rather than the community of workers that labored to build the kingdom. Rarely was any of it a matter of personal concern, but it made him question the future and ultimate survival of the region. The city’s declining population had barely touched the current stock of available, willing donors, but the threat loomed in withering potentials; already, he could sense the effects as the variety of local selection grew sparse.

Disappointed with a lack of worthy prey in the park, again he looked to the moon in the cloudless indigo sky. It had been too long since he enjoyed a good hunt, and with the festival of Mabon approaching, the mood had been creeping upon him. Each passing day whispered promises of longer nights to come and the lean season was winding down to a welcomed end. Perpetually shifting, the planet’s annual cycles drove the instincts and rituals of all existence, and he had waited just to feel the thrill of the season’s return like an ultimate high that could only be captured with the taste of tradition. The hunt was his tradition and it had been his only motive in surveying the park that night. Yet, beneath the light of the full moon it became clear that the grazers in the field presented more of risk than they were physically worth. He could literally smell the air as it pickled from the booze in their systems, and while that was hardly a threat to him, there was no guarantee as to what else they might’ve ingested. Off in the parking lot he saw a well built, caramel-skinned man; Latino, he guessed, given the proximity to Mexican Town. The possibility of his recent immigration seemed unlikely considering the glamour-thug fashions he sported. While he saw the ghetto-couture as nothing more than a cheap status symbol, it spoke of the consumer attitude that infected the man along with most society, one that was built to suit instant gratification and oblivious to the habits of a healthful existence. Certainly, the dominant gangsta-wanna-be appeared stronger than the rest of his motley mob, though he doubted that it was due to nutrition or exercise. No, instinctively he caught the wafting scent of steroids, and although hunger was beginning to feed his frustration, he wasn’t in the mood for the incidental side effects of polluted blood. Even if it lacked the thrill of wild game, tonight’s nourishment would be better retrieved from home where the essential quality of the crop was always carefully maintained.

Just as he began to resolve that no worthy opportunity would present itself, he suddenly noticed a healthy young woman dismount her motor bike alongside a row of cars already parked in the lot. The white skin of her bare arms caught his eye as they seemed to glow in the moon light and he watched with awakened anticipation as she walked to the waterfront. Dressed in black cargo pants and a black tank top, her figure was like a silhouette cutting through the field of overgrown crab-grass. He liked the strength revealed in her pace, with each solid step determined, and the smell of confidence rolled off her as she passed his old willow. Apparently, she thought she was strong. Just before the rails of the breakwater she stood and removed the helmet from her head. Shaking out her dark hair in the shadows she filled the air with her scent, and like a cat stalking a mouse he opened his mouth slightly to taste her on the wind. She smelled warm and fresh, and although he couldn’t place the perfume that she wore, he was pleased that it was not enough to overpower the fragrance of her natural essence. Her aroma was clean like the musk of fresh earth, and he finally felt his senses sharpen for the hunt.

Focused on his prey, he tried to shut out the surrounding sounds. He watched closely as she turned her face to the moon and smiled. She seemed to be bathing in its soft light, and he wondered what had brought her there. Looking back to the gravel covered parking lot he saw no other bikes or cars pulling in, and she didn’t appear to be waiting for anyone. Her crisp presence clearly stood out as one who did not fit among the common derelicts of the inner city and she was obviously beyond her natural element. Yet, her energy still remained casual and pleasant. He thought she appeared as if she might be out just to enjoy the night air. She was unsuspecting and unaware, and he found her to be ideal for his first kill of autumn. It was almost too simple.

“Eh, little lady. You okay?” The old man asked, checking on his line.

His ears piqued in her direction, listening to her respond to the man, “Sure. It’s a gorgeous night. You catch anything?” Her voice was soft and light; he strained to listen against the noise.

“Naw, not really. Nothing I’d keep anyway. Whatcha’ doin’ out here, all by your lonesome?” He sounded like a protective father. “You know this ain’t the best place for a pretty lil’ thing like you, all by yourself, after dark. City jus’ ain’t safe.”

She smiled at his concern, “I’ll be okay, I know how to take care of myself.” With a wink she added, “Besides, I wasn’t planning on staying. I’m just out for a ride, and I remembered this place.”

“Well, you jus’ be careful. They’re some thugs out there, and with this full moon, you never know what kinda freakiness be comin’ about.” His voice was low, and his left eyebrow rose, as if the warning were personal. Saira took the unwanted advice with a polite smile.

“Oh, I’ll be careful. Thanks.” She replied easily and turned back to the field, letting the moonlight wash over her shoulders and dark auburn hair. Even as the shadows fell across her face, he could see her from the tree-top. Her soft features were finer than he originally thought, and he considered how he’d enjoy taking her down; she was so self-assured, yet so naive. She had no idea what was about to hit her. Perhaps he would even take his time? “Have a good night, sir.” She called to the old man as she stepped towards the weed ridden field.

He watched her intently, and although he was ready to pounce, he knew that this was not the place to grab her. The old guy had his eye on her still, and the chances of being noticed were too great if she suddenly vanished while crossing the open field. To avoid any suspicion, those that were watching had to witness her leave, and in turn, he patiently began to calculate her route of departure. There were only two viable roads out of the park. She could head down West Jefferson, which was highly unlikely, though ideal; the street was a veritable ghost town lined with port companies and abandoned warehouses. He could sweep her into any one of a dozen before she had the chance to scream. By then it would be too late, because he would be the only one around to hear it, and he might love it. He nearly smiled at the promise of it, but he knew that she would probably take Grand back towards Michigan. Of course, she would have to stop before Fort, then when crossing the ramps to the bridge with the temporary signs placed about by the construction crew, and possibly again before making it across the freeway over-pass. If the streets were empty, one of those stops would be his closest opportunity.

Crossing the field, she stopped momentarily by his tree and with a sudden gust of wind he sensed a swift change in her energy. She shivered slightly and continued on toward the lot, though the speed of her step was now twice as fast. Swinging a leg over the bike, she straddled it firmly while she quickly fastened her helmet. He could see the apprehension filling the air around her like a shadow. In one deft leap he was on the ground, hidden by the darkness of the blanketing willow. Faintly, he could taste the mist of sweat lingering in the air that she cut with her hurried pace. He thought he recognized the smell of fear and wondered if she somehow sensed the threat?

He watched closely as she flipped the ignition on her bike and switched the clutch to neutral. Carefully, she inched the bike back to pull out and in a blast of wind that blew right past her he moved too quickly for mortal sight. Before she even had the bike in first gear he was waiting down Grand Boulevard, just past Fort Street. Watching her rate of approach, he guessed that she was doing the speed limit, but she cleared the light crossing Fort and came up on the stop sign fast, nearly having to slam on her brakes. She’d only stop for a couple seconds, and he knew that that was his best chance to seize her. In an instant, he stood beside her and she turned to see his devious grin.

“Hi.”, he whispered with a flash of his eyes. To her, they seemed to glow, reflective like a cat’s.

With the certainty of a predator that has caught its prey, in the dash of a second he reached to grab hold of her shoulders and pull her from the bike. Though as fast as he was, when he touched her back, her hand was already on the throttle, twisting. The other hand was releasing the brake, and as she raced through the stop sign to escape his grasp, she never even saw the pick-up truck crossing her path.

The whole thing only took a matter of a few mere seconds, but he stood in awe and watched the truck slam into her as if it were happening in slow motion. Yet, in the flash of an instant, the bike was crushed beneath its massive tires, and her body flipped up and over onto the hood, shattering the windshield as she smashed into it. Rolling off the side onto the pavement, she landed with a skidding bounce and her mangled left leg twisted out of place. Upon impact the truck never even slowed, but sped up to pull a quick u-turn before hitting the ramp to the bridge. Rather than trying to cross into Canada and face border patrol, it sped off down the way that it had originally come, nearly hitting her again as she lie in the street. Though neither their negligence nor escape did little to surprise him, the general twist of fate was unexpected, and for just a moment, he stood amused with the surprising question of what to do next.

Without thought he stepped into the street simply to get a closer look, and looming over her with his massive frame, he stood like the reaper listening to her heartbeat fade. He couldn’t understand how she evaded his grip only to find this ironic fate. It was a disappointing end to the hunt, and a disappointing death that held no significance in the scope of time. Certainly it would be a tragedy to someone, somewhere, though he hardly cared to consider who. In the end, she lay dying because of a stupid mistake. Had she seen the truck she wouldn’t have sped before it, and then her death at his hands would have been more gratifying. It would have been filled with suffering and passion, and she would’ve had time to understand what was about to come. There would have been final moments to savor, and it certainly would’ve been a far sweeter experience than having her body bashed to death by a pick-up truck that didn’t even have the decency to stop or call for help. There would be no paramedic’s to try to come to her rescue, and there would be no heroic effort to save her life in the emergency room, just the same as it would’ve been at his hands. But, at least with him, there definitely would have been an investment of effort as he consumed her ending moments. He wondered how long she would lay there after her final breath before she was even discovered.

With a hesitant growl he bent to pick her up off the pavement, and as he cradled her unconscious body the cracked helmet fell from her head, smacking down on the concrete. It was the first time he saw her face so clearly, and as battered as it was, he still found her rather appealing. Her features were delicate, contrasted by large enticing lips, and with the slight build of her gentle nose, he thought she looked like a broken doll. Holding her in his arms, he suddenly realized that he had no idea of what he was doing. Was he about to eat road kill? Another car could come along at any moment and find him with her, and then what would he do? In a seconds flash he sped to the trees on the back edge of the park. Shrouded in the alley by darkness, the abandoned dead-end of W. Jefferson would provide sufficient cover. Hidden safely beneath the shadows of the Poplars he could take a second to think and figure out what exactly he was doing with this dying opportunity.

As he knelt on one knee to lower her to the ground, she began to choke and spit up a mouthful of blood. Primed by anticipation the smell of it was instantly intoxicating, and driven by the nature of instinct he bent to taste it from her lips. It only took a bit of it upon his tongue to send his over-dilated eyes rolling to the back of his skull. His clutch upon her grew tighter as he began to inhale the blood from her mouth. Taking her in he let the flavor flood his senses and recognized something familiar that he hadn’t tasted in a very long time. With his eyes closed his mind flew, overcome by a realm of sudden white light foreign to anything he’d ever known.

In shock and wonderment he released his hold upon her mouth and body, dropping her instantly. As she lay on the cold ground the darkness of the night returned with a slow fade and he stared down on to her face, examining her for any hint of explanation to his state of marvel. Who was she and what was that flavor? What the hell just happened? She was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. And yet, all he could distinguish at that moment was that she was slipping fast and only had a spark of life left in her. Still, he couldn’t place her memorable taste. He was stunned, and he wanted more, but this was never the way that he wanted it. He couldn’t believe that he was sucking on fucking road kill! Without the logic of another thought, he pulled his pale wrist to his mouth and bit down hard. With the quiet sound of ripping flesh, his extended fangs penetrated deep into his radial artery, and as the blood spurt forth from his torn wrist, he pressed it to her gaping mouth.

It only took seconds for the blood to run its course within her body, and although he could feel the beat of her heart begin to strengthen slightly, she needed more. He urged in a firm whisper as she began to choke on the flow, “Swallow.”

His artery continued to pump as he flexed his fist, and she had already taken near a pint when she actually began to drink beyond basic instruction. For just the briefest second her eyes rolled open and he thought he caught a glimpse of deep green. Then, with her tongue playing on his skin, she began to suck gently. His lips curved to a smirk, amused by her revealing thirst. He watched her face as she drank him in and wondered what had fortune just swept his way? He could hardly believe that he was saving her life, and wasn’t exactly sure why. Of course, he recognized the compulsion to taste her again, but there was something else that he couldn’t identify. He wondered, was it just natural curiosity of her mysterious flavor, or was it something in particular about her? What the hell was in her blood that forced him to act so radically?

Listening to her rebounding pulse, he carefully eased his wrist from her mouth and questioned his next move. It wouldn’t take long at all before she would start to come around, and then what? Her mouth was stained with blood and he bent to kiss her, licking her tender lips clean. He inhaled her breath and again tasted a hint of her peculiar essence. There was something undeniably different about her. Without question, he would have to have her, but if she awoke beneath the trees in his arms as she was, certainly she’d be alarmed and think he was trying to rape her, which was, oddly enough, no longer a consideration. Slowly he withdrew from her mouth and once more, looked upon the graceful structure of her face. The scrapes and bruises were already fading as was his time to decide on a course of action. Taking her to an abandoned building was no longer an option, just as feeding off her after his donation was no longer a viable choice. The only alternative seemed to be to return her to the curb where he’d found her. Hopefully, by the time he got her there, he’d construct plausible answers to her inevitable questions.

A few feet from the edge of the street he was still holding her in his arms when she began to regain consciousness. Returning to his knee, he placed her on the ground once more, while securely supporting her back and head in his arms. Looking upon her and studying the calm of her face he began to take in the subtle nuances. Only a moment ago, he felt the softness of her full bottom pout and reflected on how sweet her lips would be to bite. Her eyes began to flutter open and he almost smiled in relief. “It’s okay, “he spoke calmly, “You’re safe.”

“Wha-?” she whispered slowly as if moving through a fog and looked to him, trying to bring his face to focus. She felt strange, as if suspended within the haze of a dream, and she couldn’t remember what was happening. As his alien features came clear to her blurred vision, so did the moment’s reality and the certainty of fact that she was somehow in the arms of a complete stranger. “What the fu- What happened? Who the fuck are you?” Suddenly she was completely awake, defensive and full of life. As she pushed against his chest to free herself from his arms she fell back to the hard concrete. Looking around she saw the lights of the Ambassador Bridge along the Southern horizon and remembered that she had been on her bike, headed for home. But then her memory was blank, and she didn’t know how she wound up on the sidewalk with the stranger. She turned her head to the street and saw the demolished remains of what was once her bike. It was hardly recognizable, but she knew the fender, and the exhaust pipe was unmistakably hers. Her mouth hung agape while she took it all in, and as she turned toward him a tear escaped the corner of her eye. Again, she asked in defeat, “What happened?”

It was the moment that he knew that he’d dread, and he sat trying to imagine some rational explanation, though there was nothing rational about what had just happened; nothing-from how she managed to escape his grasp, to why he decided to save her pitiful life. “I don’t know, exactly,” he paused with an exasperated sigh, trying to summon years of quick thinking and practiced deceit, “you were at the stop sign, and your bike just lunged forward. There was a truck…”

“What? What truck!?! How am I not hurt?” she interrupted in disbelief, panicked and checking her limbs for injury. She seemed fine, despite a throb in her left hip and the slight dizziness disturbing her mind.

He shook his head, trying to emphasize the impossibility of the moment and his own lack of understanding, “I was there, and I just pulled you off the back of the bike before it flew in front of the truck. I really don’t know, it all happened so fast.” He paused while her eyes narrowed suspiciously to his. “I think you might’ve hit your head. We fell back on the ground pretty hard.”

Looking around, the street lights had an odd blur to them and she did feel strange, but she wasn’t in any pain as if she’d hit her head, let alone, hard enough to lose her helmet that now laid broken against the curb. As she tried to digest what he said, the street lights shone with the hue of a strange rainbow spectrum and she realized that what she felt was stoned. Nothing was making sense and she asked, “What happened to the truck?”

“Nothing happened. They drove off.” He watched as she tried to get to her feet and feared that her leg would give out under the sudden pressure. It would probably be a few more minutes before the bone and tissue had reset completely, considering how badly her pelvis was crushed. “You really ought to sit down for a minute, until you get your bearings. I swear that you fell quite hard. I apologize for pulling you back so badly, it was just a reflex, I guess.”

“Some reflexes.” She tried to smile and laugh it off, but as quickly as it formed her humor began to disintegrate to a full-fledged sob, full of stress, confusion and embarrassment.

Uncomfortably he watched as she broke down in a momentary fit of emotional overload. Watching her cry, he was bewildered by her tears and his own reaction to them. Why did he even care? Was it a result of the blood bond? All he wanted was just to figure out who she was, but he knew he’d have to be patient. Gently he reached over to ease his arm around her shoulder, and without a clear understanding of what was motivating him, he tried to lessen her pain with a composed direction, “Look at me.” He commanded with a gentle whisper. When she looked up to his icy blue eyes he gazed deeply into hers. It was difficult not to get lost in the field of green, picking out bits of gold, but his eyes held on as he tried to reach deep within to her subconscious and suggest, “You’re fine, and everything will be alright. This is nothing to get so upset about. “

Staring into his eyes, she was almost distracted as she realized his dawning good looks, but when he spoke to her so calmly in the midst of her own fit, it became enraging. Instinctively, she unleashed her fury upon him. “Alright? How is everything going to be alright? That was my ride! And now, I’ve got to get this crap cleared off the street before I get tickets and tow fees, damn it! I don’t even understand what the hell happened!”

He watched her in amazement as she reached into her left side pocket. His eyes narrowed upon her, studying her as he tried to comprehend how she just evaded his hypnotic suggestion? Although she did quit weeping, she also turned and spat fire at him. How? Who was she to avoid both: first, his capture, and then his command? From her pocket she pulled out a crushed cell phone, and he watched her magnetic green eyes widen in disbelief.

“Damn! Damn!” She cursed, pounding it onto the pavement, and each time she said the word, her volume grew. “DAMN!”

He could feel her anger boiling over inside with her heart beating wildly, and when she looked to him with venomous daggers he nearly wanted to smile. She was ablaze, she was vibrant, and for some strange reason she showed absolutely no fear of him, nor any hesitation in getting angry with him. How? How did she evade his mental command? Did her strength come from his blood? Did it give her such power as to defy him? He couldn’t recall the last time he had encountered a mortal with such verve. It was refreshing, yet without his power to influence her thoughts, it was also very frustrating. She held the phone out to him, looking for reason. “I don’t know,” he shook his head in question; “You must’ve landed on it in the fall? How does your leg feel?”

“Actually, it hurts like a bitch. Thank you for asking.” She tried to watch her attitude but came off sounding rather curt. Trying to think of where she might find a working pay phone in the neighborhood seemed hopeless and she shook her head with defeat at the impossible prospect. “You wouldn’t happen to have a phone I could use, would you?” She asked reluctantly, wanting to rid herself of the patient stranger. For some reason, she couldn’t fight a rising suspicion toward his heroic tale, and his handsome features only left her unnerved with vulnerability. Where did he come from?

“I have a phone back at my place.” He surprised himself with the suggestion, and considered the impossibility of keeping her captive there, “It’s only about a mile away. Do you think you can make it?”

She forced a smile through her grimace, “I really don’t think I have much of a choice.” He stood and extended a hand to help her to her feet, and suddenly she took in the full measure of his stature. Her smile grew more uncomfortable with her hand in his own, and she swore that she felt tiny electrical impulses running through her palm. “I’m Saira, by the way. I’m sorry; I should probably thank you for saving my life.”

He introduced himself in return, “Drew Erickson.” With a polite shake he released her hand and motioned down Grand. “It’s up here, just off Vernor. Are you sure that you’re okay to walk?”

Although standing gave her a bit of a head rush, her senses were coming clearer and she actually felt fine. “Yeah, it’s no problem,” she answered with personal relief. “I still feel a kink in my hip, but it’s probably best to just walk it off.”

Not knowing what else to say, he responded simply, “Very well then.”

Together, Drew and Saira quietly made their way down Grand Blvd. As they passed the antiquated homes she imagined how splendid they must have been at one time, and wondered about the neighborhood’s hidden charm. Enchanting Victorian cottages mingled among revivals of Colonial or Tudor designs, and each spoke of the streets history of development. Every wave of immigration brought a change in style, and she’d cruised among them a hundred times, never growing tired of the fading beauties. “I just love these old houses.” She thought out loud.

Drew turned an inquisitive eye to her, “Really?! Why? They’re rotting from the inside out.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “and that’s a real pity. These places are a piece of living history and shouldn’t be left to rot. I think people should work harder to preserve history, rather than let it fade out of existence, but that’s exactly what’s happening here. Detroit shouldn’t be left to rot. The area was exploited for all that it was worth, and now that it’s been sucked dry of its vitality, it’s been left to fade and die. In another twenty years, these places won’t even be here. It’s so unfortunate, because they’re already almost a hundred years old, and really, that’s nothing but a blink in time.” Saira paused to lament, “That’s one thing that the Europeans have right. They certainly try to preserve their history, rather than let it lay to ruin and then build upon a heap of waste.”

“Oh, but they are guilty of that, too.” Drew retorted from experience. Even his people had settled their society upon the lost tribes of the Tuatha De Danann, just as others who followed throughout time. “If societies didn’t build one atop another, there would be little need for archeology.”

“Well, yes. But, overall, they do a better job at preserving the past. Of course, they have more of a past to preserve. This country is young and still learning.”

“True,” he smiled at her hopeful resolution, despite his personal doubt, “It’s certainly doing better than it was twenty-five years ago.”

Saira was surprised to hear that he had been in the area for that long, and wondered what made him choose to live in such a place. It was run-down, low-rent, dirty by day and dangerous at night, which seemed to oppose his apparent demeanor. Although Drew dressed casually in jeans and a tee-shirt, she couldn’t ignore that there was something polished about him. Perhaps it was the heroic effect of the dramatic rescue that lent an air of apparent shine. “Twenty-five years ago? I was in diapers then; I didn’t even know that Mexican town existed. What was going on down here?”

“Car-jacking… gang wars… drugs, mostly. It was pretty out of control. Every day you would read about someone getting killed for a jacket, or a pair of shoes… A terrible waste,” especially when he considered how dramatically it thinned the general herds. “Detroiter’s were losing it all around the tri-county though; it was the backlash of crack. Even pollution was a greater nightmare then.” He recalled the horrendous side effects of crack laden blood.

“I remember hearing about the crazy crack days, but I’m amazed that the pollution could ever be worse than it is now. Did you grow up around here?” Guessing him to be in his mid-thirties, she figured that Drew had to have been around ten or so at the time.

He faltered on his response, careful to remain within the confines of his fabricated past. “Pretty close to here. What about you? Are you from the area?” He was quick to switch the focus back to her.

“I was born on the east side, but my parents moved north before I even started school. So, I pretty much grew up in suburbs.” Saira smiled, feeling the pain ease in her hip.

“That’s a bit of a way from here. What brought you out to the park tonight?” He asked curiously, seeking the answer to something he’d wondered when he first saw her.

Saira replied casually, “I don’t live there anymore. Now I’m only twenty minutes away.” She looked up to see him listening and realized, “How did you know I was at the park?”

“I was walking out when you drove in.” Quick to lie, he smiled inwardly with self satisfaction. It was like hitting a fast ball over the wall, and Saira’s pitch was dead on to observe and question such a detail. She was hardly as unaware or unsuspecting as he’d assumed.

“Oh.” She replied flatly, feeling silly for her suspicious nature. “I was having dinner with friends, and the park was in the neighborhood, so I thought I would just check it out for a second. The moon over the water was a pretty sight to see.” She reflected, wishing she could’ve stayed longer. But when the fisherman reminded her of where she was, she got the strangest sense of unease. He was like a mystical guardian whispering that it was time to go. Yet, look at where it got her? The irony of it was laughable.

Coming on to Vernor Drew turned right, careful to stay on Saira’s left side; not only to keep an eye on her leg as she walked, but because it was another gentlemen’s habit accrued over time and a conscious effort just to blend with society. However, over time the habit became lost to change, and Saira was oblivious to it. He looked to her, a good six inches shorter than he and built with a decent frame. Definitely beyond curious, fit, with amazing green eyes, and she liked to ‘check out the moon and water.’ The night was turning out better than he expected. “It’s just a few blocks farther,” he assured her. “How is your leg? And, how is your head?” he wondered, never having witnessed the effect of his blood upon a being that remained mortal.

“Just fine,” she replied, and with a genuine smile she added, “Thanks for asking, really. And I really appreciate you letting me use your phone. I can’t even begin to imagine where I would find a pay phone in this city.”

“I can’t either.” He smiled gently with his lips closed; one side rising to curl ever so slightly, it was nearly undetectable. Drew was pleased that her manner had begun to soften; being a Good Samaritan was enough of a challenge to his nature, he didn’t need to deal with attitude that arose against it. “Even if you could find one, it probably wouldn’t work."

Saira stopped walking with an unhappy realization. “Aw, crap!”

Drew turned to look at her. She stood with a look of anguish upon her face, her eyes closed tightly. “What is it?” he asked with his own brow furrowed.

She looked to him, shaking her head in disbelief at her own stupidity, hating to admit it, “I’m such a dumb-ass. Without my phone, I can’t call anyone. I don’t remember their phone numbers!“

He sighed, annoyed with the intellectual deterioration that technology inadvertently fostered; as machines were created to ease the tedious every-day burdens, mortals often lost valuable skill sets and suffered from their own stupidity. “Can’t you look it up in the directory or call information?”

She looked to him with a puzzled expression, “What are you talking about? People aren’t listed with information anymore, unless they have a land line. How do you find a listing for a cell phone? Each service has their own providers, and I don’t even think they offer listings on anything other than businesses. And even if they did, I don’t know who’s on what calling plan. I don’t even know where to start.” Stressed by the impossibility of the night upon her, Saira began to laugh. “Damn it! What in the world am I going to do now?”

“Relax; I can give you a ride home.” He offered with ease, just hoping for the opportunity to learn where she lived without having to stalk her.

She smiled ruefully, “Thank you, but no.” He had done too much already, and she honestly didn’t know if she could handle being so close to him much longer. He was far too pleasant and the whole ordeal made her highly uncomfortable. Already, she felt somewhat obligated to repay his kindness and nearly considered giving him her phone number, even though she never gave out her number. Not that she had a phone to answer anymore anyway.

“Quit being polite. What else are you going to do? Call a cab? Let me give you a ride,” he smiled, trying his best to persuade her with years of practiced charm, “it will complete my service of saving you tonight. I can’t consider the job finished until I have you home, safe and sound.” He wanted to laugh at the irony, compared to his original plan for her.

It was a smile that was almost impossible to resist, “I can’t. I have to figure out a way to get my bike off the street before the cops come along and ticket me. Eventually they’ll come by and find the mess, and my license plate. I can’t afford a ticket for just leaving it there.” Saira looked to him, “Isn’t there just a wrecker that I can call, like whoever the police call?”

“Yeah, you could call someone for that, but they will charge you for it. Why don’t we just pick it up along the way? I have a truck. Come on, we’ll take care of it.” Drew suggested, and with a flip of his head he motioned down Vernor, “It’s just ahead. We’re almost there.”

Nervously, Saira proceeded with extreme caution. Although the entire situation sucked beyond belief, the circumstances that surrounded it were too good to be true, and that was not something that she was accustomed to. When life bit her in the ass, it would bite hard, and rainclouds did not come with silver linings. Good will made Saira very leery of what was to come next, and she followed him reluctantly, “I really do appreciate this; thank God you were there tonight.”

“Right place, right time,” Drew smiled wide with a wink of his eye and began to cross Vernor at Twenty-Fifth Street. “Here we are. Just let me grab the keys from Terrance.”

It was not the typical house that Saira expected to find, but a rather large brick building that might house apartments. Etched into the stone, facing Vernor, the building front read Lithuanian Hall. Standing by the corner she raised a curious eyebrow as she watched him walk to a back door on Twenty-fifth. There, Drew spoke to mammoth hulk of a man that she could only assume worked as security. Dressed in black, he sported the trademark look with a tightly trimmed crew cut. Saira smiled to see that he even donned military boots to finish the outfit, but wondered what was going on in the building that security was required? She looked up to the huge multi-story windows on the second story and noticed slips of colored light peeking out from behind the curtains. With the faint hum of bass filtering down through the brick, Saira concluded that it had to be some sort of underground club. Detroit had been notorious for such party places as far back as the early twenties, established primarily during the days of Prohibition. She wondered what kind of prohibited behavior went on inside now.

“Ready?” Drew asked as he motioned for Saira to follow him to the lot behind the building.

She proceeded to trail behind him, smiling as she passed Terrance who was watching her with open curiosity. Whoever he was to Drew, she felt sure that she would be a topic of their discussion later that night. Beside the wide commercial drive-way that flanked the rear of the hall, Saira raised an eyebrow to notice a very old funeral home. So old, that it was in fact set in an actual home. She wondered if it were still open, or if perhaps there was a body in the building at that very moment? Strange, she thought, to suddenly be so unexpectedly close to death just after nearly being killed herself.

“Saira?” Drew called to her from the truck, waiting with an open door. “Everything okay?”

“Sure,” she replied, feeling silly with superstition, “You just don’t see too many funeral homes like that anymore.”

Drew smiled as she climbed in the Ram pickup, “My favorite neighbors, they’re quiet as the dead in the daytime, and never complain about the noise at night!” With another wink, he closed the door behind her and crossed around to the driver’s side. Saira couldn’t help smiling at his dark humor.

Chapter Two

2009-11-21T14:14:00.000-08:00

By the time they made it back to retrieve the remains of Saira’s little Yamaha, it looked like it had been run over by a couple more trucks. There was hardly anything left. Together they picked up the scraps, Drew handling most of the larger chunks of debris. Saira was impressed by his strength, as he didn’t even break a sweat when he picked up the crank case. It was as if it were nothing to toss it in the back of the truck; even her brother would’ve grunted with the effort. It took just a scant while before they were on their way, snaking along the freeways, headed to Hamtramck.

Taking the Holbrook exit off I-75, Saira directed Drew east, past Jos Campeau Street. On Mitchell, they cut through the parking lot behind the corner bar and she guided him down the narrow alley to her yard; it was the only one without a fence or garage, and sometimes left her feeling too exposed. Sunbathing was impossible, but parking was a breeze. There Drew pulled the oversized truck in quite easily and they continued the final process of disposing her bike’s remains. All the while, Saira secretly watched Drew in silent admiration. He was ruggedly strong with smooth muscles folded one onto another, as if his power was gained through a life of genuine labor instead of in a gym, and every endeavor seemed to come with a graceful ease. She smiled, imagining how pleasant it would be to watch him with his shirt off while performing some other sweaty, manly task.

With an embarrassed blush flooding her face, Saira was glad when Brian opened the back door. Like a cannonball, he bound down the steps with force and purpose towards the unknown truck. “What the…”

Saira interrupted from the shadows, “Hi, Brian.” She looked to Drew, whose easy expression suddenly turned stoic in the face of masculine confrontation.

Through the darkness Brian continued to walk toward the back of the yard, mandatorily investigating the situation for himself. At times, he could be a bit too overprotective, but she had to remind herself that it was also one of his qualities that she found positively endearing. “Drew, this is my flat-mate, Brian.” She turned to Brian who was coming into sight of the wreckage on the ground, beside the adjacent pink garage. “Brian, this is Drew, he saved my life tonight.” Saira smiled to Drew as their eyes met again.

Brian stood looking at the bike, shaking his head, “What the hell did you do, girl? Are you okay?” his attention turned to her in shock, his dark brown eyes wide in wonder.

“Amazingly, I’m fine. I’ll tell you about it later.” She smiled to Brian, looking to his eyes and then purposely shifting hers back to Drew.

Brian’s eyes followed, purposely turning to Drew. Saira nearly laughed as he actually tilted his head up as he took in his full height. Brian had to stand at least a good foot less than him, and as a helpless smile spread across his lips, Saira knew exactly what he was thinking. “Hi,” he said simply with an extended hand.

Drew made sure to shake his hand firmly as he stared deeply into Brian’s dark eyes, “Hello,” he offered in a smooth, calm voice. Holding his gaze he continued, “Good to meet you.”

Brian swooned, nearly letting out a nervous burst of a laugh and released his hand weakly.

Saira could see that Brian was sort of stunned by the presence of this beautiful man who’d suddenly appeared in the middle of the night. Out of nowhere, directly to his back yard? She smiled uncomfortably, with absolute empathy. “Would you like to come in and wash your hands?”

“Actually, yes, I would appreciate that very much.” Drew half-smiled, surprised by the invitation.

Closest to the cement path that ran up the middle of the backyard, Brian led the way into the enclosed mud-porch of the house. Just inside the door, he turned and climbed Saira’s stairs. Following Brian, Drew paused strategically at the outer door to allow Saira to enter first. As she climbed through the dark hallway, he followed closely behind to inhale the waft her of aroma. Hauling the wreck had been strenuous and he could taste her sweat in the air along with other juices that began to emanate from her body. Her attraction was confirmed and his eyes began to dilate.

Casually, Brian sat down at the kitchen table, just inside the room making sure to catch Saira’s eyes as she walked through the door. As their eyes met, his widened in surprise and disbelief. Saira shot him a glaring look in response. Following her through the lighted doorway at the top of the stairs, Drew was stirred by his thirst and couldn’t help but remember that he still hadn’t eaten and needed to feed soon. Saira turned to him with her expression transformed to one of accommodation. It was the first time she saw him in the light and she nearly paused in renewed awe, “The bathroom is right through there,” she spoke shakily, pointing to the door in the corner of the room.

Drew offered an obliged half-smile. “Thank you,” he said softly, with certain effort to catch her eye before disappearing behind the door.

She turned to face him and animated with life Brian’s elated smile beamed as he mouthed the words, “Oh, My God.” Although he made no sound, Saira still made a silent motion to shush him while she turned on the radio. Thankfully it cut the silence with something other than his jubilant gestures and eased her enough to breathe normally. Saira walked to the sink to get a glass of water, though what she really felt like having was a stiff drink.

Beyond the door Drew listened carefully while he examined his pupils in the mirror. His craving for her was revealing itself and he inhaled deeply, trying to steady his self control. Finding a calm center within his excited state he finally felt his pupils constrict to normal. Drew turned on the faucet and grabbed the soap. While washing his hands was an excellent excuse to gain access to the house, he still hoped for further advantageous opportunities to present themselves. However, he knew that he didn’t have much time, and turned his mind to basic investigation.

He looked around the bathroom and it was filled with her essence. Inhaling her personal space, he took in every detail to learn what he could. Tiny as it was, it was packed with information for him to absorb. He smelled a hint of patchouli mixed with soap against the barest traces of mildew. Easily, he could tell that it was recently painted; varied hues of aqua surrounded him, as if it was an underwater landscape and he had the undeniable sense of being in a protected bubble. He wondered if it was her purposeful intention to paint her water closet in a water theme like an art project, if it were based on intuition, or both. Which-ever way, the design was the most revealing detail to the room. Other than the significance of the elemental theme, the rest of the toiletries and nick-nacs didn’t say much, other than she liked nature, and had little money to pamper herself. The most expensive object in the room was a small Wyland print.

Outside the door, Drew heard Saira explaining to Brian the turn of the night’s events. She kept the details quite brief and revealed little of what she thought of him, although he had been sensing her attraction all night, as well as Brian’s, which was apparent the moment they said hello.

Saira was sitting at the table, drinking her glass of water. “How am I going to find a job, now? The buses in this city are impossible.”

Brian assured her, “You are welcome to borrow my truck, you know.”

“I know, and thank you,” Saira was used to his boy-scout persona coming to her rescue, and it was not the first time he’d offered her the use of his ride. “It just sucks, you know? It’s just another obstacle in the way; another shit-sandwich that I’m forced to swallow.”

Drew opened the door and joined the conversation, having the perfect in that he was waiting for. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

Saira looked to him, finally recognizing that his hair was actually a sandy brown beneath sun kissed blonde high-lights. In the dimness of the streets she had thought it darker and the blonde a reflection of the distant lights, which were already playing rainbow tricks with her hallucinating eyes. But in the warm light of her kitchen she saw how perfectly it played against his porcelain complexion, and only warmed his icy-blue eyes. As she began to consider the shape of his lips she brought herself back to the conversation and resolved that if he wound up getting her a job, all of it would be too good to be true. She smiled awkwardly, “Office administration, but I’m expanding my search in desperation.” Saira tried to laugh in the face of hopelessness, “Who knows? Tomorrow I might start hitting the fast food joints.” Her face expressed her distaste of the idea.

His satisfaction was contained within and hardly reflective upon his beaming inner smile. Drew remained casual as he suggested, “You should come by my place. My office is actually in need of an assistant.” From his pocket he retrieved his wallet and pulled out a business card.

Saira wanted to choke on her water, had she been drinking it still. She took the card from him. “Really? Who are you?” She laughed at the impossibility of the night’s twisted turns. “Really?”

He remained calm and expressionless as he watched her sarcastic reaction. His tone, however, had the slightest inflection that revealed his annoyance, “Really, you should come by and fill out an application.” One side of his lip curled up to give her his tempting half smile, but his eyes told her that he was serious. “I’ve got to be going. It’s been very interesting to meet you Saira. Brian.” With a gentle nod, Drew turned toward the door.

He successfully planted the seed of opportunity for them to meet again, and he was confident that it was only a matter of time before her ideas began to sprout. Tonight, there was nothing more that he could do, and he still needed to feed. Drew stepped toward the door and Saira jumped to her feet, “I’ll walk you out.”

Suddenly somber, she followed him down the stairs, quietly full of regret for her comedic outburst. She hadn’t intended to offend him, or disregard any of his kindness that he so willingly offered throughout the night. At the foot of the stairs, before turning the knob on the door, she seized the chance of the moment to apologize. “I’m sorry for what I said up there, it’s just that this whole night has been so weird.” She smiled genuinely, gazing into his eyes, “I really don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.” Saira took a deep breath with big leap of courage when she stood on tip toe and leaned in to gently kiss his cheek. “Thanks again for saving my life, Mr. Erickson. Really, really, thank-you.”

Though it was hardly revealed by his hidden expression, Drew wasn’t sure what had him smiling more; her pitiful attempt to be humorous, that she remembered his surname, or the fact that she kissed him. It was a bold move that showed a lot of promise, and he insisted once more, “Come by the office and fill out an application, Saira.”

She watched as he walked out the door and back to his truck. Even his walk was sexy, she thought. Though really, she reconsidered with a sly smile, his particular swagger something more of a strut.

Quietly Saira padded up the stairs, full of thought. At the top she stood in the doorway caressing her tingling lips while staring off into space. Although she knew Brian was just waiting to talk, she was lost to the electrical pulses she felt at when she touched Drew. It was unlike anything she’d ever known; she’d never felt so attracted to a man, ever.

Brian burst through her enchanted thought, “Okay, now. Tell me what really happened. “

He was literally on the edge of the seat waiting for her reply, and Saira walked over to the radio to switch it over to a Sigur Ros CD. Desperately, she needed something to calm her, and time for bed was well overdue. “I already told you,” she insisted with a smile.

“Oh, no.” He wasn’t about to let her get out of it so easily. “Who is he? Where did he come from?”

“I don’t know.” She laughed, “I have no idea who he is. He said his name is Drew Erickson. He owns a building on Vernor. At least, I think he does. He referred to it as his place, so go figure?”

“Let’s Google him!” Brian suggested with the enthusiasm of discovering a hot new porn site.

“You Google him.” Saira laughed, “My night has been long enough, and I need to go to bed.”

Brian stood and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m so glad you weren’t killed.”

“Yeah, me too,” she laughed. “Goodnight.” Saira kissed Brian on the cheek and watched him walk to the door.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a beautiful man in this house! Wait ‘til I tell Brandon!”

“Oh no.” She turned out the light, chuckling to herself as she imagined him carrying on late into the night with his room-mate, the third resident of the house.

Finally, just the music surrounded her, and Saira felt the calm of her own space. She breathed deeply and considered the fact that she had almost died that night. Her mind wandered to the spiritual side and she wondered if angels might really exist, or if it were possible that Drew could actually be one? Saira turned up the volume of the music and made her way to the bathroom. Past the toilet and the sink, she turned the shower on to hot and let it run its course from the basement while she stripped in the darkness. She thought that she could smell Drew still in the room and allowed her mind to wander further still. Stepping into the shower, “Gong” was playing over the speakers and filling her senses along with the warm water. She gladly inhaled the surrounding sound and instantly felt in tune with the music as it began with gentle strings, subtly reflecting her overwhelmed emotions; it was almost an air of melancholy, but not exactly; the emotion ran deeper than sadness. A melodic guitar finally joined the other strings with an instrumental crescendo of sound that filled every inch of space until it overflowed to expose another dimension. It was full of depth and each note resonated within her. It was the perfect complement to her mood as she closed her eyes and couldn’t help but think of the handsome stranger that just saved her life.

Once Drew made it back to I-75, it was just a quick zip through a tangle of interchanging freeways before he was home. He returned the truck to its original spot in the back lot and flew to the side door. Morna was waiting with Terrance, and although she never looked especially happy, she certainly appeared even less so then. “Tell me, what is the point of owning this contraption if you refuse to carry it with you?” she spat, holding up his cell phone. She wanted to throw it at him, but wouldn’t ever dare.

He stopped to stare down into her defiant eyes. “Was there an emergency?” he asked gravely, already knowing the answer.

“No.” she came back with spite, her red lips pursed to a pout.

“Then, I don’t see the problem.”Drew spoke with calm confidence. It was his final judgment and the issue was over, as far as he was concerned. Morna knew better than to press the matter and followed him inside.

Past the iron gate where Terrance stood, the side door led to the hall’s grand vestibule. Just inside past the ticket booth, directly in front of the door, a double wide, grandly red carpeted stair case led to the ballroom that took up most of the second and third floor. At the speed of a heartbeat Drew and Morna were up the stairs and finding their place at the oak bar. “Who’s on tap for me tonight, Nos?” Drew beckoned calmly.

Behind the bar a tall balding man glided up to respond. He was stiff and surveying the crowd with his large, dark eyes as he spoke in a low growl. Nos always growled when he referred to feeding, especially if it were a particularly tasty dish. He motioned to a girl dancing in the crowd; she was young and played it up by dressing in school girl fetish-wear. “Kelly’s fresh and eager.” Nos leered at her.

Drew rolled his dilated eyes, finding her a bit pathetic in her wanton dance; nearly desperate. There was little adrenaline in desperation, but still, he could tell that she was healthy. “Acceptable. Who else?”

Nos signaled the girl and she began to slink her way over to the bar. “Magdalena’s here, she just got back from the Mediterranean and is full of spice.”

Drew raised an eye-brow to the familiar prospect. He hadn’t seen Maggie in awhile. “Who else?” he asked as the young brunette smiled before him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and smiled in return. “Who is that speaking with Marcel?”

Nos looked to a shapely woman with long auburn hair. She was dressed in a simple black gown that was flattering to her figure, but covering more than what most others wore at the club. Skin was always in fashion for the mortal guests, and this woman boldly went against that aspect of the dress code. “I’ve yet to meet her.” He regretted to admit, always living in fear of reprimand that rarely came.

Morna rolled her dark violet eyes at his sniveling nature and offered, “That’s his new friend. I believe she said her name is Rachel.”

“Find out if he’s fed off her tonight; if he would mind if I borrowed her for a bite?” Drew ordered Morna as if it the request were as natural as any other.

“No luck hunting?” Nos dared to ask.

“That’s not what I heard.” Morna chirped, deviously daring to smile over her shoulder as she walked over to Marcel.

Drew ignored Morna’s quip and focused on the warm delight in his arms. She was cute with her bob hair style, despite her tacky dress, and most importantly she was clean. Any other night, he might have considered taking her up to his parlor for deeper feeding. But, after meeting Saira, his mind was consumed with her mystery and all he wanted was simple nourishment. He smiled at the girl again and gazed deeply into her eyes. Drawing in closer, he whispered into her ear. Kelly giggled and eagerly turned her open neck to Drew. Gently he closed in to meet her pulsing jugular with his extended fangs. As the warm blood filled his mouth, he focused on Rachel’s hair in the distance, over Kelly’s shoulder. He noticed that Marcel didn’t look pleased, but once Drew met his eyes, he waivered with a dismissive flip of his hand to Rachel.

Withdrawing from Kelly’s neck, Drew inhaled deeply. He could feel her youthful blood coursing through his system and nourishing his senses, but he needed more. More than she could give and remain alive. He smiled with his eyes deeply into hers, “Thank you, Kelly. You were delicious.” He gently caressed her cheek, “Be on your way safely now.”

Kelly smiled with a giggle. She was entranced with him and would have leapt from the rooftop had he asked. Instead, she headed toward the door as Drew instructed, excited to return in a few weeks and dressed in attire more suitable to his taste.

Morna returned to the bar with Rachel, ready to introduce her to Drew. He turned with a flash of his smile, still fanged and bloody. Rachel gasped in awed surprise, and he took her hand in his. “Good evening, Rachel. I couldn’t help notice your lovely hair.” His eyes held hers as he explained, “Marcel has agreed to share you with me tonight. Do you consent to our wishes?” he asked as easily as if he were asking her to join him for tea, all the while toying with a strand of her hair between his long fingers, apparently fixated on its color.

Rachel trembled, suspecting that Drew was only asking her to just to be polite. Though, why he bothered remained a mystery. She had been seeing Marcel for nearly six weeks now, and she’d heard Drew’s name mentioned a few times, but always with an air of menacing authority. Before coming to the club, he made sure to mention that she was to treat him with the utmost regard had they met. However, Marcel also implied that that encounter would be highly unlikely, especially during her first time there. Yet, there she stood before him like a ready-made meal. Respectfully she looked to the ground and spoke in a shuddering whisper, “Of course, I consent.”

“Thank you, Rachel. I will try to be gentle,” he assured her, pulling her closer.

With a slight tilt to her head, Rachel offered herself to Drew with tightly closed eyes. His hand glided along the structure of her face, up to lace his fingers within the lengths of her hair. He used her hair as a natural mane to pull her to him, and as he sank his teeth into the warm soft flesh of her neck, Drew fixed his thoughts on the color of her silken locks. It was a deep rich brown with hues of red lighting up the overall shade, and glints of gold wove its way in and out of the individual strands. He couldn’t have studied it better had it been under a microscope. It was nearly identical to the color of Saira’s hair, and as he fed on Rachel, he closed his eyes and slipped into memories of her.

Summoning the reality of the moment, Rachel let out a soft sigh and Drew opened his eyes to find Marcel standing beside her. He excused himself with an easily given apology. “Sorry dear, I lost my train of thought. Are you okay?”

She carefully smiled with a nervous, dizzy sort of nod, though her eyes were terrified. Rachel hardly had an idea of what just happened or why, and Marcel led her away by the hand to explain.

Drew might’ve been more concerned if Marcel hadn’t been one of his lower ranking minions. As it was, Marcel had only been with him for about fifty years, and he hadn’t yet earned such respect. Besides, Marcel took on at least three pets a year, and Rachel was already number two. It probably wouldn’t be long before he moved on to another and passed her on. Someone like Rachel could easily wind up on the regular schedule within the feeding rotations.

Just as he began to scan the room for Magdalena, Morna started in, nagging at his ear. “Will you say nothing of where you were, or what happened?”

He considered ignoring her, but he knew that she would persist. Morna had been becoming increasingly difficult as of late, and it was time to put her in her place. “What type of explanation is it that you think I owe you Morna?” he asked sternly, though his voice remained smooth and even.

She balked, knowing that he was reaching the edge of his patience. “I wasn’t asking for an explanation,” she attempted to purr but sounded wretched, “I just thought you might like to expand on what I’ve already heard.”

In a flash he turned on her, quick with his capable hand wrapped firmly around her neck, strands of her long black curls caught within his fingers. “Whatever you’ve heard should serve sufficient. The rest is my business, and I will inform you of it when, and if, I deem necessary. Am I making myself clear, Morna?”

His face was inches from hers and she could barely speak with his hand gripping her throat so tightly. “Yes” she whispered coarsely.

With a simple flick of his wrist, Drew released Morna and she crumbled to the floor. Without giving her another glance, he turned his attention back to the respected guests who did their best to ignore the fray. Typically Drew couldn’t afford to concern himself with all Morna’s petty attempts to challenge his authority. Doing so would grant gravity to the issue of which it was not worthy. To him, Morna was as easily squashed as bug on the floor, and unfortunately, every once in a while she would put herself in the position where he had to regard her as such, and step firmly.

Aggravated and growing impatient, he turned to ask Nos, “Did Magdalena check into one of the guest suites?” Although Drew saw every breathing person in the room, he couldn’t see her in the crowd. Perhaps she needed a place to stay and chose one of the renovated rooms in the front of the hall, behind the stage in the ballroom?

“No, Sir.” Nos replied with cowering shoulders, afraid to disappoint his master. “Would you like me to summon Stephanie?”

“Don’t bother.” Drew rose from his stool and walked to the main doors. Over his shoulder he looked back to see Morna sneaking off to a distant corner and Magdalena still nowhere in sight. He was fed up.