Midnight Sun, page 6
part #1 of Mortal Heat Series
“Em,” I started, “Are you okay?”
“Hey, Lu,” she replied vaguely. “I’m okay. I don’t feel great, guess I’m coming down with the flu or something. Thanks for backing me up with Potato Head Fred, I really wasn’t up to work today.”
“It’s no biggie, that’s what friends are for.” I kicked at the floor for a minute, then heaved a sigh and just went for it. “Em, I’m sorry for being a shitty friend. You’re right, you’ve always been a good friend and sometimes I’ve been ungrateful for everything you do for me. If you’re happy with Todd, I’m happy for you, and I promise to be more supportive. I love you, Em. You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry.”
Through this whole speech her eyes didn’t leave the TV, and when I finished, she glanced up at me and smiled blandly. “Thanks, Lulu. I love you too.” She returned to watching the channels flick, one after the other, on the screen.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I crossed the room and sat beside her, reaching to feel her forehead. She was deathly pale, and a light sheen of sweat coated her skin. She still had the slight greenish tinge I noticed yesterday, and when I reached her other side, I noticed what I couldn’t see before. “Em, you’re bleeding!”
A slow trickle of blood had dribbled down her neck, soaking into her oversized sweatshirt and staining the collar. It was coming from one of the dark marks on her neck, where two had overlapped. All the marks were deep purple and painful-looking, with two swollen red bumps raised in the oval mark. The one that was bleeding looked like a puncture had opened the red bump, and I felt faintly nauseous as I considered what that meant. “Have you been injecting something into your neck?”
Em wiped nonchalantly at her throat with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, smearing the dark crimson fluid across her skin. Looking at the sleeve that was now stained, she shrugged. “No, I must have scratched myself or something.”
“Do these hurt?” I pressed lightly at the swollen, abused skin under her ear.
She giggled. “No, but that tickles.” She swiped her sleeve across her neck again, absorbing more of the trickling blood.
My eyes were having difficulty staying in their sockets. This was not normal. “Em, I’m just going to get you a band-aid, okay? I’ll be right back.” I spoke slowly, unsure how much she was aware of. When I stood she didn’t react, just continued to stare at the TV.
“Okay, Lulu,” She answered mildly, flicking channels.
Once I had the bleeding contained and the entire area coated with Neosporin, I decided to see if I could get any information out of her.
“Em, I noticed you aren’t getting ready to go out. Are you staying in tonight? Because you don’t feel well?” My voice was soft, lightly curious, but I was careful to keep the concern out of my tone.
“Todd doesn’t have a concert tonight. The guys went home for a few days, they’ll be back Thursday. Todd promised,” She answered. Her tone was matter-of-fact and a little sad, no hint of her usual enthusiasm.
“Okay, that’s good that they are getting some time off. And you’re... okay not seeing Todd until Thursday?” I pressed, testing her response.
“Mm-hmm, Todd said I had to. He said it was important for me to get some rest and feel better. He said he’d call me tonight,” She indicated the phone next to her, that was likely full of ignored messages from me.
“Oh, okay that’s good. Yes, I’m sure a little rest and you’ll feel loads better,” I encouraged. “I’m going to make some pasta for dinner, are you hungry?”
Em shrugged, still gazing blandly at the TV. “Sure, I guess. I don’t feel hungry, but I don’t remember when I ate last...” She trailed off, continuing to flip through TV stations.
When the pasta was done I made her join me at our tiny, rickety table to eat. She shoveled food into her mouth mechanically, without seeming to notice I’d made her favorite spicy pesto. Her phone buzzed on more than one occasion, and she’d glance at it then set it back down, uninterested in whoever was texting her. When finished, she rose and wandered back to the couch, picking up flicking through channels as if without interruption.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on here, but I would get to the bottom of it.
***
Emily went to bed early at my recommendation. She had her call from Todd, during which she turned on like a light and was the Emily I knew and loved again. As soon as he was off the phone, her gaze turned into a stare and she just sat there. It was too creepy, and I was grateful that she was so susceptible to suggestion. I gave her some cold medicine—although I suspected she wasn’t sick from a virus—and tucked her in.
With renewed vigor I began my search into her affliction again, adding in the new details of visible puncture wounds to the neck, paleness, sleeping during the day, and loss of appetite. I was sure that would lead me to some crazy new drug, but there just wasn’t anything I could find that was injected in the neck. Particularly not that left large purple bruises like that. Mostly all I found were ways to treat puncture wounds; Those I flagged for later, figuring I might need them if Em kept up this disturbing new habit.
Hours of research later I was still no closer to figuring out what was happening to Emily. I had three more days before Todd came back, and I was determined to find answers before then.
***
The next day Em was lifeless when I tried to check on her before work. Her breathing was shallow and she appeared to be deeply asleep, so I left some snacks and a bottle of water by her bed and made her excuses again to Fred. It was a little easier knowing that I wasn’t lying and she had, in fact, slept through the night and was still in bed.
After finishing my assignments with minimal effort, I took advantage of being done early to brainstorm about Emily. The frustration set in as I continued to find nothing that fit her symptoms: No illness, no drug, nothing fit. My mouse was taking the brunt of the abuse as I slammed it mercilessly into my desk again and again. I was deep in my research when I heard Fred clear his throat.
“Ahem, you okay, Lucy?” He was standing just outside my cubicle, hands in his pockets.
“I’m fine, Fred, thank you,” I let go of the mouse and picked up a pencil, twirling it rapidly between my fingers.
“Are you sure about that?” He eyed me dubiously. “You seem pretty agitated.”
“It’s no big deal, just hitting roadblocks on a story I’m researching. I’ll figure it out.” The pencil was now tapping on the desk in rhythm with my bobbing knee.
“C’mon, give me a shot. It might surprise you what I know, I was a reporter once too, you know.” He winked, leaning on my cubicle wall and smiling with what I assumed he meant to be an inviting expression. He was still creepy.
“Okay,” I challenged. “I’ve got reports of a woman turning up with twin puncture wounds to the neck, almost like a bite, among a host of other bizarre symptoms, but I can’t seem to find any drugs or anything else that would cause it. You have any ideas?”
“Puncture wounds to the neck… Have you thought about vampires?” Fred guffawed. “I hear they like to bite necks, maybe that’s your problem!” He chuckled at his own joke. “Seriously, though, there was a whole big episode back in the 1800s called The Great New England Vampire Panic, I saw a story about it recently. It was mainly Connecticut and Rhode Island, not too far from here. Maybe some new weirdo cult is trying to bring vampires back?” He waggled his eyebrows.
I forced a laugh. “Yeah, maybe. Thanks, Fred, I’ll look into it.” I turned back to my computer, hopefully transmitting the message that our conversation was over.
“Okay, good luck, Lucy. Let me know what you find out!” Fred sauntered away, hands in the pockets of his pleated pants again.
Fred may have thought it was a joke, but he had a point: Vampires like to bite necks. Now I just had to figure out if that somehow tied into Mortal Heat and Todd Benson.
AN INCOMPLETE TRUTH
HOURS LATER, I was still no closer to tying Todd Benson and Mortal Heat to vampires. Not that I believed they were vampires, of the type that sleep in coffins and turn into bats; but actual, living people who believed they were vampires. My research told me there were groups of people around the world that drank blood and fed on ‘human energies’ to survive. They are markedly removed from pop culture vampires that wear capes and are burnt by the sun, but do lead a nocturnal lifestyle. What bothered me was that these vampires don’t sport fangs or bite necks. They relied on blood donations and the easiest way to do that was from an arm. This, again, seemed to point in a different direction than something that explained Emily’s neck.
What if Todd and his cronies were something different? Maybe they were the type that believed they were vampires and went full Dracula instead of the more sedate modern vampires? Maybe it was part of their band identity? No, that didn’t make sense; Mortal Heat did nothing remotely vampire-y on stage. If that were part of their stage persona I’d know. Also, none of them had fangs that I’d seen.
My phone buzzed in my desk drawer, drawing me out of my musing. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen, surprised by the name that appeared there.
Mick: Hey Lucy, are you busy? We need to talk.
I tapped out a reply without making a conscious decision to do so.
Lucy: What about? And how did you get this number? How are you saved in my phone?
Mick: I texted myself when you left your phone in the green room at Rock City, and I figured you’d want my number.
Lucy: Presumptuous of you.
Mick: I have been accused of that before. Sorry.
Lucy: You still haven’t told me why I should give you the time of day.
Mick: It’s about your friend Emily.
Lucy: You know what he’s doing to her, don’t you?!?
Mick: Look, it’s complicated. Do you want to meet or not?
Lucy: Tell me what is going on!
Mick: Not like this. Let’s talk in person.
Lucy: Okay. You know the pub on Morrison Ave? O’Brien’s?
Mick: Sure. What time?
Lucy: Fifteen minutes work?
Mick: Yes, I’ll see you then.
I would not meet him anywhere alone without backup. The bartender at O’Brien’s was Charlie, a friend I knew would look out for me. I texted Charlie to let him know I’d be there and asked him to watch the guy I was meeting, then walked the two blocks to the pub.
I was a few minutes early but Mick had beaten me there. He was sitting on the edge of a booth with a full view of the door. Unfortunately, the booths were separated from the bar by a wall, but it was a quiet night. Charlie typically wandered around the pub and made conversation with people, so it wouldn’t be out of character for him to hang around.
Mick was just as strikingly handsome as I remembered. He was wearing a black jacket that matched his tight jeans and boots and set off his dark gold hair that was pulled into a low ponytail tonight. His eyes were bright green and looked almost anxious as I approached.
“Hi, Lucy. Thanks for meeting me. I-” Charlie interrupted by approaching our table and throwing down cocktail napkins.
“Hi folks, what can I get you to drink?” Charlie was not tall, but he was very well built. Tonight, as usual, he wore a white button-down shirt that strained at his muscular arms. He said that it helped him keep order when people got drunk and unruly. I suspect it helped him get a few phone numbers. Either way, with his bright red hair and ruddy complexion he fit right in with the Irish pub theme. He also didn’t look like someone you’d want to mess with, which was another reason I’d chosen this place to meet.
“I’ll have the lager on tap, please,” I replied, then gestured to Mick.
“Just water for me, please,” Mick answered with a friendly smile.
Charlie ‘harrumphed’ then stomped off to get our drinks. He didn’t approve of people who didn’t sample the ale at a bar.
“So, you were saying...?” I prompted, getting back to the matter at hand. My entire body was tight as a wire and live with nervous energy. I was electrically aware of my attraction to Mick and I didn’t want to get distracted from my purpose for being there.
“Right,” Mick began. “First, I am limited in what I can tell you, I need you to understand that. I can’t tell you everything you want to know. But I know you are worried about Emily so I had to help.” He glanced up as Charlie returned with our glasses. When Charlie had left, he continued. “First off, Todd does not mean any harm to Emily. He likes her, which is a new experience for him.”
“That’s nice, but that doesn’t tell me anything. What is he doing to her? What is giving her those marks? Why is she sick and sleeping all day? Why is she acting like some kind of drug addict? Is he injecting her in the neck with something? Why is she bleeding, if he’s not doing something harmful to her?” The questions poured out of me with no measure of restraint.
“Whoa, whoa, slow down. I told you I can’t tell you everything you want to know-”
“Why not? I think I have a right to know, and if he’s not hiding some sort of mal intent why can’t you tell me?”
“It’s just not up to me, and it’s not just about him, okay? I’m just trying to reassure you she’s not in imminent danger-”
“Well, you’re doing a shitty job so far,” I snapped. “I don’t feel reassured at all.”
Mick appeared to struggle to maintain his calm demeanor. He slowly took a sip of water, then said, “You have barely given me two seconds in which you weren’t yelling at me. If you would please let me tell you what I came here to say, I think it might help you.”
“Okay,” I leaned back stewing, but took a long drink of my pint. “I won’t interrupt again.”
“Okay. Todd doesn’t mean her any harm. Can you just humor me on that point?”
I nodded silently and continued drinking.
“However, that doesn’t mean that what... they are doing... won’t have unintentional consequences. The marks on her neck, her illness, and sleeping during the day is part of it.” His green eyes never left mine. He was telling me the truth, or a version, anyway. My reporter spidey-sense knew when I was being lied to, and this was true. It also was not a complete truth.
“Her personality changes, and sudden obsession with Todd, those part of ‘it’ too?” I made air quotes with my fingers, mocking the startling lack of information he was giving me.
“Yes, I believe so. I’m not familiar with this type of situation, so I can’t be one-hundred percent positive. However, it seems likely.”
“So, what else can you tell me? Because so far this isn’t much.” I set my empty pint glass down and crossed my arms, defending my space and glaring at a man I’d much prefer to be ogling.
“I’m reasonably certain that for as long as she’s away from Todd, she will get better. But, if she goes back to seeing him again, I suspect it will get worse.”
“Meaning what, exactly?” He was being deliberately unclear, and it was maddening.
“Exactly what I said. The more time she spends with him, the more the changes will develop in her behavior.”
“So, what am I supposed to do, exactly?”
“If I were you, I would try to keep them apart. I know the band is out of town for a few days, maybe in that time you can make some headway with her,” He paused, thinking. “Doubtful, to be honest. But you’ve got to try.”
“Well that’s helpful. But why? If he doesn’t mean her any harm, why not just let them be? She seems to be crazy about him.”
“Just because he doesn’t mean her harm doesn’t mean harm can’t be unintentionally caused,” he shifted, uncomfortable, speaking in riddles again.
“Look-” I started, angry.
“No, you look, Lucy. I’m trying to help you here, and your friend. Try to talk some sense into her. She will thank you for it one day, or maybe she won’t. But her life may be in jeopardy if you don’t.” With that he got up angrily, threw a ten-dollar bill on the table, and strode out of the pub.
I sat, staring into space, until Charlie reappeared to claim my empty glass and the money.
“What was that all about?” He asked.
“I have no idea,” I answered honestly, “But I’m going to find out.”
***
When I got home Emily was again on the couch. She looked a little better today, although still pale. I also noticed the phone was still occupying a prominent position on the cushion next to her. Em paused in her channel-flipping to greet me when I walked in.
“Hi, Lu! How was your day?” She smiled at me with low energy. It wasn’t her usual beaming grin, but it was better than yesterday. At least there was eye contact.
“It was okay. Fred was Fred. I reassured him you were still in bed when I left, and he was satisfied that you are sick. How are you feeling?” I shifted her phone over and sat beside her, surreptitiously checking her neck. The marks had started to fade, and the one that bled yesterday appeared to be healed.
“Better, definitely. I slept all day,” She yawned for emphasis. “I just got up an hour ago and took a shower. I haven’t even eaten yet. I was waiting for Todd to call.”
“Okay, well I’m starving, how about I make us some food and then we watch a movie or something?”
“Sure, Lulu, that sounds great.”
Her phone buzzed, and she beamed at me before snatching it up and running to her room, closing the door for privacy. Sighing, I heaved myself off the couch and made my way into the kitchen to get dinner started.
As I stood in front of the stove stirring, I let my mind wander back to the bizarre conversation I had with Mick this afternoon. It seemed as if he was trying to help, but then he told me so little it wasn’t really helpful. All he’d said was that Todd didn’t want to hurt Em, but that he might anyway and I needed to keep her away. How the hell was I supposed to manage that? She clearly couldn’t wait to see him again, and I only had two more days until he was back in town. Somehow, I had to convince her he was dangerous and get her to realize something was seriously wrong here. Even if he was just some weirdo that thought drinking some of her blood made him a vampire, perhaps finding that out would be enough to convince her?
