Chapter Five – David, Part Two

Thirty minutes later — damned Atlanta traffic — David turned onto the long driveway that led to the Georgian colonial nestled among towering pines, surrounded by a rich, green, manicured lawn. He parked in front of the garage and hadn’t even gotten up the porch steps when the thick wooden door opened.

Looking comfortable in old jeans and a midnight blue turtleneck, Jim stepped back to let him enter. “How are you doing?”

“I haven’t lost it or anything. You know I don’t jump to conclusions, but I’ve got a bad feeling. Thanks for helping out.”

“Not a problem.” Jim closed the door and led him through the grey granite-floored foyer into the warm coziness of the living room. They turned right and passed through a set of double doors into his office. “It’s Caroline’s bridge night, so the place is ours. Scotch and soda?”

“That’s fine, thanks.” David wandered the room, glancing at the bookshelves he’d seen hundreds of times. Most titles were related to law. He listened to the clink of ice in the glass and the soft cracking as Jim poured scotch over it.

A walnut desk, along with several large, leather armchairs converged in the center of the room. Three Patrick Nagel prints hung on the walls, looking out of place with their art déco style and bright colors. A massive bay window on the south wall offered a stunning view of the cabana and pool, lit by colored floodlights. The light flickered across the surface of the water, winking at him.

“Here you go.” Jim held the drink out to him and motioned the chairs. “I spoke to someone at the Little Five precinct. They’re investigating rumors of a cult on the ASU campus. It’s a small group led by an outsider who’s conned some of the college kids into going along.”

“So, what, they’ve been going after people?” The scotch, though exceptionally smooth on the way down, had an after bite. “Do you think that’s who might have attacked Mecca?”

Jim raised a hand. “I have no way of knowing. She’ll need to give them a statement. Details of what happened, a description. That sort of thing. But we’ve had someone inside, undercover, for a couple weeks.” Jim leaned forward, elbows on knees and his scotch glass dangling from his fingers. “It sounds pretty gruesome. They think they’re vampires.”

David sat up straighter. “Vampires?”

“Yeah. They practice bloodletting together and they seem to be interested in expanding their circle. The undercover guy says they’re gathering drugs — roofies and GHB. He witnessed an attack on a homeless man out near the rail yard where one of them — a kid who’s quite invested in this group, according to our guy — almost killed the man, trying to drink his blood.”

David sat speechless for a moment. Was this for real? Mecca said the man who attacked her had been older and alone — except for the watcher. Not young, and certainly not a member of a pack. That didn’t mean the asshole hadn’t been part of whatever Jim was talking about. But it seemed… Strange. Well, stranger than he had even already accepted.

David studied his friend. Could Jim be lying? He didn’t want to think so. But this made little sense. “They’re drugging people and biting them?” Could Mecca have been drugged? It could explain her loss of control over her Gift.

Jim glanced over his shoulder, craning his body toward the window. “Out there? Probably just Mojo, our lab. She hangs out around the pool, especially at night. She chases frogs. Nothing to worry about.”

David lowered himself back to the chair, head swimming. Must have stood up too quickly. He peered at his glass, half-drained, and set it on the table between them.

“Not to your taste?”

“Driving. Don’t want to overdo it.” David concentrated on forming his words. They sounded garbled in his ears. He felt strange. Prickly. “Is there more? To the vampire group?”

“The one kid who attacked the homeless guy apparently bought custom fangs and has started dressing like the vampires in that TV show. The one set in Louisiana, you know? He’s been ‘hunting’ around the Little Five area. So it’s definitely possible he was the person who attacked Mecca.”

David’s gut twisted. Jim was lying. David had known him a long time. And he was lying.

A shadow crossed the window. This time, David was sure. He jumped from his seat. The room lurched like a ship in a windstorm. He stumbled against the coffee table, knocking his knee. A dull pain registered.

“Dave?” Jim stood. “Are you okay?”

“There’s —” Confusion and fear coursed through him. His words wouldn’t string together properly. He couldn’t get his mouth around them. “Outside. Someone — outside.” He fell back into the chair with a heavy head. He let his eyes close because they really wanted to be closed. His belly lurched and part of him recognized that he might puke.

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