I hustled towards the front of the house; I'm surprised I remembered where it was. I'm not sure what to expect. Chickie—Dayshia stabbed him, he's probably dead.
But despite everything. The old fool isn't dead, he's angled on the sofa. "Jose!"
He's bandaged up across his stomach. I give him credit for not dying. His eyes sway at me. "This body ain't shit without Church."
"Chickie's dead..." I huff. "I killed her."
"Amen." he sighs. "The church ain't dead."
"Can you explain?"
"Sure..." he points upstairs. "Go get the ibuprofen first. I got the cloth from my closet."
I get the medicine while at the same time I'm trying to forget how much DOCK drugs he has but I don't think it's all his.
At least ibuprofen is normal.
I take the meds to Jose who throws five in his mouth. "Fuck me..."
"You're not supposed to take them like that."
"Would you believe my own coven tried to kill me?"
"Yes." I answer bluntly. He glares at me and I lift a brow, "Fuck you young nigga..."
"I got the betrayal part... what next?"
"Dayshia is from my--" he rolls his eyes. "My wife's escapades..."
"Go on."
"I married—Kidnapped a dumb white bitch. My mexican ass should have aimmed for darker or the same. She had these children in the basement and attic of the house. She wanted to sell their bodies for profit."
"What about Simona?"
"Her father is fucking dead. The spell fucking passed, thank god." he says taking two fingers and swiping across his right temple. "Dayshia isn't a full vampire... they used a ritual and surgery."
"Surgery..." I utter. "That's what the DOHRCC do. You have pills all over the house."
"I'm addicted. Like I said, my coven kicked my ass and fucking told God some shit I never did." he puts his back on the sofa. "Simona came from somebody... I think like a boyfriend of Dayshia. I don't truly know who it is."
"Drug?" I probe. He looks at me as if it's obvious, "My wife," he air quotes the term. "The plan was kill some kids and revive them using a ritual. La Dama used to kill herself all the damn time. My first sons, Tomas and--" he looks up. "Just Tomas."
"Where is he?"
Jose rubs his forehead. "el infierno es que lo sé."
"English..."
He gawks at me. "I'm tired!"
"I got to go look for Simona." I suggest.
"If the bitch is dead, so be it. The puppet got her, right?"
"Yes?"
"Then let the damn thing take her! That's her daddy!"
"She's baby on drugs!"
"I want some fucking blood thinner now." he mumbles. "Simona is a vampire but Dayshia didn't want her to be. She wanted to do what was done to her. Simona pulls her hair out; she doesn't have fangs..." he counts on his fingers. "She has passed out, bled, I saw her have a seizure—the child is tortured!"
"You told us to go see a werewolf about something. What are you planning to do?"
"I wanted to build a goddamn pack again."
"For what?"
"Raid the dock..."
He's stupid. The dock, DOHRCC, have security. There's even a rumor that most of their employees are vamps through ritual. As for surgery... well... medicine, training, and fucking surgery gave the world a crooked beast.
"You can try to find Simona, I need blood." says Jose.
"You look starved." I note. "Your mother must whoop your ass a lot, don't she?"
.
.
.
"Caller told dispatch he's a collector." noted Mortensen. "He confessed over the phone."
"You believe that?"
Forensics collected the body of Dayshia in a black trash bag and hauled her remains to the truck. The house was swabbed and camera lights snapped the edges of walls and frames.
Synder examined a picture of a white man standing next to a white woman. He held a degree and wore a graduation uniform. The University of Houston written on the plaque, Graduated with Honors in Biomedical Sciences.
Snyder rubbed his chin. Mortensen was yapping in the background about cosplay. "Are you listening to me?" Mortensen exclaimed. "We got a guy in the back of the car claiming he didn't do it. You know what I found upstairs?"
His hearing tuned in, "What?"
"Vials of blood. I think it's fake though."
Snyder's eye twitched, "Why?"
"It's purple..."
Snyder was alone on this one. Mortensen was a cluck and wasn't much help. If he made a decision, he would—he wouldn't do anything. He had already came to the conclusion that another vampire uprise was happening. A mass graveyard would have to be built again or was already in place.
Just the mere thought made his shoulders stiff.
Mortensen yapped some more. "What if all of this is coming from a convention? Have you heard of Attack on Titan?"
What if he shot him? Mortensen went on, "I'm telling you; this is fake. It's a bunch of anime fans going hard over like... Twilight or something--"
"Twilight doesn't have an anime!" he snapped.
"It's in the works, Snyder. It's reviving." Mortensen stated matter a factly. "If I was a fan, I would celebrate."
Snyder narrowed his eyes. "Revive Twilight?"
"I'm not saying rewrite it presay but they could be celebrating the anniversary. Twilight five years later or something--"
"There is no such thing as God!" he blurted. Mortensen stared at him, "I guess..." he stood straight. "But now that we're on the subject. Vampire and religion!"
"I think you a worshipper!"
"Of hot Cheetos..." Mortensen snapped his fingers. "This has been going on a long time. This is like a vampire epidemic--"
"I fucking hate you." Snyder stormed out of the house. Mortensen went upstairs. He looked behind him and entered the third door to the left. He shut it softly and next to the door was a lamp.
Across the room, a book titled 'Wherefore Art Thou'. He took a page out the book and his eye color changed. The words on the paper shifted and clumped together.
Store the body
Take the organs out of the body
Weigh the organs
Keep big body parts separate from smaller
He ripped part of the paper and stuff it in his pocket. He lifted the lamp near the door and placed the paper under it. Mortensen rubbed the bottom of the lamp over the paper, making it appear dirtied.
"Get out!" he yelled and smashed the lamp on the floor. "Who are you!" He toppled the dresser over. Mortensen threw himself against the wall and took off his jacket. "Calm down!" he spoke to the air. "I'm an officer with the DOHRCC!" he ran to one corner of the room and grabbed a clock from the table.
He threw the table then forced it on its side. "Get away from me!" he screamed in a high pitched voice. "Just get away from me!"
He smacked himself, planting a red mark on his cheek. "I'm trying to help you!"
He threw himself at the ground. His body shaped, he kicked his legs out and the woman laid in his place. "Get off me!" Counselor Martha Dawson squirmed on the cluttered carpet. "Get out of my house!"
"Stay here..." he looked over his shoulder with pink hues. "Remember, you're his queen." He put his finger against his lips. "You were invited..."
She screamed and nodded. "Somebody help me!" Mortensen put his hand out and rope clasped her hands by pure magic. "Hey!" he scurried downstairs. "We got a hostage!"
.
.
.
He watched the officers help Martha into the cruiser, comforting her with pure bullshit cop confidence.
Mortensen looked around, he moved beside the house and sighed to act. He pulled his cell phone out and hit the speed dial button.
What he said was in Swahili but what came out was English and incomprehensible. "Yo!" he said. "Did you let out the iron?"
The person on the phone answered. Mortensen smiled and nodded. "Yeah, see I got the head, you get the tree. Kay?"
Snyder spoke with another official but his eyes glanced at Mortensen, he couldn't hear but it sounded strange. "Nah, Nah, I told my baby mama no coughing! Stupid bitch," he twisted his wrist. "Yeah, near the hilltop. I'll bring the peace! I swear imma bring it, just holler at me next time. Don't trip!"
Mortensen hid his phone and Snyder and him locked eyes.
'What?' he mouthed. "Officer Snyder? Were you listening?"