Chapter Fifty-three

I don't get exhausted, but I get mentally fatigued, and tonight had stretched me thin. I was looking forward to coming home to my empty hotel room, closing the curtains tight, and sleeping the day away, dead to the world.

But as I unlocked the door to my room with the keycard and stepped inside, I was immediately met by two things: the first was a fresh breeze that was blowing in through my wide open balcony door, and the second was a nearly overwhelmingly foul stench.

Last time I had been surprised in such a fashion, a vampire hunter had been waiting for me. And what was waiting for me now, stunned even me.

* * *

Alert for silver-tipped arrows or silver ninja stars or silver anything else hurling at me, I cautiously entered my hotel room.

I moved cautiously down the very small hallway. To my left was a closet. The door was partially open. I knew immediately there was no one inside. No, whoever was in my suite was in my living room or sleeping area.

The lights were out. Squiggly, rapidly-moving prisms of light shot wildly through the air. These super-charged particles of light illuminated my way, as they always did.

I took another step into my suite.

I was approaching the end of the short hallway. Around the corner to the right would be my bed and the desk. Around the corner to my left were sitting chairs and a round table. Presently, from my position, I could not see very far around either corner.

Directly before me, at the far end of my suite, I could see the sliding glass door. Or what had once been the sliding glass door, as most of the glass was presently scattered across the carpet. The heavy curtains shifted in the breeze, swaying slightly.

I took another step.

My sixth sense was buzzing. The fine hairs on my neck were standing on end. The foul stench grew stronger. Something rancid was in my hotel room.

No, something dead was in my room.

I took another step. I was now at the end of the hallway. To my right, I could see the foot of the bed. To my left, was a section of the round table. The stench, I was certain, was coming from my right, on the side where my bed and desk were located.

I paused, listening.

Someone was breathing around the corner. Deep breaths, ragged breaths. My heart thumped fast and hard. I suddenly wished I had a weapon.

You are a weapon, I reminded myself.

I continued listening to the breathing. A slow sound. A deep sound. A rumbling sound. Something big was in my living room. Either that or someone parked a Dodge Charger on my bed.

I stepped around the corner.

* * *

The thing standing in the corner of my room was horrific and nightmarish, and if I wasn't so terrified, I would have turned and ran or peed myself. Instead, I stopped and stared and still might have peed myself a little.

The thing was watching me closely, almost curiously, its head slightly angled, its pointed ears erect and alert. Its lower face - or muzzle - projected out slightly, but not quite as long as a traditional dog, or wolf. More like a pug.

Standing there in the corner of my room, the thing looked like a long-forgotten Hollywood movie prop.

Except this movie prop was breathing deeply and growling just under its breath. A low growl. A warning growl. The same kind of growl a guard dog would give. Except this growl was terrifyingly deep.

Blood was dripping from its face. Blood, and something else. Something blackish. Something putrid. I suddenly had a very strong sense that it had dug up a body and feasted on it. In fact, I was certain of this. How I was certain of it, I didn't know. Maybe my sixth sense was evolving into something more.

Or maybe because this thing smells like the walking dead.

I made sure my back was to the open glass door. I wasn't sure what I would do if the thing attacked, but having a readily available escape route seemed like a damned good idea. And if I had to take flight, well, I could kiss these clothes goodbye. They would burst from my body in an instant.

A part of me felt like this was a dream. Hell, a lot of me felt like this was a dream.

We continued staring at each other. I continued wanting to pee. The creature continued breathing deeply, throatily. I could have been standing next to a tiger cage.

And that's when the beast took a step toward me.

Every instinct told me to run - and to keep running until I had put hundreds of miles between me and this thing. But I didn't run. Something kept me in that room. That something was curiosity.

Curiosity killed the cat. Or, in this case, the vampire.

It took another step toward me. A very long step. One that spanned nearly the entire length of my bed. As it walked, it sort of tucked in its shaggy elbows.

The thing, I was certain, was a werewolf. And that werewolf, I was certain, was Kingsley.

When I transformed, I was all there; meaning, I was still me, and I could control all of my actions and emotions. I doubted Kingsley would have chosen to dig up a grave and feast upon a corpse, if that was, in fact, what he had done. So that alone suggested Kingsley was not all here. Meaning, something else was controlling this beast. But enough of Kingsley was in there to find his way to my hotel room tonight.

What happened to the panic room? And where was Franklin the Butler who, I knew, looked after Kingsley during these monthly transformations?

You ask a lot of questions, vampire.

The words appeared in my thoughts, directly inside my skull, as if someone had whispered them straight into my ear cavity. I didn't jump, but I did step back.

"Who said that?"

As I spoke, the creature cocked its head to one side, its pointed ears, moving independently of each other, shot forward. Cute on a dog, not so cute on a hulking, nightmarish creature.

Who do you think said it, vampire?

The creature stepped forward. Its movements were graceful and surprisingly economical. It only moved when it had to. Nothing wasted.

"Kingsley?" I asked.

Kingsley's not home.

"Then who is this?"

The werewolf stepped closer still, and the wave of revulsion that emanated from it nearly made me retch.

I reminded myself that I was a terrifying creature of the night, able to strike fear in the hearts of even the most hardened criminals.

You look afraid, vampire, said the voice in my head.

Up close, the creature looked even more hideous. And up close, it smelled even worse.

"Who are you?" I asked again. My voice shook.

Does it matter?

"Yes. I want to know where my friend is."

Oh, he's in here, vampire.

"Where is here?"

In the background, vampire. Watching us.

Moonlight reflected off the creature's thick brow and slightly protruding muzzle. Long, white teeth gleamed over black gums. A low, steady, rumble came from its throat and chest. The creature seemed incapable of remaining silent. A low growl seemed to continuously emanate from it. I fought a nearly overwhelming desire to step back. But I didn't.

You are brave, vampire.

"And you smell like shit."

The werewolf tilted its head. One of its ears revolved out to the side, hearing something that was beyond even my own keen hearing.

Kingsley has been wanting to see you, vampire. Very badly. But he has refused to do so out of pride. But I thought I would take it upon myself to visit you tonight. I thought it was time to make your acquaintance. There are, after all, so few of us.

"Us?"

The undead.

"Fine, so you've met me. Now who the fuck are you?"

The werewolf growled a deeper growl, a sound which seemed to resonate from deep within its massive chest.

I am called Maltheus.

I did my best to wrap my brain around what I was hearing. "You are a separate entity that lives within Kingsley?"

Not always within, no. But I do visit him once a month. He's such a gracious host.

I sensed sarcasm. "And what, exactly, are you?"

I am many things, vampire.

"How is it that you can take possession of Kingsley? How is that you can turn into this thing?"

This thing, as you call it, is my physical incarnation. And I took possession of my dear fellow Kingsley because he allowed me inside him.

"He wanted to be bitten by a werewolf?"

No. He wanted death. He wanted revenge. He was full of hate and despair and emptiness. The voice paused; the werewolf stared down at me, breathing heavily through a partially open mouth. Its lips were pure black. I exist to fill that emptiness.

"I don't understand."

You will someday, vampire. And we will meet again. Of that, you can be sure.

In a blink of an eye, moving faster than any creature that size had a right to move, the werewolf turned its massive shoulders and dashed through the shattered door and leaped off the stucco balcony.

I ran over to the edge and watched as it dropped nine stories, landing softly and gracefully. It didn't throw back its head and let loose with an ear-splitting howl, nor did it dash off into the night on all four legs.

No, it simply sniffed the air, scratched behind its ear, and walked calmly away.

Chapter Fifty-four

It was late and my IM chat window was open. So far, there was no sign of Fang.

I had spent the past three hours cleaning my room, picking up glass and scrubbing clean the blood and other bodily fluids that had been dripping from Kingsley. With the place clean, now all I had to do was come up with a convincing story about the broken glass. I decided on going the drunken, divorced mother route. I had been drinking on the balcony, when I stumbled through the glass door. Could happen to anyone.

Now, with my hotel suite smelling like coconut butter and rotted corpse, I was sitting in front of my computer, waiting for Fang to log on.

I buzzed him again.

And again.

Twenty minutes later, I saw what I wanted to see: a flashing pencil had appeared in the message box. Fang was writing me a message. I felt overjoyed and relieved. I had come to rely on Fang more than he realized.

More than I realized.

A moment later, his words appeared: You are persistent tonight, Moon Dance.

I have news.

Of that, I have no doubt.

Were you asleep?

I might have been dozing, but I always have time for you, Moon Dance.

My heart swelled. Thank you, Fang.

He typed a smiley face and then asked: So what's your news?

I saw a werewolf tonight.

Your old client and new lover?

I hesitated. Yes.

Tell me about it.

And so I did. I relayed everything that had happened and what was said to the best of my ability. As I typed, Fang waited patiently. Then again, he might have fallen back to sleep.

Nope. I had barely sent my message, when his response appeared nearly instantly.

I'm not surprised. It is commonly believed that werewolves feast on corpses.

Well, if he thinks he's ever going to kiss me with those ghoulish lips again, he's got another think coming.

Isn't that a bit like the teapot calling the kettle black?

I don't eat corpses, Fang.

Point taken. So you say this entity claimed to be living inside your friend?

Yes, I wrote.

Fang paused, then wrote: There are some who believe that werewolves and other such creatures of the night are, in fact, the physical manifestations of highly evolved dark masters.

I'm not sure I'm following.

These beings, these powerful entities, are forbidden to incarnate on earth. But they have found, let's call them, loopholes.

And one such loophole is to incarnate once a month, as werewolves.

Exactly. But they don't consider themselves wolves. You are, in fact, looking at the physical expression of the darkest of evils.

I shuddered.

And how do they find...a host?

No doubt the usual ways. Being bitten by such a being would be one way. But generally, and I think your ex-client is proof of this, they attach themselves to a willing host.

I'm lost, I wrote. As usual.

I have no doubt that your ex-client, the attorney, did not pointedly ask to be a werewolf. But he projected weakness, anguish, pain, despair. Such extreme emotions attract the attention of these highly evolved dark masters. It was just a matter of time until a werewolf-like creature found its way to your friend. Either that, or death.

So they saw my friend as a good host.

You could say that.

So, in effect, he is possessed.

Exactly. But he's possessed by something very dark, and very, very evil.

The sun will be up soon, I wrote.

Spoken like a true vampire. So are we still on for Sunday night?

That was two days from now. My heart slammed in my chest. Yes.

Where would you like to meet, Moon Dance?

You are in Southern California? I asked.

Yes.

Are you familiar with Orange County?

Yes.

Do you know where the Downtown Grill is in Fullerton?

There was a pause. Yes.

Okay, I will see you there at midnight.

The vampire's hour. So midnight it is, Moon Dance.

Goodnight, Fang.

You mean good morning.

Ha-ha.

Sweet dreams, Moon Dance. See you soon.

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