Chapter 20 “I dreamed of you,” he said.
Last Chapter! Thanks for reading and happy Memorial Day.
Amelia walked into the room and stared unblinking into Scarlett’s flashlight. Her eyes reflected fire in the glow of its beam.
She pointed the gun at Lazarus and Scarlett, who stood off to the side and said, “I need you to leave now. You are in my way.”
Scarlett grabbed Lazarus’s hand. In the darkness, he heard the boards behind and left of him shift as Pyrle moved his body weight. There was another growl.
“I have to kill that man, that monster, that pig,” Amelia said, “before anybody else gets hurt.”
Lazarus replied, “No one has died so far and no one has to. We can send him to jail. That way you won’t have to go to jail either.”
Amelia huffed and cocked the gun, “Yeah? On what proof? He’s a lawyer and from what you told me, Lazarus, he is supported by lawyers who are willing to do anything because of their depraved state of being.”
A whisper behind them, “Lazarus. You should not have spoken.”
Lazarus shifted from foot to foot. Scarlett took a step forward in front of Lazarus.
“You can’t do this Amelia. We’re trained to prosecute by the law. There’s no room for vigilantes.”
“Shut up, witch. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got Lazarus brainwashed and are brainwashed yourself.”
Then the night lit up, and there was the sound of thunder, followed by a wet slap on the floor. The flashlight’s beam spun madly as it fell to the ground. Scarlett charged Amelia and pushed her through the room and into the glass doors of the balcony, using the gun to push against her chest. The two of them crashed through the glass and onto the floor. The boards shrieked in protest. Scarlett pushed herself up, one hand on Amelia’s chest and the other digging into the broken glass next to her. Amelia laid still but moaning, a trickle of blood emerging as a black shiny stream in the moonlight from under her back. Scarlett kicked the gun through the railings beams, and it clattered through them to land on the ground below.
The wind blew Scarlett’s hair into her eyes. She pushed it out and then rain back inside into the now pitch black room. Scarlett squatted down and pulled the limp form of Lazarus into her arms.
She whispered, “Baby. Why did you do that? Why did you jump in front of the gun? You don’t even like Pyrle. I was supposed to protect him. We are all supposed to protect each other at the firm.”
Lazarus did not respond but lay falling away from her. She buried her head in his bloody chest inhaling the coppery scent of blood and Lazarus’s own particular scent of Old Spice and dry autumn leaves.
Scarlett pulled her head up, half of her face smeared with blood, “Pyrle, where are you? I know you are here. I can feel it.”
“Quite,” he said, from within the darkness.
“Save him,” she cried, “He saved you.”
“No.”
Scarlett’s head whipped around, trying to find the source of his voice, “Pyrle!”
“You save him.”
It was a whisper, but it was right behind her. The boards had not shifted when he had moved. The wind now kicked up, making the sheets on the furniture dance to invisible music.
“Give him your blood.”
“What?” she asked.
“Give him your blood as Surn gave you his.”
“And turn him into this?” she asked, putting a hand on her chest but still not turning around, “He would hate that.”
“You won’t. It’s the only way to save him. Now, I must feed.”
Scarlett did not hear him leave the room until something shifted on the broken glass and the wood groaned on the balcony. A piece of glass landed next to Scarlett in the room, just barely catching the moonlight. She laid Lazarus down, ignoring the muffled cries coming in from the balcony and straddled him. Leaning down on his wet chest, the blood immediately began to soak into her clothes. It was still warm against her skin. Without taking her eyes off Lazarus’s face, she groped around for the piece of glass and brought it up to her neck.
“Baby,” she said, “I love you. You have to drink.”
He did not respond, so she opened his mouth. She put her neck as close to his mouth as possible and used the glass to open up her carotid artery. Using the control she learned from Surn, she allowed the blood to flow in a steady but controlled stream into his mouth. At first it began to pool, but then his throat started working and swallowing. Scarlett stopped it after about a pint of blood, so as not to kill him, and a clot formed over her wound, scabbing up. He began breathing more steadily, and she felt his stomach moving against hers. Slow up and down.
Scarlett tried to push herself off of him, but she was unable. Giving the blood had made her weak. She kissed him on the lips. Scarlett rested on top of him.
As her breathing slowed to a resting pace and just before she fell asleep, she whispered, “Pyrle will leave us alone now.”
The seven-thirty sunbeams pierced through the remaining bits of broken glass and came to rest on the still figures of Scarlett and Lazarus. They were caked in blood, dust, and dirt. Around them lay perforated sheets on the furniture and the broken glass from the balcony doors. The light revealed the utter decrepitude of the interior of the house, cracked walls and peeling paint as well as rotted floors and disintegrating furniture. It was a house left to die on its own.
Lazarus stirred and woke Scarlett. She sat up on top of him and smiled. Unbuttoning his shirt, Scarlett felt the newly healed skin on the right side of his chest, where the bullet had removed a large chunk of his bone and flesh. He glanced down at it, a look of confusion on his face.
“I got a promotion,” she said, “Need to know.”
“I dreamed of you,” he croaked.
“I know.”
Don’t go away! The next book is in the works. check out the site. different style-different taste. GO
Chapter 19 “Pyrle? Where are you?!”
The street was dark. There were no streetlights nor were the windows in any of the three houses lit up. A delicate moonlight cast a glow on the houses making them seem benign in their quietude. In Lazarus’s mind, Pyrle’s house was not peaceful despite its attempt at quaintness. The abandoned Victorian house with its rotting shingles and dilapidated wrap-around porch seemed imposing. The moonlight reflected the broken glass on the balcony windows on the third floor. Pyrle’s next door neighbors’ driveway was empty.
“Let’s do this,” Amelia said, “Grab the sack.”
Lazarus did and asked, “What’s the duffel for anyway?”
Outside the truck, she came around to his side, carrying the shotgun low at the waist, and she whispered to him, “It’s for his heart when I carve it out. I brought some stakes and a wooden box filled with garlic. I want this bastard dead.”
Lazarus dry heaved.
“Hey,” Amelia said, “Do that quietly. Come on.”
They crept towards Pyrle’s house, past his empty neighbor’s driveway and immaculate lawn. The two approached Pyrle’s car and crept to the front door. The porch light was off. Then headlights appeared down the road. Lazarus looked back as the car parked next to Amelia’s truck. He could not make out the model of the car despite the moonlight.
“Ignore it,” Amelia said.
“Do we knock?” he asked.
“Fuck you,” she said, and turned the knob.
It was unlocked and they walked in to the apparently empty house. They stood in the uncluttered hall looking into the living room they had seen earlier and to their right a neat bedroom. The hardwood floors reflected their faces. Farther back to the right, there was a closed door with the light shining from behind the plain door. Amelia nodded to the door, and she padded over to it with Lazarus following close behind.
Amelia tested the knob, and it turned. She threw open the door and fired the gun into the room. The blast lit up the room in an artificial glare, throwing the crammed bookshelves and crowded desk. Bits of books went flying across the room, and the noise reverberated throughout the house.
“Where did he go?” she asked, “There are no windows in this room, and his cigarette is still burning in the ashtray.”
“You are so crazy,” Lazarus said, clutching the bulky duffel to his chest.
“Out of my way,” she said.
Amelia stepped out into the hall just as the motion detector in the back yard set off the flood light.
“Aha!” she yelled and went charging towards the back door.
She went flying headfirst as she raced towards the door. Between the two walls which created a small hallway to the back door, Pyrle had tied a string at ankle level. Amelia tumbled into the pane of glass of the back door. It was shatterproof, so all that Amelia did was grunt and collapse on the ground. Lazarus rushed over to her, but she pushed him away. Hauling herself with the foul smelling gun, Amelia pushed open the door and ran after Pyrle, and Lazarus followed.
The two of them turned the corner of the house and were now in between Pyrle and his neighbor’s house. Pyrle’s dark figure was in the middle street, heading towards the forest behind the Victorian house.
“Drop dead, you conniving bastard!” she yelled and fired again.
The night lit up again like a violent flash of a photograph. As the sound traveled into the woods, Pyrle collapsed. He pulled himself up, gripping the lower left section of his back, but he still kept running.
Amelia took off after him, and Lazarus followed after a moment’s hesitation. Amelia ran with the spirit of a blind rage, and Lazarus struggled to keep up, the black duffel banging against his thigh. Pyrle changed direction and instead of heading to the woods, he bolted up the stairs of the Victorian house. Amelia was already across the street when Lazarus noticed another figure running down the road. He moved to intercept it, and stopped in shock when he saw that it was Scarlett. The flashlight she was carrying blinded him, temporarily robbing of his night vision.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and asked, “What are you doing here?!”
She shrugged him off and pushed him on the chest, “What do you mean what am I doing here? You are running around with some crazy girl who likes to shoot professors. I am coming to save you!”
Lazarus hugged her and said, “Thanks.”
Let’s get out of here,” Scarlett said, “I’ll call the police.”
Then they heard an enraged scream and another burst from the shotgun. It was muffled from inside the house even with one of the windows shattering on the first floor.
“We can’t,” he said, “I’ve got to stop her. This is all my fault.”
“I’ll come with you.”
They took off for the house. Up the rickety stairs, they burst through the screen door which dangled on one hinge. There was no solid wooden door present. The two stood and gaped in the hallway of the large house. The hallway opened up into an immense two story ceiling. There was a double staircase leading up to the second floor, and to the left and the right were hallways which opened up into rooms haunted by irregular and boxy draped pieces of furniture. Lazarus turned around. The wall behind them hosted a huge picture of a dapper looking man wearing a pinstripe suit and a monocle; however, the picture was overwhelmed by rips, a thick layer of dust, and an empty bird nest.
“Who is that man?” Lazarus asked, “And why did he build a house out here?”
Scarlett replied, “Pyrle is the caretaker of the house. Truste, Loade, and Surn had it built many years ago, and purposefully let it decay, to keep people out.”
He looked at her, “How do you know these things?”
She smiled and said, “Need to know.”
Any further conversation was cut off by another boom.
“It came from the third floor,” Lazarus said.
Reaching the third floor, they heard heavy breathing and walked towards it. In the room off the hallway, they saw Pyrle crouching behind a drape covered sofa. He resembled an animal, hair a mess and wild eyes. He growled at them, revealing unnaturally sharp but did not move.
“Pyrle? Where are you?!” Amelia yelled from another room.
They heard her footsteps approaching closer, and Lazarus and Scarlett froze in fear, unwilling to move towards either Pyrle or Amelia.
Chapter 18 It seemed to stretch on for an eternity
It was 10 p.m. and Scarlett and Lazarus had just finished watching “IT.” Scarlett unlatched herself from Lazarus. She smiled when he untangled himself from her.
“Holy crap. That was a scary movie,” Lazarus said.
“Yep. I don’t think I can take a shower with my eyes closed for a while.”
Lazarus shuddered, and he said, “It’s the worst when monsters come out of the night and chase people. I’m glad they don’t exist, except for Pyrle, of course.”
“Pyrle’s not a monster,” Scarlett said.
He turned and looked at her, putting the wine glass down.
“What? Yes he is. He sucks the blood of students and then sends them off to Truste, Loade, and Surn to do God knows what.”
“We suck blood too, you know.”
Lazarus rubbed his cheeks, “Oh. Yeah. Well he’s still a monster.”
She shook her head, and kissed him taking his face in both her hands.
“Babe,” she said, “There’s something I have to tell you. Pyrle offered me a chance to start early at the law firm. He told me it has never been offered or approved by the high ups for someone who hasn’t finished law school. I think this could be my big break—”
“Or the loss of your life,” Lazarus interrupted.
“Hey. I need you to be supportive of me. I was there for you at every single part of this relationship. From the ugly beginning to this beautiful end—middle, I mean.”
“End?” Lazarus asked, “I really hope you don’t mean that. Besides, I don’t see Pyrle lasting much longer.”
He got up and started cleaning up the untouched dinner and wine glasses set out before the movie. The crumbs on the coffee table made a smiley face. When he walked back in from the kitchen, Scarlett had bundled up and was getting ready to leave.
“Why do you say that?” she asked, “What’s going to happen to him?”
“Nothing that I know of. He just leads a destructive and evil life. Something sooner or later is going to get him. Where are you going? Aren’t you going to spend the night?”
She shook her head, “I have to finish unpacking and get ready for classes. I’ll call you for breakfast? I would love some more eggs.”
He came over, and they shared an awkward kiss. Lazarus sighed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I do support you. I just think Pyrle is bad news, and who knows? I’m gonna end up at the same law firm. Maybe I’ll drop out and come with you.”
“Thanks,” she said, “Call you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Lazarus closed the door behind her, and went back to the couch. He reached for his book, but his hand stopped as he saw her phone lying on the cover. Then his phone rang, playing the Imperial March from Star Wars.
“Yea?”
“Hey it’s me,” Amelia said, “You ready?”
“I am.”
“Come over and we’ll go over to his house. Wear black.”
Amelia cut off the phone. Lazarus sighed again. He just wanted it over and for everything to go back to normal with Scarlett. He was scared of what was coming down the pipe because he did not know what was going to come out the end. Lazarus was pretty sure it was going to involve blood, and he did not want it to be his.
A half hour later pulled up at Amelia’s apartment. She let him in, dressed in all black.
“Are you ready to do this?” she asked.
“I guess. Do you have any liquor?”
“It’s in the truck, for our celebration.”
“Celebration of what?” he asked.
She shook her head and closed the door. They walked to the truck, and Lazarus admired the way the moonlight shone on the hood of her vehicle. It seemed to make it shimmer as if it were a pane of glass. The doors creaked open, and small but visible dust mites shot into the air as they climbed into the seats. Lazarus looked around, aside from the cracked windshield and sun rotted seats, there was a black duffel bag behind the passenger seat and something that did not reflect the moonlight. It was long, cylindrical, and a dull black. He reached behind the seat and touched it; it was cold, like ice water.
“Is that a-?”
“A gun? Yes. A shotgun, in fact. My father bought it for me when I was twelve and taught me how to shoot.”
“You’re related to Jessica right? The girliest girl I knew in college?”
“Sadly, we are.” Amelia said, “Although she grew up with just living with my mom. I guess I should have said my step-dad taught me how to shoot. He was a gun nut. He and Jessica didn’t get along, so even for being only two years apart, we had radically different lives.”
Lazarus quickly opened the door, and vomited the little bit of dinner he had ingested earlier while with Scarlett.
“This just got real for me,” he said, wiping his mouth, “I can’t do this.”
“Mmm. Smells like lasagna. Man up. You won’t have to do anything except help me get in the house. Don’t you hate this guy? For what he did to you and Scarlett? For what he made you do to me?”
“I hate him but not enough to kill him. You’re crazy by the way.”
“Well, too bad.”
She pulled away from the house, and Lazarus felt like he had stepped through the looking glass. In the distance, another car started its engine. The small blue Jetta followed Amelia’s truck as it cruised towards the outskirts of the town. Lazarus felt every bump as they went over the rough roads.
“I don’t understand how you can be like this,” he said to Amelia.
She replied without taking her eyes off the road, “You hardly even know me.”
“Well, I know that, but I got the impression that you were a sweet bird-loving girl who kept to herself.”
They rounded a curve and swerved to avoid an oncoming police car. Lazarus swallowed, but Amelia just grinned.
“That part is true,” Amelia replied, taking her eyes off the road for a second, “But can’t a girl have multiple interests.”
“Scarlett did say you had a wild side.”
Lazarus sensed he had struck a nerve, although it had been unintentional. Amelia’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel, and the truck picked up speed. The bumps got rougher.
“Woah, woah,” Lazarus said, “Slow down. I don’t want you to get upset.”
“It’s too late for that. Can’t you see that I am upset? I am barely holding it together.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, “You seemed perfectly normal until a few days ago.”
Amelia glared daggers at him, and then looked back at the road.
“Why do you think I watch birds all the time? It’s to stay away from people,” she said without giving him time to answer, “I had a bad experience with a boyfriend in high school who cheated on me, and when I confronted him about it, he put me in the hospital. You’re lucky I am not taking this out on you. I know that Pyrle did it. I believe you, so that’s why we’re riding to his house.”
Lazarus gulped.
“Are you happy with that explanation?” she asked.
“I didn’t realize,” he said.
“No, you didn’t, but it doesn’t matter because we’re here.”
The truck had come to a stop at the end of Pyrle’s street. It was a short street with only four houses on either side, but to Lazarus it seemed to stretch on like an eternity.
“Do I have a choice?” he asked.
“No and neither does your girlfriend. Get out of the car.”
Chapter 17 “I’m sorry about going to your place uninvited.”
Sorry that the format is weird. I don’t know how to fix that. And sorry that Saturday morning isn’t Friday.
Lazarus jumped out of bed, “Hold on one second, babe. I know we have an important conversation coming. Just give me two minutes.”
“Uhh, okay,” Jessica said and pulled the covers up around her waist.
He dashed out of the room half dressed and into the cold rain of the last days of November. It was a dreary morning, with any hope of nice weather crushed by the presence of overbearing grey stratus clouds. The rain raised gooseflesh all over his exposed torso.
Using Scarlett’s keys that he had grabbed on the way out, he fumbled with door locks, muttering, “Come on. Come on.”
Lazarus opened the door and when a quick visual scan did not reveal the journal, he started a more rigorous search. There was nothing in the glove box, except an owner’s manual and some old looking pens. Under the passenger seat were a crushed of box of tissues and a pink umbrella. The space under the driver’s seat was empty.
“Damn, I know I left it in the car.”
He slumped back to the apartment, where Scarlett was waiting with a towel.
“What were you looking for?” she asked, as she guided him back inside to the living room sofa.
“It was Harry’s journal. Remember when you found it in your car. It was a beat up looking thing, Harry left after I dropped him off at the airport.”
“Oh yeah, that thing. I put it in the glove compartment.”
Lazarus pulled down the comforter resting on the top of the sofa and wrapped it around Scarlett and himself.
“Well,” he said, “it’s gone now.”
She stroked his head, “Was it important?”
“Yeah, Harry called asking about it. He sounded scared, and I’ve never heard him be scared before. Harry asked about the journal and mentioned a guy named Benjamin.”
Scarlett paled, but Lazarus was too busy looking at his hands.
“After that,” he continued, “there was a crash and the line went dead. I tried to call it back, but it didn’t work.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she said, “From what you have told me about him, he always is okay and manages to pop in and out of your life at unexpected times.”
“Yea, I guess so.”
Underneath the covers, Scarlett stretched her legs out crossing them at the ankles and laid them across Lazarus’s lap.
“Remember how we were going to have that important conversation this morning before you ran out into the rain? I think we should still have it.”
Lazarus stared at her. He started to wring his hands.
“I’ll save you the trouble of going first,” she said, “I forgive you for going into my apartment without asking me. I really shouldn’t need to, since I gave you a key. It was also kind of absurd that we had never gone there before. I mean, let’s see. How do I put this?”
He watched and waited. Scarlett uncrossed and crossed her legs again, making the covers squirm like snakes.
“Okay. We never went to my place because it reminded me too much of Samantha. Every time I went in there, I would see her on the sofa or the bed or in the kitchen. It was a relationship which I had never experienced before. When she left, she didn’t even say good-bye, and then I met you. It was only a year later, when Pyrle suggested that I start early and find a “mentee,” so when I found you, I was not in a good place emotionally.”
“You never showed it,” Lazarus said.
“I know. You have no idea how hard that was. Plus, you weren’t the easiest person to get along with.”
Lazarus blushed.
“But I started sleeping better at night,” Scarlett continued, “And started even to like you. Now that we’ve been together for a while, those feelings I have for you are as strong, if not stronger, than what I had with Samantha. It’s like a patch was put over my heart. It is healed, but I will always feel the outline of the patch. Does that make sense?”
Lazarus nodded, “I’m sorry about going to your place uninvited.”
“It’s okay,” she said, “It was good to finally get everything off my chest for once.”
“Yeah. Do you want breakfast? I’ll make you some eggs, after I get out of the shower. I need to warm up.”
“Sure,” she said.
Lazarus got up and disappeared into the bedroom. She then heard the water running. Lazarus’s phone beeped on the kitchen table, and Scarlett got up to get a glass of orange juice. She looked down at the phone as she passed and stopped. It said there was a new text message from Amelia. Looking over to the bedroom, she picked up the phone and read the message. It said, “Let’s do it tonight. 11 a.m. My place.”
“I’m glad I got everything off my chest,” she said to herself, “Well almost, and I guess you didn’t either. I wish I had told you about the offer Pyrle made to start at the firm a semester early. Perhaps it’s best I didn’t.”
She closed the phone and poured herself a glass of orange juice.
