The Human

  I was normally a light sleeper. But, as usual, he was gone before I woke up and I only had my new routine to entertain myself. I showered, ate, took the meds, drank the electrolytes, and tried the front door. This time the knob turned – it was unlocked – and the door opened to a hallway.

  Was he testing me, or did he make a mistake? Take the risk, it’s the only chance you have.

  Even if I wanted to, there also wasn’t an option to lock the door on the outside. How was he locking it? Not important – you need to move. I shut the door behind me so he wouldn’t know something happened until he got to the door then sprinted to the end of the hall. The building was quiet and the way my footsteps echoed suggested that it was empty. Makes sense, noise from the apartment didn’t concern him. A stairwell took me down two floors and I turned down a hallway that led me outside to sweet fresh fucking air.

  Are we still in the same city? I need to find a bigger, busier street. I picked a direction and followed it until the road intersected with a highway. I now had a vague idea of where I was – this road cut through the middle of the entire city. In one direction should be the business side of the city where he’d taken me from. The other, I wasn’t entirely sure; I rarely went to that part of town for anything, but it seemed like the safer option.

  I hurried in that direction for a while until I saw a payphone on a corner. I made a collect call and just gave “M” for my name.

  「“You’ve reached The Diner on 8th, what can we get started for you?”」 It was so nice to hear Beth’s voice.

  “I’m at the payphone on the corner of Dewire and, uh… Hannuit.”

  「“Do you need any utensils? Condiments?”」

  “I’m okay, but I don’t know how much time I have before I’m not.”

  「“We should have that ready for you in about 15 minutes. It’ll be $12.87 when you get here.”」

  “Thanks, see you soon,” I hung up and I did my best to stay out of sight until my ride arrived.

  I was dropped off at The Diner about twenty minutes later. Beth was behind the counter and watched my approach before I made it to the door.

  She failed to stifle a giggle. “What are you even wearin’!?”

  Fuck, what am I wearing? I looked down – tonight I’d been given a white undershirt with pink cartoon flowers and briefs to match. Where would he have found something like this in my size? Still, it could've been worse. I shrugged and sat at the stool in front of her. “It’s been quite the… experience.” Where would I begin?

  “Good thing I have a fix for that!” She grabbed a bowl and filled it with a large portion of chocolate swirl.

  Beth’s name tag said ‘Peach.’ All of the name tags here had an obvious alias; staff in the front of the house were named after pies, such as: Cherry, Meri (Meringue), Ana (Banana), Coco (Coconut), Rhuby (Rhubarb), and Lemmy (Lemon).

  She smiled warmly at me, like she always did. I knew she had questions from the way she bounced on her toes to contain herself, but her excitement from seeing me again was slowly replaced with concern; her eyes lingered at my neck more than once.

  “I let Charles know you were on your way.”

  Oh goody. Does this have to happen now?

  “He’s down in his office when you’re ready,” she added.

  “Thanks.” What she actually meant was, ‘don’t keep him waiting much longer.’ I was already dreading this conversation before I left that man’s apartment.

  I ate a little slower.

  The eyes of employees and strangers followed me as I headed toward the bathrooms. The hall was out of sight of the sitting area and patrons wouldn’t know I entered the “Employees Only,” door, instead. A second door was at the rear of the room and I gripped the handle; the metal vibrated as sensors recognized my fingerprints and unlocked. Maybe the door at his apartment is also like this, it would explain the lack of any manual locking mechanism. But why wouldn’t it have locked itself after he shut it?

  Charles’ door was open and he yelled as soon as I stepped off the stairs. “You look fuckin’ ridiculous! Did you really walk in here like that? Get in here and shut the damn door!”

  I slunk into his office like a kid who had been sent to the Principal and sat across from him. I was in for The Charles Special, compliments of the house.

  “You were supposed to be following Tannenbaum!” he continued. What happened out there? You’ve been AWOL a damn week, Michael!”

  AWOL? I was expecting a different kind of lecture. Was he actually fucking suggesting I’d taken a vacation? “I was detained.” And had I really only been gone for a week?

  “Oh, really?” The exaggerated skepticism revealed his intentions; he wanted me to get defensive, to argue. I waited for him to fill the silence, instead. “By who? Tannenbaum’s men?”

  I didn’t know, but that’s the last answer he’d want to hear. “I didn’t find anything to suggest he’s anyone’s man. Doesn’t mean he’s not.”

  “He? One person?” He actually meant, ‘you allowed yourself to be captured by one person?’ but his tone completed the sentence for him. “How’d he get you?”

  That’s still kind of fuzzy. What happened after I got in the car? How’d I end up at his apartment? “He ambushed me at the car and stabbed my neck with something.” His fucking teeth, but I can’t tell Charles that. “I thought I stabbed him too.” I did, he even said I did. Where did the wound go? “I remember getting in the car and taking off, but it’s fuzzy after that. I don’t even know how far I got from where I parked, just that I woke up in restraints.”

  “If he’s not someone’s hire, the fuck would he want with you?”

  I’d also like to know. “I said maybe ten words to him since I came to. Nothing he said to me was useful.”

  “What does he know?”

  “He has my wallet, so Vogt. I don’t know what happened to the camera, phone, or watch. He said the car went in the river.”

  “So, Vogt’s burned.” Charles sighed, annoyed. ”Did you get his name?”

  I didn’t ask his name. I didn’t ask him a lot of things. “No.”

  “Did he follow you when you got loose?”

  ““I hope not.” If I thought he was following me, I wouldn’t have led him back here. But, I actually couldn’t know for certain – I didn’t see him following me those two nights, either. “I’d rather fight Paul.”

  We shared a look of mutual understanding. “Are you okay?”

  I agreed to debrief him more later. He said he already had details from Paul, he just wanted to see how my version of events lined up before I talked to anyone else.

  I headed to my own office and sat behind the desk, leaning back in the chair for a moment with my eyes closed. I was finally out of that apartment and away from that man. If he even is a man. My neck twinged where I’d been bitten each time I thought about that night and my back was starting to feel sore again now that the excitement of escape was wearing off. I overdid it, but I was free. I also needed to be free of these clothes.

  I opened the closet and chose dark navy jeans, a long-sleeved black undershirt, and a tan tee with some sort of random blocky design. These were among a few other back-ups I stored here for times like this. I changed, then undid my hair so I could drag a brush through it. I’d rebraid it later; for now I pulled it back in a bun.

  I went to the bathroom down the hall and shaved at one of the sinks. When I returned to my office, I threw on a jacket and kept my hair tucked into the back of the hood. I grabbed a pair of glasses from a case in a different style to the frames I left behind at the man’s apartment. None of this changed my appearance much. But if he was looking for me, and searching for something specific, I hoped to be a little harder to find this time.

  I spent the rest of the night back upstairs, at least until The Diner closed at two in the morning. The later patrons were usually groups of tourists who walked over from the bars for a late meal. I ate something more substantial than ice-cream and caught up with Beth. I didn’t tell her anything about my past week, but it was nice to hear about hers.

  The office space below had a room with some bunk beds; I’d stay here tonight. Maybe longer.

  Hands tightly closed around my foot and ankle. Fuck, he found me! I quickly grabbed the bed’s frame but he pulled me so forcefully that I was forced to let go. And if he was able to make it to me, everyone here is dead. I dropped straight to the floor as soon as I was pulled over the edge of the bed. I shouldn’t have fucking come back here.

  “Rise ‘n shine, Mikey!” Paul. It was just Paul.

  “Fuck you.” I was still so tired. What time is it?

  I kicked my other leg in Paul’s general direction but he dodged it. He still had a firm grip on my foot and dragged me into the bright hallway. I was pulled past other workstations – occupied by people who’d grown indifferent to our quarrels – to the desk he was using.

  Paul reached down for my hand and pulled me to my feet with ease. “We just have the audio from the two days you were on your last assignment. Listen to it and see what else you can tell us.”

  I took a seat and threw the headphones on. The first thirty minutes or so were just me following Tannenbaum, commenting on businesses the man entered, and describing what little I could see through the windows. I was able to add a few extra, but uncertain, details where they came to me, but I’d have wanted to review the pictures before including those in the report.

  A familiar voice comes through in the audio: 「‘You look a little lost.’」 My hair stood on end. I made a mental note of the timestamp but didn’t want to linger on this spot with Paul waiting.

  What did the man do between our first and second encounter? Go home to his empty apartment? Attend to different hostages, or victims, at other locations? How did he find me two days in a row in different neighborhoods? I assumed he was a con artist or pickpocket looking for an easy mark, but I was so wrong. Why did he take me?

  I must’ve tuned out; my attention was pulled back to the audio when my verbal notes on Tannenbaum’s movements resumed.

  I finished Day One and Paul already had Day Two queued. My conversation with the man that night was captured here, too. Paul’s multiple attempts to intervene were also part of the recording. I should’ve asked him to come. How much time passed between when I ended the call and when the man made contact with me at my car? Or when he caught up to my car after biting me? Paul probably would've made it down there by then, at least.

  I stood when I was finished and stretched. The human alarm clock this morning didn’t help my back any. Paul stopped me before I walked off. “The guy that came up to ya both days, was that who detained you?”

  Fuck, here comes the lecture. “Yeah.”

  “Should’ve had me come down there, Mikey…”

  Would Paul have been able to do anything if he came down there, or would he have become another casualty? The man tossed me like I was nearly weightless. “I thought I was making the right call.” At least, that was how I remember it.

  I stopped by my bunk for the glasses then went upstairs. It was midday and the sun poured through The Diner’s tall windows, a sharp contrast to the offices below that had no natural light. I wasn’t sure that it was safe to sit up here but the man avoided daytime. Like a vampire. That’s what he wants me to think he is, right?

  I sat at a booth near the window and looked outside. The light was almost unbearably bright – enough that I wished I’d brought a pair of sunglasses instead – but I welcomed the sun’s warmth as it reached me through the window for the first time in a week. It was, by most people’s definition, a nice day. The streets were busy with those out to enjoy it.

  I picked up a menu, one that I had memorized over the years, and skimmed it for something that spoke to me. I settled on a coffee and steak omelet.

  Beth had already refilled my water twice by the time my food was brought out; she sat across from me as I started eating. “Charles caught me up.”

  Of course he did, he told her almost everything.

  “I was so happy when you called me last night.” She leaned down the way she did when she was trying to get my attention – my eyes were on my plate.

  I was hungrier than I realized once I dug into the omelet. I managed to give her a slight smile in response, but what was there to say?

  “I’m here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

  The past week doesn’t make sense to me and certainly won’t make sense to them. “If,” I countered. My memories of impossible events seem so real.

  “When.” She got up to refill my water then returned to her usual station behind the counter.

  The rest of the day was uneventful. I returned below after breakfast and powered through some desk work. This mostly involved listening to audio recordings to tweak any inaccuracies in the automated transcripts. There were natural gaps between the spoken notes or chatter and my brain filled any silence with questions.

  What does the man want? Did someone send him? Had he been following me longer than that first night? Was he looking for me now or did he cut his losses? Did he already know where I worked when he took me, or does he now? Could I go home or does he know where I live? I opened the audio files and listened to our conversations again, but the answers weren’t there.

  “Your injection was due yesterday.” Beth stood in my office’s doorway with a syringe already in hand.

  My heart started pounding. That time already? If I hadn’t escaped… “Thanks for remembering.” How long would it have been before I became sick? Before I was too far along to resume the shots? Before the adrenaline my body produces kills me like it killed my parents?

  I closed the laptop and rolled up my sleeve so she could give it to me in my right shoulder. I needed a break, anyway. Afterward, she headed back upstairs and I went to the lounge to check out the snack options – I settled for a protein drink and cookie.

  As I ate the cookie, I looked up at TVs mounted around the room which displayed the various angles of The Diner’s security cams. It was getting dark again, and if the man did know about this place, he might show up.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  I relocated my station to our break room for the rest of the night and sat at an angle that put as many screens as possible in my view. I popped upstairs briefly for supper but I otherwise stayed in the break room until The Diner closed, my attention divided between work and the screens. The man didn’t show tonight.

  I was thirsty. Or hungry. I don’t know. I grabbed another protein shake to satisfy both before going to bed but it wasn’t what I was craving.

  Charles pulled me back into his office after a few days. “You can’t stay in this building forever! Someone else took over the Tannenbaum case but I need you back out there. You have somewhere to be at 5, so get moving!” He handed me a file and kicked me out of his office.

  I leafed through it back in mine. On good authority, my new target was meeting with a business partner at a sushi restaurant. An eel roll sounds good. Any information that I could come back with would be more than they had, and payment was scaled based on the value of the information – that was for Charles to negotiate.

  I changed into something that was ‘just left work and I’m too tired to cook,’ appropriate, packed what I needed, and headed into the city.

  It was late afternoon and I got there early. I grabbed a coffee from a shop across the street and sat at one of their outside tables. The sushi restaurant’s windows were dingy but not too opaque to peer through. It seemed to be a popular spot; the booths and tables were crammed close together and most of them were occupied.

  The target arrived at ten to five with what should be the business partner, another man. I snapped a quick picture of them walking in together, and took the time to finish my drink so I wasn’t immediately behind them. Through the windows, I watched the host seat them at a booth near the back.

  I crossed the street and walked in. The host’s stand was presently abandoned which gave me a chance to get a better look at the layout of the room. I had to be able to see them without any significant visual obstructions from where I sat. I’d also need to walk by their table at some point even if I had to create the circumstances that got me over there. I just had to avoid being obvious.

  “Table, booth, or bar?” Not the host but one of the servers.

  Hopefully he’ll have no problem double-seating me. “I was hoping to sit somewhere on that side of the room,” I gestured near the target’s booth. “I’m starting to get a headache and the light isn’t as bright back there.”

  It wasn’t entirely a lie. My head had been hurting off and on – mostly on – since I woke up in the man’s apartment. Only, the pain at the back of my head and neck had subsided and new pain in my temples took its place.

  The server accommodated me and I chose the side of the booth that faced the mark. A different server brought a menu and a cup of water. I positioned it to take a picture, something restaurants are used to with food bloggers, and ensured the target and business partner were in the background.

  When the server came back around, he refilled my water and I placed an order for a combo that included an eel roll. I also asked for their drink menu to give me another picture opportunity. People in these closed spaces could get uncomfortable when a camera is always facing forward, so I grabbed a few selfies of myself in between.

  Audio, I reminded myself. I got the attention of a waitress when she walked by. “Bathroom?” That could be the easiest solution.

  She pointed down the hallway. “It's right around the corner.” I thanked her.

  Perfect. Its location would let me walk right past the booth where the meeting was happening, now I just needed the right opportunity.

  A different server entered the aisle from the opposite direction a minute later and I started to head that way. I intentionally tripped on his foot as we crossed paths in front of the target’s booth and fell to the ground. His hands were already empty and reached down, apologetic, to help me to my feet. Kind, but that worked against me and I had to stop him.

  “Sorry, wait! I’m recovering from a lower back injury!” Again, not a lie, but I used it as an excuse to make contact with the table that wouldn’t seem as out of place. “I have to get up a specific way. Can you support me at my waist in case I lose my balance when I stand?”

  I turned and faced the booth. I placed one hand on the seat and the hand with a small mic on my thumb at the edge of the table. The server placed their hands on my hips and I stuck the device to the bottom of the table as I stood.

  I apologized to the men at the booth, and then to the server, and faked a slight limp on my way to the bathroom as though I’d aggravated my injury. My back was doing fine but my head was throbbing to the extent my eyes began to tear. I’d been so thirsty and did have to go, so I didn’t have to bother to estimate how long I should stay in there.

  The order arrived just as I made it back to my table. I pretended to take a call while I checked that the audio from the bug was coming through, then snapped a few more photos before I ate. It was a generous portion of rolls and a soup but I was still a little hungry afterward. Once I didn’t have a reason to linger any longer, I paid and stepped outside.

  I made sure the audio was still being picked up then hid the connected phone just outside the business so it would continue transmitting and recording.

  It was well after dark when I made it back to The Diner. I swiped a sandwich and a slice of cheesecake from the to-go cabinet and trotted downstairs. I dropped the camera off with Paul then took my laptop to my temporary office, the break room, to finish my work.

  The bug was still recording but the current voices on the other end were new. The target and his business partner must have since finished their meeting or were continuing it elsewhere. I stopped the recording process, saved the audio file, then remotely wiped and deactivated the devices.

  Might as well dive in, I’ll be up for a while, anyway. I unwrapped the sandwich and pressed play on the audio. It began with the sounds of the server helping me off the floor. My eyes stayed on the screens as I listened.

  Once again, nothing unusual on The Diner’s security cams, but the audio had some interesting moments that I noted for Paul.

  I sat at the counter the following night, right across from Beth while she handled to-go orders and payments. The sun was setting and I was almost ready to move downstairs.

  “Can I get a BLT to go?” A man’s voice came from my right; he had a slight accent but I couldn’t place it.

  He paid for his order and waited a few stools down. Unlike other people who came and went throughout the afternoon, his attention lingered – I was nothing to look at with interest. I glanced over at him, a short-haired man of below average height who appeared to be in his 50s.

  He noticed and took it as an invite to chat. “Have you tried any of their desserts?” It isn’t.

  Beth laughed at the absurdity of his question. “He’s tried every dessert here!”

  “The shakes never disappoint,” I added, disinterestedly. I could go for a shake, though.

  The man continued to study me in awkward silence, the kind that hovers when one party – not me – wants to continue the conversation but has nothing of value to actually say. “I have been eyeing the ‘mint chip,” he finally said. “Do you have a favorite here?”

  These questions. Why not ask Beth? Or anyone else seated out here who was actively enjoying a dessert? “That’s a good choice.”

  Beth brought the man his order and saved me from further questioning. “Hmm, maybe next time.”

  Some people needed to fill the silence to feel normal, a tactic I often use to my advantage in the field. But here? Leave me alone. The man had no intention of getting a shake, he just wanted to talk. I sighed and got to my feet; I’d prefer to avoid any other chatty To-Gos.

  “Do you want a mint chip shake?”

  I could stay a few minutes longer. “Of course.”

  Beth cleaned a few tables while I enjoyed the shake. She returned to her place behind the counter with a hardly used coloring sheet and crayons. I grabbed the red crayon and placed an ‘X’ in the upper right corner of the tic-tac-toe grid. She smiled at me and used the blue to place her first ‘O’ in the center.

  “Found you.” A different voice behind me– this time one I recognized.

  Every hair on my body stood on end. My captor sat on the stool next to me and wrapped an arm around my waist. I kept my attention straight ahead.

  Beth noticed my expression change but she was cool in a crisis. “Oh, hi! Can I get you anything? For here, to go?”

  “Oh, not tonight, ma’am, but thank you!”

  He sounds so friendly, like when he first approached me. Like us, he improvises well. He comes across as sincere and believable and that’s exactly what makes people like him dangerous.

  “How much do we owe you?” We’re not a we.

  Beth totaled up the lasagna and shake, something that for me was always ‘on the house.’

  The man paid for it with cash then grabbed my hand. “It’s been a long day, we should get home.”

  I can’t risk finding out what he’ll do if I don't cooperate. Not here.

  He continued to hold my hand as he led me out of The Diner. I placed my other hand behind my back as I walked out, and signaled, ‘wait’ to Beth and the security cams. If he’d gone to the trouble of finding me – keeping me – what would he do to them if they tried to stop him?

  The Vampire

  I was still wrapped around them at sunset, their warm body against mine. This is so nice. Why don’t I do this with anyone? I buried my face against the back of their neck and inhaled their calming scent which had started to mix with mine.I softly rubbed my face on their skin; their body heat and the friction created a nice warmth. I sniffed them again – my scent was stronger, marked them.

  We stayed like this for a few more minutes before I left the bed. Marcus was, to my surprise, such a heavy sleeper. It made more sense that they’d stay awake while I was here, and wait to sleep while I was gone. That’s what I’d do, at least.

  I’d left my phone in the living room. I need to start locking it up during the day, just in case. I replied to messages as I got ready for the night, and set out the daily meds and clothes for Marcus. I finished a text on my way out of the apartment and headed downstairs.

  I took the bike today. One of Robbie’s texts was about Ben, the bartender we let go about a week ago. Ben showed up drunk to Jonestown earlier this afternoon and begged for his job back. When that was denied, he asked to talk to me. And when that was denied, he got physical with Robbie.

  The drinking was apparently an ongoing issue with Ben but was manageable ‘til it wasn’t. The texts included the last address we had for Ben and a picture of him during a recent shift. I definitely haven’t met him before.

  A car was parked in the driveway, but I didn’t know what he drove and it could be a roommate or partner. I knocked on the door and the man matching the picture answered. “I heard you wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”

  Ben, who hopefully hadn’t been this plastered, at work, let me in. Their final mistake. They were the only one home, and from the way the place looked and smelled, has been the only one here for a while. I had nothing I wanted or needed to say to him; I finished with him quickly so I could hurry home.

  My front door was unlocked.

  Shit. Did they find a way to get it open? I did a quick search to confirm what I already knew: Marcus was gone. I shut the door and tried the lock. It closed and locked as it normally would. Nothing seemed damaged or out of place around the door or its frame. I just didn’t lock it properly.

  I headed back outside. Now that I knew they left, I picked up their scent along the route they took while leaving. Had I been paying more attention when I came up, I would have noticed. I’ve let myself become distracted by them and this is the consequence.

  The concentration of their scent dissolved as soon as I got into the open air. There were two routes they’d be most likely to take out of here; one led back to the part of the city where we first met, and was the path I used to come back home – I didn’t see them that way, but if I were them I’d avoid it. The other led to an area where businesses and homes mingled. Plenty of cars to stop, or doors to knock on, if he made it that far.

  Will Marcus run into someone before I find them? How much have they learned about me that they could tell someone? I’m an idiot – I put my myself at risk by bringing them here. I’ll have to kill them when I find them. I should’ve killed them that night.

  I went on foot toward the latter option. Maybe I wasn’t too far behind.

  I returned with nothing. They either left soon after I did or they found a way to get out of the area fast. Maybe they were still in the neighborhood, hiding in one of the abandoned houses until daytime when they knew I’d be asleep. There were too many possibilities and no reasonable way to narrow them down right now.

  The cup was empty and the meds were gone. The clothes I sat out were no longer on the counter and what they wore yesterday was in the hamper. They probably ate and showered before they tried the front door. That shortens the timeline, slightly.

  I texted my contact. Hopefully some of the intersections along this stretch had working cameras that could give me a more specific starting point.

  I cleaned to keep busy while I waited – I wiped down surfaces, swept and mopped the floors, and scrubbed the sinks, toilet, and shower. I was angry, or something that felt like anger, and that kept me in motion.

  They would still be here if I made sure the fucking door was locked before I left. I wouldn’t be in this position if I’d just finished them off while they were on the couch, but I chose to wake them up instead. I could have let them continue to bleed out after I caught up to their car, but I took them home. I should have just moved on when they got away the first night, but I saw them the second night and couldn’t let it go. Why am I so fucking invested in a person I met a week ago?

  My phone buzzed a few times. The contact sent over clips from surveillance cameras that met the criteria I sent. Marcus did go in the direction I thought, and I probably missed them by ten or so minutes. They left in just the shirt and briefs. They ran into a payphone, made a call, probably collect, and a black car picked them up some time after.

  『03:08: License plate of car in 4th vid is attached to the last property I gave you, but Apt. 213.

  To a ‘Clarence Reed.’ 』

  I paid them for their work, though it wasn’t much to go on. I don’t have to go after Marcus, their escape is an opportunity to do what I should’ve already done. Put them behind me, let them go. I’ve made so many impulsive choices since we crossed paths. How many of them were mistakes?

  Both of us could’ve died the night I bit them. They had the upper hand after they sliced me open. If they stayed and fought, and were actually able to finish me off, they would have bled out beside me. I was lucky they got in the car, chose life over retaliation.

  And I was lucky they couldn’t drive further than they did. Who were they talking to, and where were they going to meet? What would Marcus have told them about me?

  I was lucky they didn’t hide knives or other sharp kitchen objects around the apartment while I was out. Somewhere within their reach, like behind a cushion or the bedframe. I didn’t give them their space and they could have used it to their advantage.

  They were calculated, didn’t have the same luxury I did to be impulsive. Marcus was quick to seize the opportunity because they knew what they were doing. They would have waited me out as long as needed – until I fucked up like tonight, or became complacent with our routines.

  This is why I’m so invested, why I brought them to my home after they tried to kill me, shared my bed with them. They saw me for what I was and didn’t fear me, didn’t say or do things to appease me. They seemed so simple but were full of surprises, were dangerous for me. Danger is exciting.

  I didn’t know what I was getting into when I confronted them in the city, but since the moment I met them, they’ve been mine.

  I drove back to the complex on Meadowbrook Drive. Given my last trip out here, I didn’t expect to find anything new or useful. The parking lot was still full, the place was just as quiet. 441 was dead, except for the same hum of the refrigerator. 213 was similarly silent. Does anyone actually live here? I walked the outside of each building and floor and listened for any signs of life.

  It was getting late.

  The sheets under where I’d tied them up over the last week were saturated in their scent. I rolled in it and slept in their spot.

  I had needs. I took care of them at the start of each night by luring easy targets. Once again, I found myself punishing others when it was Marcus I was after. I had so many fantasies about killing Marcus and these were their surrogates. I called these substitutes by Marcus’ name. I fed from them. I fucked them. I was brutal. I killed everyone I got my hands on, but it wasn’t satisfying. It wasn’t them. I don’t have them.

  After cleaning up at home, I spent the remainder of each night near the complex on Meadowbrook. Lurking around in the city where I found them, at least so soon, wouldn’t be worth my time; they’d avoid those places.

  A car or two might have been moved during the day, but the nights remained quiet. This place was storage at best. For who? For what? No one lived there.

  I waited to change the sheets until my scent overpowered theirs; I wanted to savor it as long as I could.

  I was at the complex again when my phone vibrated. It was The Doctor. It was rare that he called me, but occasionally I could be of service. I wasn’t getting anywhere lingering around here tonight, anyway. It was my only lead, but it was fruitless.

  “Yeah?”

  「“The boy you brought home is healing well.”」 The b- Marcus? 「“I am surprised you let him out.”」

  “I didn’t. Where are you?”

  「“The Diner on 8th. He is sitting at the counter and seems friendly with the host.”」

  A diner? “Text me the bill.” I ended the call.

  The Diner on 8th wasn’t far from my current location. I stashed my bike in one of the ground-floor apartments; it was just minutes away on foot. I opened a rideshare app and called a car to my current location as I got there – I’d be quick.

  The building’s exterior was almost entirely windows. The Doctor had since left but Marcus still sat at the bar. I watched them while they finished a shake, engaged in friendly conversation with the woman behind the counter. Open, relaxed. The way they’re interacting with her is a side of them I’ve never seen.

  The door alerted when I opened it but, for now, I was just another hungry patron. The air in the room was pulled toward the entrance and Marcus’s scent was unmistakably in the mix – lavender, and that masculine scent from the second night.

  I didn’t waste any more time. “Found you.”

  They didn’t have to turn around. Their posture change, the increase in their heart rate – they heard me. They were in the “freeze” state of fight-or-flight and were considering their options. I’ve already done that for you, as a courtesy: you have none. I will kill every person in this building if I have to. I sat down next to them and pulled them closer to me. They still showed no fear, but they knew they were no longer safe.

  “Oh, hi!” Her name was Peach, apparently. “Can I get you anything? For here, to go?”

  Just them. Her face hid it well, but she was afraid. Was it my expression? My posture? Did Marcus tell her about me? I took a breath and tried to appear friendlier.

  “Oh, not tonight, ma’am, but thank you! How much do we owe you?” I paid and led Marcus out of the restaurant. “It’s been a long day. We should get home.” Where you belong.