"IN THE DARK"
EDITED BY:
Miriam Belle
CREATIVE CONSULTANT:
Simply_Cyn
***
The sun illuminated the city of San Francisco in the waning hours of the morning; it's citizens hurrying to and from the home and office. Their business and commerce being of chief importance, lives so thoroughly involved with self that they rarely had time to stop and think of others unless a man on the television screen displayed the starving children of the world or a poor woman was found dead in an alley raped and ravaged on the six o'clock news. Convenience store clerks were shot for their money at night while the politicians stabbed each other in the back all in the name of progress and a better way of life during the day. But no matter what, those in power had only those under them on their mind with the best of intentions.
'Tell it to the convenience store clerk', Lydia thought as she poked at her lunch, elbows resting her desk.
She had locked the door and hung a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the brass knob. Most of the employees at the museum knew better than to knock when the sign was up, but she didn't want to take any chances. So many uninvited guests had been visiting her, from Mr. Geer to Detective Wolverton. It all made her so very uneasy and suspicious of everyone and everything. So much was at stake right now, and looking over at the bed nestled in the shadows of her basement apartment, she truly knew she had only herself to blame.
Maricel lay on the bed as she had an hour ago, and the hour before that. She had broken into a cold sweat just after Detective Wolverton had finished asking her questions. Lydia was in a sweat herself as the questions all pertained to murders she had committed in the last 24 hours. One of the murders was unjustified; the other was righteously justified, if not by God then by her own counsel.
She had saved Maricel from the serial killer Larry Crispin, better known in the media as The Front Page Predator. The bastard had meant to add her to his collection of victims, but not before raping her over and over again. Lydia had seen into his cesspool of a mind, and rape was by far the most innocent of plans he had in store for Maricel. When she finally had to choose whether to kill Crispin or let him go, the choice had been simple and quick.
As her television set relayed the morning news bulletin, the pretty anchorwoman reported on the brutal slaying of the killer.
"Police this morning identified the murder victim as Larry Henry Crispin, a 54 year old mortician who lived here in the Bay Area all his life. The details of the murder are baffling enough as it is, but according to evidence found at the scene, officials believe that Mr. Crispin was in fact The Front Page Predator, the infamous serial killer who began his spree of terror in the summer of 1978 to the present, leaving his mark 29 times across the nation," she reported in her made-for-T.V. monotonous tone.
The image changed from her to a picture of Larry, and Lydia felt repulsed seeing him with a broad smile, looking like anyone's uncle or best friend. Like any good wolf in sheep's clothing he was anything but what the photograph, taken at some party not too long ago, suggested. The picture changed again and Michael Wolverton, dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing during his visit to see her an hour ago, spoke to the press.
"Ladies and gentleman, thank you for your time. Early this morning, the body of Larry Crispin was discovered in his apartment after a 911 call from a neighbor. At some point before the arrival of law enforcement, an unknown assailant had murdered Mr. Crispin and escaped. After a search of his apartment officers found a cache of keepsakes, including fingers, eyes, locks of hair and jewelry. Forensics has determined that Mr. Crispin was in fact the owner of box through analysis of writing and fingerprints found on the items. A total of 29 women have been accounted for based on the number of keepsakes, the exact number of women The Front Page Predator has claimed since 1978. He was notorious for leaving clippings of his victims with the bodies.
All of the women had been featured in newspapers from around the country, mostly front-page newsmakers in small towns and cities. All 29 names found in the keepsake collection matched up to the victims of this brutal killer. At this time, the investigation into who killed Mr. Crispin and why is ongoing. When we have more information you will all be duly informed. Thank you."
There was a roar of questions on the heels of his last word as Michael stepped out of camera view and disappeared through a door, a short fat detective following him.
Lydia leaned back in her chair, her food not really agreeing with her. She didn't really need to eat anymore, but she often did so anyway just to try and retain a small part of her old life. She thought of Crispin and shook her head. That man had to be killed. He was a cancer, a tumor in the body of the world. She knew she had done the world a favor, but would her saving the life of Maricel ultimately destroy her life? The police had already showed up over Steven, and this clever detective had also hinted around about Maricel.
"Of course he knows," Lydia sighed, "Why else would he show up here?"
Maricel moaned again, her mouth opening and closing as she dreamed, her body changing and warping into an internally new creature. Lydia walked over to her and covered her with a blanket as the cold sweat continued.
Not more than a few hours ago, Maricel had emerged from her mental cocoon of the change and seduced her. Lydia had never considered what might happen if she turned someone, because she never had allowed her prey to turn. Every vampire is different, some with the super-human aspects and some without. It all depends on the vampire who does the biting. Lydia had been something of a telepath, or even an empath before she was bitten three hundred years ago. The virus that caused the vampirism had heightened her abilities and gave her all the benefits the virus had to offer. She was a rarity, a unique example among a secret society of loners and outcasts.
Many had feared her initially, and her joining of the ranks was difficult for most. There were some vampires over one thousand years old, with all the dignity and respect and honor that went with their distinctive age. And yet, for all their knowledge of the vampire bloodlines and lineage, for all their political sway in both the nocturnal and the human world, they could not match her abilities in full. They could not match her combined or separately.
Deep down, they feared her superiority. Respected, yet feared. And with that fear, there had been much talk of killing her to avoid upheaval in the society, to avoid certain advantages from forming of one group over another. Still, Lydia had served them well on many occasions and earned their respect over time. Out of that same respect for her loyalty to the society, they spared her life conditionally.
The only way her existence could have been more complicated was if she had been born a daywalker.
They did their best to not only keep her separated from the other's in the society, but to keep her from spreading her mutation of the virus. Her telepathic abilities had allowed to her hunt and manipulate in ways even Vlad Dracula couldn't have imagined, and she hadn't tapped but a fraction of her power. Until she had come along, no other creature of the nocturne had caused such a stir. So as a condition of her remaining alive, she agreed to never allow anyone to turn, that when she fed it was to be complete. It had been an easy agreement in that she hated the idea of one more person living like she did, but horrible in that she was killer no matter what.
And so she was branded an outcast amongst her own people and sent away here, to the museum under Geer's watchful eye. She was to live her life here for as long as the museum stood, isolated from everyone and everything.
