The car idled around him as he squinted into the harsh daylight, hands lingering over the keys, not entirely sure what he was waiting for.
Lincoln should have felt calm during the day, felt safe, but for some reason, it had the opposite effect. Whenever he was baking under the sun's rays, he could almost feel the hours falling away, feel night coming. He felt like a kid trying to hide under the covers from monsters, only to discover the blankets didn't cover his feet. The light seemed artificial now, and although women walking past him were wearing board shorts or bikinis as was customary with the hot weather, he wore his leather jacket everywhere. He didn't just feel cold, he felt like eventually the ice at his core would spread out along his feet, to the ground, and freeze the Earth in its tracks.
The shop lay open across from him, doors propped to offer cheap air conditioning, and he noticed that they would be closing in a few minutes. He had been sitting outside for near an hour, and he wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but it hadn't come yet. He had been to five shops similar to this one, all over Los Angeles county, and none had been able to help him. The earthy wares lining the shelves had seemed authentic, the knowing attitudes of the clerks seemed genuine, but upon further inspection, he decided that witch craft and the occult were a fad undertaken by teens rebelling against their parents. Linc was shocked to find that when he hinted, subtly, that he may be dealing with a real vampire, most of them went on for hours with their own stories of the undead. Like, for instance, this one time, at this club, like, this guy with black hair, and, like, a cape, totally made out with me, and, like, said he needed my blood, and, like... Lincoln had found that doing a stockpile of all the professions he had wished he'd taken instead of being a cop was a good way of drowning out the rest of these inevitable conversations.
He finally slid the keys into his pocket and exited the car, blinking into the setting sun as he crossed the street. Cop instincts kicked in and he absently watched a late model Crown Vic parked across from him. He noted in his head that it had been sitting there, idling, for as long as he had, and he'd have to deal with it on his way out.
Letting his hand slide idly along the shelves as he entered, Lincoln surveyed the shop. It was smaller than most but was also crowded with more crap. A Dracula metal lunch box slid under his fingertips and he snatched them back, worried about what, he wasn't sure, but positive he didn't want to be seen even looking at the gaudy piece of junk.
"Can I help you?"
A large man, tall, not fat, dressed in black, waited behind the sales counter recessed into the far wall. Linc sized him up, and noticed that he had several stone runes hanging from his neck. Promising.
"Probably not. But it's worth a shot."
The man's eyebrow shot up.
"What're you looking for?"
Linc sighed. He'd found that beating around the bush didn't help anybody, least of all himself.
"My friend and I are being stalked by a psychotic vampire woman, and I'd like some help. Please."
The man stared at him blankly, as if the validity of his statement could be read in fine print right in between Linc's eyebrows. On the plus side, he hadn't laughed or told him about some guy at a party yet, so that...
"Come with me."
Spoke too soon. The man stood quickly, opened up the counter and disappeared into the back of the store. The authority with which he rose surprised Lincoln, and he felt compelled to follow.
The back of the store was dark, musty, and looked like a bad horror movie in and of itself. Ancient books lined the walls, celtic runes peppered the walls, and Linc could smell incense burning. The man led on to a large oak desk, and after a brief moment surveying his stocks, brought out a velvet bag. He held it with the reverence that suggested that inside, quite possibly, were either a large assortment of his most prized chocolate salted nuts or a holy bible blessed by Jesus himself. Lincoln stifled a laugh, and took the bag. As overdramatically as possible, the man stood, hands steepled, waiting eagerly for his customer to open and discover the treasures within.
The tie came off easily, a slipknot, and the contents of the bag slid out into Linc's hands. It was heavy, metal, and smelled slightly of wood polish. Rectangular in nature, it certainly looked mystical. Linc raised his eyes quizzically to the man, who smiled a toothy grin and took the object in his own hands.
"It's a DaySpire. Very rare. I was able to come into possession of one through a friend who had some vampire problems of his own. Very powerful."
He handed the object reluctantly back to Linc, who turned it over in his hands.
"How does it work?"
The man's eyes faltered slightly, but his hands moved faster than ever, as if to grasp answers from the air.
"They were supposedly crafted centuries ago, by druids who faced vampires in their homeland. Not like the vampires we see today, but more natural, more powerful..."
"It says on the bottom it was made in Taiwan."
The man grabbed it back and looked at the inscription.
"That's not what that says."
Linc pointed for clarification.
"Sure it is. The last half is worn, but that's what it says."
"That doesn't say Taiwan. It looks more like Ta...Tay...Taiyan. That's a very mystical coven in England."
"Covens have to worry about labor laws when creating their DaySpires to fight the undead huh? Has the government nothing better to do than tax those fighting the good fight?"
The man stammered, staring at the piece in his hands. Sad as it was, Linc realized that the man himself believed the piece to be authentic. He wondered how much he had paid to acquire it.
"Thanks for your help, but I don't see anything I want here."
He left the stammering clerk to his own devices, and stepped out into the main area of the shop. What a waste of time.
"Vampires huh?"
He turned to the voice, and found himself confronted with a young woman, about Alex's age. He wondered if she'd always been in the shop, or had come in after they had gone in the back. She was Alex's height, Alex's size, but there the similarities stopped. Instead of straight blonde hair, the girl had shortly cropped black hair, obviously dyed, and streaked with pink. Her outfit was similar to what all gothic teenagers wore, pleated skirt, mesh, safety pins. She looked like she would be equally comfortable at a rave or in a graveyard. After sizing her up, he realized he'd been staring.
"Uh, yeah," he stammered.
"Like, Bela Lugosi or Stuart Townsend?"
"Neither."
"Wear lots of black?"
"This is LA."
"Turn into a bat?"
"Not that I noticed."
"Mist?"
"Nope."
She looked at him curiously.
"How do you know he's a vampire?"
He looked back at her, equally curious.
"She's killed a lot of people."
"This
is
LA," she retorted.
He smirked.
"Well, she seems to be really fast, her eyes glow in the dark, she's strong, she..."
The girl put her hand out, resting it on his arm, and stopped him. Her face had frozen.
"You're for real," she breathed.
