Page 25 of Blood Lust

“Doesn’t matter.”

Terry sighs and lowers his voice some more. “What doesn’t matter is why they sent his teeth to L.A. They’re not evidence and they aren’t anyone’s property anymore. The director can do with them as he sees fit.”

What I hear leaves me in shock. Dr. Redfield sent my fangs to Los Angeles? What in the hell for?

The two men stop in front of Richard’s cell next door. I quietly slide back onto my mattress, roll over on my stomach and pretend to be asleep. Just in time, too. Don bangs on my celldoor with his nightstick and slides the slot open.

“Time to wake up, Bitey!” he says with a smile in his voice.

“Okay, asshole,” I mumble under my breath.

For the rest of the morning, Don and Terry’s conversation plays over and over in my head. An occult exhibit in Los Angeles. How would Redfield even know where to start looking for a buyer for something as oddball as overly long human canine teeth? And why would he think he has the right to sell my teeth anyway? Something seems fishy about the whole deal and I decide to do some checking of my own.

That afternoon, instead of logging in to the chat room to talk to Cassandra, I pull up Lycos.com. In the search field, I type: “occult exhibitions.” There are a few results, but nothing shows up in the Los Angeles area. Pondering where to look next, I change my search to: “occult organizations.” Perhaps the two clods are mistaken, and my teeth are sold to a research facility or something similar.

That’s when I strike gold… an article with a caption of, ‘Secret lodge at center of murder investigation: Victim’s former employer refuses to comment.’ I read as much as I can, as quickly as I can, all the while trying to retain as much of the information as possible.

As I read the article, I suddenly recall Bruce saying something about how Don’s father worked at Fulton before him and that something ‘got’ him real good, just outside the gates of the institution. As far as I know, Clive could’ve been ‘got’ by anything out there; apart from the one-acre field that runs along the south side of the hospital, the place is surrounded by woods. Thick woods. He could’ve been attacked by anything from a bear to a wolf… or some other wild animal. Even so, some of the investigators in the case and Bruce aren’t convinced that Clive’s death is caused by an animal attack; at least, not from any critter native to the area.

Time to find out what happened and why...

Chapter Twenty

It takes me another few days, but I manage to piece together the details of Clive’s death and the surrounding circumstances.

Interestingly, Dr. Redfield’s name comes up online in connection with an organization known as the Darkened Door Lodge. The lodge is described as a sort of social club for influential gentlemen in the area, but something about it seems sinister. I mean, the name is Darkened Door. They’re not exactly hiding their intentions by giving their lodge that moniker.

As it turns out, Viktor Redfield is the son of an Eastern European who defected to the United States in the midst of the Cold War. Viktor’s father was recruited by the government to help medical researchers develop antidotes for various chemical weapons. When the Cold War ended, Viktor’s father was reassigned to a research facility in Missouri, a mere twenty-five miles from the Fulton Institute.

Viktor’s father was recruited by the Darkened Door Lodge in Missouri and was said to be advising them on the history of paranormal and supernatural beings. Quite the expert on the occult, he assisted the lodge in procuring an extensive and priceless collection of artifacts connected to the occult and the black arts. Books, medallions, scrolls and paintings were loaned by the lodge to exhibitions all over the world or sold at auction for ridiculous profits. The organization soon grew wealthy and powerful, which brought them under suspicion from a few government agencies. A new generation of members, under the influence of popular literary works and investigations, formed a small militia group... hunters, whose mission is to identify any existing paranormal or supernatural beings and capture or kill them.

Among the listed members of this new generation of devotees are Clive and Don Killian. And as I look further downthe list... Viktor Redfield.

I’m able to speak to Cassandra at the end of my computer session. It sounds like she’s a go with the escape plans. I’m not sure how she’s going to pull it off.

I justneedher to do it.

Chapter Twenty-one

“You’ve been talking about this crazy scheme for a week, Aaron,” Bruce whispers over the table. “Some things are better left as they are, and all our asses patiently doing our time at Fulton definitely ought to be one of those things.”

“What the hell are you scared of, Bruce?” I’m seriously sick of his ‘put your head down and become institutionalized’ bullshit. Kevin is also losing his patience, and dealing with an aggravated Kevin is a bad idea. “The plan’s finally ready. I want all of you to come with me.”

“I’ll take my chances on the inside, thank you very much!” Bruce stands up to return his breakfast tray.

Suddenly, Kevin grabs a hold of his hand. “Sit down, old-timer! Shut up and listen to what the vampire has to say... or else!”

Bruce slowly takes his seat again. “Let’s hear it, Aaron. Make it quick. You’re cutting into my drawing time.”

I smile at my three friends and take a quick look around to make sure no one is eavesdropping on us. Satisfied that we’re ignored, I focus on my little pack of escapees and start going through the plan. Everyone has their role; everyone has a function to fulfill before, during, and after. I play to each man’s strengths and abilities while taking into consideration their various weaknesses. Every step is timed for precision. When I finish, Bruce sits back and smiles.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. It’s a lot for anyone to process, with plenty to be done over the next two days in preparation. Still, what I’ve already managed to put in place gives us a nice head start.

“A helicopter?” Richard can’t believe I haven’t used any vampire voodoo magic mind-control spell on Cassandra to convince her to bring a helicopter for the escape.

She volunteered the service, agreeing I should be free from Fulton Institution ahead of the legally recommended schedule. It just so happens that I decide my friends deserve the same shot.

“Yeah, dude,” I confirm. “But remember, it’s like I said. If any of you don’t want to do it, I’m not here to twist anyone’s arm. At the end of the day, it’s your life. If you don’t want to spend it running from the law, I can respect that. But for me, I’d rather be free and on the run than cooped up in a cage for years to come.”

---