Chapter Thirteen

Psychic Intuition is Never Wrong… Mostly

I spend about fifteen minutes driving aimlessly around the downtown.

Eventually I stop for gas. After filling up the tank, I sit there in the Momvan thinking. Why would I need to go to downtown? Something urged me to come here. A few minutes of thinking gives me no clues. I don’t see anything going on worthy of note. Just some people walking around. One guy on his phone.

Phone.

Aha! That’s it!

Cellular signal works downtown. Come on, Sam. Wake up. You need information.

I pull my phone out and call Max.

“Hello, Samantha. I hope you are having a pleasant morning.”

The sound of his voice makes me absolutely certain he’s smiling. It’s amazing how much destroying your psychotically evil mother so you no longer need to worry about her taking over the world and turning it into a nightmare hellscape can boost a guy’s mood .

“So far, normal. Got a strange question for you.”

“Oh, boy. I’m listening.”

“Have you ever heard of a vampire spontaneously exploding into a cloud of dust and bone bits upon having its head cut off?” I ask.

Max hums to himself in thought for a moment. “I cannot say that such an event lingers in any recent memory.”

“Drat. I was hoping you might be able to give me some clue as to what I’m dealing with up here.”

“Where are you?”

“Extreme northern California,” I say. “My dad’s not well. He’s only got a few weeks left, so I decided to go see him.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks.”

“What can you tell me about this, um, exploding vampire? Any detail is helpful. I will do some research and see what I can discover.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Guy was looked dead. No way could he pass for a living person. Forensically speaking, he looked like a body about a day or two after rigor mortis ended. No visible rot. He didn’t stink, but his breath could strip the paint off a car. Abnormally large fangs. Oh, the claws… they weren’t like normal vampire claws. Looked more like someone grafted literal lion claws onto a human hand. Curved and pointed. The nails were dark, too. Not quite black.”

“Interesting… one moment, taking some notes.” The scratching of a pencil underlines his words.

“I didn’t notice it, but a mortal next to me said the guy’s eyes were glowing red.”

“Mm hmm,” adds Max. “Anything else?”

“Umm. He was reasonably fast and strong, though I didn’t have much trouble overpowering or outmaneuvering him. Slammed him into a tree, broke quite a few bones and he shrugged it off in less than a minute. ”

“Heals quickly,” mutters Max.

I wait for the scratching of a pencil to stop, then add: “Something about him seemed very bestial. He did call me a bitch, but other than that, he said very little.” I explain about how this guy abducted Emerson to keep as a ‘snack for later,’ along with the stories of missing people in the area. “Guess I decided he was basically a rabid dog that needed to be put down for the safety of the innocent, so I pulled out the sword and took his head. His remains hit the ground and burst apart into dust.”

“Interesting.”

“That’s one word for it.” I chuckle.

“All right. I will see what I can find out and call you back as soon as I’m able to.”

“Thanks. Oh, Max?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m staying at the parents’ house. There’s no cell signal out that way. If you can’t get a hold of me with the phone… send a text. It’ll come through as soon as I get into coverage, and I’ll call you.”

“All right.”

I just know he winked.

“Thanks, Max. Talk to you soon.”

“Stay safe, Samantha.”

We hang up.

I lower my hands and rest them in my lap while staring out the windows at the town. So weird. As a kid, I used to think of this place as so big and fancy. Now it feels tiny and Podunk. I mean that in an affectionate way.

People wander about doing their thing. It doesn’t feel the same as it used to. Everyone’s on edge. When I was a kid here, no one was in a hurry… ever. Now, they all seem to be scurrying. Women are looking around, as if they’re walking alone at ni ght in a big city. Even the men are leaning into their stride, moving quickly.

None of them realize they’re completely safe in the daytime. I’m sure the citizens of Klamath and the surrounding wilds think they’ve got a serial killer problem. Between my guilt over Mom and whatever I’m feeling about Dad on top of the idea there’s something preying on the innocent in Klamath, my mood is not in the best place.

Speaking of Dad, I should really get home. We’re going to visit him today.

I start driving.

More posters catch my eye. They’re scattered around on telephone poles or walls. Missing people. By some miracle, none of them are children. All the people who went missing are old enough to have been out alone at night.

The energy of this town is completely different than I remember. It feels like I’m visiting the mouse habitat in the back room of the reptile house at a zoo… where all the mice are there as food for the snakes.

Crap.

Klamath has a vampire problem.