We moved in, and other than the occasional crunch of a rock under tires, our approach was smooth and silent. Each cruiser followed the one before it, apparently unnoticed by the group farther ahead that would soon be under surveillance. We parked and exited our cars several football field lengths from the twenty to thirty people we saw through our binoculars. We crept in closer on foot. Nine of us had positioned ourselves about a hundred yards back from the deserted mill. Crouched behind stacks of rusted metal that had been thrown in a waste heap, we had been surveilling the group for twenty minutes. With binoculars pressed against our eyes, we watched as they piled old boards and two-by-fours ten feet high to start their bonfire. One person was clearly in charge. I whispered to Sullivan and asked if that was Alex. He gave me a nod.
They dressed in similar fashion, each wearing black pants, a coat, and shoes that resembled combat boots. Through the binoculars, they looked like any other person under thirty and weren’t donning the white skin, fangs, or capes seen at Halloween. Maybe they chose to look more exotic only when out in public at dance clubs. They circled the now ten-foot-tall flames with their hands locked. From our position, we heard the sounds of chanting, or possibly prayers, but we couldn’t make out the words. For all I knew, they could be reciting something in Latin or Romanian.
I kept my binoculars focused on Alex. If anyone were to call out commands or start the blood ritual, it would likely be him. As they completed their chant, they lifted their heads and split into several groups.
“It looks like something is about to go down,” J.T. whispered.
Several men approached a group of antique looking wooden boxes trimmed with brass nail heads. The boxes sat ten feet to their backs. Four other men went to the double rear doors of an extended van and lifted out a long wooden table. With two men at each end, they carried it to within ten feet of the fire and set it on the ground. Two chairs were lifted out of the van and placed at either end of the table.
I adjusted the focus to get the best clarity. Bonfire smoke clouded their actions at times, but now Alex was back in view. He was seated on the far right end of the table, and another man sat on the left.
“Who the hell is that—his underboss?” I turned to look at J.T., who was shoulder to shoulder with me. He shrugged.
Several of Alex’s minions placed the wooden boxes in the center of the table. We had a clear view of their movements.
Alex stood and, with his right hand, drew a symbol in the air. The group mirrored what he had just done, and they waited as Alex approached the first box to his left. He removed eight knives that looked to be about six inches long. The man who had been seated on the left end of the table rose and approached Alex. He stood at his side and removed eight hand towels from a bag slung over his shoulder. He placed them on the table next to the knives. One by one, a line of people approached the table, took a knife and towel, and knelt beside another person sitting on the ground.
“Here we go. Those people sitting must be the donors,” Sullivan said. “The ones with the knives are going to cut them and drink their blood.”
I was glued to my binoculars. “Humph…this stuff actually takes place in our modern world. This is the first time I’ve ever witnessed such an act.”
“That holds true for all of us, I expect,” Sullivan said.
I wiped the lenses of my binoculars with the thumb of my glove. The damp cold air had fogged them over. “That’s so messed up. What I want to know is what’s inside that big box.”
After more chanting, that particular ritual began. We couldn’t see the actual cutting, but I did get a glimpse of people pushing back their sleeves. Moments later, the group that performed the ceremony wiped their mouths with the towels they held then returned to the table. Each person reached into the box farthest to Alex’s left. The largest box, in the center of the table, remained unopened. They pulled out gauze pads and tape, then they walked back and bandaged each donor’s bleeding arm.
“Anytime now,” I said as we waited to learn what was in the middle box.
Alex finally opened the lid of the largest box. He reached in and pulled out a dozen or so small glass bottles and a tray. Each was filled with what appeared to be blood.
“Bingo, there it is,” I said. I was ready to leap from my spot when J.T. grabbed my arm.
“Hold your horses. We have to see what they’re going to do with them first. Just because they’re oddballs doesn’t mean they’re doing anything illegal other than trespassing.”
“Sorry, you’re right.”
We continued watching as, one by one, Alex placed the bottles on the tray and walked to the last group of people and handed them out.
Andrews spoke up. “I guess those are for the people that would rather not cut and drink right from the source.”
I added. “We have to get down there before all the evidence is consumed.”
“Not a problem,” Sullivan said. “There will be plenty of residue left in the bottles. We have to see them actually drink it first. For all we know, it could be tomato juice.”
“Doubtful.”
“Yeah, but let’s give them five minutes, anyway, then we’ll move in.”
We waited and watched until the tray was passed from one person to the next and the empty bottles were collected.
With a wave to get everyone’s attention, Sullivan gave us the okay to move in. We had no intentions of drawing our weapons as we approached unless they gave us a reason to. I kept in mind the lengthy rap sheet Sullivan said Alex had. Having dealt with Alex in the past, Sullivan approached him first, and J.T. and I followed. We ran down the hill, completely taking the group by surprise. In speedy fashion, the officers gathered the twenty-five or so stunned people into one area, where they were told to sit and wait. J.T., Sullivan, and I laser beamed our sights on Alex before he could slip away unnoticed.
“Alex Everly,” Sullivan shouted, “we need a word with you.”
Alex spun toward us with a surprised look that quickly turned into anger. He resembled a rabbit ready to bolt. With a quick charge, I grabbed his arm before he had too much time to think of an escape plan. I bent his arm high behind his back and held him in place.
“What the hell do you want? Is this some sort of religious harassment?”
“Last time I looked, being a vampire, or vampire poser, as you call them, wasn’t a religion. Turn around and put your other hand behind your back.” I spread his legs with my foot and snapped the cuffs over his wrists.
He laughed in my face. “What grounds do you have to arrest me?”
“Actually, I’m under no obligation to tell you anything yet, but for now, we’ll go with trespassing on private property. How’s that? Tell your friends to go home unless every one of them would like to be fitted with cuffs tonight too.”
He snickered at me. “Tell them yourself, pig.”
I yanked on his cuffs, and he stumbled backward and fell to the ground. I leaned in next to his ear. “That’s Ms. Pig to you. Last chance, Massimo,” I chuckled. “Tell them now, or you all go to jail.”
He jerked his body away from me. “Everyone, go home. You’ll hear from me tomorrow.”
I patted the top of his head. “Good boy. Let’s go.”
J.T. grabbed one arm and Sullivan the other and lifted Alex from the ground. “This way,” J.T. said as he tipped his head in the direction we had come from.
Sullivan yelled out to the officers. “Squelch that fire and make sure all those trespassers have left before you return to the station. Andrews, Fitch, gather all of this evidence and get it to the forensics lab immediately.”
“Yes, sir,” Fitch said.
Alex sat in interrogation box number one a half hour later. I could almost see the steam coming out of his ears. We watched him for a while through the one-way mirror. I wanted a sense of his personality other than the already noted smart-ass attitude. According to Alex’s rap sheet, he was a jack-of-all-trades whose skill set included B&E, assault, and burglary. Now we could add the misdemeanor trespassing and maybe more to the list.
With the residue from the bottles being tested in the forensics lab, we had plenty of time to hold and question the head honcho of this so-called vampire clan. We needed to know whether the source of the blood was human or animal. There was a chance Alex would be turned back out onto the streets with a stern warning, or he could cozy up to a nice roommate and become a new tenant downstairs in the city jail.
I tossed my cardboard coffee cup into the trash can. “You guys ready?”
J.T. and Sullivan nodded, and we entered the cold, steel-gray room.
Alex sat on the other side of the table, his cuffed hands in his lap. “Does somebody want to tell me why I’m here?” He spewed the words at us as if he’d done this dance before. “I’ve put in my time for every offense I’ve been convicted of.”
Sullivan pulled up a chair and plopped down next to him. “We know that, and you’re only here because we’re looking for information.”
“Ha! Why the hell would I help you? You’re the pig that threw me in jail on four separate occasions.” He turned toward me and snickered. “And who are you two wannabe cops? Don’t believe I’ve ever come across you newbies before.”
I raised a brow at J.T. “This guy is a rocket scientist.” I looked back at Alex. “We aren’t from your neck of the woods, smart boy. We’re FBI agents, and I’m sure if we dug deep enough we could find some type of federal charge to pin on you.”
“Whatever.”
I jerked my head and chuckled. “Now he shuts up—funny how that works.” I stood and gave J.T. the other vacant chair. I leaned against the wall and locked eyes with Alex.
J.T. took over. “We need information about the recent murders. I’m sure you’ve seen something about that on the news. You do watch the news now and then, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sure. So what about the murders? Don’t even think you’re going to pin them on me.” Alex leaned back in the chair and flicked his long, greasy hair as he stared at the ceiling.
“Feeling guilty about something?” J.T. asked.
“Hell no.”
“We want to know what the talk on the street is. Women’s bodies are turning up nearly drained of blood, and that’s far from normal. You know, run-of-the-mill murderers just go ahead and kill people. This guy has a reason. He’s using the blood for something, maybe even drinking it.”
“I don’t know shit about that.”
“We’ll see. We’re testing the blood residue left behind in those bottles from your little party. I’d be sweating my ass off if I were you, especially if the test results come back as human blood,” J.T. said.
“That doesn’t mean anything. We donate our own blood and store it.”
“So it will come back as human blood. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Maybe.”
“We certainly can test the blood residue against your followers and see if their DNA matches. If there isn’t a match, you may be going away for human blood trafficking. That’s black market illegal stuff, Alex, and a big no-no. We need you to start talking. If we have to match all of your groupies to the blood left in the bottles, you know how long we’ll have to hold you here until we have the results? Hell, it could be weeks, even months,” J.T. said.
“Fine. I used to buy blood, but I don’t trust it anymore. There are too many diseases and drug addicts out there.”
“So you’re a responsible vampire now, is that the story you’re going with? Who did you buy it from?” I asked.
“That was years ago, and from a guy that worked at a blood bank. He would skim from the top, so to speak.”
Sullivan nodded. “It’s true. Paul Olsen, the son-in-law of the director of the blood center, is serving six years in the state pen for selling blood. It was quite a scandal.”
I walked over to the table and took a seat on its edge. “So, who currently sells blood, and who buys it?”
“I don’t know who supplies it, but cults, like witches and warlocks, buy any blood they can get their hands on. They don’t care where it comes from because they aren’t drinking it. They may smear it over their bodies and do crazy-ass blood dances while bathed in it, but for a sacrifice, they’d want the actual body.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and heaved a sigh. “They wouldn’t drain the blood from the body, would they?”
“Probably not. They’d slice it open and dip their hands into the cavity, but I’ve never heard of anyone locally doing an actual human sacrifice.”
“So that takes us back to you and your clan. Maybe you screen the blood better now.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Sullivan rose. He exited the room, then he came back a few minutes later and peeked in. He signaled for J.T. and me to join him.
I looked over my shoulder as I crossed the room. “Don’t go anywhere, Alex.”
“Yeah, real funny.”
With the door closed behind us, Sullivan announced that the blood results were in. “Here’s what the lab said. A few of the bottles had traces of human blood, but the majority was pig blood.”
“That’s pretty disgusting but understandable. Pig blood is relatively similar to that of humans. So what do you want to do about Alex?” I asked.
“We’ll turn him loose but with conditions. He has to let us know if anyone contacts him about buying blood. Just in case he opts not to reveal any intel he may get, we’ll put a tracker on his phone and monitor the websites he visits,” Sullivan said.
“Maybe we can go one step better. He has to imply on those sites that he’s interested in buying blood. We’ll see if anyone bites.” When J.T. chuckled, I realized what I’d said.
“Nice play on words, Monroe.”
Sullivan rolled his eyes then dug his fists deep into his pockets. He jiggled his change. “Yeah, I like it. Let’s go tell him.”
It was one thirty in the morning when we finally cut Alex loose. He rubbed the redness on his wrists as he listened to our conditions.
I cocked my head and gave him a smile. “Cuffs too tight?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Good, and here’s how you can keep those tight cuffs off.”
Sullivan explained that Alex had to inform us if he was contacted by anyone wanting to sell human blood. His face contorted. He said he didn’t like the idea of setting anyone up, but he was told in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t work with us, we’d find a reason to throw him into county lockup. With his criminal record, it wouldn’t be difficult to find something that had previously been missed.
We showed him to the door, where that same van from earlier waited at the curb.