You’re The Reason I Smile


You're The Reason I Smile


You’re The Reason I Smile

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“That’s it, baby,” said the man who had been driving me. He was a small man with short blond hair and deep-set blue eyes. His voice was warm but not particularly friendly like he might have once played on a softball team or coached little league baseball. “Take that next right.”

I glanced out my window to find myself in an old industrial area of the city where brick warehouses leaned against one another. They looked as though they were going to collapse at any minute. In between, they ran railroad tracks, abandoned in favor of the newer road system.

The truck slowed down. There was a car parked outside some sort of garage door with big red letters spelling “JESUS SAVES” painted across it. It seemed odd for this particular neighborhood, which was mostly vacant lots and crumbling structures.

I’d never seen anything like it before—not even when we drove by the church. The parking lot was full of cars, so there must have been a service taking place somewhere inside.

“It’s here,” said the man beside me, jerking his head toward the garage doors.

The sign read “Baptist Church.” That surprised me because I wasn’t familiar with most Christian churches other than Baptist, Methodist, and Catholic… But maybe this was something else. Maybe it was one of those cults you occasionally heard about—the ones who didn’t want anyone to know what they were really up to. This was probably their meeting hall. And I knew how to get rid of it.

But first I wanted to know why they were doing this. What was it about me? What did the demons have to do with it?

When we stopped, I opened the passenger door of the truck and stepped down onto the asphalt.

My legs wobbled as soon as I started to stand, and then I almost fell forward, catching myself at the last second, but it still hurt. It felt like they had gone to sleep and now needed to be woken up again. The world was all wrong and blurry. I took several breaths to steady myself, then turned my attention back toward the house of worship.

The man got out of the truck too; he stood behind me, hands tucked into his pockets, watching with great interest while I surveyed the building. There were no signs of life, and nothing moved from the top level except the shadows of leaves swaying above us.

No people walked along the sidewalk around the perimeter of the building. We’d pulled the truck into an alleyway, so we could park off the main street without being seen.

I tried the front door. It was locked. A quick glance showed that the windows also appeared to be boarded shut. The glass hadn’t been broken—maybe they hadn’t expected visitors. Not that it made much difference at the moment since I had a key to get in, but the fact remained that I’d already figured it out.

“What are you looking for?” the man asked.

“A door,” I said.

He smiled. “Well, if it isn’t the boy genius himself. Do you need any help with your homework tonight?”

I ignored him and kept searching. After ten seconds or so, I found what I was looking for: a door that was half hidden behind a pile of bricks near the edge of the building. It would lead to an inner room, one with a fire escape leading to the roof and a stairwell that led deeper down.

I pushed the bricks aside so I could climb through, then closed them carefully behind me. My fingers shook as I fumbled for the latch; there was a loud click when it finally slid home, but it didn’t stop me from feeling anxious over the cumbersomeness of having to use such a complicated lock instead of just pulling on a chain to let us in.

I should have been stronger, more durable—but then, I couldn’t remember ever being strong. I was only getting older.

As soon as I stepped onto the landing, I heard someone moving below. Then I saw light coming in from the top of the stairs and knew that whoever was on the ground floor had noticed us come in. They would be coming upstairs to investigate.

I reached into my jacket pocket to grab my knife, but it wasn’t there anymore. I’d lost it when I fell off the train platform. I didn’t have time to go back and look for it.

We were in danger of being discovered. But it was okay—I wouldn’t die. At least not until tomorrow morning.

The person approaching the stairs was a young girl, maybe twelve or thirteen years old. She wore a plain gray dress that hung loosely on her slight frame and had a long braid falling to either side of her face. Her brown hair was pulled back tight, but it was cut short enough to show the beginnings of a widow’s peak.

She was smiling, but that worried me more than anything—it was too innocent for somebody who was sneaking up on me with a knife.

“Hello, Missy,” said the man beside me. “Is your mother working tonight?”

“Why?” she whispered, her eyes widening with shock.

Then a voice rose behind me, and I whirled around. A man stood there: tall, handsome, and well-built. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties or so. His hair was neatly trimmed, his skin flawless and unlined.

He wore a nice suit and expensive shoes that would make your knees weak, and his hands were folded in front of him while he waited politely for me to finish talking to my friend.

That was when I realized we weren’t alone in the dark stairwell. Another man stood by the steps below us. This one was even bigger than the guy who’d spoken to us; he must have been pushing six feet tall, and his muscles were clearly visible beneath the fabric of his crisp shirt. The scar on his right cheek gave him a dangerous edge.

And there was something familiar about them both, as though they belonged to someone else, as though I knew them well but couldn’t quite place where from. It was like meeting a stranger wearing the face of an old lover.

Both of their eyes focused on me; it felt like they were peering through my skin and into my soul.

My hand tightened around my knife. “Who are you, people?” I demanded.

“Don’t worry,” said the man standing next to me. “You’re safe.”

But I didn’t feel safe—not after those words, not after seeing that they were men with bad intentions. And yet, neither of these men looked threatening or hostile. Instead, they appeared curious, and interested in me. As though I were someone they needed to see.

“Do you know this woman?” I heard the man who’d called me “Missy” ask.

I took a deep breath. “Yes, I do.”

“Her name is Emily,” said the other man, and there was something odd about how he pronounced my name. It sounded as if it shouldn’t fit in such a pretty mouth, as though it wasn’t meant for him at all. Or perhaps it was because it was so unfamiliar to me, that he’d never before heard it spoken aloud or read it on paper.

He smiled as he continued speaking. “Emily, we need you to listen closely. We want to talk to you about some things concerning this man who calls himself Michael.”

***

“Michael? What does Michael have to do with any of this?”

The man beside me chuckled. “It will make sense once you’ve had a chance to hear our story.”

I narrowed my eyes. “This isn’t your first visit to London, is it?” I asked.

They exchanged glances. “No.” The one on the left nodded. “We’re not strangers here. We’re just trying to find out what’s really going on.”

His companion frowned. “There’s no reason for us to tell you that, Emily.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “Because I can remember everything that happened last night—every second.” My voice shook. “I’m not crazy, you know—at least not in the conventional sense.”

“I understand,” said the other man. “But it’s best if we keep things professional, don’t you think? Our goal is to get answers, and we won’t get them if we let ourselves be distracted by questions.”

A cold shiver passed down my spine, and my blood turned to ice inside my veins. These guys were not to be messed with. I should probably run now and not look back, but I could see the fear in their eyes. They wanted to talk to me badly enough to come all the way to London without much notice, and they weren’t afraid to take action when threatened.

As long as they remained calm, they weren’t a threat to me or anybody else, but I still wished I had a gun or a bigger blade. I hadn’t been able to save myself when that vampire attacked me, and I wouldn’t allow myself to die in another fight either, especially against two men with guns.

I decided it might be smart to stay hidden behind the door. If they came near it, I’d throw myself to the floor.

After a few minutes of silence, the one on the right finally spoke. “Well?” he demanded.

“Yeah,” I replied. “What do you want?”

“First, we’ll ask a couple of questions. Do you know this man?”

I looked over his shoulder, where a photograph sat atop a small table. I recognized the woman in the photo as my sister’s friend, but I’d never seen this man before, although he did resemble her. There was nothing about his appearance that struck me as particularly unusual or unique.

“She doesn’t have time for a conversation,” the other man interjected, glaring at me. “So please, Missy, don’t waste any more of it talking to the likes of us.”

“Fine,” I snapped, “but what are you people doing here anyway? Did you find me because you’re also hunting for Michael?”

“No,” he replied quickly. “Our business has nothing to do with Michael whatsoever.” He paused before continuing. “We’re looking for a different kind of monster.”

I cocked my head, waiting for them to say something else, and after several long seconds they did: “Do you know this woman?”

The man who’d called me “Missy” had taken an old photograph from the table and placed it beside one of my sister’s friends, which was on top of the stack. Then he pointed at both of them, then tapped his fingers against the photographs as he waited for my answer.

And even though my instinct told me to run away before things got ugly again, I couldn’t refuse to help when he needed a favor as desperately as he seemed to need mine. So despite my fear—despite the fact that I knew he would never forget what I’d done for him tonight—I reached out and picked up the picture of my sister’s friend.

My hand trembled, and my heart pounded painfully fast within my chest as I brought it close to my face. She was pretty enough in an ordinary way, but she had a hard life ahead of her if these two were willing to go to such lengths to stop whatever was happening to her.

“How do you know her?” I asked, trying to sound casual instead of desperate. “Is she your partner in crime?”

The man laughed lightly and shook his head. “Not so far.” His gaze met mine; he held my stare for longer than seemed necessary for a normal conversation. “You have no idea how glad we are to meet you in person. We were worried we wouldn’t be able to get in touch with you.”

He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “We didn’t want to scare you off with any unnecessary details, but—”

I snatched the photo back. “Who sent you?”

Their lips twitched up slightly at my abrupt response.

“Don’t worry, we won’t make this too personal,” the first man said. “If you cooperate with our investigation, we’ll give you a name you can use when making contact next time.”

This was unbeliev-a-ble, but I didn’t care anymore. As long as they helped me save my sister, I’d be happy to share anything they needed to know. “Then why don’t you tell me your names, too?”

The man shrugged. “That information isn’t important. And it might actually be best if we leave before someone comes looking for us.”

He stood up abruptly, causing me to flinch as his feet thudded loudly on the wood floor. But his companion remained seated. I looked past him, and my stomach flipped inside of me. The third member of the group was standing just outside the room, where I’d been sure there was no other door.

But now that I could see the guy’s profile, I realized he wasn’t human at all.

There was something wrong with his face. It wasn’t grotesquely disfigured or grotesque in any way, but it still didn’t look like anyone I’d ever seen. His skin was pale and smooth, without any trace of wrinkles, but it was oddly shiny as if wet paint had somehow seeped into the pores.

His eyes were deep, almost bottomless pools of green that were fixed on me, and a dark red tattoo ran along the right side of his jawline, disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Why is it always vampires or demons who come to the police?” My voice rose as I spoke; my hands tightened into fists. “What makes them think they can take over a precinct, and not have the rest of us turn their asses in?”

Both men chuckled softly. They turned to the doorway and nodded to each other.

“We have some unfinished business,” the vampire said. “Let’s go.”

The End

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