Solving the Vampire Murders

twenty-six

Torren couldn't remember a time when panic had left him alone. When his mind had been free of the constant arrival and departure of thoughts. But, the handcuffs had flipped a switch that shut-down his stream of consciousness and caused his brain to go into emergency power-saving mode.

It was as terrifying as it was freeing.

Torren did everything that was asked of him. Stand here. Sign this. Spread your legs. But his over-active mind wasn't focusing on what he was doing. He was just doing it. His mind had turned into a quiet place. A library of catalogued thoughts. The books neatly stowed, not spread over every flat surface while he frantically ran from table to table. He knew chaos—what he didn't know was quiet.

Even when the arrest warrant was read to him, Torren's mind was still.

Charged with murder in the first degree.

These were words his brain understood, he had learned them in his college studies. Rows and rows of text filed away in his mind. He had even heard Mr. Chambers talk about them around the office while filing paperwork this summer.

First degree meant the murder was premeditated. Willful. That he had been lying in wait for Davey. The perfect trap sprung.

If his brain could process the information, then he might have debated the cops. Asked what evidence they could possibly have of premeditation. But, as it was, his brain was still on emergency power save mode, and these things didn't come to mind.

He was just breathing, and nodding, and blinking.

A husk of Torren Jacobs.

Then, he was made to surrender his personal property. His clothes--which he didn't really care about. His cell phone--which felt like a bigger deal than it should be. His wallet and watch--which meant less to him than the clothes at this point.

Finally, Torren was forced to surrender his Guild medallion. And like magic, his brain woke up. Thoughts flooded his system like lines of coding. Files dumped from every meat drawer in his mind. Rows of books kicked over.

What the fuck was going on? Why hadn't he been panicking earlier? Why didn't he let Jones stop them? Where was Mazia? Where was Jay?

"Make as many calls as you need to secure an attorney, Mr. Jacobs."

Torren looked from the cop to the phone, then back to the cop again. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but he couldn't blink out the images. The secure room he was sitting in was packed full of ghosts. Bumping into each other, passing through the officer, trying to grab at the phone. Angry faces. Naked bodies. Sneers and nervous ticks.

Torren rolled his lips together, trying to find his voice.

"I don't got all day, son. Just pick up the phone and call somebody."

Two ghosts had their hands around the cops' throat. One particularly nasty-looking one was brandishing a knife at his face. Their mouths were moving, but Torren couldn't hear what they were saying. It was like watching the most horrifying slasher movie on mute.

His heart was jackhammering in his chest, punching through muscle and bone to escape the confines of his body. The cop ran a hand over his stubble but otherwise gave no notice to the beings surrounding him.

"You know how to use a phone, right?"

Torren nodded, knowing there was only one number he knew by heart. Was he really about to call Mandy? It was the only thing he could do. No one else would come to help him, even if it would be the most embarrassing, most terrible call he would ever have to make. Torren reached through a ghostly arm-wrestling match to lift the phone off the receiver, earning him two evil looks, and dialed Mandy's number.