Solving the Vampire Murders

twenty-seven

Mandy descended two staircases, entered her passcode into the security lock, then pushed open the galvanized steel door. The hallway was decorated with wall mounted succulents and felted damask wallpaper. Black doors interspersing the pattern.

The overall effect was refreshing considering she had dropped below ground. The basement level of Medea's Sin served as apartments for the coven members. Mandy's windowless basement boudoir dripped with faux extravagance. Terrazzo tile layered with vibrantly patterned woolen rugs with long tassels.

Pops of pink and orange were interspersed among white furniture leaving behind an impression of cheerfulness. There were shelves of books and pieces of art--even an overstuffed beanbag chair, but it all felt oddly impersonal. This room had been decorated by Clint's girlfriend Shari, who didn't know Mandy very well and had to guess what she might like.

It wasn't bad--it just wasn't her.

Mandy walked towards her glass bar cart, grabbed a bottle of Cabernet and uncorked it. Her hand shook as she eased a wine glass off the shelf and poured herself a glass.

Taking a calming sip, Mandy toed off her red kitten heels and undid the zipper on her leather skirt. The wine glass slipped from her still-trembling hand, cracking as hit the plush rug. A plum-colored stain spreading over the pretty fabric. Mandy kicked the useless glass against her bedroom wall, pulling her camisole off and tossing it angrily to the floor.

She didn't know why, but she was mad. Pissed off. Running her tongue over her lips, she realized her fangs had dropped and her throat constricted with thirst.

Anger came when she called it now that she was a vampire, or maybe the anger called to her. Either way, she tore open her closet door, rummaging around for a pair of leggings and her long-sleeved Eastern shirt. Before she knew what she was doing, Mandy had pulled every dress and shirt off it's hangers and was digging around on hands and knees in her panties. Muttering curses that would cause Bacia to cross herself and mutter a prayer in Polish.

"Is everything alright in here?"

The question came in the clipped British accent that she loved so much, but right now, Faris was an unwelcome guest. A low, warning growl tore from her throat.

"I'll take that as a no."

Mandy clutched a cashmere sweater against her chest, turning slowly towards the sound of Faris' smooth voice. His black t-shirt was tight across his chest. Thumbs lazily stuffed in his pockets. Concern cording the lines of his forehead.

"Well go on then, give me a tongue lashing. I'll take your worst if it means you'll stop punishing the good Chanel."

Mandy wanted to destroy so much more than Chanel dresses right now. She was furious with him, and angry at Torren for--what? Being magic? Getting arrested? Both?

"Get out of my room," Mandy warned. "I have things to do."

She reached back inside her closet, fingers closing around the strap of a gym bag stuffed in the corner. Inside were the leggings she'd destroyed her closet for. Ignoring Faris, Mandy dropped the stupid sweater covering her chest and pulled on comfortable leggings and a pair of tennis shoes, then slipped the shirt over her head.

"Going somewhere?" Faris casually asked.

Mandy popped to her feet, tossing the gym bag on the couch and rifling through the mess for her baseball cap. Maybe if she ignored Faris he would go away. He probably had a smoking beaker to tend to or a sparking tesla coil.

Snatching up the cap hiding under a pile of dresses, Mandy tucked her curls behind her ears and fitted it to her head. This was her dad's favorite ballcap, the edges of the brim frayed and the navy blue almost purple with age. She didn't know what it would take to find Torren's Practitioner friends but she imagined she'd need a spare outfit, sunscreen, and an extra box of blood mints--all of which she tossed into the gym bag.

Faris folded his arms over his chest. "The silent treatment. Ah, I see. How very mature of you."

Mandy made a face, slinging the gym bag over her shoulder. "That's me," she said pushing past him. "So immature."

Faris moved, his body blocking the bedroom door. Mandy would've slapped him had she known it would actually hurt. "You are certainly acting immature right now."

"Says the guy standing in front of my door like a baby." Mandy narrowed her eyes, letting the anger pool in her gut. Being angry was so much easier than being sad. "I need to go help a friend. A real friend."

"With what?" Faris said in mocking tones. His green eyes dragging from the tips of her black Nike's to the top her her faded blue Detroit Tigers cap. "Poor fashion choices?"

Mandy took a step back, one hand coming to rest on her hip. "First of all, I look cute. I can wear whatever I want and still catch glances. Second, I'm gettin' really sick of this whole hot and cold thing you've got going on. Last night, you're all about it. Then this morning, in front of the coven, you have 'standards'."

"Keep your voice down," Faris whispered. He reached out like he wanted to cradle her cheek, then thought better of it. Curling his fingers into a fist. "This is a critical moment in our history. It can't seem like I'm--"

"Distracted?" Mandy offered.

"Precisely." Faris looked almost relieved. "I can't look as if I am distracted from my work."

Mandy slid on a pair of sunglasses. "Don't worry, I won't be distracting you any more."

His green eyes widened. Perfect lips parting in surprise. Then Faris was stepping aside, letting her brush past him.

Before disappearing down the hallway, Mandy tossed her hair over her shoulder and said, "By the way, I saw the way you were staring at my ass. Now you can watch it leave. I hope that's good enough for you."

"Amanda--" Faris called out as she started walking away.

Mandy spun on her heel and pulled her sunglasses down. "It's Mandy, not Amanda. Not anymore."

She wasn't sure about a lot of things, but she knew one for certain--she did look good in these leggings and she knew Faris was watching her walk away. Hopefully kicking himself.

A little part of her wanted him to chase her down and tell her how sorry he was, but it was overshadowed by the bigger part that needed to help Torren. Mandy had no idea where to start looking for these three random people--but she knew she had to head back to the sorority house to take pictures of Torren's smelly ass car.

She still couldn't believe he had been arrested. Clint might be a psycho, but she knew he wouldn't let the cops take in one of his own.
No, Clint would kill you himself if it came down to it.

Knowing what was at stake, Mandy took the stairs two at a time, shoving open the back door and sprinting out to her SUV. Even with the baseball cap and glasses her skin prickled as she jumped into the driver's seat and slammed the door.