Vampire Dawn
Chapter Twenty-one
Celebrities can hide their electronic footprints a little easier than the average citizen. This is because they can hide behind accountants and handlers. Because of this, my background search on Robert Mason took a little more digging than usual.
And what came up wasn't much.
I had his current residence. Or, rather, his last known residence. He was living in the hills above Fullerton. Nice area. Big homes. Lots of space. Perfect place to secretly drain someone dry. Or maybe many someones.
Interestingly, I knew of two people who also lived in the hills. Detective Hanner and a very old and very creepy Kabbalistic grandmaster. One was a vampire, and one was a kind of vampire.
Anyway, Robert Mason had no criminal record. An ex-wife of his accused him of abuse. He was never arrested, although a restraining order had been placed on him. I'd only met the guy once, and I wanted to put a restraining order on him, too. He had no kids, only the one marriage - divorced now fifteen years.
His last known professional acting job had been on One Life to Live, five years ago. And, according to the various reports I'd dug up, he'd been fired from his job. The reasons were conflicting, but more than one article suggested substance abuse.
Why he was fired or why he was divorced didn't seem to be of importance presently. That he was a full-blown psychopath now was obvious to me. That he harbored a deep evil was also obvious to me.
As I sat in my office, with my kids asleep down the hallway, I called Kingsley. He picked up on the second ring.
"Hi, baby," he said.
I didn't respond. At least, not with words.
"What's that sound?" he asked.
"I'm panting," I said. "You know, like a dog."
"Oh, brother. But, please, Sam. Say no more over the phone."
"Oh, I'm not saying anything," I said, and panted some more.
"Cute, Sam. Do you actually have something on your mind, or did you just call to make those ridiculous sounds?"
"Both," I said, and stopped panting long enough to catch him up to date on my investigation - in particular, my meeting with Robert Mason.
"Like he said," said Kingsley. "He knows what you are, Sam."
"In so short a time?"
"He must have suspected you were something more, which is why he scheduled the meeting. No doubt his suspicions were confirmed at the meeting." Kingsley paused. I knew he was choosing his words carefully over the open phone line. "We can hide from the majority of the world, Sam, but not from the truly psychic. They tend to see through us. Thankfully, there's not many of them."
"And those who do see us?"
"Well, those who are vocal about it are silenced."
I thought about his words. "I think Robert Mason saw an opportunity."
"To supply blood?"
"Yes," I said.
"No doubt a very lucrative gig."
I asked, "What do you know about blood suppliers?"
"Not much, but I know someone who undoubtedly would."
"Detective Hanner," I said.
"Boy, Sam. It's almost as if you could read my mind."
"I'll never say."
He laughed and we set up a dinner date later in the week, and when we had hung up, I made another call.
To the only other creature of the night that I knew.
And what came up wasn't much.
I had his current residence. Or, rather, his last known residence. He was living in the hills above Fullerton. Nice area. Big homes. Lots of space. Perfect place to secretly drain someone dry. Or maybe many someones.
Interestingly, I knew of two people who also lived in the hills. Detective Hanner and a very old and very creepy Kabbalistic grandmaster. One was a vampire, and one was a kind of vampire.
Anyway, Robert Mason had no criminal record. An ex-wife of his accused him of abuse. He was never arrested, although a restraining order had been placed on him. I'd only met the guy once, and I wanted to put a restraining order on him, too. He had no kids, only the one marriage - divorced now fifteen years.
His last known professional acting job had been on One Life to Live, five years ago. And, according to the various reports I'd dug up, he'd been fired from his job. The reasons were conflicting, but more than one article suggested substance abuse.
Why he was fired or why he was divorced didn't seem to be of importance presently. That he was a full-blown psychopath now was obvious to me. That he harbored a deep evil was also obvious to me.
As I sat in my office, with my kids asleep down the hallway, I called Kingsley. He picked up on the second ring.
"Hi, baby," he said.
I didn't respond. At least, not with words.
"What's that sound?" he asked.
"I'm panting," I said. "You know, like a dog."
"Oh, brother. But, please, Sam. Say no more over the phone."
"Oh, I'm not saying anything," I said, and panted some more.
"Cute, Sam. Do you actually have something on your mind, or did you just call to make those ridiculous sounds?"
"Both," I said, and stopped panting long enough to catch him up to date on my investigation - in particular, my meeting with Robert Mason.
"Like he said," said Kingsley. "He knows what you are, Sam."
"In so short a time?"
"He must have suspected you were something more, which is why he scheduled the meeting. No doubt his suspicions were confirmed at the meeting." Kingsley paused. I knew he was choosing his words carefully over the open phone line. "We can hide from the majority of the world, Sam, but not from the truly psychic. They tend to see through us. Thankfully, there's not many of them."
"And those who do see us?"
"Well, those who are vocal about it are silenced."
I thought about his words. "I think Robert Mason saw an opportunity."
"To supply blood?"
"Yes," I said.
"No doubt a very lucrative gig."
I asked, "What do you know about blood suppliers?"
"Not much, but I know someone who undoubtedly would."
"Detective Hanner," I said.
"Boy, Sam. It's almost as if you could read my mind."
"I'll never say."
He laughed and we set up a dinner date later in the week, and when we had hung up, I made another call.
To the only other creature of the night that I knew.
