Chapter Twenty-three
YOU KNEW… TRACY…
Frank’s last words floated through his mind as Vince walked out to his car numbly, the scene in the hospital reverberating in his mind. With Mike Peterson dead, Frank was obviously frantic, worried about Tracy, worried about Vince, and he was confirming to Vince what he’d known all along. The Children of the Night were after him. He was important to them. What was the term Frank had used? The Red Opener? Like some kind of portal? Whatever it was, it was sick, it was dangerous, it was insane, and he had to get as far away from these people as possible. And he had to contact Tracy and get somewhere safe where they could never be found.
Vince’s cell phone rang as he approached his car. He answered it as he disarmed the vehicle and climbed in. “Yeah?”
“Vince?” Tracy’s voice. She sounded concerned. He could only guess what he sounded like to her. “Vince, you okay?”
“Frank’s dead,” Vince said. He sat in the front bucket seat of his car, staring out at the lot and its multitudes of cars shimmering in the July sun. “So is Mike. They’re both dead.”
For a moment there was silence on the other end of the line. Then, Tracy came back on the line. Her voice was calm, urging. “Vince, are you okay to drive?”
“I think so,” Vince said. He felt numb; detached, like he was in a waking nightmare. “It’s just… everything… it happened so fast.”
“You need to get out of there,” Tracy said. “Do you understand me, Vince?”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“I need you to come pick me up,” Tracy continued. “Only you’re not coming to the condo. I’m at Brian’s place. Can you pick me up there?”
“What are you doing there?” Vince asked. Brian Dennison lived in a large house in Laguna Hills. They… took me… near Laguna Hills…
“I told him what’s happening and he’s set us up. Everything is set up for our new lives, Vince. I acted on this the minute you dropped me off at the condo. I did it for us. We’re both going to be fine.”
“Everything’s… set up?”
“To escape,” Tracy said, her voice calm, soothing. “But we have to leave now. Come get me.”
“Okay.”
“You remember where Brian lives, right?”
“Yeah. I’m leaving now.”
“Drive carefully. I’ll see you soon.” And then Tracy hung up.
This played in his mind as he headed south on the 405 toward Irvine. The Lexus purred contentedly in rush hour traffic as Vince merged into the next lane, maneuvering to the left so he could get onto Interstate 5 where he would then get off on Mission Road. From there he would turn left, heading inland. Laguna Beach would lie behind him, a conclave of upper-middle class homes nestled in South Orange County. But further inland…
Laguna Hills.
Vince had been to Brian’s house a number of times. The neighborhood was made up primarily of high-level professionals: bankers, lawyers, doctors, CEOs. It was very plausible that Gladys Black and her husband lived within the general area.
As Vince drove, he thought about what Frank Black had told him in his drug-addled state. It was obvious something had happened to him; he’d looked gravely wounded. The attending ER physician did not want to discuss the specific nature of Frank’s more threatening injuries. Vince felt his stomach churn; he was nervous. It was still very difficult to believe the supernatural was at play here. He had a hard time believing what Frank had told him. Vince a half-human half-demon hybrid? It was absurd. The Children of the Night might believe it, but Vince didn’t, and that’s what made them so powerful. It was their belief that propelled them, what motivated them. Their devotion to this insane cause was as idiotic as those Christian nuts in Kansas with the god hates fags website and the Jihadists in the Middle East who blew themselves up in order to take down a few infidels.
The exit he was looking for came up and Vince took it, cruising effort-lessly onto Mission Viejo Road. He continued east, trying not to be both-ered by rush hour traffic. He drove on autopilot, his route already mapped out. He knew where he was going, and he would know the house when he saw it.
How had Frank wound up back in Fountain Valley? Did Gladys and the other Children of the Night dump him on some random street corner after doing whatever it was they did with him? For what purpose? Why not just kill him and make the body disappear? The more Vince thought about it, the more confused he got. Words and images swam in his conscious. The Red Opener. Hanbi. Father of Satan. Ancient and forbidden books of black magic written by Assyrian priests. How could such a legend continue for untold thousands of years, known only by a select few?
Something came out… ripped me open… it ate me…
Don’t believe a word she says… she did it… she orchestrated it…
The more Vince thought about it, the more the questions piled on. Mike Peterson’s wife, Carol, crying on TV. Gladys Black being furious with Frank, letting him be savaged by whatever thing they’d let loose on him before. Newport Road came up and Vince swung into the left-hand lane, making his turn at the light and continuing north.
Something Frank said bugged him. They’ve been, like, onto you now, grooming you for the past ten years. Can you believe it?
Ten years?
Vince’s brow furrowed as he thought about the past ten years. In 1989 he’d still been a student, heading to the top of his graduating class in the MBA Program at UCI. He was dating a beautiful woman named Diana Roberts, whom he’d met at a party over the Christmas holidays in 1988, and next to his relationship with Laura, that liaison was the hottest affair he’d ever had. He remembered the relationship being fiery, hot with passion. There’d been something about Diana that had awoken such a lustful side of him that he couldn’t resist her. Normally, Vince had been attracted to conservative girls—preppy cheerleaders, studious types. Diana had been the exact opposite. She’d been a wild, heavy metal rocker chick with teased out hair, lithe features, legs to her neck, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Unlike most of the party girls Vince had known, Diana had actually possessed a brain. They’d have these long conversations about everything from politics to music, to literature and films, to economics and current events. She was well educated yet had a wild side that had won Vince over. He’d been a little sad to see the relationship end.
He kept his eye peeled to the cliffs to his right. It was still light enough to make out the houses perched along the edge of the canyon. The houses that lined the cliff looked to be a good quarter of a mile away, and Vince swung into his right lane so he could cruise it.
He wondered what ever happened to Diana Roberts. About a month or so into their relationship, she’d suddenly stopped calling him or taking his phone calls. When Vince dropped by her apartment in Hunting-ton Beach to see if she was okay (he’d thought she’d been sick or something), he was shocked to find that she’d cleared out. Her apartment was vacant and she’d left no forwarding address.
A year later he was working at Corporate Financial, in a job that had seemingly landed at his feet. Brian Denison, one of the middle managers that interviewed him for the position, had become a good friend and in the three years that passed Vince had risen up the ladder quickly. By 1994 he was a Regional Division Manager in charge of all accounts. He was also dating Laura Palmer, who he’d met at a business function. Two years later he and Laura were married, and Vince thought life couldn’t get any better.
Only it had. There was another promotion, this one as V.P. in charge of International Accounts. Brian was grooming him for a Presidency position; Vince knew that, and his handling of overseas stocks and bonds was becoming impeccable. One of the firm’s clients, Azif Offshore Investments, was rapidly growing into one of the most lucrative firms that the company held and it had been Brian’s baby, which he’d passed on to Vince. “I’m gonna let you do your magic on this one, pal,” Brian had told him that day just a year ago when he’d been handed the account. “These guys are gonna bust out. They’re projected at grossing three hundred billion dollars in 1999. By 2000, they’re gonna be bigger than Microsoft.”