Chapter 8

I took a deep breath and answered the call, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited to hear Lila's voice on the other end of the line.

"Sam," she said, her voice tight with fear and urgency. "I don't have much time. The next party is happening tonight, at the old Blackwood mansion on the outskirts of town. You know the place?"

I felt a chill run down my spine. The Blackwood mansion was a notorious spot, a place that had been abandoned for years and was rumored to be haunted by the ghosts of its former owners. It was the perfect location for a secret, underground vampire party.

"I know it," I said, my voice grim. "What time is the party starting?"

"Midnight," Lila replied, her words rushed and breathless. "But Sam, listen to me. You need to be careful. These people... They're dangerous, and they won't hesitate to hurt anyone who gets in their way."

I felt a sense of dread wash over me, but I pushed it aside. I knew that Lila was risking everything to give us this information, and I couldn't let her down.

"I understand," I said, my voice steady and determined. "We'll be there. And Lila... thank you. I know how much you're risking to help us."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and for a second, I thought the call might have been disconnected. But then I heard Lila's voice again, soft and filled with a kind of desperate hope.

"Just... just stop them, Sam. Please. Before anyone else gets hurt."

With that, the line went dead, and I was left sitting there in Aunt Helen's kitchen, my mind racing with the implications of what Lila had just told me.

I knew that I needed to act fast. I quickly dialed Novak's number, my fingers trembling slightly as I waited for her to pick up.

"Novak," I said, my voice urgent. "It's Sam. I just got a call from Lila. The next vampire party is happening tonight, at the old Blackwood mansion on the outskirts of town. We need to move fast if we're going to catch these b******s in the act."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Novak's voice came through, tinged with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Vampire party? Is that what we're calling it now?" she asked, her tone wry.

I couldn't help but chuckle, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Well, for lack of a better term, yeah," I said, my voice taking on a slightly aloof quality. "I mean, considering the whole blood-drinking ritual thing, it seems pretty apt, don't you think?"

Novak laughed, but there was an edge to her voice that told me she was taking this just as seriously as I was.

"Fair enough," she said, her tone turning businesslike once again. "Meet me at the mansion at 11:30. And Sam... be careful. We don't know what we're walking into here."

I nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I will," I said, my voice grim. "And Novak... thank you. I couldn't do this without you."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and for a second, I thought I heard a hint of something else in Novak's voice... something that sounded almost like affection.

But then the moment passed, and Novak was all business again.

"11:30," she said, her voice firm. "Don't be late."

With that, the call ended, and I was left sitting there in Aunt Helen's kitchen, my mind racing with the possibilities of what lay ahead.

I said my goodbyes to Aunt Helen, my mind still reeling with the revelations of the past few hours. As I stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched, that there were eyes on me from every shadow and every darkened window.

I climbed into my car and pulled out of the driveway, my senses on high alert. As I turned onto the main road, I noticed a car pull away from the curb a few houses down, its headlights flashing to life in the darkness.

Instantly, my years of detective work kicked in, and I knew I was being tailed. I had honed my skills over countless hours of surveillance and counter-surveillance, and I could recognize the signs of a tail from a mile away. The way the car maintained a careful distance, the way it matched my speed and followed my every turn... there was no doubt in my mind that I was being followed.

I knew I had to act fast. I made a sudden turn, pretending to try and lose my pursuer in the maze of side streets and alleyways. I could see the other car scrambling to keep up, its headlights bouncing erratically as it swerved around corners and accelerated to close the gap between us.

Up ahead, I spotted the perfect location for my trap - an old, abandoned gas station, its pumps long since dry and its windows boarded up. I made another quick turn, pulling into the station's parking lot and circling around to the side of the building, out of sight of the main road.

I left my car running, its headlights casting eerie shadows across the cracked asphalt. I slipped out of the driver's seat, my hand already reaching for the gun at my hip as I moved silently around the perimeter of the gas station.

Moments later, I heard the sound of tires on gravel, and I knew my pursuer had taken the bait. I watched from the shadows as their car pulled into the lot, its brakes squealing as it came to an abrupt stop.

The driver's side door flew open, and a figure stepped out, a weapon already in their hand. "Get out of the car!" they yelled, their voice harsh and commanding in the stillness of the night.

But I was already behind them, my own gun drawn and pressed firmly against their back. "Drop it," I growled, my voice low and menacing. "Drop the weapon and put your hands where I can see them."

I could feel the figure tense beneath the barrel of my gun, their breath coming in short, panicked gasps. For a moment, I thought they might try to make a move, to spin around and take a shot at me.

But then, slowly, they let the weapon fall from their hands, the metal clattering against the asphalt with a dull, final thud. They raised their arms, their hands trembling slightly as they moved to comply with my demands.

I kept my gun trained on them, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to process what was happening. Who was this person, and why were they following me? What did they know about the vampire parties and the missing women?

I kept my gun trained on the man as I directed him to sit on the curb of the sidewalk surrounding the gas station. "Keep your hands where I can see them," I said, my voice firm but not overtly threatening. "We're going to have a little conversation, you and I."

The man looked nervous, his eyes darting back and forth as he complied with my instructions. I could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the way his hands trembled slightly as he placed them on his knees.

I took a step back, my gun still at the ready, and studied the man's face. He looked familiar, with the same chiseled features and piercing eyes as Chad Bingham. "You know, you look an awful lot like Chad," I said, my tone conversational. "Any relation?"

The man swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Y-yeah," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I'm his cousin. Name's Ethan. Ethan Bingham."

I nodded, filing the information away for later. "Well, Ethan," I said, my voice taking on a more serious tone. "Why don't you tell me why you were following me tonight? And don't even think about lying to me. I've been doing this a long time, and I can spot a lie from a mile away."

Ethan shifted uncomfortably on the curb, his eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Look, man," he said, his voice pleading. "I don't want any trouble. Chad just asked me to keep an eye on you, that's all. Maybe scare you a little if I had to."

I raised an eyebrow, my interest piqued. "Scare me? Why would Chad want to scare me?"

Ethan shrugged, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I don't know, man. He just pays me well to handle side jobs for him sometimes. I'm just a mechanic, you know? I wasn't going to hurt you, I swear. Maybe just rough you up a bit, make you think twice about snooping around."

I leaned in closer, my face just inches from Ethan's. "And what do you know about the parties, Ethan? The ones Chad's been involved with?"

Ethan's eyes widened, and he shook his head frantically. "I don't know anything about any parties, man. I swear. Chad doesn't tell me about that kind of stuff."

I studied his face for a long moment, searching for any sign of deception. But Ethan seemed genuinely confused and scared, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow.

"What about Cassandra?" I asked, my voice low and intense. "What do you know about her disappearance?"

Ethan's brow furrowed, and he looked away, his voice hesitant. "Cassandra? I mean, I knew her, sure. She and Chad were together for a while. But last I heard, they broke up. I don't know why. And I definitely don't know anything about her disappearing."

I watched Ethan closely, looking for any sign that he was holding back or trying to deceive me. But his body language was open, his eyes meeting mine without hesitation. I had a feeling he was telling the truth, or at least as much of the truth as he knew.

Finally, I lowered my gun, stepping back and motioning for Ethan to stand up.

"Alright, Ethan," I said, my voice still firm but less threatening. "I'm going to let you go. But if I find out you're lying to me, or if you come after me again... well, let's just say it won't end well for you."

Ethan nodded frantically, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "I won't, man. I swear. I don't want any more trouble."

I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick picture of Ethan's face and his license plate. "Just to be safe," I said, tucking my phone back into my pocket. "Now get out of here. And tell Chad that if he wants to talk to me, he can do it himself. No more games, no more threats."

Ethan scrambled to his feet, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his car keys. "Yeah, man. Sure thing. I'll tell him."

I watched as Ethan climbed into his car and peeled out of the gas station, his tires squealing against the asphalt. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story than he was letting on, but for now, I had bigger fish to fry.

I climbed back into my own car and pulled out of the gas station, my mind already racing ahead to the next step in my investigation. I had a party to crash and a mystery to solve, and I wasn't going to let anything, or anyone stand in my way.

After a quick trip home to feed Luna, I made my way to the Old Blackwood Mansion. I headed north on Interstate 45, the highway cutting through the heart of Houston like a concrete artery. The city's skyline glittered in my rearview mirror, a testament to the wealth and power that pulsed through its veins.

I took the exit for FM 1960, the road winding through the suburbs and strip malls that sprawled out from the city's core. The drive was a familiar one, a route I had taken countless times over the years in pursuit of leads and suspects.

As I turned onto the narrow, winding road that led to the mansion, I felt a sense of unease wash over me. The trees seemed to press in closer, their branches reaching out like grasping fingers in the darkness. The only light came from my headlights, the beams cutting through the gloom like twin searchlights.

I glanced at the clock on my dashboard, the green digits glowing eerily in the darkness. 11:15 PM. I was early, but then again, I always was. "If you're not 15 minutes early, you're late," I muttered to myself, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

As I rounded the final bend in the road, the Old Blackwood Mansion came into view, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The place was a far cry from the abandoned, run-down wreck I had been expecting.

The mansion was ablaze with light, its windows glowing like beacons in the darkness. The grounds were immaculate, the lawn trimmed to perfection and the hedges sculpted into intricate shapes. The driveway was lined with high-end vehicles, their polished surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of the mansion's lights.

I spotted BMWs and Mercedes, their sleek lines and purring engines a testament to the wealth and status of their owners. There were even a few exotic cars scattered among the more mundane vehicles, their angular bodies and bold colors standing out like jewels in a sea of black and silver.

At the end of the driveway, a line of limousines idled, their drivers standing around in small groups, smoking cigarettes and chatting quietly among themselves. They were dressed in crisp black suits and polished shoes, their posture and demeanor exuding an air of professional detachment.

As I parked my car and stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn't help but marvel at the transformation that had taken place. The Old Blackwood Mansion, once a symbol of decay and neglect, had been brought back to life, its crumbling facade restored to its former glory.

The mansion itself was a masterpiece of Victorian architecture, its towering spires and ornate balustrades silhouetted against the starry sky. The brickwork had been painstakingly restored, the mortar lines crisp and even. The windows were framed by intricate moldings, their glass panes reflecting the soft glow of the chandeliers that hung within.

The front door was a work of art in itself, a massive slab of carved oak that stood at least ten feet tall. It was flanked by two stone lions, their eyes seeming to follow me as I made my way up the steps and onto the porch.

I could hear the sound of music and laughter drifting out from within the mansion, the tinkling of glasses and the murmur of conversation mingling with the soft strains of a string quartet. It was clear that the party was already in full swing, the guests mingling and drinking and dancing the night away.

But beneath the glittering facade, I knew that something darker lurked. The missing women, the mysterious drug, the whispers of blood and sacrifice... it all pointed to a truth that was hidden just beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.