The night was young, the air heavy and wet, thick with the cloying weight of August. It was the kind of night where you felt you were drowning and suffocating all in one, just waiting for the phantom predator to roll you into the inky waters. 

Or maybe I’m just being dramatic, Mel thought. It had been a night or two since her last job had come through, and she needed the cash. Well, truthfully both she and Daniel needed the cash if they wanted to keep paying taxes on this old house. At least it was paid off.

Her eyes flicked from her laptop to the TV at the far side of the room, past the kitchen bar, the news scrolling across the screen. The news anchor cut through the trills of the royalty free music, something that said ‘top story’ in a way only local news could. Spinning on her bar stool, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter, and took a sip of her whiskey. The ice clinked softly against the glass, its sound drowned by the news report.

“New reports are coming in that another victim of this so-called “Vampire” has been found. The latest victim was discovered early this evening in Riverside. Authorities state that this latest attack fits the profile of the previous attacks. Details are still sparse as to the identity of the victim but this marks the third person found this week with similar…”

Her phone buzzed, rattling on the cheap vinyl of the bar top. Another one. Swiping open the text, she was right. Her contact Sergeant Martinez in the PD needed her camera again. 

-- We have another body. Meet me at the same place – 

She had been busy recently, though not the last couple of days. She had done crime photos, free lance is cheaper than in house of course, but not usually so many homicides. 

-- “Got it. Be there in an hour” – She sent back. 

Well, there goes my date with Jack, Johnnie and Jim.

She sighed, placed her whiskey back on the bar and looked back to the TV once more.

– “Authorities are investigating possible links between the victims, but details are scarce if killings are related based on anything other than cause of death. All victims are marked by savage tearing at the throat, leading authorities to believe this could be some kind of predator…” -- Yeah right, she thought with a snort. 

An unknown predator, as if they wanted to say it was an ACTUAL vampire. Sure, she had theories, there was a pattern, means and mode but conspiracy theories? Well, sensationalism and fear sells and it was a job. Vampire, a catchy name for our modern blood sports. We all loved to watch murder, and that moniker summed it all up with a nice bow.

She couldn’t help a wry grin, thinking of the twisted politics of it. She couldn’t help but appreciate the cynicism of the whole situation. Martinez would pay extra for these to hit the local tabloids. Martinez needed the press to get off the Vampire thing, it made the cops jobs harder, so what better way than to drum it up in the worst rags. “Vampires stalk Ironridge” right next to “Abducted by Elvis in UFO – Shocking story of woman now pregnant with Elvis’ child.” Laughter bubbled low in her throat at the thought.

Thalia would have a field day with this. The thought of Thalia made her want just one more drink from her glass. She missed her, missed what they had before she just went nuts about vampires. She should call her. Maybe tomorrow.

Leaving her drink she shoved her phone and keys into her satchel; she had too much crap for a dainty purse, grabbed her camera bag and stepped out into the night air. Before she could mount up on her bike, her phone buzzed again. She knew it was probably Daniel. Of course it would be, he was always trying to do the big brother thing, but she was a big girl. With a sigh she fished it out 

– “It isn’t safe. Don’t go out. I know you got a job, but it isn’t worth it.”

It was times like this she wished Daniel also didn’t have some of the same contacts. Of course Martinez let him know, but then again Daniel was paid by the PD too, for interviews, articles, things like that. Well, more respectable publications than she had been dealing with lately anyway. One low groan later she thumbed out her response. 

“I’ll be fine. Just a quick photo job.”

She didn’t know if he responded. She didn’t check before she turned it to silent and kicked her bike into gear and raced off towards her meet. The wind whipped her hair back and she relished the speed of it. Danny just couldn’t seem to let her go, let her stand on her own two feet. After what happened with Elliott… she had to be strong on her own, yet she couldn’t help the warmth at the thought of Danny always being there.

Ironridge… well, it's not the wealthiest city. It’s not dead, but the urban decay showed. Old houses neglected, smaller businesses selling to the six lane roads and big box stores, never mind Riverside. That was a real shit hole. Used to be a lot of metal industry and trading along the river. Now, it's just rot.

It didn’t take long to get there, an old run down industrial lot. A couple silos, a warehouse, and a parking lot. Honestly? She felt kind of badass riding up on her bike to meet up with her PD contact. Money changing hands, credentials for the crime scene, and all of it above board. Mostly. She pulled up next to the unmarked SUV and killed the engine.

It was quiet in an eerie way now with the engines quiet. Just the ripple of water and ambient sounds of the city, but so far away. Life wasn’t here, not in this dead dilapidated rusted out hell hole. She expectantly watched the SUV’s window, waiting for Martinez to kick off this game of theirs. It didn’t take long for him to make the first play and roll the windows. 

“Jesus Melody, you are going to be roadkill riding that thing without leathers.” 

“Hey. I usually wear my jacket, but it's just so damn hot lately.”

Martinez, short cropped hair, deep swarthy skin, mid thirties. He was handsome,  had a stable job, and all around a good pick. They had some connection, some tension for a bit, but it just never seemed to work out. Maybe it was because he was a cop. She never tried to figure it out. 

He gave her a pointed look.

“I just don’t want to be the one that scrapes you off the road,” He sighed, “Look, here is your press badge. Same as always, bonus if you can get some pics to the tabloids. I don’t know why this fucking story won’t peter off.”

“The only thing that sells more than sex – murder.” Mel said with a shrug. 

With a shake of his head, he tossed the badge towards her and a folded envelope with her commission. She took a moment to thumb through the bills before sliding into her satchel, as well as the press ID for the crime scene. 

“Truth.” Martinez responded, “Just down the way there, you can see all the first responder vehicles. Might be easier to just leave your bike here rather than try and park in that nightmare… And thank you Mel. I gotta go, I’m going to be doing paperwork for days and I’m not done with the last two murders.”

With a salute, she watched Martinez drive off to his bureaucratic nightmare and rolled her bike up next to the warehouse and grabbed her gear. With a squint she judged she was about two blocks from the scene. That wasn’t too far, so she got to walking. It's what boots were made for. 

Two blocks and one cigarette later she stood on the outside of an angry ant colony swarming over its little piece of carrion. In some ways she felt right at home, in the bright flood lights for the scene and strobing red and blue. Like all the others the body was sprawled with the head bent at an odd angle. Jagged parallel tears at the throat, along the jugular. The air was heady with the smell of copper and brackish water, and pooling blood all around the body. If it was REALLY a vampire, it sucked at eating.

She didn’t bother with her badge. Recognizing half the blues here, having seen them every other day this week and crossed under the police tape. No one stopped her. She took a deep breath and let herself detach. She was cynical but staring at corpses still was not pleasant. She took her time, snapping shots from a few angles and swapped memory cards and did a few more.

All the while she let herself be anywhere else in her mind. At one point she greatly enjoyed photography. She still did really, but she saw herself as a bit of an artist. Capturing moments in time, of beauty, calm, happiness… Then her mind shifted back to Elliott. That had been a fun fling, until it wasn’t. They fought, she broke up with him. It was over, she thought. Then… he beat her half to death. Ironically, it's how she met Martinez and started her crime scene beat. He was arrested, but not convicted, the fucker.

Stepping back; she slipped back under the tape, just out of the lights and lit up a new cigarette. She loved and hated these things. They kept her mind focused and hands steady, but they tasted like ass. And even the cheap ones weren’t cheap. Letting smoke curl from her exhale she stared back at the body from a distance. In a way it was still just as cathartic to do this work, capture the grotesque, the morbid, the loss. All still emotions worth preserving. 

She took a few shots from the distance, all good pics to sell, before heading back. She skipped walking the street, winding through the industrial park, wanting to be closer to the river. The sound of it was soothing and she needed something other than another hit of nicotine to handle it. Perhaps not as cynical as you think Mel. All the murder pics are taking its toll.

Passing through between two warehouses she had a sudden pause. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t pinpoint anything, nothing seemed amiss, but it felt like the temperature dropped twenty degrees and suddenly she felt utterly terrified. Then, the sound of boots on gravel. Startled, she turned to look and blinding pain erupted in the side of her skull. Her stomach dropped as she lurched to the left. She couldn’t make sense of anything with the world tilting. Another crack to her skull and--