Thalia stared at her phone in the early morning hours. It was quiet and dark, the only light the blue glow from her phone, the only noise, the rustling of leaves as the wind blew through the neighborhood. She felt as she had been plunged into ice-water staring at those words--

“I believe you, Thalia. About everything. I’m sorry.” 

They had fallen out over everything she tried so hard to tell Mel about. Even after two years she only had flashes, glimpses of that night, like a broken mirror. She needed Mel to help her make sense of it all, to believe her if nothing else. She knew it sounded crazy, it was crazy but… 

Her mind was pulled into the past, her drive to find… something. To find her place in the world, to find her place, to find a way to feel alive. The mundane of everyday life just didn’t fit. It didn’t click. It was the same thing day in and day out. By day she did her call-center work, a hybrid thing. She got to work from home three days out of the week, doing insurance claims. She hated it. 

The monotony, the same calls, the same complaints, the same people all day. Day after day. It was a hell she couldn’t stand. One she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore, some days.

Her nights however, were filled with searching for a place. Clubs, bars, venues, hell even abandoned places where she felt more connected to the world than in the clutches of society. Work, sleep, work, sleep, the endless derivative of living. Her only outlet was searching, and she found a place. This time it was a cliched place, by the name Seraphine. It was something else, like a speakeasy for the rich, right out of the twenties, yet modern. 

Ushered inside by a bouncer with a wry grin, she didn’t know what to make of what he said. Like the rest of the club, it hit a vibe. A kind of lost to time forbidden quality, something that had only really hit here in America. His hat slung low hiding his eyes, and his suit sharp and lethal.

“Invitation only… but why not.”

Much like a speakeasy it was something hard to find, something by word of mouth. It wasn’t advertised, it didn’t have a sign, and that made stepping inside all the more grand. Delicate glimmering chandeliers hung from golden chains, a kaleidoscope of colors over the wooden dance floor. Looming in the shadows framed by deep crimson velvet sat the stage. A parody of something big band sat back there playing dark and rhythmic music.

Most were dressed as if they came straight out of a gangster movie, pinstripe suits and flapper girl dresses. Bold colors, red lips and smokey eyes. She knew she was out of place and so did everyone else, yet she only garnered curious looks. Most paid little attention but a few… their eyes lingered, something dark and hungry in them. It was exhilarating.

Then she saw… her. She was electric, terrifying and everything out of reach. Something carnal and lustful curled inside her. She never thought she see another woman that way, but--

She was everything Thalia wanted. Or was it that she wanted to be that?

All it took was a smile, a wink and a curled finger before she stepped back into the shadows. Mesmerized, she followed, forcing a confidence she did not feel. She couldn’t find her, but a curtained doorway off to the left led up a staircase. She followed, no hesitation and found herself up into a balcony overlooking the dance floor. It was utterly shrouded in shadow, yet she could see her silhouette against the railing.

From there, memory turns to kaleidoscope, silver shining things, shards of a broken mirror. A brush of sharp teeth on her throat. Stinging pain and shuddering pleasure, a killing pleasure. Murmurs and giggles, cool fingers and dark hungry eyes. She wouldn’t mind dying like this, a slow languid passage to oblivion. But-- She pulled back.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” 

She wasn’t sure how she got home. Flickering memories, like a film skipping, stumbling in an alley. The backseat of a car. Jingling of keys, a pounding headache and the cramped comfort of her couch.

Mel never believed her. She was angry, resentful and curling, pulsing and wanting to throw something, all of it crept up her spine. But-- She was glad and relieved. Finally she felt vindicated, like she wasn’t a lunatic. Closure. 

And yet, as she stared at her phone--  

“I believe you, Thalia. About everything. I’m sorry.” 

What did that mean? Why did she believe her now? Why did it feel like she was saying good-bye? Her heart sank and tears threatened to spill. With everything, even with Mel growing apart, she didn’t want to lose her for good. Lose that friendship they had. The friend that went bar hopping with her. The friend that explored the dark abandoned places with her, always dragging her camera along.

But, the favor she was asking for, it wasn’t normal. The first part, sure. Not wanting to worry Danny, that made sense. The new clothes? Odd. Believing her put everything in an uneasy context. Something must have happened, something undeniable for Mel to push past her skepticism.

There wasn’t any hesitation as she lied to Danny. It was believable. It was something they had done before. He knew she would drag Mel out to the Foundry from time to time. It was a dingy bar, cheap liquor and loud music. So saying they went out and Mel crashed here, that would work. So she called him when eight o’clock rolled around.

“Thalia! Hey, listen have you seen-” 

“Hey Dan, just letting you know, Mel crashed with me. I dunno, she just said she needed to get away, the last job was getting to her, you know? She didn’t want to talk about it, you know?” She pushed, interrupting him.

She heard a long, tired sigh from the other line.

“Well, at least I have an answer. She never came home and she didn’t answer…”

“Yeah, uh, we went out.”

“That bar? What’s it?”

“The Foundry, yeah. She seemed kinda lost.”

“She needs to let someone else do this. She’s been one of the freelancers covering the murders…”

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t known that. Mel had kept that from her over the last few weeks. Disappointment weighed heavy in her chest. Resentment burned low and she fought to keep her voice neutral. She would help, she would, but she was owed answers. She finished the call with pleasantries and minor small talk. That was one favor down, now she just needed to do the other. With her mind racing, she gathered up a few pieces. Some jeans she could borrow, a couple of basic shirts, blouses and a hoodie.

Packing it neatly in an old reusable shopping bag, she gathered her keys, phone and purse and got in her car. She sent a quick text to her boss, calling out sick for the day. No way in hell was she going to be able to concentrate today. She wasn’t going to even try.

It didn’t take long, she knew exactly where she was talking about. It was only a little more than a mile from her apartment, the scenery quickly shifted from older homes, apartments to some of the abandoned local places that died when the newer part of the city bloomed. A few things were still around here, like the Foundry, but places like that old roach motel had faded into abandonment. 

She pulled into the lot of the old building and killed the engine. At a glance she didn’t spot anything out of the ordinary, nothing that stood out. Nothing new, not tire marks, not her bike, nothing to indicate that she was here. She took her time looking over the area. Nothing but she was sure there was something...

Stepping out of her care she walked up and down the different rooms, looking for something, anything. Then-- A smear of blood and a warped door frame. Was Mel hurt? Was she attacked? Did she… encounter something like what Thalia did? Now that Mel believed her she struggled to put a name to it. It suddenly sounded so ridiculous, but the memory of those sharp teeth on her throat.

She pressed on the door, and it didn’t budge. She pushed harder, digging her heels into the pavement. She heard something creak, something shift, but the door did not give. Not yet anyway. She was there, in that room. She knew it, but why? Why was it barricaded? Wiping the sweat from her brow, she sat back in her car.

She needed to think, to get her mind to calm down, she needed-- she didn’t know. She took her phone and thumbed through it. She needed something to do with her hand, something to take her mind off of everything. Fate didn’t seem to care as she came across an article for another murder. This time a police officer, James Keegan. He was killed in a very similar way, at least according to the report. Only… he was dumped into the river, not left.

Her eyes flicked back to the door, with its broken frame and blood smear. Her heart was caught in her throat and her stomach felt heavy. Something was wrong, very wrong, with this situation and maybe with Mel. That resentment flared in her again. She stepped back out of her car and approached the door, glaring the entire time. With a frustrated growl, she shoulder checked the door and then again until it shifted open. She did this until she could slip in through the crack. Stomping back to the car she grabbed the bag that had the clothes she promised and slid her way through the opening. 

The room was hideous, moldy, and grimy. Dust floated in the air and a faint smell of smoke wafted through the room. Looking about she saw that most of the furniture, the desk, an end table, and the chair were all shoved against the door. It was dark and the patchy curtains kept most of the light out. The blanket was pulled half off the bed and something sat in the furthest corner from the window. Mel’s motorcycle was pulled back into the short hall that led to the bathroom.

Thalia took a tentative step forward, then another until she could see past the edge of the bed. There she was. Thalia couldn’t look away-- she was drenched in blood, her clothes ruined. A thin trail of dried blood from the corner of her mouth, to her chin. Her skin was so pale it was nearly translucent. She wasn’t breathing. Smoke curled from her hand when the occasional splash of light shone when the curtain fluttered, the flesh would crackle and burn red before immediately turning pale once more when the light shifted.

Suddenly, she felt very tired. She didn’t feel resentment, she didn’t feel sad, just… lost. She missed Mel, and now that she finally had an opening to have that friendship again she wasn’t sure it was possible anymore. How could it be? With a sigh, Thalia sat down on the crumpled bed and waited.

What else could she do?