Michael goes to jail - the missing chapter -- Didn't keep this in the story because it really didn't move the plot along, and I just needed to cut some words!   This is before Jane's father arrives, and Jesse Olson, Michael's bandmate, has been in town for the concert.

Michael returns from town one evening, with blood on his shirt.   A few minutes later, headlights flash in the yard, and Jane wonders just what the heck went on in town...

         Just a precaution, his ass.   The police took Michael into custody, stating he may have been witnessed by passersby to an altercation in the alleyway behind the Decadance club.

         Must have been the woman on the chopper.

         Calm as a cat, and wrists cuffed behind his back, Michael watched as the patrolmen talked to Jane, who stood in the headlights of the patrol car.   Her silver-trimmed pajamas flittered in the strong winds tormenting the early morning.  

         She shouldn't be brought into any of this.   It wasn't for her to know.   He wasn't for her to know.   She could not touch the monster; he wouldn't allow it.   This was his misery to own.

         Yeah, right, rock star.   And look where doing it yourself has gotten you so far.   Rock on.  

         Not.

         What would she tell them?   Would she reveal his secret?   How dare she?

         And still she'd not answered his question.   How did she know his truth?

         The officers returned and got inside the vehicle.   As the patrol car pulled away from the estate, Michael pressed a palm to the window and mouthed, "Jane."

         If he was dangerous, she was out.   She'd pack up her things, apologize to Mr. Olson for being unable to complete the job, and never look back.  

         All her life Jane had trained herself to follow the normal and to avoid the strange.   It hadn't been easy.   There were some parts of the strange she had no choice but to partake in.   She had come here to complete the ritual.   And she would do so.  

         How easy it will be now with a source right at hand.

         And yet, wherever she went, the strange seemed to flourish.  

         You've magic within you, daughter.   Accept that .

         A lot of good that magic had done to warn her of the source sharing this house.   Yes, just think of him as a source.   Don't even put a name to him.   Harder that way .

         Get back to the normal.   And now.

         And yet, as Jane watched the patrol car roll away, she met the source's longing gaze out the back window.   A pair of pale blue eyes cried out to her. He was no creature desperate to wreak havoc and drain the world of its blood.   He was a little boy--with a monster inside of him.

         Charges had not been pressed.   Not yet.   They'd brought him in to the North Lake police station/city hall/library--yes, library--for questioning.   A woman had been found in the alleyway not far from the Decadance.   There were bruises on her throat and she'd complained about being bitten--or so she thought she had been--but she'd been released from the emergency room after a few hours.

         Alive.

         At that announcement, Michael released the tension holding him stiffly upon the steel chair in the interrogation room.   Bowing his head over his cuffed hands, he thought to weep.   But he didn't.

         Alive meant no nightmares to take him down and deeper into the darkness.   No danse macabre.   He had to count that as a good thing.   He had not killed.

         But you were so close.

         And she'd remembered being bitten?   Sloppy Michael, very sloppy.

         "We're bringing in a lineup," the arresting officer explained.   "The details the witness gave us were vague, though he did mention rock star, which is why you've been brought in.   Were you at the Decadance last night, Mr. Lynsay?"

         Last night?   Yep, already morning.   The sun had risen an hour earlier.

         Michael nodded.   "Yes.   But I left alone."  

         As close to truth as he could ever admit.   He'd put in a call to his lawyer first thing upon arrival at the station.    Sven Sorenson lived in California, but his secretary said he was in Iowa right now.   A couple hours flight.   "You said the witness was male?"
         "I'm asking the questions, rock star."   The officer hooked a leg up on the Formica table and set his yellow note pad on his thigh, pen poised to write.   "Now, what time did you arrive at the club?"

***

         They wouldn't allow her to see Michael.   She wasn't family, and he was still being interrogated.   Though, after determining she wasn't a fan girl, they did request she stick around.   Mr. Lynsay hadn't been charged with a crime, but should he be, they may need to question her since she was staying with him.

         Jane told the officers they could find her at the coffee shop across the street, but she didn't make it that far.   Settling onto the steps before the doors to the attached library, she watched the cars slowly drive by.   Sunday morning swept around her shoulders with a hot embrace, for the sun promised to be high and bright.   Already it glimmered upon the lake two blocks away, visible from her perch.   Everyone made their way to church, dressed in their best and smiles on their faces.

         Though her father had hired her tutors in each of the religions, she'd never been encouraged to follow a specific one.

         And ye harm none.   Her mother's creed.   A good rule to live by.

         Michael was being questioned for--as far as she had been able to discover--the attack of a young woman behind the Decadance last night.

         The woman wasn't dead?

         Knowing that relieved Jane measurably.   She wondered if that had been Michael's intent.   Or maybe this was the first time he'd been caught.   Was that his usual MO, to kill?   The kill wasn't necessary to a vampire's survival, she knew as much.  

         And she knew so much more.

         Glancing around a shrub to the glass doors fronting the police station, she could see nothing beyond the reflection of the huge maple spread over the entire street.   There was little she could do for Michael right now.  

         All right, so she still called him Michael in her head.   Difficult not to.   But if she intended to use him as a source, well then, he'd serve her no good in jail.  

         There must be something she could do.

         Eyeing the payphone at the end of the block near the park fronting the lake, Jane decided it was time to talk to her father.   He would have answers, or at the very least, his lawyers could sweep in and make this nightmare go away, without worry of the wrong information getting in the right hands.

         Baptiste Rénan picked up after six rings.   "Jane!   Darling dearest, do you know you're using a telephone?   How daring!"

         "Daddy, stop."   Jane twisted the heavy coiled phone cord about her wrist and kept an eye on the police station.   A group of teenagers had gathered outside the front doors.   "I need some help."

         "What's up, Jane dear?"   He grew solemn.   "It's been months since we've spoken.   Ah, the ritual--"

         "Daddy, no."   She pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose.   "It's something else, something entirely different."

         "Is there trouble?"

         "I'm not sure."  

         She tracked a black SUV that pulled up before the police station.   The driver hopped out, and she recognized him.   He ran around to the passenger side and met another man, suited and briefcased, who nodded to him.  

         "What is Jesse Olson doing here?"   Then, into the phone she said, "I'm here in Minnesota."

         "So you took the Olson job?   Excellent.   I wager that means you are in the land of mosquitoes and snowflakes right now?   Such an unforgiving land."

         "No worse than northern France in the winter."   Actually it was a gorgeous day.  

         "Oh, darling."   A heavy sigh crackled across the international airwaves.   "Is something wrong?"

         "I met a man, he's staying at the Olson estate.   His name is Michael Lynsay, and he's a vampire."

         "Well, isn't that opportune?"

         "Daddy, don't go there.   Not now.   Michael might be in trouble.   He's been arrested."

         "Does he have a lawyer?"

         "Not sure.   To guess, I may have just seen one walk into the police station with Mr. Olson."

         "What town are you in?   Give me all the details, and I'll make sure there's a backup plan.   Will that give back some patience to my daughter?"

         "It will."

         "Can't have your only source sitting in jail when the full moon arrives, now can we?   The time is soon near.   Darling?"

         Yes soon, and she with a source sitting in her pocket.   Why did life have to do things like this to her?

         "Fine, avoidance it is," her father muttered.   "But not for long, Jane dear.   So!   I'll get the legal wheels stirring quickly.   We'll talk soon, promise."

         The phone connection clicked off, and Jane hung up.   Her dad was so frustratingly Type-A do-it-all and no time for quiet.   She'd always struggled at what exactly she may have inherited from her father.   Certainly not his disposition.   Nor his carnal needs.

         But she did have his resolve.

         "I came here for a reason.   I won't give up on it."

         She quickly dialed Ravin's number and when she picked up, Jane said, "You won't believe this, but I found a source."

         "You did?"   Ravin whistled appreciatively.   "So did I.   Two vampires in our pockets?   How lucky can a girl get?"

         "Tell me about the one you found."

         "He's a bit suspicious.   Not sure which tribe he's allianced to.   I need to check him out.   But now, if you have a source--"

         "No, you go ahead and look into the one you found.   Doesn't hurt to have a backup.   Thanks, Ravin.   Talk to you soon."

         Jane hung up.   A flush of relief rushed through her.   Another possible source?   Was life going to let her have a freebie?

         After the handcuffs were removed from his wrists, Michael was escorted out of the interrogation room.   The station was no larger than a coffee shop.   Upon arrival, he'd counted six patrol cars out front.   A cart of library books sat in the aisle connecting the two offices.   Twenty-three hard covers and four tatty paperbacks.   Yeah, this town was action central.

         He walked up behind Jesse, who stared out at the crowd gathered on the front steps.   They weren't your classic angry mob.   This crowd held signs that read 'The Fallen rocks!'   'Free our Dark Angel!'  

         "Word travels fast," Jesse spat.   Arms crossed high on his two-hour-workouts-a-day chest, he turned and eyeballed Michael.   "Now what, Einstein?"

         "The charges were dropped," Michael said.   "Before the two of you even got here.   What's the deal with that?"

         "Does it matter?" Sven Sorenson, the band's lawyer, said as he breezed past the two of them, looking so Star Trek with a mobile wireless phone wrapped around one ear.   "You're free, and I didn't have to lift a finger.   I'm arranging an escape out back to avoid the groupies.   They'll see you as soon as we pull out of the lot, but I have a trick up my sleeve."   He swept down the back hallway.

           "I'm sorry, man," Michael said to Jesse's frown, but his hopeful tone didn't encourage a smile from his best friend.  

         Jesse flinched off Michael's slap to his shoulder.   He pointed out the window to the female standing under the maple tree across the street, apart from the crowd.   "What is she doing here?   She looks familiar.   Isn't that the chick I hired to do the windows?"

         "Jane Rénan.   She's been at the estate working on the windows.   They look great."  

         Michael squinted.   Beyond Jane stood another familiar face.   With a receding hairline and a creepy disposition.   The bastard from the cemetery?

         "The two of you?   Alone in the house?   Does she know about you?"
         "Yep," Michael answered absently.   He didn't spy a camera on the man.   But to see him again, after giving him a scare...   Could the man have found his iPod?

         The urge to race out and grab him fisted Michael's fingers against the glass door, but he settled.   To walk out there now would get him no farther than groping teenagers and he'd probably lose his shirt in the process.

         "Michael, you listening to me?"

         "Sure.   Jane knows.   She surprised me this morning by letting on she was aware of my...condition."

         Jesse snorted.   "Condition, my ass.   Do you realize how close you are to pushing the band off the edge with your antics?   Every wrong move you make reflects on the entire band.   I thought you'd come here to get this under control?   What the hell are you doing?   You did attack that girl, didn't you?"

         Michael felt his teeth tingle in his upper jaw.   Jesse had a way of pushing his buttons and getting an immediate reaction.   "No charges were pressed.   The witness disappeared."

         Clenched teeth and tight jaw were one of Jesse's most common expressions, of late.   "I don't know how you do it, man.   You managed your way out of that one by the skin of your teeth.   But next time might not be so easy.   Think about that, will you?"

         "What the hell am I supposed to do?   You send me away to mope at an empty house in the middle of freakin' nowhere.   I thought you and the guys were coming home, too?"

         "We've all just arrived.   But we're not moving in for a slumber party. I didn't think it cool to let the guys in on your secret."

         Michael kicked the steel front of the door.   "I need help, Jesse.   You know that."

         "Yeah?   So why don't you get yourself a full-time suckfriend so you don't have to leave a trail of bodies all over the place?"

         "You're an asshole."

         "And you're a--"

         "Say it," Michael challenged.   "A monster, right?"   He felt his canines tingle in his mouth, and fought back the rage.   "Can we do this later?"

         "Why, you going to vamp out?   What happens when the lawyers and your friends can't help you anymore, Michael?   Oh wait, that's friend .   One idiot friend who knows about you."

         "I can do this."

         "Yeah?"   Jesse tapped the glass, and a crew of fans screamed madly.   "Well, it looks like you've got everything under control."   He strode off, leaving the scent of his anger as a tangible odor in the air surrounding Michael.

         Outside, a teenage girl lifted her top to reveal a lacey pink bra.   She bounced and the crowd roared.   Michael turned his back to the scene.

         Everyone had some kind of monster raging within them.   Be it a tit-flashing teenager or the boys who attended The Fallen's concerts to bang their heads and let out their aggressions.

         So why couldn't Michael find a less destructive method to control the monster?

         And then there was Jane.  

         How could he possibly return to her arms, and hope for a simple kiss now that she knew?   Would she welcome a vampire with open arms?   Or would she be waiting with a stake?

         A hand clamped across Michael's shoulder.   "You ready to go, buddy?" Sven asked.   "I've secured a van out back.   Should be able to slip you and Jesse out of here with little trouble."

         "Sure.   You see that guy across the street?   He's standing behind the chick with the red hair."

         "Yeah, what about him?"

         "He's been following me since I arrived in North Lake.   I think he snapped some shots of me at my mother's grave the other day.   Can you track him down and find out what his story is?"

         "No problem, Michael."

***

         Jane peered through the window.   Michael stood outside talking to the lawyer.   To avoid the groupies, they'd been transported in a purple floral delivery van.   Clever.   But for how long?   Would someone discover this quiet retreat and turn it into Michael's worst nightmare?

         Not to mention, hers.

         "Miss Rénan?   I thought I recognized you earlier."   Jesse entered the kitchen and shook her hand.   Jet black, naturally curly hair had been tamed away from his face in a ponytail.   A California tan emphasized his biceps.   He pushed silver sunglasses onto the top of his head and smiled.   "We've obviously missed each other's messages.   I hadn't expected you to be here.   If I had known..."

         "I'm sorry, Mr. Olson.   I shouldn't have invited myself to stay here, but I had an opening, and when we spoke last winter, you had intimated if I got a chance I could begin work."

         "That's right.   I had forgotten.   Don't worry about it.   My schedule has been erratic.   Lately, I don't know if I'm coming or going.   When I told Michael he could stay here, I'd completely forgotten I'd already given you a key.   I'm glad you took the initiative to get started."

         "I've a lot done.   Would you like to see?"

         "Um... "   He turned and glanced out the window.   "Yeah, why not.   Michael has some things to get straight with the lawyers.   Show me what's going on."

Back to Out-takes page.

Back to FROM THE DARK page.

Back to Home page.