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Chapter 11

Holy Stolen/Meetings of Ends

Warm rain poured down in the night in Juarez Mexico. Father Rahm stood drenched and dripping in front of the greatest of all villains. His skin was moist and his breath was short but strong. Lightning flashes illuminated The Count and the shadows of the two intertwined on the floor the same way vines wrap around fences in the fall.
Count Dracula pulled from the inside pocket of his coat a handkerchief. He inched close to Father Rahm and began to pat his face gently. Father Rahm stood still looking at Dracula as the flashing bolts gave him quick glimpses of his being. There was no need for introduction. But as proper as the meeting between good and evil beings is, one was had.
“Count Dracula, I presume?” Father Rahm spoke with a hesitation and a kindness in his tone.
“You are correct Father.”
Thunder crashed and crackled as Dracula spoke. In the air was Satan’s evil. In the air, that night was also God’s will.
“My name is Father Rahm.” said the priest.
Wind whistled as the thunder and lightning continued. The temperature became cold and frost could be seen in the breath behind the words being spoken by the two.
Dracula pushed his handkerchief back into his pocket and looked the priest over.
Father Rahm stood still looking at Dracula with fear portrayed as confidence. In his right hand he held a bible. Around his neck a rosary dangled.
Count Dracula slid his fingers below the cross and pulled it towards his eyes. He looked at it and then moved his eyes up to Father Rahm’s.
“It has been an eternity Father, since I have confessed. Tonight seems the perfect night to maybe have a talk, if you will. My soul, like all souls, needs prayer. Won’t you help me?”
Father Rahm thought for a moment. He paused and nodded a horizontal motion signifying that he would not.
“Why Father, will you not pray for me? It has been a long and difficult life and I’m asking you now for your help. Please father… help this, my old beaten soul, find rest, so that I might find peace and Mina in one place.”
Father Rahm took a deep breath again. He looked into the eyes of evil. He saw swirls of hatred and anger in disillusion asking for help.
Father Rahm took his fingers to his cross and pointed the cross at The Count. Lightning struck again and thunder bellowed from deep within the sky.
“The power of Christ compels you!” he yelled.
Dracula took a step back and covered his face.
“Turn back Satan, go back from where you came!”
Dracula pulled his hands down and revealed a smile. Then he began to chuckle a maniacal chuckle.
“Father… please! This is not a comic book. As I am feeling passionate and compassionate, please take this seriously, I need you to pray for me now.”
Father Rahm reached out his hand to Dracula. His leathery callus covered hand.
“Come then into he who’s whose house you wish to speak to. I will hear your confession and pray with you. Then Count… then I will pray for you.”
Count Dracula reached out his hand and placed it inside of Father Rahm’s hand.
Jamie, the waitress at The Pink Lady looked at the scene from below a table in the shadows. She did not make a sound. She watched as Father Rahm led Dracula across the  street  into  the church. They held hands as they exited and did not cover themselves against the storms elements. It was a perfect storm on a perfect night that had nothing normal about it.
Father Rahm and Count Dracula walked into the night storm hand in hand. The people looting in the streets stopped as they saw the pair walking together. Not only in Mexico did all crime stop momentarily, but all over the world there was a moment of calm.
Even the storm that caused their chance meeting came to a halt. The moon appeared full over the two and illuminated their way to the house of God.

*****

As the moonlight beamed down to pave the way for Father Rahm and Count Dracula, it also was seen off in the outskirts of the city.
The Woman, who had Gregorio on her mind looked up. The color of the moon was red like the lipstick she wore. Like the blood from the fangs of her vampire crew and like the blood that Mina once shed on her own account for the loss of her Count.
When she saw the moon, it set her into motion. She began directly towards it. She was drawn in by its power, like a moth to a flame. Over and over again she whispered his name and her rage overtook her emotions.
As she looked to the moon and walked, she could see the things that Mina could see. She could also hear and see the things that were unfolding for The Count.

*****

Mitch sat in an old brown recliner in the middle of his apartment staring at an unplugged television set. A half empty bottle of whiskey sat on a TV tray to his right. Mitch had not showered, shaven, or even attempt to leave his apartment for three days now. It was late and he could hear his upstairs neighbors laughing loudly. Mitch fumed, how could they be so nonchalant about everything he thought to himself. He took an Ambien out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth, and washed it down with a big gulp of whiskey. He threw the bottle against the wall but it did not shatter, this enraged him even further. Mitch hadn’t had a comfortable night of sleep ever since he moved into his new apartment on Triviz. His dreams haunted him nightly, and the only people who could help him were his obnoxious upstairs neighbors. Every time Mitch went to them for answers, he was dismissed, ignored, or laughed at.
He constantly heard voices in the apartment, especially the bedroom. Mitch no longer slept there due to the constant sound of a guitar strumming. He yelled out in anger. The room began to spin and Mitch felt groggy so he sat back down in his recliner and passed out. In his mind he dreamed….
The earth has been scorched and for miles all Mitch can see are dead bodies piled up making a path in the desert. He begins to trudge through the thick ash that covers the ground. It is night but the sky was red, and the temperature would suggest otherwise. It was the kind of hot that you can see, it creates a sort of mist. As he walks he looks around at all of the stacked bodies, some human, but most of them wounded angels. There had been a great battle. Swords and arrows littered the landscape. Mitch clutched the cross he wore around his neck as he came to a clearing and saw an old Victorian mansion in the distance. In a blink he was standing in front of a purple metal door with a bronze uneven cross for a door knocker. He reached up to knock on the door, but it opened before he got the opportunity. He walked down a long blue corridor and noticed a portrait of a beautiful dark-haired woman with a slender face. It is painted in black ink with a white background, but her lips are colored in red. Mitch stood mesmerized by the painting unable to move. The room began to spin and turn red but Mitch remained still. Now he was standing in the middle of a huge ring of fire. In the center is a pale-faced man with a monocle in his eye. He is wearing a red suit with matching shoes and a red top hat. The man is sitting on a huge black throne with his legs crossed. Beneath is feet lay the body of Satan, and to his right the head of Dracula was on a wooden stake.
Mitch stood in front of the man and trembled with fear, he watched as the man snapped his fingers. Two demons carried in Mitch’s parents both tied at the hands and feet huge upright wooden stakes. Their mouths were sewn shut and they were both badly burned and beaten. A swarm of vampires began to tear at their flesh. Mitch reached out to them but fell to the floor unable to move. The man snapped his fingers again and the vampires dispersed. Mitch’s parents writhed in agony blood pouring from their shredded bodies. He was screaming and tears gushed out of his eyes. The man in the top hat smiled at Mitch and took a cigarette from his coat pocket, put it in his mouth and light it, take a puff, and tossed it on Mitch’s parents.
Mitch could only watch in agony as his parents burned and turned to ash. The man laughed. Mitch ran over to the ashes, stuck his hand in them and sobbed.
The man spoke
“You could have prevented all of this Mitch. You’re the key to stopping this war you know. All you had to do was go to the Pink Lady and none of this would have happened.”
Mitch suddenly awoke. He ran to his bathroom and began to vomit in the sink. He looked in the mirror and began to sob. He stumbled back into his living room, fell to his knees and cried like a baby. He grew angry. So he put on his shoes, put on a black Pink Floyd shirt, grabbed his keys and stormed outside.
It was about ten o’clock at night one of those picture perfect Las Cruces nights. Mitch could hear Darius and Gregg upstairs laughing, and going back and forth it enraged him. He ran up the stairs and made that right turn to apartment 46. He banged on the door loudly. He burst in as he heard Darius yell
“Entra!”
They were sitting on the floor playing a game of Star Wars Battlefront Two and smoking a blunt. Darius turned and pointed to the bag of marijuana on the table nestled on top of the wooden cross ashtray. Mitch stood there and began to the stare at the object on the table unable to move or speak. Gregg turned around to hand Mitch the blunt
“Dude are you ok? You look like shit.”
Darius still looking at the screen said
“And you smell like shit too. Maybe you should go home and take a shower or something. Oh shit G they are in our fucking base again.”
Gregg handed Mitch the blunt said
“501st”
Sat back down and picked up his controller.
Mitch continued staring at the cross. He picked it up , put in his pocket then walked out of the door.
Neither Gregg or Darius turned around as they continued their assault on Naboo.

******

It had been about an hour since Mitch left apartment 46. Gregg and Darius were still sitting on the floor finishing up their game. They congratulated each other as if they were returning from an actual war. The bumped fists and in unison said
“501st baby”
They both got up Gregg grabbed a pack of Pall Mall cigarettes off of the table and went outside to have a smoke. Darius walked over to the couch facing the television, sat down and grabbed the bag of weed and opened it up. He pulled out a couple nuggets of the bright green buds and began to break them up on the table. Darius stood up and walked to the kitchen, opened the drawer next to the sink and pulled out a pack of cigarillos. He removed one from the packaging, split it open with the nail on his pinky finger, and emptied the tobacco into a trash can.
Gregg walked back into the apartment and sat down on the couch that sat against the wall below the black and white poster of John Travolta, and Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction pointing their guns. He was worried about Mitch.
Darius returned to his seat and began to roll up the weed into the freshly emptied cigar.
Gregg watched silently momentarily before asking
“Do you think Mitch is alright?”
Darius dried the freshly rolled blunt carefully using the heat from his lighter, put it in his mouth, lit it up and exhaled a huge cloud of smoke. He coughed a little and said
“Hell no he’s not alright he needs to take a medical shower”
Darius laughed and passed the blunt to Gregg who replied
“No seriously. He didn’t look okay and he definitely didn’t smell okay. I haven’t really seen him around lately. You know what I’m gonna go check on him.”
He handed Darius the blunt
“You wanna roll?”
Darius grabbed the blunt and answered
“I’m good I’ll just be right here, and if he’s dead don’t sweat it we’ll pop some shades on him like Weekend At Bernie’s!”
They both had a good laugh, Gregg got up walked out of the door, and downstairs to Mitch’s apartment. He reached apartment 23 and knocked on the door, there was no answer. He knocked on the window and yelled Mitch’s name, still no response. He turned the doorknob, it was unlocked so Gregg opened the door and walked in. The apartment was dark so he flipped the light switch. Mitch’s place smelled of liquor, and body odor. Empty whiskey bottles and old pizza boxes littered the floor. Gregg called out
“Mitch you dead in here?”
No answer. Gregg searched the apartment and Mitch was nowhere to be found. He walked upstairs back to apartment 46 and saw Darius on the front porch looking out into the night sky. Darius asked
“So was he dead in there?”
Gregg shook his head no.
“Well that simple motherfucker stole our ashtray! What exactly does he think he’s doing? We should have never told him that fucking story.”
Gregg nodded then walked into the apartment, grabbed his car keys and Pall Mall cigarettes off of the black coffee table and returned to the front porch and said
“Let’s roll.”
They went downstairs and hopped in Gregg’s black 2001 Hyundai Tiburon. Driving through the streets of Las Cruces with no particular destination in mind. The city was quiet as it often was. The night sky was clear but the moon glowed blood-red. Darius and Gregg sat silently listening to the radio as they searched for Mitch. The old Johnny and Santo song Sleepwalk played on the radio as Darius began rolling a blunt on an old magazine in the passenger side and finally broke the silence.
“Where do you think he went?”
Gregg grabbed a cigarette from his pack and lit it.
“Honestly I don’t know man, Mitch is in a really bad place and we have to find him before something bad happens.”
Darius finished rolling the blunt and began drying it with his blue lighter then said
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?”
Gregg nodded his head and continued to drive, the song ended and a woman’s voice came on the radio. She had a husky voice and a thick Spanish accent
“That was Sleepwalk by the great Johnny and Santo. If you are driving around looking for a good time why don’t you boys go to The Pink Lady. Where the drinks are cheap and the ladies are even cheaper. Now here’s a little bit of Santana, how about a little Black Magic Woman to ease your soul”
Gregg and Darius looked at each other and smiled. Darius asked “ Was that a commercial for The Pink Lady? I gotta stop smoking this shit because I could have sworn that was Kathy.”
Gregg’s face was beaming and with a huge smile said “It was Kathy and it looks like we are going to The Pink Lady. Also great song choice Kathy.”
He turned the car around and got on I-10 heading east to El Paso. Darius lit the blunt and said
“Kathy always did have excellent taste in music.”
As they made their way down the interstate into the Lone Star state there was a huge sandstorm. Clouds of sand swirled making their way to the sky and settling into a huge shape just below the red moon. Gregg pointed up at the sky and said
“Look it’s Kathy.”
The voice came back on through the radio
“ Boys you are getting close. The Devil is going to try to stop you, but remember he is a lie. It’s gonna be a hot night at the lady so be careful. Gregg watch out for those loose women and Darius don’t drink too much and act like an ass. Now here is a little riding music as you make your way to the bridge. I love you boys and I’m here if you need me. Now here’s War with Low Rider.”
They arrived in El Paso and made their way to the point of entry bridge. Gregg parked the car and they got out and started to walk across the bridge. They paid the fee at the toll station and strolled into Mexico. The bridge was unusually quiet there were no beggars, kids selling gum, old ladies selling elotes, or cigarettes. Darius and Gregg finally crossed the bridge into the main plaza in Juarez, and there were hardly any people in the street. They walked down the street past the bars and the gambling houses and made a right turn towards the Pink Lady. Everyone on the street stood still and watched as the two made their way down the road.
Gregg and Darius were now in front of the Pink Lady. They noticed a slender woman in a black Victorian style dress. She had long black hair and dark brown sad-looking eyes her creamy skin glowed in the moonlight. She was standing on the corner of the street looking around as if she were searching for someone. Gregg turned his attention to the club as Darius stood there mesmerized looking at this woman. He told Gregg
“I’ll catch up with you in a second. I know we are on a mission and shit, but I gots to get me some of that!”
Gregg replied
“Do your thing”
And made his way into the club.
Darius approached the woman and said
“Hey baby were you looking for me”
She smiled at him and continued to look around.
“I’m Darius, your date for the evening how about we go in here and have a drink. But first what’s your name love?”
She put her hand on his face and gently stroked his cheek and said
“I’m Mina. You are so funny, I love your confidence, you kind of remind me of an old boyfriend.”
Darius looked at her and laughed
“ Well alright. That’s a new one, but you are so fine I’m willing to overlook it.”
Darius extended his arm
“Walk with me baby.”
She grabbed his arm and they started walking and ended up on the side of the building. They stopped Mina looked into Darius’s eyes and said
“Have you seen my love? Is he here? Oh what I wouldn’t do to feel his touch one last time.
Darius looked confused
“So you don’t want to smoke this blunt?”
She looked up into the sky at the red moon
“ I’ve walked the earth for many moons searching for him. We will be together again. Remember the first time we met? It was a night just like tonight warm and balmy. We kissed under a black locust tree. Your eyes glowed in the moonlight.”
Darius just kind of stared at her for a second.
“Well that’s cool love. I’m gonna go inside and grab a drink. You can come if you want to.”
He turned around and walked towards a red door. He knocked three times on the door and a large Hispanic man in a tuxedo opened it. Darius said
“Are you coming?”
He turned around and Mina was gone, Darius handed the guy in the tuxedo a twenty-dollar bill, took a puff of his blunt and said
“I gotta stop smoking this shit!”
And walked into the club.

*****

As Gregg walked into the Pink Lady, he could smell alcohol in the air. The boards of the wooden floors stuck to his shoes and squeaked as he moved slowly through the bouncer at the entrance door. He nodded at three girls standing in a triangle formation. They all had the famous Pink Lady cocktails that glowed under the black lights of the club. There were only a few people in the club at this point of the evening. The speakers that were mounted on the corners of the building structure were still on q medium to low volume and all the music played was in Spanish. Piensa en Mì played. Natalia Lafoucade sang her heart away on the mellow track.
Gregg stopped in what looked and felt like dried blood beneath his feet. He reached into his pocket in his blue denim jeans and pulled a black lighter and a red pack of Pall Mall cigarettes. He pulled on cigarette out and lit his fire as he pulled in breath through the filter of his vice. He exhaled a cloud of smoke and saw the piano that he sat in so long ago when he met The Woman who played the instrument so elegantly. He looked closely at the stool and it brought back memories of the night he met her and remembered how he had wanted so badly to get out of that place the last time he and Darius were there. He took a seat and began to fondle the keys without actually pressing down enough for them to make a sound. A couple of younger guys mocked him in a language he could not understand but he did not care. Gregg rarely cared for what anyone ever thought.
Gregg fingered the melody in his head. He only used three fingers to do so. That was in fact his favorite number. He always kind of saw that as a balance in life. One for good, two for bad and three for whatever the chosen may be.
The waitress Jamie saw Gregg sitting alone by the piano. He looked familiar to her. He looked like someone she knew and loved a long time ago and something about his silver hair and sun-browned skin stood out. She approached him.
“Hi.” she said.
Gregg stood up swiftly and stood with a confident posture. He was several inches taller than her. He looked down into her eyes as she looked up. Her nose stood out with brilliance. Her eyes had a lull where a sparkle had once seen fire and he knew…
“Hello love.” Gregg replied.
The two stood breathless and in a room that was filling with party people and freaks. Vampires, gangsters and innocent people walked in the doors alike. For the moment that stood still though, Jamie and Gregg stood alone in the Pink Lady.

(To be continued)