Kerlak Enterprises - Reading Room

Tortured Skin by James C. Gillen

   The evening sun had already fallen below the horizon, but there was still a pastel glow of sunlight blanketing the city. A palette of pinks and baby blues painted the cloudless sky, giving way to the rapid pace of darkness only minutes away. The moon already glowed above like a huge spotlight.
   It was also that time of the evening when the neon begins to step out of the anonymous clutter of signs and lights up all things around it. Headlights glowed on the streets. On-lookers and sightseers began to stir, waiting for the macabre world of unimaginable gothic horror. Tourists and natives of the city alike crowded the sidewalks in groups, eyes taking in the circus of a world only found in their childhood nightmares.
   Still, it would be hours before the first vampires or cockroaches, as I call them, would be walking the streets. The humans were already here. Waiting for the sunlight to be swallowed whole, allowing the dark world to rise again. Thanks to the bleeding-heart liberals and politicians, the humans no longer feared the bloodsuckers, but embraced them, welcomed them, worshipped them. You see, our own government now endorses the vampires as historical artifacts, has put a lot of money into vampire awareness, and how they are simply misunderstood. I'm no longer allowed to stalk and kill them without a court order of execution from a judge or the Vampire Council. I'm only allowed to kill if the daisy-pusher rose as a monster instead of being born as one. This is our way of not being overrun by them and the cockroaches' way of keeping the race pure. And evil.
   I got the call from Detective Zeke Kansas. A young woman had been found dead in Bat Town, which is what we call the vampire district of Orlando. Kansas told me that she had the markings of a bloodsucker attack. He needed me to come down and confirm. Oh yeah, then there's the usual tag line of "Keep this quiet. We don't want the tourists to freak out." Sick bastards. We are actually protecting the murderers. Heaven forbid the city lose a tourist dollar due to such a trivial thing as murder.
   The dead woman had been found in a vacant lot on Jackson Street, just east of Bat Town. No pun intended, but this was the dark side of the vampire district. Most attacks on humans happened back here, where witnesses were few and those few had fangs. I swear I can smell the blood in the air, vile and sour. I know, I know, it is all in my head, but still...
   As I rounded the corner, I saw the usual set of cars parked along the street-police cruisers and Detective Kansas' Ford Explorer. Silhouettes gathered around a yellow-taped area. Two large lamps illuminated a white sheet on the ground, under which I assumed I would find our unfortunate soul.
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