The Blood Moon

Timeline

I don't remember much from the tunnels — not in the same way I couldn't remember the night of the Blood Moon, but just as dark and unfortunate.

The tunnels formed an intricate web beneath the sunny surface of Whisper Valley. Large passages marked the main streets of town, while smaller, roughly hewn tunnels led to the homes of vampires that could afford the access.

Or so I was told.

With it being almost exclusively used by the town's vampires, light was a waste of energy. A few flickering bulbs lined the main passages, but other than that, no light sources offered my human eyes guidance. Despite my instinctual desire to draw away from the man who had so recently imparted an impassioned kiss upon my lips, I accepted Everett's arm so that my sore ankle could move forward with a small shred of confidence.

Our steps echoed off the stone walls, their resonance damp with the heavy air of the enclosed chamber. With oxygen light in the engulfing darkness that was tinged with the scent of mud and clay, my beleaguered brain conjured up a vision of myself buried alive and my throat coughed away the imaginary dirt that my mind had lodged there. When we finally climbed up the stairs to the police station, I found myself gasping for air while my body threw myself towards the light despite the pain coursing through it.

"Watch your step," offered Kyra in her typical, nonchalant way. "We'll be heading to the back room."

Everett continued to offer his arm as I stepped through the door to the tunnel and into the harsh white light of the station. I blinked away the assault on my tired eyes and allowed the werewolf to guide me to the interrogation room.

Once I regained myself, I pulled my hand from his and took a seat in the stiff metal chair that sat at a cold metal table and before a dry erase board that had grown grey with overuse.

"Now what?" I asked, my voice as low as my head. "Do I just wait here until I'm either found guilty or innocent?"

"Yes," answered Kyra as she stepped over to a nearby cabinet and removed a couple dry erase markers, which she then handed to Everett. "However, your help would speed the process along."

"What help can I give?"

"We're going to walk through this step-by-step and build the timeline." Kyra strode over to where I sat and stood by my side with a rigid back and hands clasped behind her back. Before us, Everett took a black marker and drew a line with two points at each end — one denoting when I left work and the other representing when they arrived at Antonov's house. "Perhaps you'll remember as we progress, or perhaps not. Either way, we'll find the truth."

"And what do you think the truth is?" I asked, looking up at her from the side of my eye.

She didn't respond to my inquiry immediately, but as she watched Everett make notations along the timeline, she eventually cocked her head to the side and answered with a cool smoothness to her voice that hinted to and underlying curiosity in her words. "I don't speculate so I won't make claims as to what the truth is. However, I do read the facts for what they are and the facts point out that you could be the murderer, and given the information we currently have available the likelihood of your guilt being proven is infinitesimal."

"Wait," I said, after letting her words sink in, "does that mean you think I'm innocent?"

"She does,"answered Everett as he stepped away to appraise the board, "and so do I, but the fact remains that you could have committed the crime and we need to establish beyond doubt that you had nothing to do with it. Right now it looks like a sloppy attempt to frame you."

"R-really?" I asked, leaning forward and plant my sweaty palms upon the slick surface of the table. "You think someone is framing me? Why? How?"

"That's what we'd like to figure out," said Kyra, her finger rubbing the bottom of her lip. "Something doesn't add up here and the hole in your memory likely adds the missing piece to this puzzle."