Dark Desires

12. Combust

After Lucifers departure, things became boring real fast. Long after finishing his drink and stealing one of Lucifers most prized bottle of wine, Nikolai left the apartment at record speed. Leaving me to distract myself with tedious chores until exhaustion finally caught up to me.

It was about two a.m. that I was woken up from my sleep and greeted with the sight of Dana's tear ridden face, her damp cheeks illuminated by the occasional strikes of lightning cracking through the clouds outside.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked, sitting up from the crooked position I had positioned myself in while attempting to give Dana my undivided attention.

To say I was shocked to see her in such a state would be an understatement since for the past few days she's seemed rather chipper as far as I could tell. Yet here she was, eyes swollen from how many tears must've fallen from her eyes and hair damp from the sweat that still clung to her forehead.

"I-I had a nightmare." She stuttered, deep intakes of air coming after with each word she spoke.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" I questioned. Though my memories of my childhood were faint, having nightmares myself was something I remembered quite clearly. Now whereas mine were more so to blame on the fact that I had this terrible paranoia of sleeping alone in the dark, I had feeling Dana's reasons were much less childish than that.

"I had a dream about her. The woman who...killed all those girls."

Mosby

"This woman, do you remember what she looks like?" As much as I would rather have Dana not relive all those painful memories once more, I desperately needed some type of relevant information at this point since all we were running on was a couple of outdated documents and rumors that Lucifer had supposedly "heard". The woman had been in hiding for a month and it wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe that Mosby may have some way altered her appearance in the case of her own protection.

"What she looks like? Uh, she had somewhat blonde hair I guess. Rather long in length now that I think about it. Her eyes are a mix of gray and rage. Gray being the color but rage being the only emotion I saw in her eyes as she...Anyway, she, uh she looked to about twenty-five years old if that means anything-"

"What!" I blurted out, scaring Dana in the process as my voice echoed like a broken vinyl around the living room as a blast of thunder boomed through the sky overhead.

Yet even when silence had enveloped us once again, I found myself frustrated by all that I had heard. Dana's description of Melanie Mosby had been accurate to a T, accurate until she delved into her age and had me halting all brain function at the odd piece of information.

Melanie Mosby died at the age of sixty years old, that I was sure of. Meaning that the possibility of her being in her twenties was absolutely impossible. No technology or Botox for that matter could reverse the effects of aging to such an extent that one could easily confuse a sixty-year-old woman to that of a girl in her mid-twenties. Not even the possibility of her being bit by a vampire could make up a plausible excuse since vampire venom didn't reverse the aging spectrum. Once bit you were stuck in that existing form for the rest of eternity.

"And you're absolutely positive about what you saw?" I questioned, the calmness laced within my voice a far cry from what I was actually feeling inside.

Dana, seeming confused by my question, reached up and scratched at the crook of her neck. "Yes, I'm sure in what I saw and I what saw was some psychopath with a grin on her face as she mauled all those girls around me. Would you like me to draw a picture for you to make it any clearer?" She shrieked, hurling the thin blanket that had been wrapped around her onto the floor as she stood up from the couch. Her once steady breathing transitioned into fast paced gasps of air, fists clenched so tight to the point where I thought the whites of her knuckles would rip past her flesh at any moment.