Thursday night, the mountains washing away the sins of her sons. We were behind Vic’s, a little dive bar that was about to be under new management. “Goddamn, Thurston, will ya hurry it up? Someone’s gonna be missing Big Vic soon enough.”
“I..I can’t help it, Sam, we’ve been on a dry spell. Thought I’d take a little extra for the road.” Thurston finally let Big Vic’s body drop, and we took off, his face looking like a child running with a juice box. Back to the office, it was a little place right above the coffee shop on College. Our view of the city slightly obstructed by that BB&T building, but the rent is cheap, and the coffee smells amazing every morning.
Watching him head towards my favorite crush velvet blackout curtains, I handed Thurston a hankey, “wipe your face, the next time, I’m getting you a bib.”
Thurston washed up, then pulls down his Murphy bed. There’s many things I would accuse him of, but having taste wasn’t one of them. Damn youngin’ vampires, they think they know the world. Meanwhile, I took my rest. I might be a day walker, but I’ll never be a morning person.
I lied awake during that first opening rush, listening to happy chatter downstairs. Commuters heading to work, lovers sneaking in that last kiss. The baristas are friendly, and always full of good information when the time strikes. The smell of that glorious coffee. I like blood as much as the next vampire, but coffee is a weakness. Ever since I had my first cup in Turkey all those years ago, nothing beats a good dark roasted cup.
Four in the afternoon, the sun was about ready to clock out for the day. That means it’s time for the saints to go to work. A quick rinse and then the coffee and a paper. Don’t know why I get one, force of habit, I guess. “Sin Eaters Strike Again” the headlines screamed. Heh. Sin Eaters. I have to admit, the nickname is starting to grow on me. Here I was thinking I was clever with S&T Detective Agency. I gotta give it to that crazy crime reporter though, she and the baristas are the only two that know our secret.
You can keep the fancy coffees; iced this, mocha that. No sir, I’ll take it black with 2 sugars every time. There’s only a handful of customers, perfect time to strike up a conversation with Tina. Those hazel eyes, a place I get lost in for ages, along with that fire red hair. She was quite the beauty. “Any news of the day, T?”
“Nope, Sam, everyone’s looking happy today. It must be payday, the tip jar is looking full.” We both shared a laugh, so bubbly and welcoming.
A head popped up in the corner, “hey Sam, when are you going to get Thurston to behave?”
I sighed, knowing that mousy hair anywhere. It was Roxie Malone, the biggest loudmouth in Asheville. She’s the one who coined the “Sin Eaters,” making us sound like the ultimate do-gooders in North Carolina. But hell, you can’t blame the gal, she’s famous through the state, even gets published in the Charlotte Observer. She’s also the only podcaster that hangs around vampires.
“Alright, run to your girlfriend,” T laughed, “I’m sure she’s got the scoop of the century for you.”
I shook my head, and sat at that corner table, “T, did you guys finally get the leg fixed?” Tina and Roxie shared a laugh.
“Alright, Sam. Got an e-mail for you.” Roxie was always business, I guess that’s where my begrudging respect comes from, the gal can work an angle.
“And hello to you too, Rox, which lover is this one from?”
“Listener, Sam. She loves the tales of the Sin Eaters. But she sounds like she needs your help.” Roxie handed me the print out of the e-mail. I could already feel the fear as the printer paper hits my hand, something cheap printer ink can’t cover.
Roxie,
When you run into them again, please. My uncle, he’s gone missing. I’m not a crank or a hoax, I’m scared. I want to say his wife is involved somehow, she comes from a long line of moonshiners up in the mountains. Last we saw them, she was going to visit her pa. That was three weeks ago. Neither one of them have turned up since.
Beatrix.
“Beatrix? Sounds like an expensive name for someone caught up in hillbilly drama.” I finished the last drops of my coffee, “tell her we’re not cheap.”
“If you boys take it, mind letting me hitch a ride?” I knew that was coming, Roxie was always a sucker for a good story.
I sighed, “alright, but if you put your nose where it doesn’t belong, it’s getting cut off.” We exchanged smiles, and I headed back to the office.
Something made me hold on to that e-mail. The mountains means lack of cover. At least in the city, we can blend in, but the mountains means long stretches of being the only vampires out there and territorial disputes beyond our control.
By the time I climbed the rickety stairs in the back, Thurston was finally awake. “Good to see you up and dressed, we got a case. You better pack warm, we’re headed in to shiner country.”
What little color from his face drained.
“Wait, shiner country? Hillbillies? Don’t tell me you forgot what happened the last time we worked a shiner case.”
He’s right, the last time we did that, we ended up buried in a coal mine in West Virginia. Don’t get me wrong, I was thankful for the nap, but it was two solid weeks of trying to get out of a mountain. But, a job is a job. Roxie met us around closing time at the coffee shop. I said my goodbyes to Tina, and climbed into the car. “Hey, T, if I end up with a stake in my chest, keep this.” I handed her an old coin, something kept in my family for centuries.
