IN HIS ROOM, with the door locked behind, he made his way into the bathroom. Taking his coat off, he stared into the mirror.
“It's been a long time since I've been accosted by them,” he said to himself. “I didn't know it would bring back such raw feelings of dread.” He braced his hands on the marble counter. “Fuck.” Turning on the faucet, he washed his stern face and ran a hand through his wild, black mane. “I must be somewhere I don't belong.” He coughed. “Then again maybe I should be here. I was sent a fucking welcoming committee.” He straightened and scanned the bathroom through the reflection in the mirror. Toilet, bathtub, closed shower curtain... shadow? Drake went tense. He didn't move for what seemed like minutes as he stared into the mirror at the shadowy image behind him. Cold dread crept up his legs and backside.
Shadows seemed to dance behind the white curtain yet there was no sound of movement. The shower curtain billowed out slightly making goose bumps run up his arms. Heavy breathing like that of a man needing oxygen invaded his ears. Drake rubbed his arms as his feet stood planted to the floor like heavy bricks. He felt like he was stuck in a bad nightmare. All he could do was watch, wait, and dare not move.
The lights flickered but stayed on.
He slowly reached for the door not taking his eyes from the bathing area. Suddenly, the shower curtain loomed at him. Turning to meet the attack, bony arms grabbed at his steel body from behind. Drake grunted and broke the grasp. He slammed his big fists into whatever attacked him as the lights went out, sending the bathroom into darkness.
The skinny arms embraced his rigid waist, clawing at him. He grabbed a handful of hair and twisted with machine strength.
A neck snapped.
The attack ceased as the body fell to the floor.
The bathroom door whipped open. A second attacker ran into the bedroom. Drake peered into the darkness of the other room, eyes narrowing, wishing the lamp on the nightstand was on.
Footsteps pitterpattered across carpet.
He couldn't make out anything as he scanned eerie blackness. Cocking his head, he listened for the front door, not daring to blindly lunge into another trap.
The lights flickered several more times, exposing the bedroom for seconds as if he were watching a horror movie unfold with the help of a strobe light.
Clenching fists, ready, the lights stayed on. Stepping from the bathroom into the bedroom, he surveyed the area. His cold eyes ran over furniture, the bed, walls, and the ceiling. He saw no one nor did he notice anything out of place. Looking down at the shower curtain, he recognized the body of the demon woman from CitySuper. Her head was facing her backside in permanent agony. Drake bent down, lifted the shower curtain, and searched her clothing. Retrieving a business card from her pant pocket, he stood. Reading the card, he grabbed his leather jacket and left.