Melina

The week since we’d learned of Lindsey’s death had been busy, but for the most part, it had been uneventful. The police still had no leads, and Trevor was still worried about me going into work alone. I’d convinced him that there was no way to get around it most nights. He didn’t like it at all, so we’d compromised, and Trevor was driving me to and from work. While he’d prefer to stay with me each night I worked, I’d convinced him that we shouldn’t leave Mr. Whiskers with a sitter too often. My poor familiar was already stressed due to the tension in the house. The network had hired extra security, and no one was supposed to be alone at the studio, including me.

At work, we were trying to film the remainder of the season, and we needed to write Lindsey’s character out. We’d also decided that we should have a special episode dedicated to our two actresses who’d been murdered. Had everything gone as planned, we would only have one more week of filming left for this season. Instead, we were left with at least two weeks, possibly three.

“Where the hell is Malik?” Claude demanded, pulling me from my thoughts.

I’d been wondering the same thing for the last hour as the crew set up to film tonight’s scenes. While Malik had many issues—more issues than I’d ever imagined one vampire could possess—he was the most reliable member of our cast, and he was almost always here when we were setting up. To the best of my knowledge, he’d never been late for a shoot, and he was the only actor who never complained about last minute rehearsals.

“Something must be wrong,” I muttered to myself. “Has anyone seen Charlie?” I figured if anyone would know where Malik was, it would be Charlie.

“I’ll radio him,” a crew member volunteered.

A few minutes later, Charlie walked into the room, looking tired and sad.

“Are you okay, Charlie?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied with a forced smile. “What did you need?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Malik is, would you?” I asked.

Charlie took a deep breath and let it out while running his fingers through his hair. “He didn’t come home last night. We argued, and I left, figuring we’d talk when he wasn’t so upset. You know how it is when Mal’s in a mood.” It was impossible to miss the fondness in his voice.

“Where did you see him last?” I asked, even more worried now that I knew Malik hadn’t gone home last night.

“In his dressing room,” Charlie replied. “I was repairing the lighting on one of the sets when he came by to visit me. After our argument, I told him I was heading home, and I’d see him when he was ready to talk.”

I nodded. “I’ll see if he left any clue as to where he could be. He’s not even answering his phone.”

“I’m worried about him,” Charlie admitted. “This isn’t like Mal. No matter how pissed he is at me, he’d never blow off filming.”

I agreed but said nothing as I headed toward Malik’s dressing room.

I knocked first. I’d made the mistake of walking into a vampire’s dressing room, assuming it was empty, once before, and I preferred to avoid making that mistake again. Vampires were arrogant and tended to believe everyone lusted after them. With their slender adolescent bodies, they didn’t do much for me, and I’d prefer to avoid seeing another one naked.

“Malik!” I called out, but got no reply. When I opened the door, a sense of dread washed over me, and I suddenly knew why Malik hadn’t come into work that day. There, in the middle of the floor, was a pile of ashes. Lying beside that pile was a wooden stake with the words you’re next bitch, painted on it.

With shaky hands, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I should call the police. That was definitely the first call I should make after finding out that another actor had been murdered. Instead, I called Trevor, because I needed him with me, and I was too upset to fight that need.

“Hey, honey,” he answered, sounding a little less stressed than he had earlier. “Do you miss me already?”

“Another actor’s been killed,” I said quietly.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“At the studio,” I replied.

“I know, honey. Where at the studio? Are you alone?” he pushed.

I nodded before remembering he couldn’t see me. “I’m alone. I just found him.”

“Okay, honey,” he began in a calm, soothing tone. “I need you to go where there are people, and have someone call the police. I’ll be there in an hour.”

I could already hear him moving at a slow jog, and I knew he was heading toward his car.

“Can you do that for me, honey?” he coaxed when I didn’t respond.

“Yeah, I can do that,” I assured him. “I’ll let you go.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Stay on the phone with me until you’re not alone. Then I’ll let you go so I can find someone to stay with Mr. Whiskers.”

“Okay,” I agreed, walking toward the set where they were waiting to start filming. “I’m near where they should be filming.”

“Good,” he began. “I’ll be there soon, honey.”

When Trevor ended the call, I looked over to find Charlie watching me from across the room, his face ashen. I guess my expression was telling. I struggled to pull myself together.

“Did you find him?” Claude shouted from the set.

“We need to call the police,” I said in a hollow voice. The guttural cry that came from the back of Charlie’s throat cut through the air, and he dropped to his knees. Cat was at his side first, wrapping her arms around Charlie as he sobbed.