100 Miles and Vampin'

by C. T. Phipps

  I stared at her. “I want more.”

  Apparently, I was.

  “More?” Ashura asked, raising a perfect eyebrow.

  “A salary,” I said, coughing. “Regularly, yearly, for what I do as bellidix.”

  Thoth rubbed his temples. “Oh, Peter.”

  “Done,” Ashura said. “You’ll be paid a living wage.”

  “Unliving,” I corrected. “Five figures. I want to be able to pay for my mom’s care until she’s dead and have a little more on the side.”

  Ashura smiled. “An unliving wage. Much greater. I’ll also see your mother’s healthcare is provided for.”

  Thoth’s expression was enigmatic.

  Great, at least I hadn’t sold my soul cheap. “One last question: what happens if she doesn’t want the house special but wants to order out?” I asked, looking between my bosses. “You know, says, ‘Hey, Peter, I’m going to this daycare center.’ What do I do then?”

  I knew what I would do, with or without their approval.

  “Stake her and put her on a rooftop for the morning sun,” Thoth said, not hesitating. “We agreed to provide for her, but there are some things beyond the pale. Unless you have an objection, my lady?”

  Ashura stared at him. “No. She will live by our rules while in Detroit even if we fete her like a queen. That means no killing anyone we don’t want her to kill.”

  That was harsher than she treated her own subjects. So, yay, I guess? Why did I feel like I hadn’t won much of a victory?

  Sam clapped her hands cheerfully. “Splendid! Then we’ve got it all worked out.”

  Sam was way too cheerful for a woman enslaved to a pair of older-than-dirt immortals. Favored slave or not. Whatever she was on, I wanted some.

  With that, a plane finally descended from the sky above our heads. It was a G4 private jet, worth about three million dollars, and it landed with perfect precision. It said something about the kind of circles I provided security for that I knew that was the kind of private jet for someone who was rich but not mega-rich.

  “Finally,” Ashura said. “I was about ready to go get my bodyguards to give me fellatio to pass the time.”

  “One final question,” I started to say, knowing she was completely serious. Old Ones didn’t have much sense of propriety.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ashura said. “What?”

  “If she is such a sacred cow, then why is the voivode of Texas sending her your way?” I asked. “Isn’t she still making him too much money?”

  “That is a very good question,” Thoth said. “One we’ve been debating for some time.”

  Great. I hated it when I was right.

  “There are many upcoming votes in Michigan,” Ashura said, frowning. “Votes designed to repeal the special status of New Detroit and the tribal laws that we’re allowed to operate under.”

  Vampire Special Zones operated a bit like Native American Reservations, except they actually had the authority to punch back at the government due to mind-control as well as billions of dollars. The Far Right hated the undead and wanted to see us all carted off to camps and experimented on. Maybe they had a point given all the murders, but plenty of us hadn’t chosen to be vampires and were doing the best we could to not kill people. It’s just I wasn’t one of them anymore.

  Damn, this was a bad night.

  “Rebecca Plum’s presence will cause many housewives and newly adult teenage girls to vote to continue the special rules vampire society exists under,” Thoth said. “Voivode Forsyth wants those repeals to fail as much as we do. It increases his power in the Vampire Nation to provide us a weapon against them. Even one as loathsome as her.”

  “For now,” Ashura said. “He was one of the ones who thinks a mass purge of our race would remove the deadwood. Remember, the Council of Ancients thinks she’s their golden goose and has ordered us to keep her in a manner befitting her station—which is apparently other than a Youngblood who eats like an animal.”

  “Oh great,” I said, realizing not only was I babysitting a serial killer, but it was a political shitstorm too. I knew the money was too good.

  “Whatever the case, let’s just get her taken care of so we can get her the hell out of my city and away from our people before she triggers a lynch mob,” Ashura said, walking up beside me alongside Thoth. “I’m willing to host her for a month but not a second longer.”

  “Wait, a month?” I asked, doing a double take. “I’m expected to look after her for a month?”

  “A short time’s work is very relative,” Thoth said. “Trust me, Peter, you alone can keep this from becoming a massacre.”

  “I—”

  “I’ll pay you a hundred thousand dollars,” Thoth said, doubling my fee again.

  I shut up.

  “Wow, this is fucked up.” David stood on the other side before leaning over and whispering, “I never in my wildest dreams believed the Detroit Vampires were the good guys, but I thought they had standards.”

  “You realize they can hear you, right?” I said, frowning.

  David blanched.

  Plum’s jet came to a stop a few dozen yards away before boarding stairs were wheeled up to its side. Two women stepped out and headed our way. Both were striking but in entirely different ways. The first woman was Rebecca Plum, recognizable from her back covers’ photos and a thousand nighttime television interviews, even if I wasn’t particularly fond of her work. Really, the movies improved on it a lot.

  “Do you think she’d give me an autograph?” David asked.

  “Hush!” I snapped.

  “I wouldn’t keep it,” David defended himself. “I’d sell it on the internet.”

  Rebecca Plum was a pleasantly plump woman with graying dark hair, lines on her face, and none of the supernatural beauty that some vampires possessed as a gift. Much like me, she possessed the same look she’d had in life: a thoroughly normal-looking middle-aged housewife who’d been transformed into a vampire recently.

  Rebecca made up for her average looks with an expensive-but-not-couture wardrobe that seemed designed to mock Ashura’s European designs. She wore big box department store black slacks, leather jacket, a blood red turtleneck, and expensive but mass-produced silver jewelry. A pair of two-hundred-dollar sunglasses were on her face while prominent ankh earrings were on display, each containing a tiny driblet of blood.

  Instead of moving with the gait of a supernatural serial killer, beings who tended to be filled with self-hatred and justifications, Rebecca Plum walked with the self-confidence of a woman on top of the world. I would have immediately doubted her danger if not for the fact I smelled blood under her recently-painted fingernails, and human brain matter was stuck behind her left ear.

  Jesus.

  Following behind Rebecca was a five-foot-four, white-haired woman of Asian descent wearing a long skirt and possessed of crimson-red eyes. She wore a knee-length white dress and blouse with a tiny sun amulet around her neck. The woman wasn’t beautiful, certainly not the way Ashura or Sam were, but she was striking. The woman carried two suitcases and had a carry-on bag in her mouth. That would have looked silly if not for the fact she had the jaw strength to pull it off. It didn’t take more than a glance to realize she was a shape-shifter, probably a Kitsune, and Rebecca’s assistant.

  Who’s the babe? I asked Thoth, telepathically. Some vampires had full-on psychic powers, the same way some vampires could do magic while others couldn’t. Almost all vampires, though, could communicate with their creations and servants. I was no exception.

  There’s a time and a place for everything, Peter.

  Yeah, well, I don’t want to think about the Parent-Teacher Conference Killer.

  Thoth paused. That’s Yukie Onna. It’s a joke in Japanese.

  A language I don’t speak, unlike you, Man of the World. Underworld. Damn, sorry, not very good at puns.

  It means ‘Snow Maiden’ and is a type of scary story, Thoth replied. Yukie is Mrs. Plum’s bodyguard and po
ssibly the most dangerous woman in the city after Ashura.

  And yet she’s treated like a valet? I asked.

  Mrs. Plum didn’t select Yukie as her servant. She was a gift from the Western Old Ones, who received her as a gift from the Yakuza.

  So she’s a slave.

  More like a contract killer. She’s a half-demonkin, half-werefox, and a trained spellblade. She’s killed numerous problems for the Council of Ancients after leaving the Yakuza’s service for the Vampire Nation.

  The Yakuza?

  A group of Japanese criminal secret societies dating back to the Warring States period.

  I know what the Yakuza is. I’m just curious what she’s doing here.

  Keeping us from doing something rash.

  Like stopping a serial killer? I asked.

  Yes, Thoth replied.

  Yeah, if you were looking for sympathy then Thoth wasn’t the guy to go to. He had something akin to five hundred million dollars in the bank and I mean cash, not investments, but wasn’t the sort of guy to share that with his creation since I needed to make my own way. Cheapskate.

  I heard that, Thoth said.

  Yeah, well, it’s the truth. Not that I have any right to complain. When do I get my hundred grand?

  Upon her exit from New Detroit, assuming you don’t end up killing her, as I half suspect you will.

  “Great,” I muttered.

  You’ll only get half if that happens, Thoth ended our telepathic conversation.

  Rebecca Plum removed her sunglasses and walked over to give Ashura a hug that looked like two sharks grappling. “Andrea, darling, it’s so good to return to your city. I do hope things don’t turn out like last time. Such a big fuss over something so little.”

  Andrea, huh. Referring to vampires by their original names was a big no-no in vampire circles. I’d say this woman had balls of steel, but the simple fact was, pressured by the Council of Ancients or not, you did not want to challenge a vampire on their home territory. It was like going into a cobra’s den.

  Ashura gave a forced smile. “Yes, I can definitely agree with the desire for it not to turn out like last time. How is your husband?”

  “Oh, Michael’s drooling in a corner somewhere where I told him to stay. I’ve told the bellidix of Dallas to keep him hydrated and change his diapers.”

  “Lovely,” Ashura said, keeping that pageant show look of withheld disgust on her face. “And the kids?”

  “Equally good,” Rebecca said. “In fact you could help with Michael Junior. He’s in college in Michigan now, pursuing a degree in vampire studies. However, he’s got an upcoming rape charge against him that is nothing but the police blowing it all out of proportion. Could you get that taken care of? He has a bright future that shouldn’t be derailed.”

  Ashura looked like she wanted to rip Rebecca’s head clean off. “I don’t think that falls under my purview.”

  Rebecca just shrugged it off. “Oh, don’t worry, I have friends among the Magistrates who are handling it now. I just wanted to make the offer, so you didn’t lose face with your superiors.”

  Ashura’s eyes twinkled like a cat’s and she turned to Thoth. “Honey, would you do me a favor and talk to Mrs. Plum? I have to be anywhere else on Earth. Come, Sam.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Sam said, following the voivode as she headed to her limousine.

  Ashura not being able to keep her cool in front of a hated enemy, especially one centuries younger, was a major social faux pas. It was something I had to say I had the tiniest bit of admiration for, though.

  Rebecca put her sunglasses away in her jacket pocket. “Ah, yes, I heard Andrea got married to someone. I think we met before. What’s your name again? Benson?”

  Oh hell no.

  Thoth just smiled. “You’ll forgive me if I skip past your feeble attempts to insult me. I was the one who forced Heidrich Himmler to take his cyanide capsule. I have precious little time to banter words with a writer.”

  Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “I see.”

  “That is David,” Thoth replied, gesturing. “King of the Zombies.”

  David waved. “My people greet you from the underground tunnels where we dwell.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I can see none of you are cultured enough to carry on a polite conversation like they can in the Western territories. Can we just get back to the hotel? I want to unpack, shower, and feast. I hope, at least, you’ve reserved the penthouse for me.”

  “You shall be treated like royalty while you are here,” Thoth replied. “The Apophis’ every service will be made available to you, but the staff and guests are untouchable.”

  “Then I want another hotel,” Rebecca said. “There are other vampires willing to accommodate my special needs.”

  Thoth stared. “Of course.”

  Rebecca smiled in triumph, unaware that she’d played into Thoth’s hands, even in just a little way.

  Thoth then gestured to me. “This is Peter Stone. You’ll be—”

  Rebecca gasped.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Huh?”

  Rebecca turned around and grabbed me by the hands. “The Peter Stone?”

  “I’m a ‘the’ now?” I said, blinking.

  Rebecca looked right up into my eyes. “Peter Stone. I’ve come across the entirety of the United States to make you famous.”

  I opened my mouth in sheer confusion then realized this was another setup by Thoth and Ashura. “Great!”

  Chapter Five

  It was almost two hours later before we resumed that conversation line. By then, we were in the middle of the Dusk Hotel and Casino penthouse, which was larger than the trailer park I lived in or damn near close. David left with my car, but Thoth had also sent him on a mission which meant I probably wouldn’t see him again until this was over. I was left alone with Yukie and Mrs. Plum, which was half-intolerable and quite pleasant.

  The penthouse had its own pool, pristine white walls, a jet-black marble floor, and a massive plasma screen television set resting over a crackling fireplace. Amusingly, the balcony beside the pool gave a look of the Apophis that showed the pyramid-shaped hotel to be grander than the Dusk would ever be.

  A pair of white-uniformed hotel personnel were zipping up a body bag. Inside was a Neo-Nazi with his throat torn out and both his eyes missing. I didn’t have much sympathy for the guy for obvious reasons but looking over at the well-fed Rebecca Plum, now sporting a white fuzzy robe and slippers, I couldn’t help but feel even more disgust.

  Even if she was a fan of mine.

  Rebecca finished licking the blood and viscera from her fingers. “So, do you understand what I’m offering you?”

  I looked uncomfortably over my shoulder to avoid her gaze. “Yeah, you want to write a book about me.”

  That had been the subject of most of the limousine conversation over here as well as the chatter both before and after she murdered a guy. A body I would, thankfully, not have to dispose of since the Dusk hotel had connections to the Russian mafia.

  “Not just a book,” Rebecca said, stretching out her hands. “A multi-media franchise. The book, obviously, but movies and specials. We’ll have your face on t-shirts and posters plus anything else we can slap it on.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said, wondering if I was trapped in a weird alternate reality. It was bad enough looking out for her when she was going to treat me like the help but now I felt like Eva Braun’s favorite person. “Why me?”

  Yukie Onna was even more uncomfortable-looking. I’d never seen someone more depressed and yet simultaneously intimidating at once. She catered to Rebecca’s every whim while also looking ready to pounce at any perceived threat. At one point, a concierge had reached into his jacket pocket only for Yukie to have him in a headlock before he’d pulled out his cell phone to get a selfie with Rebecca.

  Rebecca smiled, showing pink-stained fangs which only happened if you ate flesh with your blood. “Why not you? You’re a fascinating vampire inter
est story about a human who grew up on the street only to claw your way up to become a rich and powerful supernatural hitman of the highest order.”

  I blinked. “There’s like nine or ten things wrong with that story synopsis alone.”

  I’d grown up in a poor part of Detroit, true, but I hadn’t grown up on the streets. I’d grown up on a street but not the streets. Hell, I’d deliberately gone out of my way to avoid the streets and it was my biggest regret my brother had gotten himself killed on them. Maybe Detroit’s inner city was the streets to Ms. Middle-Class Serial Killer, but they hadn’t been the loving home my mama had raised me on. We hadn’t had much, but it was a far cry from the hell holes I’d known some of my friends to have come from.

  Rebecca didn’t pay attention to my rebuttal, though. “Truth be told, the public is sick of fictional vampires. They need true vampire tales to whet their appetite. Tales of men and women experiencing history as it happens.”

  “I’m pretty sure they have those now,” I said, wondering what she was getting at.

  “But with a supernatural twist!” Rebecca added as if it was something new.

  “So you want to do vampire biographies?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, chuckling. “All the lurid, steamy, sexual details of the who’s who among the undead.”

  Wow, she had really picked the wrong guy for this. I was probably the unsexiest vampire since Count Orlok. My number of girlfriends numbered on six fingers. Six wasn’t bad for a human, but it was pathetic when you were supposed to be a sexy undead seducer according to the undead brochure. Oh, and a good half of them were dangerous psychopaths. Literally. It had put a serious crimp in my love life. Me?”

  “I’ll spice it up of course,” Rebecca said, shrugging. “Maybe change a couple of pertinent details, but true vampire fiction has the potential to change the face of writing.”

  “Truman Capote did the same thing for crime,” Yukie pointed out. “Rebecca’s following in his footsteps.”

  I somehow doubted this woman was going to make the next Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was going to be a long month.

  “What do you think, Peter?” Rebecca asked.