by Mac Flynn
I stopped and turned to him. "Go where?"
"To the farmhouse where the family was murdered, of course," he told me.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "More like off course. I'm going to work, and you're going to stay here and keep that box safe. If I have to carry it around then you have to carry it around."
"And it will be carried around. By both of us," he insisted.
"I work tonight, and if I'm late one more time Ralph might actually get the idea that firing me is an option," I argued. "Besides, how would I help? The police have probably been over that with a fine-toothed comb sharper than your fangs. You might find some stale blood or a hangnail from some crazed murderer, but I'll probably just find a hole and break my ankle."
"You have more use than you know," he persisted.
"I do have a use, and that's at the diner tonight," I retorted. I swiped one of my outfits from the pile and marched to my room. I turned in the doorway and glared at him. "And don't pull any more of that hypnotizing crap on me. I let you get away with it twice, but not three times."
I slammed the door before he could prove me wrong. There was just enough time for me to slip on my uniform and grab a bite to eat at the diner before I went on my shift. I flung open my bedroom door and looked around. The apartment was empty. The box was gone, and so was the vampire. The one thing that reminded me of my trouble was the coffin.
"He'd better not get himself into trouble. . ." I muttered as I grabbed my keys and stomped to my car.
I slid into my car seat and frowned. What did I care if he got himself into trouble? I promised to take care of his box during the day, and my first day was pretty uneventful. If he wanted to get himself permanently killed during the night then that was his problem.
"I have more use than I know. . ." I repeated. I shook my head and started the car. "Yeah, right."
I drove to the diner and was actually ten minutes early. There were only a half dozen trucks out front, and I found Ralph half-asleep in his chair in the kitchen.
I waited until I was right beside him before I spoke in a clear, loud voice. "Rowdy night, huh?"
Ralph's eyes flew open and he started forward. "Wha? Huh? What's wanted?"
"A hamburger that still moos with fries that crackle, and make it snappy. I go on my shift in ten minutes," I told him.
Ralph glared at me, but rose from his chair like a well-oiled rust-bucket with a few nuts loose. "'Bout time ya got here. We've hardly been able to keep up."
A jingle sounded over the door. I glanced past him and through the double swinging doors. One of the six truckers had left. "Yeah, as lively as a tomb."
"What would ya know about tombs?" Ralph scoffed. "Ya kids don't know nothing about death."
"More than I care to. . ." I murmured.
Ralph paused and whipped his head back to me. "What was that?"
"More ketchup on mine than usual," I told him.
Ralph turned away from me grumbling something about kids, ketchup, and the fall of civilization. I tightened my apron and decided to go out there and help Candy.
"You're early," she commented when I slipped behind the counter.
"I had a good rest. Any trouble today?" I asked her.
Candy shook her head. "Nope. Ned didn't come by today."
"Speaking of Ned, you heard anything else about that family that got killed?" I wondered.
She shuddered. "No, and I don't want to. It's awful how it could be somebody going around pretending to be a vampire and killing people."
Pretending. How I wished I could believe that. I got to helping her and in a few minutes we had the rest of the guys taken care of and out of the diner. Ralph rang the bell on the open window behind the counter, and I turned to grab my dish. What I got was an empty plate and even emptier eyes from my boss.
I frowned. "Ralph, you okay?" I asked him.
"Ya can both leave now," he told us.
Candy came up to me and looked between us. "You mean I can leave and Misty needs to stay, don't you, Ralph?"
Ralph shook his head. "No. Ya can both leave."
"But why?" I asked him.
"A bad storm is coming," he replied.
"I didn't hear anything about that," Candy commented.
"Well, it's coming, so you girls better git," he ordered us.
Candy turned to me and shrugged. "I guess we'd better close up."
Ralph pointed at the back door. "Ah'll do it, you girls just get on home."
"You're the boss," Candy agreed.
"Yer damn right, so git on out of here," he insisted.
Ralph all but tossed us out the back door and slammed it behind us. I heard him throw the lock on the door, and the lights were quickly dimmed or shut off. Candy pulled off her apron and jerked her head towards the door. "What do you think that was about?"
I frowned and narrowed my eyes at the door. "I'd say he had a change of heart, but he'd need one to do that."
Candy sighed and tossed her apron over one shoulder. "Well, my shift was over, anyway. See you tomorrow." We exchanged waves and she drove off.
I frowned and glanced up at the sky. The stars twinkled back at me. We were known for having some quick storms, but there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Nothing but stars and that human-shape that was hunched on top of the diner.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at the red eyes. "I told you no hypnotizing people," I shouted at the dark shape.
The person jumped off the roof and landed neatly a yard from me. They stood and I wasn't a bit surprised to see Roland.
"You said I couldn't hypnotize you. You said nothing about your employer," he pointed out.
I rolled my eyes. "Don't you think that's splitting hairs? And on a mostly-bald old guy, too."
"It was necessary to gain your assistance," he insisted.
"If you needed help finding the farmhouse it's called GPS," I quipped. "Besides, if you want me to take you then it's going to be by car, not your taxi service. I don't have enough air experience to be your co-pilot."
"It would be less conspicuous if we flew," he argued.
"Not if someone saw us and realized you weren't a bird, plane, or Superman," I countered. "They'd dial the cops faster than a coed for pizza, especially with how jumpy everybody's getting with these vampire stories."
He pressed his lips together, but nodded. "I see your point. We will drive to the farmhouse."
I raised an eyebrow. "Who says I'm going? I just got off work and I'm not due to babysit the box for another few hours."
That evil half-grin slid onto his face. "Because you're just as curious about the deaths as I am."
I looked away from him and frowned. "Maybe I am curious. Just a little."
"Then shall we be off?" he suggested
I sighed and dropped my arms to my sides. "All right, but the first sign of another bloodsucker and I'm going to make myself fast food. If they want my blood they'll have to catch me first."
He bowed his head. "Agreed."
CHAPTER 5
"I'm out in the middle of nowhere with a vampire beside me, his soul in his lap, and we're going to go check out a couple of suspicious deaths. Nothing wrong with that at all. . ." I muttered to myself as my car bumped along the country road.
We were out on a country road about twenty miles from the diner and thirty from my comfortable, safe apartment. There were tall corn fields on either side of the road that stretched into the night like a professional basketball team paid to be scarecrows. Those would be very expensive scarecrows. A few farmhouses sat inside the future popcorn fields. We passed the last one five miles back, and judging by the darkness ahead of us the next house would be the one we needed.
"So what do you think killed those people?" I asked my quiet companion.
"A vampire," he surmised.
"Anyone you know?"
"Perhaps."
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"I will better answer that question when we insp
ect the home," he replied.
"You vampires leave calling cards or something?" I wondered.
"Perhaps I will find something the police missed. If that fails then we will go to the morgue and investigate the bodies," he told me.
"What will that tell us?" I asked him.
"Each vampire's fangs are slightly different and leave a unique bite that identifies them," he revealed.
"So like fingerprints, but sharp and pointy?" I guessed.
"Yes. I've memorized quite a few over my-well, my long life, and I might be able to recognize the vampire who killed the family," he told me.
"And then what?"
He turned away to look out his window. I noticed the grip on his soul box got stronger. "Then we will duel until one of us is destroyed."
"So that's it? No day in vampire court?" I wondered.
He shook his head. "No. A vampire who breaks our codes must be harshly dealt with."
"I'd hate to be caught cheating at cards. . ." I murmured. "So are these codes written or unwritten?"
"Written. Each new vampire is given a copy upon leaving their sire, and they swear an oath to obey the codes," he explained.
I snorted. "I didn't know being a vampire was so bureaucratic. Is there a form to fill out to become a vampire?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No. The process is a matter of a vampire choosing their companion and turning them."
"Willingly or kicking and screaming down to the last drop?" I asked him.
"A willing companion is much easier to deal with, but there have been times. . ." His voice faded off. I chanced a glance at him and noticed he was looking down at his box.
"You went kicking and screaming, didn't you?" I guessed.
A bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "Very, but I was no match for the vampire."
"How long ago was it?"
Roland shook himself and looked at the road. "A very long time ago, but the present calls for our attention."
I rolled my eyes and watched the road. Some of the potholes were big enough to drive a jeep into, if the jeep was on the back of a flatbed trailer attached to a semi. "So is it your 'code' to go after these rogue vampires?"
"Yes, but it's also a matter of survival. If humans learn of our existence we will be hunted like animals and slaughtered," he explained.
"Sounds like you have some experience with being the prey," I mused.
"Yes. There is a small, but very old group of humans who have hunted my kind since before the code was settled several thousand years ago," he told me. "They will stop at nothing to destroy us, and a reckless vampire will lead them right to me."
"You could run away," I pointed out.
His eyes flickered to me and he smiled. "Then I would be out of your protection. That is, unless you came with me."
I shook my head. "I was born and bred in this town, and even if it becomes ground-zero for a war between vampires and hunters I'm going to die here."
Roland chuckled. "You never cease to remind me why I chose you to protect my soul."
"Don't start praising me yet," I scolded him. "I've only had one whole day with that thing, and you're lucky nobody broke in and tried to grab that thing from my covers while I was under your spell."
"My spell only put you to sleep. It didn't keep you asleep," he told me.
I sighed and shrugged. "Well, I suppose if somebody would've come in my sleep hair would've scared them off. Anyway, how long is this search of the farm going to take? The sun isn't going to stay down even if we ask it nice."
"Unfortunately, I can't tell, but I will keep note of the time," he promised.
The car headlights caught an opening in the basketball players, and in a few minutes I turned into a long dirt road that ended at a dark, two-floor farmhouse. There was a small corral out back and a delivery of fresh hay by the house. I parked in the gravel lot in front of the house and we got out. The place was deathly silent and a cool wind blew by us. Police tape covered the front porch and fluttered in the wind. The door was open and the slight breeze caused it to bang against the inside wall.
"Nope. Nothing strange here at all," I quipped.
"Is the police in this area always so careless?" Roland asked me.
"You mean about the door? Normally I'd say yes, but they wouldn't want the bad publicity by leaving a door open, especially the front one," I commented.
Roland pursed his lips. "Then it seems were are expected."
"I'm not dressed for a dinner date, especially if I'm on the menu," I argued.
He walked around the car and held the box out towards me. "Keep this safe. I will inspect the house."
"Hell no, you're not leaving me here so I can reenact the damsel-in-distress scene of every bad horror movie," I protested. I took the box and nodded at the house. "If you're going in there, we're going in there. Right, Soul?" I jerked back when a faint glow appeared from beneath the lid, but it faded as quickly as it happened. I looked up at Roland. "What was that about?"
He grinned. "It seems my soul agrees with you."
"Then let's get this done and get home. I didn't get to finish putting away my laundry," I told him.
The box and I followed Roland to the front porch. We ducked under the tape and crept over to the open door. I stepped on every squeaky porch board. Even some of the nails squeaked. Roland grabbed my hand and guided me so we were both pressed against the right side of the door. I shivered at his touch. It was as cold as ice and as clammy as a-well, clam.
Roland peeked around the corner for a moment. "I neither hear nor see anything," he whispered.
"Is that a good or bad thing?" I returned.
"I'm not sure. Let's go find out," he suggested.
He crept inside and I didn't have much choice but to follow. The inside of the farmhouse was cozy except for the creepy feeling that crawled up my spine. Even for an empty house the place was too quiet. Not a single fly buzzed in the rooms. The house had a few rooms off to the left and right, and straight ahead was the stairs up to the second floor. You had to go through one of the wings to get to the back of the house.
Roland led us to the left where there was a dining room and connected kitchen. The windows didn't have thick curtains so some moonlight let me see that the four dining table chairs were pulled out. Roland went over to one and set his hand on the top. I moved to stand beside him as he surveyed the empty table.
"Don't tell me you're telepathic, too," I whispered. Talking in any other voice would've sounded like a scream, and if there was going to be screaming I wasn't going to waste my breath on false alarms.
He shook his head and his lips were pressed tightly together. "No, but it doesn't take one to see there's something wrong here."
I ran a hand over the table and inspected the dust on my fingers. "No need to dust for fingerprints."
"The police have been thorough," he agreed.
Roland frowned and knelt down beside the table. He reached between the cushion and wooden frame of one of the chairs, and plucked something from the crack.
"Found a table crumb?" I asked him.
He held up a thin yellow stalk. "A piece of straw," he told me.
I jerked my head behind us. "There was a whole stack of it outside." Roland didn't reply as he examined the straw. I brushed my fingers on my apron and put my hands on my hips. "I wonder if that Ginsleh guy came over here yet."
Roland froze and whipped his head to me. "What did you say?"
I opened my mouth, but Roland's eyes widened and he dove at me. His arms wrapped around my waist and he slammed me into the floor. The sharp, pointy box between us jabbed into my gut. I only had time to wheeze out a complaint before he grabbed my hand and wrenched us to our feet. He dragged me back through the front door and out onto the porch.
"What are you doing?" I gasped. Something flew past my face and struck the police tape. A round hole appeared in the tape and cut it neatly in two so both ends fluttered to the ground. "Somebody's shooting at us!" I yelled.
"Hold on!" Roland shouted.
He swept me into his arms, a romantic gesture if somebody wasn't trying to give us ventilation, and jumped into the air. We flew up fifteen yards and I looked down. A man ran out of the house and turned his head up. It was the same guy who'd left the newspaper clipping. He had a long black rifle in his hands and he aimed it at us.
"Look out!" I shouted.
I grabbed Roland's shoulders and shoved him to the side. The gun didn't make a sound, but the bullet whistled through Roland's right shoulder. He flinched, but didn't change our trajectory of higher and farther away from the lunatic with the gun. We sailed over the corn and towards the west.
"My apartment's the other way!" I reminded him.
"We must not let him follow us to your apartment," he argued.
"But he already knows where it is! He talked to Charlie and-" I noticed the color of his skin had gone from fish-belly to flour white. The sleeve of his shirt was stained with blood and it flowed down his arm and dripped behind us. I pursed my lips and lowered my volume. "How long can you last?" I asked him.
"Not very long," he told me.
I glanced down at the ground. "I know a place near here. You'll be safe there."
CHAPTER 6
With my directions we flew over a couple of miles of corn and landed in the gravel lot of another two-story farmhouse. The lights on this one were on, and there was no police tape on the porch. An old red, four-door car sat in front of the porch, and to the left of the house was a small red barn badly in need of a paint job. Beyond the barn was a small pasture with a sorry-looking ancient horse that was only worth his weight in glue.
Roland set me down and fell onto his knees. He clutched his wound and grimaced. I knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder while the other one held onto his soul box.
"Are you gonna be okay?" I asked him.
"I. . .merely need. . .rest. . .and blood," he wheezed.
I frowned and looked up at the house. "I can give you the first, but we'll see about the second. Come on."
I helped him to his feet and half-dragged him onto the porch and to the door. I leaned him against the wall. "Just let me do the talking," I told him. I straightened and knocked on the door.
It was opened by a man of fifty with a few wisps of gray hair that were combed back. He wore a thick pair of white glasses and blue coveralls over his white shirt. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. I sheepishly smiled at him and gave a small wave.
