The Tome of Bill Series: Books 5-8 (Goddamned Freaky Monsters, Half A Prayer, The Wicked Dead, The Last Coven)

by Rick Gualtieri

  I stepped out into the hall and grabbed hold of them on either side of me. Bringing my arms together, I slammed the two of them face-first into each other with a satisfying crunch of bone.

  My newly sharpened eyes caught movement on the far end of the cavern. Time was up.

  I shoved the semi-conscious guards inside and slammed the heavy door shut just as a massive impact hit it from the other side.

  I jumped back, worried that it would give under Alex’s assault, but then remembered it had been designed to handle me in my Dr. Death form. Judging by the minimal damage I’d managed to inflict upon it, it was a safe bet that it was built to exceed specs.

  The outside of the door included an airlock-like crank as well as an old-fashioned keyhole - conveniently occupied by a thick metal key.

  Oops, make that occupied by the broken end of a thick metal key.

  None of that would stop Druaga, who’d already shown a talent for teleporting, but hopefully he’d be too preoccupied with bitching out Alex to come after me.

  Another impact sounded from inside. The stonework around the door rattled from the force of it. Oh yeah, definitely time to go.

  I removed my glasses and put them in my back pocket. My eyes would serve as the test for when Alex’s power was beginning to falter. It was a fuck-load better than jumping into a fight before realizing I was back down to normal levels. Also, it was nice just not to wear them. I’d never been a big fan of contacts...dry eyes and all that crap.

  I turned right and sped off down the corridor, not really sure which way to go other than to keep heading up toward the surface. Even if the door held, I wasn’t sure if the thick walls would block any compulsions for help Alex might send out. I had to assume the worst - that it was only going to be a matter of time before he escaped.

  I needed to be as far away as possible when that happened.

  Head Cheese

  Goddamn, what a fucking rat maze. Even using my stolen speed, it was still a pain in the ass of tunnels, stairs, and dead ends. Christ, I could barely find my way around an amusement park without a map. This was near hopeless.

  I only slowed when I sensed other vamps near, which happened pretty frequently considering this was their base of operations. Fortunately, barely any of them batted their eyes in my direction. Thank goodness for vampire arrogance. For the past three months, anyone who’d had any contact with me had only seen whatever the fuck it was I turned into. I, as just myself, was just a lowly child to them - hardly worthy of their attention.

  Bunch of pricks.

  After several long minutes of making shit progress in my bid to escape, I slowed down and tried to use some strategy - falling back on my gaming expertise. After all, my elven battle-mage, Kelvin Lightblade, was an experienced dungeon crawler. He’d made it into and out of worse places than this - usually burdened with gold and glorious tales to tell. As the brains behind him, could I do any less? Fuck no.

  That was it - I had to imagine myself in the game. Forget the vampire nation; I was on a quest, sent from a far off kingdom ruled by the beautiful Princess Sheila...

  She’s dead.

  No! That wasn’t helping. It was just distracting. Forget the princess too; I was on a mission to find a powerful artifact that would save...oh, screw it. I was looking for some fucking treasure. Yeah, that was the ticket.

  Using that mindset, I was able to start making some real progress.

  Well, okay, it also helped that I happened to stick my head in what looked like a storage room. Inside, a bored-looking zombie was performing inventory of some boxes. He looked up expectantly at my presence.

  “Chillon Castle?” I asked, hoping for the best. Man, vampire, or other, one should never be too proud to ask for directions.

  To my surprise, he hooked a desiccated thumb in one direction, sending me on my way.

  At long last, I saw it. Barely an arrow slit up above - near the top of yet another flight of stone steps - I finally glimpsed a sliver of sky. Even better, it was dark out. If I could find a door or window, I could make a run for it. I had no idea what would come next, but I’d figure it out...hopefully.

  All I knew for certain was that my opportunity was rapidly drying up. I’d been out for too long. It was only a matter of time before an alarm klaxon sounded and every vamp in the place was ordered to hunt me down.

  I followed the hall I’d just emerged into, hoping it would lead somewhere useful. Continuing on, I came to a four-way intersection, but heard voices coming from the left and right. Figuring I’d pressed my luck enough for one day, I kept going straight until the hallway turned to the left and... yet another dead end.

  Fuck!

  All that stood before me were some candle sconces and a few paintings. Who the fuck had designed this place?

  In frustration, I let loose and punched the wall - smacking the fine wood inlay with a hollow thunk.

  Wait...hollow?

  Once more, my finely tuned gaming senses tingled. Was it possible?

  I lifted the paintings - nothing. Twisted the sconces - nada. Lifted the candles from them...yes! Something made a clunking noise, and a section of the wall slid open to reveal an ornately carved wooden door. If Dave had been there at the moment, I’d have kissed him.

  The door was probably locked - which would have been a problem had I not possessed the augmented strength of the undead.

  I grasped the handle, intent on turning it until the tumbler inside shattered. Typically, I wasn’t really gung-ho on destroying antiques, but this was owned by vampires, and they could mostly go fuck themselves. To my surprise, though, it opened with a click - unlocked. Odd.

  Waiting a moment to see if it exploded or shot poison darts at me - as any good adventurer would do - I finally opened it up and stepped inside, praying it was the way out.

  It wasn’t.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Whoa. It was another hall...no, screw that. It was more like a full luxury apartment - one made for a king.

  A hallway led forward. There were open doorways on both sides leading to rooms, each putting my humble abode back in Brooklyn to shame. There was a small library with rich mahogany shelves stacked with ancient-looking books and scrolls. Another room appeared to be an office that would have made any corporate executive weep with joy. It practically exuded authority, with walls covered in expensive-looking paintings - most of them depicting scenes of a black horse charging into battle. Jeez. Someone must have a My Little Pony fetish.

  It wasn’t all old, mind you. There was a living room, dominated by expensive leather chairs with a huge flat-screen TV hanging from one wall over a fireplace. Whoever lived here certainly wasn’t suffering from want.

  I stepped through the doorway at the end and entered into a massive bedroom. It was like stepping into some sort of sultan’s fantasy. A huge bed, covered in satin sheets and pillows, dominated one side. There was an in-floor bath, a steam room, changing area, another TV...you name it. There was no way one could own a bachelor pad like this and not be swimming in pussy.

  I was beginning to get an inkling as to who might call this place home, when all doubt was erased. Of all the places in this dump I could’ve stumbled, it had to be his.

  Towering over the center of the room - standing out like a sore thumb - was a marble statue, nine feet tall and obviously carved by a master craftsman. Every inch was well defined in painful detail. Even the veins on the muscles were plainly visible. It was blindingly white in color, so the mismatched eyes weren’t apparent, but the resemblance was uncanny nevertheless - Alexander.

  I took it in, head to toe, noting it was quite anatomically correct, although I had to question whether certain aspects were more a result of his overinflated ego than reality. Talk about being full of yourself. Vampires as a whole tended to be egomaniacal, but this guy put them all to shame. He made Vanity Smurf look humble in comparison.

  Oh well, this was all fine and good, but it wasn’t helping
me find a way out.

  I began looking for another egress when I stopped and considered the possibilities. Oh, fuck it. It’s not like he could end up more pissed off than he probably already was. I made a fist, intent on defacing his effigy. Crumbling his man bits to dust wasn’t much, but it would give me some satisfaction. Yeah, it was petty, but then so was keeping me locked up naked in a fucking dungeon for three months.

  I stopped myself short, though. Doing so would make it hard to miss that I’d been in here. There was probably no point in making my escape route that obvious.

  Regaining my focus, I stopped dicking around and noticed a couple additional doors in the master bedroom. Maybe I’d finally get lucky and one would lead to a balcony or something. By that point, I wasn’t averse to trying my luck swan diving into the moat. I began opening them.

  There was a closet full of robes and other finery. Fucking thing was bigger than my entire bedroom back home. Goddamn, it was good to be king.

  Next was a sparkling white bathroom. At least now I knew where Alex pinched his princely loaves.

  A set of double sliding doors stood at the far end of the room. It was my last choice left. That had to be it.

  Ugh! They were locked and much heavier than I would have guessed. If this was an exit, it sure as shit wasn’t a convenient one.

  Thankfully, I still had some extra zing to my step. I applied pressure, trying to pry the doors apart. Holy crap, talk about sturdy. Had I been at my normal strength, I wouldn’t have been able to budge them. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. I put my back into it and metal squealed as the lock snapped and the doors finally parted.

  They slid open and I immediately bit down on my tongue to stifle the scream that wanted to come rushing out. I hadn’t expected the sight of so many faces greeting me.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Three rows of shelves stood before me. Each held multiple glass cylinders stacked side by side. These cylinders were full of a red-tinted liquid, transparent enough so that the preserved head contained within each was clearly visible.

  My first thought was the head museum from Futurama. Alas, the resemblance ended there as I didn’t see Richard Nixon or any other smiling celebrities.

  Their expressions reflected the tortured pain of their last moments, as if they’d died in excruciating agony - which was probably not too far from the truth. Staring at them all, a strange feeling entered the pit of my stomach - almost like mild indigestion. That was weird. Maybe Alex had eaten something earlier that was disagreeing with me. Regardless, I pushed it aside for the moment.

  While I stood there looking at a collection far more macabre than anything my roommate, Tom, had on display, lights turned on and illuminated the scene. Hmm, maybe the doors opening activated it.

  A low buzzing noise reached my ears, seeming to originate from within the containers. Sure enough, the liquid in each moved slightly and there seemed to be small bits of debris being thrown up from the bottoms.

  I leaned in closer to look, nearly touching one of them. An odd swirling began at the base of it. What the...?

  Just then, the buzzing ceased and the motion stopped - affording me a clearer view. There was a blade in the bottom, like something you’d see in a food processor. Squinting, I saw that the flotsam it had disturbed was actually bits of flesh from the ragged remains of the neck upon which this container’s resident noggin sat.

  What the hell? Was this Alex’s fucked-up version of a personal wet bar? Jesus Christ, what a...

  A slight wave of vertigo swam over me as my eyes defocused. The room’s appearance became all fuzzy, and I put a hand onto the container I’d been examining to steady myself. The power of Alex’s blood was starting to wear off. A pity. I’d begun to get used to it.

  With my free hand, I reached into my back pocket to retrieve my glasses. It had been nice to visit the land of twenty-twenty vision, but all vacations must come to an end. As I put them on, the world swam back into focus - including the now-open eyes of the jarred head in front of me...eyes that were staring directly into mine.

  “Holy shit!”

  I staggered back a step. Unfortunately, in my panic, I brushed against the jar I’d been studying, causing it to teeter. Oh crap.

  For a moment I thought I was screwed, but then it resettled itself.

  That’s when the impossible happened.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Somehow, the head within jerked forward, coming into contact with the glass. The container overbalanced and fell. All of this happened within the space of a second. Had I not been completely freaked, I might’ve still caught it. Sadly, would’ve could’ve and should’ve were all taking a siesta right then. As I stood there dumbfounded, it landed on the floor and shattered - drenching my lower half in the reddish liquid inside.

  Even with my diminishing senses, there was no mistaking the scent of blood - albeit very diluted.

  The head within, now freed of its glass prison, rolled to a stop next to my foot. Before I could punt the creepy thing away, the eyes again focused on me and the mouth opened, revealing the fangs within. These weren’t the severed remains of human victims. They were vampires.

  My friend on the floor wasn’t alone, either. I looked up to see that all of the heads now had their eyes trained on me. Talk about fucking weird.

  Back when Gan had first visited New York, in a deluded attempt to win my heart, she’d explained it. When vamps of significant rank wanted you dead, there usually wasn’t much you could do except obligingly die a horrific death. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t enough for the merciless fuckers. Occasionally, they’d opt for that whole fate worse than death thing.

  In such cases, a vampire could be decapitated via a silver blade coated with a specific poison. Under normal circumstances when that happened, you’d be left with nothing but a pile of dust. The poison would retard that process, however. The head would still be living - or whatever we vampires do - and could be kept that way indefinitely if placed in blood.

  Diluted blood was apparently good enough, and also seemingly served the dual purpose of letting the captor see the submerged head in question - presumably to gloat at it.

  How long had they been here? And what had they done to piss off Alex so badly that he kept them around in his fucking closet like trophies? It wasn’t hard to imagine, judging by the strength of the door, that they were for his eyes only. I imagined that most vamps, especially the Draculas, wouldn’t be shy about displaying such things to their peers. So what was the story here?

  I shook my head. Why the fuck did I even care? This was most definitely not my problem, at least outside of the fact that I’d probably just made room for myself in the collection. I easily envisioned Alex being pissed off enough to do something like this to me, prophecy be damned. Most of the elder vamps I’d met weren’t shy about putting their own egos ahead of the greater good. Even worse, I was standing there like a doofus as the last of his power left me. If even a lowly guard happened by, I was toast.

  That being said, I considered that possibility low. If this was indeed Alex’s abode, I doubted anyone would be insane enough to trespass. It hadn’t been particularly difficult to break in, leading me to think that theory had merit. Regardless, it wasn’t like I could just move in and hope nobody noticed. I’d outstayed my welcome, and it was time to do something about that.

  I hesitated, though, my eyes surveying the mess I’d made - including the severed noggin lying there. There was little chance of me cleaning things up, what with me lacking a mop, dustpan, and a shit-ton of glue. Even so, I needed at least to try covering my tracks.

  I used my foot to slide the glass shards under the shelving, then glanced down at the head, still alive and staring at me. Fucking thing was definitely giving me the heebie-jeebies.

  Whoever he’d been, he had a strong chin and long dark hair - ending where his neck did, obviously a result of the makeshift Cuisinart he’d called home. There was no telling what t
he rest of him had been like, but his face could have almost passed as a stunt double for Arnold Schwarzenegger during his Conan days. Oh well, I had no time for “I’ll be back” jokes. I reached down to pick him up, intent on putting him back onto the shelf where he belonged.

  But wait. Whoever this was, he’d obviously done something to get on Alex’s bad side. Wasn’t there that saying about the enemy of my enemy being my friend? Wasn’t it possible he might have some information that could be useful? I mean, sure, he was just a head, but maybe Sally or James could read his lips or something.

  There was also the fact that...well, I’m not a total dick like Alex and most of his buddies. It seemed like an asshole move to just leave this guy there to rot after he had spent God knows how long living in a margarita blender.

  That settled it. I’d been doing my damnedest since waking up undead to avoid being a prick like my fellow vamps. In the end, that could very well be the difference between winning and losing in my bid to save the world. How? I had no fucking idea. I was pretty much grasping at straws.

  The glass out of the way, I pulled the double doors shut - putting my back into it, now that Alex’s strength had fled me. One hernia later and they were closed again, the busted lock thankfully unseen from the outside. Aside from Captain Cranium, there was still plenty of diluted blood on the floor, but I got an idea that would possibly solve that.

  Make that solve both problems. Outside of his personal aquarium, the head wasn’t much different than a fish that had leaped from its tank. He wasn’t looking too good - I mean, even worse than a decapitated head should look. His eyes, formerly focused on me, were starting to roll up into his...well, y’know.

  “Hang in there, buddy,” I muttered and then got to work.

  Sightseeing

  Five minutes later, I stepped back out of Alex’s room. His other closet had contained everything the doctor ordered, and I helped myself to as much as I dared without making it look completely ransacked.