“I’m starting to doze off, Jimmy.” I pushed my chips toward him. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”
“Well you had a good run of it.” He counted up my chips. “God knows, I couldn’t have kept my concentration. Here you are.” He slid me back my new stack. “Thanks for coming in. Have a good one.”
“Thanks, Jimmy, you too.”
I placed a ten thousand dollar chip down and slid it to him.
“Thanks!” I heard him cry out as I walked toward the cages. Maybe that helped him stay in card playing rather than, let’s say… branching off into other endeavors, but maybe not. I just waved over my shoulder and didn’t look back.
When I got to the cages, an older black lady was cashiering. There was no waiting in line at this time of night. “Good night?”
“It was interesting to say the least.”
“Welcome to Vegas, darlin’. Every night is interesting to someone.” She spoke with a true smile on her face, nothing fake, just loving life. “The only difference is the people that walk away with some money and those that don’t.”
“Just luck I guess.” I picked up my cash.
“You keep that luck, sugar. You’ll need it in this world.”
“You just might be righter than you think.” I placed the money in my wallet and returned it to my inner jacket pocket. “You have a good one, ma’am.”
“You too, honey.” She had to be from somewhere down south, the accent was gone, but the dialect was still very much intact.
As I walked to the front door, I was beginning to become paranoid. Inside I figured I’d be safe, not a whole lot of people will start shooting up a casino. Too much security, too many people, no one could want someone dead so much that they’d risk a hit in the middle of a casino floor. Outside was another story. People are killed all the damn time in this city outside one casino or another. But I couldn’t stay in the casino forever, now could I? So I walked to the valet station, ticket in my left hand, and my right ready to draw if need be. I always keep my gun hand free. I heard my car before I saw it, which is normal.
A sixty-nine Dodge Charger is never a quiet car, but it’s a screaming beast when I’m done with it. I never like to valet my cars, especially her. She was the love of my life. I just don’t like letting some pimple-faced stranger drive my cars. I still can’t say what made me do it that night, but I’m glad that I did. I didn’t want to have a shootout, or anything to that effect, on the walk to the car. Didn’t want a big ol’ ruckus. Maybe everything would be okay if I just stood in front of the building. Here’s to hoping.
“Here you are, sir,” the kid said, as he handed me the keys. If the car didn’t blow up when he started it, I figured I’d be okay.
I handed him a tip and got in the car. The engine roared to life. No bombs, check, okay, good to go. Now I just had to worry about the drive home, which went without a hitch. No theatrical car chase or windows getting shot out. It was a beautiful night and would have been a nice drive if I had been able to keep my eyes and mind on the road. I did nearly hit some punk kids out in mommy’s Lexus on a joy ride. A bit on edge? Me? Never. Okay, maybe I was paranoid, just maybe.
I didn’t want to go to my house. If they knew my name, whoever they were, they more than likely knew where I lived. I didn’t want to shoot up a hotel if it came to that. And I was just too fucking tired to drive out of town. I didn’t like any of my options. What to do? Pick the lesser of two evils, right?
So I drove to my house. I knew the environment, and I had enough guns to supply a front for the Bay of Pigs… properly. I’d set the alarm and would deal with the bad men tomorrow. Maybe I wouldn’t have to; maybe they would just go away on their own. A miracle could happen. I was just too fucking tired to deal with any of it.
CHAPTER TWO
With the doors locked and the alarm system armed, I went to bed. I doubted that sleep would come. I thought that I would stare at the ceiling ‘til the sun was up. But I’ve been wrong before. Sleep came. Ah, sleep deprivation can be a wonderful thing in the right situation. I don’t remember if I dreamt that night, but I must have been out for hours.
I was awoken suddenly by a noise in my room. My eyes were open in a flash. Just as suddenly as my eyes were open, I’d drawn the Glock .40 from the headboard holster. I squeezed off a single shot.
“The next won’t miss!” I cried out, loud and proud. No sleep left in my voice.
That bullet had imbedded itself into the back of my Italian leather chair, right next to the head of my intruder. “I have no doubts about that, Mr. Black.” This Brit was really starting to piss me off. A month before, I’d have dropped him with the first shot. I’d have put it right into his little British brain. Was I getting sloppy, or did I just not care anymore? Probably the latter, but I didn’t want to think about that. “You didn’t make it to breakfast, I got worried.”
“What the FUCK are you doing in my house?!” My gun still aimed at his head.
“As I said, I became worried.”
I let off another shot with an explosion of leather and chair guts from the other side of his head. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!”
“Not much of a morning person, are you?”
“Now what gave you that idea?” The barrel aimed back at his head.
He looked to each side of his head, then back to me. “Call it a hunch, Mr. Black.”
“Let’s not get started on how you know my name, yet.” The gun wasn’t becoming heavy, and as long as he sat there not giving me answers I liked, I’d keep it pointed right at his face. The chair was already ruined, so I didn’t care if I got blood all over the damn thing. “I won’t ask again. It’s too early and I haven’t had my coffee yet. Putting one in your head and being done with it is starting to sound pretty damn good.”
“A job, Mr. Black; I’m here to offer you a job.” He spoke so calmly, brushing the chair stuffing off his shoulders.
“Bullshit. You aren’t a cop or you’d have arrested me already. And, you certainly aren’t here for a job, no one that hires me knows my name and I don’t know theirs. It keeps things nice and simple. If you were here to kill me, you’d have done that by now too. So what is this all about?” I drew out my last words so that there would be no mistake about what I wanted to know.
“I was telling the truth. I am here to offer you a job, just not the kind you’re used to.” He was serious. He had a job for me, though I didn’t like his hiring methods. I didn’t like them one bit.
“Could you be a little vaguer, please?”
“Yes, but I believe that you would get annoyed with me.”
Get annoyed? Me? Yeah, I didn’t think I could have gotten more annoyed with him. “Wouldn’t want that, now would we?” I made a jabbing motion with the gun tip at him with every word. Just to make my point.
He looked at the bullet holes to either side of his head again. “No, I don’t believe I would.”
I let out a small chuckle. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll bite. Who’s the mark?” I assumed there was a mark, anyway.
He folded his hands in front of his face.
Yippy fucking skippy, back to being vague! This was just too much drama right now. “Get out.”
“But don’t you even want to—”
“Get out,” I was half yawning half talking.
“Mr. Black, I implore you.”
“Let me get dressed.” I dropped the gun to my lap. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Ah yes, how rude of me.” Now, he thinks he’s being rude. “I am truly sorry.” He stood up and walked out.
“Put on some coffee!” I yelled behind him, “you British bastard.” That bit was under my breath. See, I can be nice.
I tossed on a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. As I left the room, I took a long look at my ruined armchair. After a few moments of mourning, I went to meet Lord Dickhead in the kitchen.
He was already seated at the table, the head of the table I might add. At the seat n
ext to him he’d placed a steaming cup of coffee for me.
He glanced at the pistol still clenched in my hand. “Do you still feel you need that?”
“Yep.” He looked offended. Watch me amaze you with not caring. “Until I know who the fuck you are and what the fuck you want, I still want the gun. Call it a security blanket if you want.”
“Security blanket?”
“Never mind.”
“As you wish.” He motioned toward the seat next to him. “Please have a seat.”
I politely smiled at him, walked over to the table and picked up the coffee. Not taking the offered seat, I hopped onto the dark granite counter and sat. “Thanks.” I took a sip. I’ll hand it to him, he could make a good cup of coffee. And to think I figured that he had no domestic skills.
“I’ll never understand you Americans and your coffee. My daughter is addicted to it as well.” Stupid man, you should never tell someone you don’t know, about your family. One day you might tell the wrong person the wrong thing and they will use those you love against you. Another huge reason I kept no one close to me.
“I’ll never understand a lot of things. A wise man knows that he knows nothing.” I sipped my coffee again. “I take it that you don’t want any?”
“No, thank you.” He thought that I was offering, dumb ass. He began to reach under the table. My right arm, gun in hand was aimed center mass before I knew it. Instinct and reflexes can amaze even those who have them. His arms shot above his head. “Just some papers, Mr. Black.”
“Okay, slowly get them and I’ll put down the gun.” Maybe. “I’ve already ruined one of my favorite chairs; don’t make me start in on my kitchen.”
“I’ll take care of the chair.” He followed my instructions and slowly retrieved a file from his briefcase. File would be too light a word for it. It looked more like an encyclopedia volume. “The job information.”
I followed my end of the bargain and dropped the gun back to my lap. “You can tell me about this job after you tell me who you are.” He was silent for a moment. “It’s not fair that you know everything about me and I know nothing about you, now is it?”
“No, I suppose you are right.” Damn skippy I am. “My name is Sir William Piper. I represent an organization know as The Guild. I am—”
“Wait a tick,” I interrupted. Did he say sir? “Sir William? As in a knight?”
“Yes.”
“As in lord?”
“Yes, I was awarded my knighthood for service to The Crown through my work in The Guild.”
I hardly heard what he’d just said. I had nearly fallen off the counter top laughing. It was just too funny, I couldn’t help myself. I would have had to call him lord!
“Might I ask what is so amusing?” I didn’t think he got that I was laughing at him. I kind of felt like a school kid that just got caught making a joke about the teacher.
“Oh nothing,” I said, trying to compose myself, “I just got the punch line of a joke.”
“Ah.” He didn’t seem to care. What, he didn’t want to know the joke? “As I was saying. I represent an order known as The Guild. We monitor and hunt vampires throughout England and the world.” My face must have shown my disbelief. “You don’t believe me?”
Was it the grin or the look of ‘you are a nut’ in my eyes that gave it away? “No, Willy, I don’t.”
“I didn’t think that you would.” He picked the file up from the table. “No one does at first. God knows, I didn’t.” I guess he didn’t mind me calling him Willy. “But we need you, Mr. Black.”
“You need me?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“What you do best of course,” he said, as he held out the file towards me. I put my gun-free hand out, too far away to reach the file. He reluctantly stood up and handed me the file. Damn right! It’s my house, he can get up off of his crazy ass.
I thumbed through the first few pages. Photos, time lines of spotting locations, known addresses; it was a general target file. The photos focused around a white male, looked to be in his mid to late twenties. The file gave the name Ra. The only really odd thing about the file was the time line; the dates went back to 1000 B.C. That did strike me as odd, but we were dealing with vampires here, right? Yeah right, is more like it. He looked pretty good for being three thousand years old. “So you want him dead?”
“Yes.”
“Dead dead… not undead… or whatever?”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to kill him?”
“Yes.”
“So let me get this straight, you want me to be a… what… a vampire hunter?”
“Yes.” He kept a close eye on me for reactions.
“Does Capt. Kirk get to come along?”
“Who?”
“You know Captain Kirk from… oh never mind.” I could see by his expression that he got the joke, he just didn’t find it as funny as I did, or funny at all for that matter. “Bad time for jokes, Willy?” I asked.
“I think so, Mr. Black.”
“Do these meetings ever go well for you?” You can’t blame me a little teasing now can you?
“No,” he said, “but you are the first to shoot at me.”
That got a grin out of me. I don’t think he found that funny either. “Why should I help you?” Time to be serious. “You have shown me nothing but a stack of papers with impossible dates on them. That’s not much to make someone believe in fucking vampires, now is it?”
“Don’t worry about the proof, there will be enough of that for you.” He tried assuring me.
“There is no such thing as vampires. They do not exist.”
“Are you so sure?”
“Yeah, Mr. Spock, I’m sure.” I don’t think he liked that joke either. Wow, three for three. No sense of humor. The British, tragically, are born without a sense of humor.
“Are you so sure of everything?” The corner of his lip curled into a grin. “A wise man?” Okay, maybe he did have a bit of one.
God, I hate when someone turns my words back at me, especially when I don’t like that someone. “No, I’m not. And I never claimed to be a wise man.”
“You know, being humble disrupts that fearsome image you strive for. Kills some of the intimidation, don’t you think?” Hum, he had a point, other than the one atop his head. I could just kill him, that would earn me some intimidation points back.
I just shrugged it off. He knew I could and would kill him. I knew I could and would. We’d just leave it at that. “Well, I’d take the job, but I’m fresh outta wooden stakes and garlic.” I hopped off the counter top to get more coffee. “Sorry to waste your time.”
He laughed. Hum… maybe he did have a sense of humor. “Forget what you think you know about vampires. Most of the folklore is untrue or useless in this age. If I showed you, what we at The Guild fight, would you take the job and help us?”
This I’ve got to see. “Maybe.” I paused to study him to see what was real and what wasn’t. He just sat there at my kitchen table; looking smug and just too damn confident with himself. “First and foremost, how much are my services worth to you? And I would need proof.” Honestly I could care less if this guy was a real vampire or not. For the right money, I’d kill him. Some people are doctors, some people are mechanics, and I’m a hit man. I kill people. I just want to see what this guy had cooked up for proof, because he truly believed this nonsense. To say the least, it would be interesting.
“Whatever your time costs is what it’s worth. And as I said, there will be proof enough.” He stopped for a moment. “Will you let me show you then?”
I was taking a drink of coffee and began to shake my head. “Yeah,” I finally said, half speaking half laughing. “I’d kick myself if I missed this.”
He stood up and placed his hat on, one of those old style hats you see in mobster movies, a fedora I think. “I hope you keep that attitude, Mr. Black.” He began to walk toward the front door. Down the hallway I coul
d still keep an eye on him. “Nightfall,” he called out, as he paused for a moment looking over his shoulder. As he opened the door, sunlight poured in around him. “We’ll pick you up at nightfall.” With that he shut the door. I would have called after him. I wanted to stop him and bombard him with questions. But I had nothing to say. I had a million questions for him, like how he got past my alarm system, but nothing to say right then.
CHAPTER THREE
What do you do in a situation like that? What do you do when something so out of the ordinary happens to you? In your own house, no less. Well, I did the only thing I could; I sat there dumbfounded for I don’t know how long. After a long time of pondering, I stood up and took my full cup of very cold coffee to the kitchen. I figured I’d need fresh steaming hot coffee, and a lot of it, before I dove into this file. There was my plan for the day, coffee and reading. My head swam with a million questions. And with each one another hundred more came to mind. I couldn’t keep any sane thought in my head. Facts! What I needed were facts. The file had facts; perhaps it would be my mind’s salvation. So with a fresh pot of coffee, I was ready to have some of my questions answered.
I read that file cover to cover, only to be more confused. The name Ra was the name of the sect of vampires that my target, named Amun, led. Amun is the name of an Egyptian god; the name means 'hidden one'. Wow, I learn something every day. Great, I’ve got to find and kill someone who is named for hiding. Wonderful! This is going to be a cakewalk. The file read very factual and none of it reassuring or helpful, “Amun was first sited in 1000 B.C.” “One of the first documented vampire sightings.” “Thought to be one of the oldest vampires alive.” It just kept getting better.
My list of questions just kept getting longer for my newly found friend Lord Asshole.
Time, time has a funny way of stopping when you need it to pass and flying by when you want it to stand still. What’s that old saying, “time is relative?” Whoever said that, is a fucking genius. I only had a few hours to wait, and it sucked. I couldn’t imagine thousands of years. What would that be like? Watching the world change, mankind’s rise and fall, theories and beliefs shot down over the passing years. God, three thousand years!
The Shadow Box: Paranormal Suspense and Dark Fantasy Thriller Novels Page 251
