Drew D'Amato:Bloodlines:02

by Drew D'Amato

  “The other man who was attacked, was he related to the two of you?”

  “Yes, he is my cousin too.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “He’ll make it, but he won’t be able to travel to Europe anytime soon.”

  “But he’ll be able to travel there someday, that is a blessing. Well, let me get the paperwork for you.” The coroner closed the drawer and started to walk away. “Oh and there is a $200 dollar charge for claiming a body.” Sledge then turned and walked away.

  “They get you paying anyway they can,” Pacami said.

  “But that’s not his decision, he’s a nice man,” Vlad said to Pacami now that they were alone.

  “He is. But Vlad, vampires don’t leave bodies, so did Jericho ever really say anything about wanting his ashes spread?”

  “No, we never talked about it. But I know how he wants to be buried.”

  “Well, if a burial is what he wants, they can transfer caskets to Ireland. He can still be buried.”

  “No, not where he wants to be buried. I’m going to have to do this on my own.”

  Pacami didn’t push it, but he had no idea what Vlad was thinking. It didn’t matter. Vlad had no doubt Jericho would want what he had in mind.

  5

  The coroner told Vlad there was a 24-hour “waiting period” before the cremation could be performed, but since he was not dealing with any funeral services and transporting it to another country there was no need for a delay. The cremation would happen tomorrow morning and tomorrow afternoon Vlad could pick it up. They would even keep the remains in a plastic temporary container. The coroner told them a horrendous story of someone trying to take an urn on an airplane, and when the metal of the urn set off the metal detector they were asked to open the urn for a visual inspection. The temporary plastic container had no metal and was more durable. He told them the death certificate should be enough to get him through security.

  Vlad was going to have to travel commercial. His pilot was dead, and his plane was in Interpol’s possession. Another alias scrapped. He didn’t have the time to get a private flight starting from square one.

  He pulled the Mulsanne up to the rectory of the Divine Saviour.

  “So Father, you ever travel VIP before?”

  “Vlad, I don’t know if I can tell them I have to leave tomorrow. My actions have been suspicious enough lately. Now, I’m going to go away for a few days. How can I explain it?”

  “Father, this plan doesn’t work without you.”

  Pacami saw the strength in Vlad’s plan with them both going, than if he went alone. He also saw another thing—fear in Vlad’s eyes. He couldn’t refuse to go. Vlad needed him to come along, and in essence the world needed him to go, too. But that didn’t change the fact that he would have to explain his absence.

  “I know Vlad. I have been trying all day to think of a way, but I can’t see me pulling anything over on them. I don’t like the idea of lying to them about where I am going. What if something should happen, what memory would I leave them with?”

  “Nothing will happen to you.”

  “Vlad, I am prepared to pay the ultimate price for victory. I have been in war before.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “I have seen people die, I have killed people to survive, and I am ready to die for what is right. But if I am found riddled with bulletholes in Europe, and I told people I was visiting somewhere upstate, well…I don’t like the thought of leaving those closest to me with that enigma.”

  “Father, I need you. Otherwise I need a whole different plan. Three days ago I would have come in guns blazing, but I don’t have that power anymore. I have to be crafty, smooth, and that requires our story. You can’t possibly stay behind.”

  “Well use your wit to think of a way to explain my absence. That’s all I ask Vlad, before I go inside and present what we got now.”

  “Anything can be bought,” Vlad said under his breath and then got out of the car.

  Pacami hurried after him. “Vlad, what are you going to do?”

  “Just play along. Remember I am Raoul Wellington. Who is the best person to speak too?” Vlad almost knocked on the door, but decided to wait for Pacami to catch up instead.

  “Father Montes, he is the only priest senior to me.”

  “Good, let me speak to him.”

  Pacami opened the door and Vlad followed in after him. The first room had a reception desk, for people who came in during the day for the purpose of weddings or baptisms. Pacami led him to the back of the place, to the parlor where Father Montes and Father Rios sat on the couches watching the news.

  “Father Montes, I have someone here who wants to meet you,” Pacami said.

  Montes’s eyes were shocked. This was most unusual. Montes noticed Vlad behind Pacami, and did not make an issue of it in front of this stranger. He got up and led the two of them to his bedroom.

  “Yes, Father Pacami, how may I help you?” Montes asked curiously once they got inside his room.

  “I am Raoul Wellington, Father,” Vlad stuck his hand out and it was shook. “I’m sure you have noticed Father Pacami visiting a parishioner on his deathbed. That is my father. He had met Pacami at a bookstore, and had a conversation. My Father was very upset with the Lord after being diagnosed with terminal cancer a year ago. I know our faces are not familiar around your church, but the words of Father Pacami have given faith to my father, and he asked to see him before any other priest. I would like to thank your parish for allowing Father Pacami time with my father.”

  “You’re welcome, but I think Father Pacami deserves all the gratitude.”

  “Yes, well I wanted to tell those he works with personally.”

  “Well, I’m glad Father Pacami was able to help your father with his faith at such a dark time.”

  Montes thought this sign of appreciation was all that warranted this visit. He started to sit back down.

  “Well, my father would like to travel back to his homeland England for his last few days. He would also like Father Pacami to accompany him on this trip.”

  Montes was taken back by this request. “Father Pacami, while valuable to your father, is also valuable to his other followers here at Divine Saviour. He is needed here. I don’t think he can stay away in Europe until your father passes on, if that is your wish.”

  “No, my father understands that, and he is not asking for that. He would just like the Father to escort him on his trip. He has a huge fear of flying. He has his own private jet, and still does not feel comfortable up in the air. I would only ask for his company for a few days. He feels safe around Pacami, what can I say? But with the condition of his health the way it is, I would like to do anything to make his voyage most comfortable.”

  Montes rubbed his forehead. “When do you plan to leave?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Montes rubbed his head harder. “That would involve this weekend. That is too soon, we will need him. Can the trip wait?”

  “My father is terminal, he does not have much time. I understand the time is short, and inconvenient. But what Christian would I be anyway if I only asked and not gave? Has Father Pacami showed you my latest contribution?”

  “Contribution?”

  Vlad looked at Pacami. “Vlah—Raoul that is too much money. I couldn’t accept it.”

  “It is nothing. What you did for my father was priceless. Do you still have that check on you?”

  “It’s in my room.”

  Pacami briefly left to go to his bedroom. Vlad continued to talk to Montes. “My family is well off, maybe you noticed our limos in the church parking lot on some Sundays, or that I said we would be traveling by a private jet.”

  Montes smiled nicely. Then Pacami walked back into the room and handed Montes the check. Montes’s eyes widened. 5 MILLION DOLLARS, made out to cash from a Raoul Welington.

  “That was my donation before I asked for this favor. Allow this favor and I will write a second check for the same
amount.”

  Intially Montes wanted to deny Vlad. What would this say about his church that his priests could be bought by a personal whim of a dying rich man? But then the practical side kicked in. There was a lot of good this money could do for the church and for his people. How could he deny them the chance to have that much money? It was only a weekend, it was not like they were asking for Pacami’s life.

  “Mr. Wellington, thank you for this gift. But know that, I am making this decision for the sake of the parishioners of Divine Saviour. We can do a lot of good for them with ten million dollars. I cannot deny that, so I cannot deny this request. I will perform his services on Sunday. But Father Pacami I’d like a souvenir.”

  “I’ll get you a Big Ben clock,” Pacami said.

  6

  Vlad made it back home a little after nine. Pacami was at the rectory packing. As Vlad got out of his car he noticed something in the console of the driver’s door. It was Jasmine’s sunglasses, the big oversized pair. He held them in his hands. How did they get in here? Then he remembered she drove to the hospital. She put them there when they got out, and on the way back from the hospital, he drove.

  Vlad got inside and went to his computer to order two tickets from LAX to Heathrow tomorrow night. The price was extravegant, but he had expected that. His nerves had relaxed a bit, and felt what he hadn’t felt for a while as a human. He was tired. He decided though he had to do one last thing before his head hit the pillow.

  7

  “Jasmine,” he said into his cell phone.

  “Vlad how are you doing, are you all right?”

  “Not really. I claimed my dead cousin’s body a few hours ago. I had to identify it. It was horrible, he didn’t even look…”

  On the other end of the phone Jasmine’s eyes started to water up. “What are you going to do for services?” she asked.

  “I have to go back to Europe. He wanted his ashes to be sprinkled over a hill we used to play on when we were kids.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “You have class.”

  “This is more important, I can miss classes for bereavement.”

  “Jas, as much as I want you to be by my side, I cannot risk your life,” Vlad hadn’t lied, but he wished he hadn’t said it that way.

  “Because of those people hunting your cousin?”

  “Yes, that’s it.” That’s the ticket. “I will be back within a week. I’m sorry but I have to leave tomorrow.”

  “Do you want me to come to your place now? I’m wide awake.”

  “No, I am better at handling mourning alone. I just want to be alone right now. I can’t handle that he is gone, I never thought it would…” Vlad had broken off into tears. He held his head in his hands. He noticed this and composed himself. He stopped but then he heard crying.

  “Jasmine, why are you crying?”

  “I’m crying because you’re crying.”

  That stung Vlad’s heart and then gripped around it. He loved her so much, and he knew she loved him too.

  “Don’t… I don’t ever want you to cry on my behalf.”

  “I feel so bad for you. I can’t help it.”

  “It will be okay Jas, it will be okay.”

  “All right Vlad, I’ll let you be alone.”

  “Okay.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “By the way, babe, did you see my sunglasses in your car?”

  “No,” Vlad said as he clenched the glasses in his fist.

  FIVE

  1

  The next morning Vlad was woken up to the sound of a knock on his door. He grew nervous as he made his way down the stairs. This was either Jasmine, or Radu has found this place. To be safe he grabbed his gold .50 caliber magnum from his nightstand loaded with silver bullets. As he got downstairs, the sun shining outside struck him that it couldn’t be Radu, so he opened a closet and put the gun in there. It had to be Jasmine, and he didn’t think he could come up with a good reason as to why he answered the door with a loaded gun.

  He opened the door and standing there were two plainclothed policemen—one black, one white—presenting their badges. Good thing I didn’t take the gun.

  “Mr. Wellington,” the white cop said. “May we come in?”

  “Of course.”

  2

  “Mr. Wellington, we got your address on your death certificate application. We were waiting for someone to identify the body. We really didn’t have many leads,” Detective Lindell, the white one said.

  “Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt your cousins?” Detective Cordy, the black officer asked.

  Vlad felt obligated to let them in. He was not about to get them any drinks and make them comfortable. He was busy today and did not have the time for this. They sat on the couch in the parlor with the sun shining on them.

  “No, we had no enemies. This was why I didn’t have too much concern to go to the police. I don’t have much to offer for your investigation,” Vlad said. He didn’t want them here.

  “Well don’t you want to help in the apprehension of your cousin’s killer?” Officer Cordy asked. He had the role of bad cop.

  “I want my cousin still alive.”

  “Your cousin was found with silver bullets in his body. Recently there was an attack on a house in Santa Barbara were similar silver bullets were found,” said Lindell, the good cop.

  “I read about that, wasn’t that the mob?”

  “We can’t find any truth to that story. The reporter won’t disclose his source. But then one of your cousins was found with silver bullets in his body and the one who lived was struck with such force, we can’t explain it. We found no markings on him as a sign of what type of weapon could have caused that kind of damage. It doesn’t look like it was a bat, pipe, wood, or steel. We have found nothing on his body to give us a clue.”

  That’s because it was a vampire.

  “So you think the attack on my cousins was somehow related to the attack on that house in Santa Barbara?”

  “How could we not?” Cordy said. “Silver painted bullets are not that common.”

  “The coroner felt it was some type of copy-cat after what happened in Europe.”

  “That would make sense, except the attack in Santa Barbara happened before the attack in Geneva.”

  “Well I’m just as puzzled as you, and on top of that I have to bury a cousin. I have no idea what happened. I thought this was just some kind of mugging.”

  “But no money was taken out of their wallets,” Lindell said. Both their cop instincts told them this Raoul Wellington was hiding something. “What your cousin told us at the hospital was that two men in black masks attacked him first. He put up some kind of fight, and then he was attacked by some weapon he couldn’t describe that crushed his leg. Your other cousin—Jack Bearfield—fought them off and that was why he was shot. We think the sound of the gunshots scared the two muggers and they ran off, which explains why there was no money stolen.”

  “So there you go.”

  “Yes, and that would make sense if it wasn’t for the connection with the silver bullets.”

  “Look I don’t know what you two want from me? I’m the fucking victim here. I just saw my cousin lying on a slab, and now I feel like you think I am some kind of suspect. I have no answers for you.”

  Vlad knew that wasn’t smooth, but he was tired of coming up with bullshit. This new world was too stressful, it required too many answers.

  “No one is saying you are a suspect,” Lindell said moving in like a shark who smelled blood.

  “They both bought some last minute tickets to a Lakers game, courtside. That costs a pretty penny,” Cordy said.

  “Can’t you tell we are well off?” Vlad opened his arms to his house.

  “And how did you acquire your wealth?”

  “I came from it. I have papers in an office upstairs which document the land and stocks I own, but I’m not going to bother
getting them for you, because it is irrelevant to finding my cousin’s killer.”

  “Let us decide what is relevant. Why didn’t you go to the game?”

  “I don’t like basketball. I like contact sports, not ones where you get penalized for slapping someone. Too many primadonnas,” he stared right at Cordy as he said it. He didn’t care if he took it as a racist comment. Part of him wanted Cordy to. He wanted him upset, hell even for him to strike him, just to do something that cops can’t do, and hopefully that would get them to leave. Vlad had to get ready for his trip.

  “Do you have an alibi?” Cordy retorted calmly.

  “Why would I need one? Did you suspect the owner of that house in Santa Barbara for attacking his own home?”

  “We can’t find him,” Lindell said. “It was a Dave Reynolds.”

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  Vlad wasn’t giving these men anything. They wanted something. Lindell decided to stop being so nice himself.

  “Mr. Wellington, your cousins were attacked by some force our foresnics cannot really explain. We found these strange silver bullets on the scene, and then another cousin comes forth to claim the body and makes no funeral arrangements, except only to travel to Europe with the cremains. You don’t see why this all sounds funny? Why it appears you want to get out of town quick like you are running from someone?”

  “No, I think it sounds exactly like my story dictates. I am in a rush because my family, my dead cousin’s family, would like to have the service for him, and then keep to his wishes of sprinkling his ashes. The longer I delay, the longer they have to wait to put his body to rest. What this sounds like is both of your egoes getting in the way of finding who really killed my cousin.”

  “Our egoes?” they both said confused.

  “It doesn’t look good for LA, if people who can afford courtside seats at the Staples Center are still vulnerable to an attack from some random thugs who the cops have no clues about and have a method of attack that they don’t quite understand. It would scare the rich, when it appears that you cannot keep the streets safe at night. And you don’t want the rich thinking lesser of you. So if you can prove these attacks weren’t random, that they were planned somehow by an evil relative, then you can tell the rest of the city—especially the rich—that they have nothing to worry about. You rather have this be a premeditated attack on a specific target, than that fact that there is some force out there terrorizing the people of the streets.”