Dead-tective Box Set (Vampire Mystery-Romance)

by Flynn, Mac

  Mitch snorted and gestured to the establishment. "You kidding me? This mess is going to cost me a fortune."

  Vince stepped up to him and his sunglasses slipped down his nose. His eyes looked into Mitch's own and Mitch stiffened. "Then you will tell us who is able to read the note on this paper."

  Mitch's voice held a mechanical tone and his words were flat. "His name is Malichai. He resides on 32 Sunnyside Drive."

  Vince pushed his glasses over his eyes and broke contact. Mitch clutched his head and swayed side-to-side. He ground his teeth together and one eye opened to glare at Vince. "You asshole! You hypnotized me!"

  Vince pulled a wad of dough from his jacket and tossed it on the table beside Mitch. "I saved your life this day. What you ask is for more trouble than even your cyclops can handle."

  "You could have just asked nicer!" Mitch argued.

  Vince turned and strode through the mess of the bar and out the front door. I shrugged and sheepishly smiled at Mitch. "Sorry about that. We'll tell you later," I promised as I turned to follow Vince.

  At least, I hoped there would be a later.

  Chapter 4

  I caught up to Vince outside the wrecked establishment. The exterior was unharmed by the fight, and only the claw marks on the ground from the werewolves told the tale of trouble. The underground city was now completely deserted and our footsteps echoed eerily across the whole of the place.

  "Sunnyside Drive. That actually sounds like a nice place," I mused to my partner.

  "We shall see," Vince mused as he led us to the tunnel.

  Unfortunately, we had a bit of a problem. At the mouth of the tunnel stood Romero and half a dozen Parasquad officers. Romero folded his arms and glared at us. "What the hell did you guys do now?"

  "We didn't do anything. It was the werewolves and the cyclops," I protested.

  Romero raised an eyebrow. "I warned you two not to cause trouble, and with a story like that it sounds like you made a lot of it, and in record time. Now why don't you just follow me to headquarters and I'll get my men on seeing what trouble you caused in the Boo Bar."

  "We're in a hurry and don't have time for that," Vince argued. He tried to push his way past, but Romero put a hand on Vince's chest and held him back.

  "Not this time, Vincent. This time you do what I say and tell me what the hell is going on," Romero insisted.

  Vince's hand whipped up and grabbed Romero's arm. The vampire tore the arm from its socket and socked Romero in the face with his own hand. Romero stumbled back from the double blow. Two men caught him and the other four dove at us. Vince ducked the first swings and stood to catch the lead zombie by the chest. He lifted the officer and threw him into the others. Vince grabbed my hand and yanked me back to the Boo Bar.

  I glanced over my shoulder in time to watch Romero put his remaining fingers to his lips and blow. A shrill, clear whistle rang through the complex, and a dozen more Parasquad officers spilled from the headquarters down the street on the lower level. Romero pointed at us. "Get them!" he shouted.

  The zombies were faster than they looked as they sped towards us. Others climbed the front wall of their station like spiders to reach the upper level where stood the entrance to the Boo Bar. Vince pulled me up the stairs at a speed that nearly swept my feet from the ground. We reached the Boo Bar with zombies at our heels and beside us, and we burst through the doors with the crowd behind us. The cyclops had returned to its wall watching, and Mitch sat at his usual table counting the roll of bills given to him by Vince.

  At our entrance he jumped to his feet and pocketed the money. "Haven't you given me enough trouble?" he complained as we sped through the broken tables.

  "Just passing through," I quipped as we passed by him and through the rear exit.

  Once in the hall Vince tossed me ahead of him and rammed his shoulder against the door. The metal door bent inward and jammed into the door frame. The zombies hit the door a millisecond after Vince and the door gave a quarter of an inch. They slammed again, and it gave a little more.

  "We haven't much time," Vince warned me as he grabbed my hand and dragged me down the dank sewer tunnel.

  "Should we really be doing this? I mean, what's the harm in telling Romero everything we know? What's he going to do, help us?" I pointed out.

  "Ruthven has spies everywhere, even among the Parasquad. Whatever we would learn, he would learn," Vince argued.

  I heard a heavy clamor of metal against metal, and glanced over my shoulder. The door lay against the opposite wall with the frame and zombies poured from the exit. They rushed down both ends of the tunnel and a shout from the group going our way alerted the others which direction we headed. My heart skipped a beat when Vince slowed and the distance between us and our pursuers decreased by half.

  I turned my gaze to him. "What are-" I didn't get to finish before he swept me into his arms.

  "Hold on to me," he ordered me.

  "What are-" Again I wasn't able to finish my sentence when he leaned forward. I saw his ring shine, and our speed increased ten fold.

  The walls passed like smears of paint on a modernist piece of art. The wind whipped my hair into my face like small strands of thick chains and pelted my skin like stinging bees. I turned away from the front and chanced a glance over Vince's shoulder. The zombies fell far behind and in a few seconds they completely disappeared. Vince turned corners so sharply that I was nearly given whiplash. I buried my face into his jacket and prayed the trip would soon end.

  In a few minutes Vince slowed and stopped beneath the light of a manhole cover. A metal ladder with wet rungs led up the wall and to the cover. Vince set me down and my legs wobbled at the lack of speed. The light from his ring dimmed to nothing.

  I leaned against the wall near the ladder and steadied myself. "Not to complain or anything, but that was really fast," I commented.

  "A necessity, considering the situation," he countered as he grasped the lower rungs of the ladder. "Now we climb."

  I grabbed his arm and nodded in the direction we'd come. "Wait a sec. If you were always able to do that speed then why didn't you before?" I questioned him.

  "The need is greater now than before, and the effort drains my energy and forces me to find sustenance," he explained.

  I cringed. "So you're telling me it makes you really hungry?"

  "Yes, but we haven't time for talking." He climbed the ladder and I followed him.

  Vince opened the cover and slipped out. I peeked my head over the rim and saw we were in a nice, clean part of the city. Suburbia was upon us, and I breathed deeply of its ordinariness. There were repaired sidewalks on either side of the road, and the white houses sat in neat little rows. The lit streetlights illuminated the road, sidewalks and front walks, and the late hour meant the streets were deserted. Cars were parked along the curbs, prepared and waiting for the drive to work the next morning.

  "I never thought I'd see something this ordinary again. . ." I muttered as I pulled myself out of the hole.

  Vince slipped the cover back on and looked over the area. "Sunnyside Drive should be near here," he informed me.

  I raised an eyebrow and let my eyes sweep over the normalness. "Could an alchemist really be hiding in a place like this? I mean, everybody else in the supernatural world seems to prefer the dark, icky places of the city."

  "Then the normal, living parts would be an excellent place to hide," Vince pointed out.

  He strode down the sidewalk and I followed his long strides. "So if alchemists are one step away from being hermits, how are we going to convince this one to help us?" I asked him.

  "We shall see what the alchemist demands when we meet," Vince advised.

  "So winging it again? Seems to work out for us most of the time," I mused.

  We walked a couple of blocks until Vince stopped at a pair of street signs signaling the names. I looked up and saw we were at the intersection of Sunnyside Drive and Happy Trails Street. "Okay, that's a little too normal," I com
mented.

  Vince didn't reply, but his eyes swept over the area. The houses were still around us, but across the intersection sat a large, low building in the shape of a capital L. There was a small park in the front, and in the crux of the L was a pair of doors that led into a lobby. I noticed a sign at the front of the park and against the sidewalk. "Sunnyside Drive Retirement Community." I blinked and turned to Vince. "We're looking for an old guy?"

  "So it appears," he mused.

  "Like a senile old guy, or one who can actually help us?" I asked him.

  "We will find our answer inside," he replied as he strode forward.

  I hurried after him and gestured to the dark building. "Yeah, but what room is he in? There's probably dozens in there," I pointed out.

  "We will ask the front desk," he suggested.

  The only lights in the dark building were in the halls and the front lobby. We reached the pair of glass doors and Vince tried one of the handles. Locked. A middle-aged woman sat behind the curved front desk with her eyes glued to the pages of a romance novel. At the shake of the door she looked up and frowned. "We're closed to visitors," she called to us.

  "But we really need to see someone," I called back.

  The woman set down her novel and stood. "I'm afraid that's quite impossible. Visiting hours are over, so please leave before I call the police," she ordered us.

  Vince stepped close to the glass doors and his glasses slid down his nose. I looked from him to where he was staring at which was the woman behind the desk. She stiffened and her eyes took on a vacant expression. The woman walked around the desk and to the doors. She pulled out her keys, unlocked the doors and opened them.

  Vince pushed past her and I slid inside behind him. My vampire companion turned to the woman as she let the door shut behind us. "We need to know if there is an alchemist residing here," Vince told her.

  The woman shook her head. "There are no alchemists."

  "Are any of the residents allowed special liberties?" he asked the woman.

  She nodded. "Yes. Mr. Wilson is allowed a dirt box of flowers, Mrs. Hammond is allowed allowed her five shelves of mystery books, Mr.-"

  "Are any of them allowed chemistry sets?" he specified.

  "Yes, Mr. Merl Lynn."

  "Which room is his?"

  She nodded at the hall behind us and to our right. "He's down there, room forty-two."

  "Return to your duties and warn us if you notice anything unusual," Vince instructed her. The woman bowed her head and resumed her position behind the desk. Vince walked down the hall and I by his side.

  "So do you think this alchemist is dangerous?" I whispered.

  "We will see."

  Chapter 5

  We walked down the hall past the doors of the inmates' rooms. "Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty," I counted up. "Forty-one, forty-three?" I stopped and glanced between the last two counts. Still no forty-two. I pointed at the doors. "Um, Vince? There's no room forty-two. The woman's as senile as the inmates."

  Vince passed me and stood before the empty wall between the two existing rooms. My flummoxed partner pursed his lips together and his red eyes examined the barrier before him. Vince raised hand so his fingers were outstretched and his palm faced the wall. He pressed his palm against the wall.

  I started when a room door appeared in front of us. On the door was the number forty-two. Vince lowered his hand. "It seems were are expected," he mused.

  "This doesn't seem like a good thing," I commented.

  "We will see."

  "Can't we know something for once?" I pleaded.

  Vince tried the knob. It turned, and he pushed the door open. It swung into the room and revealed a small, square suite. The first room was a small living room large enough for a love seat, chair and TV stand. Against the far right was were two doors, one leading to a bathroom and the other I guessed was a bedroom. There wasn't any sign of the chemistry set, or anything that screamed 'alchemist.'

  In the living room chair sat a wizened old man who appeared to be a hundred. He had thick spectacles on his face, thinning white hair on his head, and a white shirt and faded jeans on his body. His eyes were closed and a bit of drool dribbled from his mouth down to his chin. His chest rose up and down in a deep, even movement. I tiptoed inside, but Vince strode forward and stopped in front of the old man.

  Vince pulled out the slip of paper and held it out to him. "We wish to have this deciphered," he told the inmate. The man didn't respond.

  I frowned and slunk over to my partner. The old man didn't move a muscle as I turned to Vince and gestured at the stranger. "Are you sure this is an alchemist? He doesn't seem very-well, lively," I pointed out.

  "Then we will change that," Vince suggested. He pocketed the note, leaned down, and knocked the old man's head off his shoulders. I screamed, but Vince wrapped an arm around me and slapped his hand over my mouth. "Quiet or you will wake others," he ordered me.

  I pulled his hand from my mouth and pointed at the head. "You just killed a man!" I hissed.

  "This is not a man, but a dummy," he argued.

  "And it was a good one until you wrecked it," a voice piped up. The bedroom door opened and the same wizened old man, with head, shuffled out. He leaned on a cane and glared at us as he pointed the bottom of his stick at the head and body. "You'd better be willing to pay for those damages."

  My eyes whipped between the old man, and the old man sans-head. "What the hell is going on here?" I questioned them.

  "The thing in the chair was merely an elaborate decoy, a simple trick of air and materials," Vince explained.

  "Simple? This isn't anything simple," the old man argued. He shuffled over to the head and picked it up. "Just the head took weeks to sculpt, and even longer to order the materials and get them through those idiot women who run this place."

  Vince released me and walked over to the old man. Mr. Lynn stretched himself up to his full height of five feet and glared at the vampire. "We need your help," Vince told him.

  "And why should I help you, vampire? Your kind are nothing but trouble for my profession, always mocking us with your almost-immortality and spoiling our experiments." The old man held up the head as proof.

  "One of your own is in grave danger," Vince replied.

  Lynn snorted and half-turned from Vince. "So? What do I care? Less competition for me."

  "It is Frederick Batholomew."

  Lynn froze and his head whipped around. His eyebrows crashed down and he pursed his lips. "What was that name, vampire?"

  "Frederick Batholomew. Lord Ruthven hunts him," Vince told him.

  "Ruthven? What's that idiot doing now?" Lynn growled.

  "Trying to take over the city," I spoke up.

  Lynn snorted. "Just like that fool to destroy something first and try to take over it later, like a wild dog that craps on a yard and later rolls in the grass."

  "So does that mean you'll help us?" I asked him.

  "Help you? Hell no. These idiots can duke it out between each other for all I care." He paused and his eyes flickered between Vince and the ring on the vampire's finger. "That is, unless you can spare a drop of Batholomew's blood."

  "We have nothing to give you but a challenge between alchemists," Vince replied. He pulled out the yellowed paper and held the words towards Lynn. "Batholomew created this code. Do you know what this says?"

  Lynn sneered and waved a hand at the paper. "What kind of a challenge is that? Give me a real challenge and-" He paused and leaned towards the paper. His eyes squinted and he grabbed a bottom corner. "What do we have here? Hmm, a spell with a bit of strange ink." Lynn pulled the paper from Vince's willing hand and studied the writing. He shuffled towards the bathroom and mumbled to himself. "Maybe, just maybe it might be it, but my god, this is old, very old. I haven't seen this in ages."

  "What is it?" I asked him.

  Lynn paused in the bathroom door and glanced up at me with a scowl. "Maybe a challenge, maybe nothing. Let me step into my o
ffice and see what I can find." He closed the door behind himself and his mumblings were heard through the door. There came the sounds of chinking as glass tapped against glass, followed by a soft bubbling noise.

  I slid over to Vince and lowered my voice. "You think this guy is really going to help us?" I whispered.

  "Yes."

  I frowned at him. "Why?"

  "Because an alchemist cannot resist a challenge from another of his profession, and Bat is a legend in the alchemist society. It would raise Lynn's prestige if he could break the code," Vince explained.

  "So we're hoping this is going to stroke his ego enough to-"

  "Eureka!" came a shout from the bathroom. The door burst open and Lynn stood in the doorway waving the paper in one hand. Behind him was the messiest bathroom I'd ever seen, made possible by the large chemistry set that stretched across the small counter and included the bathtub and the open, filthy toilet. The walls were stained with all the colors of the rainbows, as were the beakers and tubes that sat and lay on the counter, on shelves on the walls, and on the floor. "I've got it!" Lynn shouted.

  "You solved the writing already?" I asked him.

  He hobbled towards us and scowled at me. "You doubt the great Lynn's abilities?"

  I shook my head. "N-no, no, I was just, well-maybe?" I squeaked.

  Lynn shoved the paper under my nose. "Well, I have here proof of my success. Take that, Batholomew!"

  Vince blessedly took the paper before it cut my lip and peered over the contents. He raised an eyebrow and his eyes flickered to Lynn. "I see only smears where there was once writing," he told the old man. My mouth fell open and I stood on my tiptoes for a view. Sure enough the gibberish was gone and in their places were long smears of ink.

  I whipped my head to Lynn. "You ruined it!" I growled at him.

  "I have not. Let me take a look." Lynn snatched the document from Vince and looked it over. "Damn spell was stronger than I thought. Hold this." He stuffed the paper into Vince's hands and hurried to the bathroom. Lynn snatched a vial from the counter and hurried back to us. "The old goat used a simple trick, but not simple ink. This is rare stuff from Egypt. I haven't seen the like in a hundred years. Now hold open that paper, that's it. Now hold still." Vince held the paper so the smeared words faced the ceiling. Lynn splashed the paper with a little of the contents of the vial.