Bloodsucking Fiends

by Christopher Moore

  “I’m on my way,” Rivera said.

  “What about the girl?” Cavuto slammed a clip into the Desert Eagle, dropped another one into his jacket pocket.

  “She’s—she’ll be fine. I’m at Van Ness and Lombard. I’ll be there in about three minutes. Don’t call in backup.”

  “I’m not—oh Jesus Christ!”

  “What?”

  “The fucking thing just blew up.”

  A fountain of flame shot from the stern of the Sanguine II, a second passed and the rest of the yacht disappeared in a cloud of flame that rose into the sky above her. She had cleared the breakwater and was perhaps three hundred yards out into the bay when the fuse reached Drew’s incendiary cocktail.

  The raft had just made the dock when the explosion went off. Tommy leaped onto the dock and watched the mushroom cloud dissipate. The shock wave rolled in and Tommy reached back to the raft and caught the Emperor before he went into the water.

  Debris rained down around them. A pool of fire and unexploded diesel fuel spread out across the water, illuminating the whole area with a dancing bright orange.

  “Is this a party boat, or what?” Drew shouted.

  The Animals scrambled out of the raft onto the dock and began handing up the objets d’art. Tommy stood aside and watched the burn. Bummer cowered in the Emperor’s arms.

  “Do you think we got him?”

  Jeff handed the Degas ballerina to Troy and looked over his shoulder. “Fucking A, we got him. Nice mix, Drew.”

  Drew took a bow and almost went over the edge of the dock.

  The Emperor said. “I can’t help but think that the explosion may have attracted the attention of the authorities, gentlemen. I would recommend a speedy retreat.”

  Drew looked at the burning slick. “I wish I had some acid. This would be great on acid.”

  Jeff jumped down into the raft and handed up the last painting, the Miró. He looked past Troy Lee, who was wrestling up the heavy frame, and said, “Whoops.”

  “What?” Troy said.

  Jeff nodded passed him and the Animals turned around. Cavuto had a very large, very shiny pistol pointed at them.

  “No one move!”

  They didn’t. The spearguns were stacked on the dock. Clint held the shotgun loosely at his side as he prayed. He dropped it.

  “Drop it,” Cavuto said.

  “I did,” said Clint.

  “That’s true, he did,” Tommy said. “And before you asked. He should get extra credit for that.”

  Cavuto motioned with the pistol. “Everybody down. On your faces. Now!” The Animals dropped. Lazarus barked.

  The Emperor stepped forward. “Officer, these young men have—”

  “Now!” Cavuto screamed. The Emperor dropped to the dock with the Animals.

  The screens went dark an instant before he was slammed against the side of the vault. He tumbled inside, feeling his flesh burn on the steel with every turn. The vault glowed red with the heat and had filled with smoke from the seared wires and the vampire’s clothing.

  After a few seconds the tumbling stopped. The vampire was jammed into one end of the vault, his face against his knees. His skin was stinging and he tried to will it to heal, but it had been days since he had fed, so the healing came slowly.

  He located the lid by finding the smashed CRT and radar screens. Salt water sprayed in a fine mist from behind the screens. He pushed on the lid but it didn’t move. He felt for the latches and released them, then heaved against the lid with force that would have crumpled a car fender, yet the lid stayed fast. The heat of the explosion had welded it shut.

  I should have killed him last week, the vampire thought. This is what I get for indulging my pleasures.

  He reached into the broken CRT, looking for the source of the spraying water, then concentrated his will and went to mist. The transition was slow, weak as he was, but when he had finally lost his solid form he followed the path of the water and wormed his way through the pinhole to the open ocean.

  The vault lay on the bottom in a hundred and twenty feet of water and as soon as the vampire escaped, the pressure of four atmospheres condensed him to his solid shape. He tried to force himself to mist, failed, then swam toward the orange glow at the surface, thinking, The boy dies first, then a new suit.

  He broke the surface in the midst of the flame slick, then scissor-kicked hard enough to bring himself completely out of the water and tried to go to mist. His limbs dissolved in the air, their vapor whipped by the flame and standing out white in the rolling black diesel smoke, but he could not hold. He fell back into the water, followed by a vortex of vapor that condensed back to solid form under water. Frustrated and angry, he began the swim around the breakwater toward the yacht club.

  Cavuto panned the Desert Eagle back and forth across the heads of the prostrated Animals as he moved forward to get their weapons. Lazarus growled and backed away as the big cop approached. Sirens sounded in the distance. Crew members and yacht owners were popping out of the hatches of nearby yachts like curious prairie dogs.

  “Inside!” Cavuto shouted, and the yachters ducked for cover.

  Cavuto heard footsteps on the dock behind him and swung quickly around. The gate guard, looking down the cavelike barrel of the Eagle, stopped as if he’d hit a force field. Cavuto swung back to cover the Animals.

  Over his shoulder Cavuto said, “Go back to the gate and call nine-one-one. Tell them to send me some backup.”

  “Right,” the guard said.

  “All right, scumbags, you’re under arrest. And if any of you even twitches, I’ll turn you into a red stain. You have the right…”

  The vampire came out of the water like a wet comet and landed on the dock behind the Animals. He was burned black and his clothes hung in sooty shreds. Cavuto fired without thinking and missed. The vampire looked up long enough to grin at him, then reached down and snatched Tommy by the back of his shirt and yanked him up like a rag doll.

  Cavuto aimed and fired again. The second shot hit the vampire in the thigh, taking out a three-inch chuck of flesh. The vampire dropped Tommy, turned on Cavuto, and leaped. The third bullet caught the vampire in the abdomen, the impact spraying flesh and spinning him in the air like a football. He landed in a heap at Cavuto’s feet. The big cop tried to back away to get another shot off, but before he could aim, the vampire snatched the gun out of his hand, taking most of the skin off his trigger finger. He leaped backward, clawing inside his jacket for his detective special as the vampire tossed the Desert Eagle over his shoulder and climbed to his feet. “You are a dead man,” he growled.

  Cavuto watched the gaping wounds in the vampire’s leg and stomach pulsing, bubbling, and filling with smoke. He caught the butt of his revolver just as the vampire leaped, his fingers outstretched to drive into Cavuto’s chest.

  Cavuto ducked, heard a hiss and a loud thunk, and looked up, amazed that he was still alive. The vampire had stopped an inch from him. A gleaming spear through his leg had pinned him to the dock. The black kid stood a few yards away, a gas-powered speargun in hand.

  The vampire wrenched himself around and clawed at the spear. Cavuto yanked out his gun, but with his damaged finger he ended up flinging it off the dock. He heard the sound of tires behind him, then a car coming down the dock. A second spear thunked through the vampire’s shoulder.

  Tommy threw the speargun aside. The Animals were all on their feet. “Troy, throw me the sword!”

  Troy Lee picked up the fighting sword from the deck and threw it at Tommy. Tommy sidestepped, the sword whizzed by him and clattered on the dock near Cavuto, who was standing motionless, stunned at almost seeing his own death.

  “Handle first, you doofus,” Tommy said as he ran after the sword.

  The vampire yanked the spear out of his shoulder and reached for the one in his leg.

  The Emperor picked up his wooden sword from the deck and charged the vampire. Lash caught him by the collar, yanking him aside as Barry fired a thir
d spear, hitting the vampire in the hip. Jeff let go with a blast from the shotgun.

  The vampire jerked with the impact of the shot and screamed.

  Tommy dived for the fighting sword at Cavuto’s feet. The big cop lifted him to his feet.

  “Thanks,” Tommy said.

  “You’re welcome,” Cavuto said.

  “I didn’t kill those people.”

  “I’m figuring that out,” Cavuto said.

  A brown car skidded to a stop on the dock. Tommy looked up for an instant, then turned and headed toward the vampire, who was clawing at the spear in his leg. His wounds bubbled and seethed with vapor, his body was trying to heal even as new damage was inflicted on it.

  Tommy raised the sword over the vampire’s head and closed his eyes.

  “No!” It was Jody’s voice.

  Tommy opened his eyes. Jody was on her knees, shielding the vampire, who had given up the struggle and was waiting for the final blow. “No,” Jody said. “Don’t kill him.”

  Tommy lowered the sword. Jody looked at Jeff, who still held the shotgun. “No,” she said. Jeff looked at Tommy, who nodded. Jeff lowered the shotgun.

  “Kill the fiend, now!” cried the Emperor, still struggling against Lash’s hold on his coat.

  “No,” Jody said. She pulled the spear out of the vampire’s leg and he screamed. She patted his head. “One more,” she said quietly. She yanked the spear out of his hip and he gasped.

  Jody propped the vampire up on her lap. The Animals and Cavuto stood watching, not sure what to do. Clint prayed quietly, barely audible over the approaching siren.

  “Blood,” the vampire said. He looked into Jody’s eyes. “Yours.”

  “Give me that sword, Tommy.” Jody said.

  He hesitated and raised the sword to strike.

  “No!” She covered the vampire with her body.

  “But Jody, he’s killed people.”

  “You don’t know anything, Tommy. They were all going to die anyway.”

  “Get out of the way.”

  Jody turned to Cavuto. “Tell him. All the victims were terminally ill, weren’t they?”

  Cavuto nodded. “The coroner said that none of them had more than a few months.”

  Tommy was almost in tears. “He killed Simon.”

  “Simon had AIDS, Tommy.”

  “No way. Not Simon. Simon was the animal of the Animals.”

  “He was hiding it from you guys. He was scared to death. Now, please, give me the sword.”

  “No, get out of the way.”

  Tommy reared back for the killing blow. He felt a hand on his shoulder, then another one catch his sword arm and pull it down. He looked around to see the Emperor.

  “Let him go, son. The measure of a man’s power is the depth of his mercy. Give me the sword. The killing is over.”

  The Emperor worked the sword out of Tommy’s grip and handed it to Jody. She took it, ran the blade across her wrist, then held the wound to the vampire’s mouth. He took her arm in his hands and drank.

  Jody looked at Cavuto. “Your partner is handcuffed to the wheel of the car. Get him and walk away before anyone else gets here. I need the car. I don’t want to be followed either.”

  Cavuto dropped back into cop mode. “Bullshit.”

  “Go get your partner and go. Do you want to explain this?”

  “What?”

  “All this.” Jody pulled her arm out of the vampire’s mouth and gestured around the dock. “Look, the murders will stop. I promise. We’re leaving and we’re never coming back. So let it drop. And leave Tommy and these guys alone.”

  “Or what?” Cavuto said.

  Jody cradled the old vampire and lifted him as she stood up. “Or we’ll come back.” She carried the vampire to the cruiser and put him in the back seat and crawled in with him. Rivera was sitting in the front seat. Cavuto came to the side of the car and handed his handcuff key through the window to Rivera.

  “I told you,” Rivera said.

  Cavuto nodded. “We’re fucked, you know? We have to let them go.”

  Rivera unlocked the handcuffs and got out of the car. He stood next to Cavuto, not sure what to do next.

  Jody stuck her head out the back window of the cruiser. “Come on, Tommy, you drive.”

  Tommy turned to the Emperor, who nodded for him to go, then to the Animals. “You guys, get that stuff off the dock. In Troy’s car. Get out of here. I’ll call you at the store tomorrow.”

  Tommy shrugged, got in the car and started it. “What now?”

  “To the loft, Tommy. He needs a dark place to heal.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this, Jody. I want you to know that. I’d like to know what your relationship is to this guy.”

  The vampire moaned.

  “Drive,” she said.

  They pulled off the dock, leaving the Animals scrambling around collecting the art and the two policemen staring at them in amazement.

  She said, “I love you, Tommy, but I need someone who’s like me. Someone who understands. You know how that is, right?”

  “So you run off with the first rich older guy that comes along?”

  “He’s the only one, Tommy.” She stroked the vampire’s burned hair. “I don’t have any choice. I hate being alone. And if he died, then I’d never know about what I am.”

  “So you two are going away? You’re leaving me?”

  “I wish I could think of some other way. I’m sorry.”

  “I knew you’d break my heart.”

  CHAPTER 35

  SCULPTURES

  Sunset cast a warm orange across the great Pyramid, while below, the Emperor enjoyed a cappuccino on a concrete bench and Bummer and Lazarus battled for the remains of a three-pound porterhouse.

  “Men, would that I could let you, like Cincinnatus, retire like gentlemen soldiers to the country, but the City is still in need. The fiend is vanquished, but not the despair of my people. Our responsibility is legion.”

  A family of tourists passed the Emperor, hurrying to get to the cable-car stop at California Street before dark, and the Emperor tipped his cup in salute. The father, a balding fat man in an Alcatraz sweatshirt, took the Emperor’s gesture as a request for spare change and said, “Why don’t you get a job?”

  The Emperor smiled. “Good sir, I have a job. I am Emperor of San Francisco and Protector of Mexico.”

  The tourist scrunched his face in disgust. “Look at you. Look at your clothes. You stink. You need a bath. You’re nothing but a bum.”

  The Emperor looked down at the fraying cuffs of his dirty wool overcoat, his rib-worn gray corduroys, stained with splatters of vampire blood, the holes in his filthy sneakers. He raised an arm and took a sniff, then hung his head.

  The tourists walked away.

  • • •

  Cavuto and Rivera sat in leather wingback chairs in front of the fireplace in Cavuto’s Cow Hollow apartment. The fireplace was burning, the fire crackling and dancing as it fought off the damp chill of the bay. The room was furnished with rugged oak antiques, the bookshelves filled with detective novels, the walls hung with guns and posters from Bogart movies. Rivera drank cognac; Cavuto, Scotch. On the coffee table between them stood a three-foot-high bronze statue of a ballerina.

  “So what do we do with it?” Cavuto asked. “It’s probably stolen.”

  “Maybe not,” Rivera said. “He might have bought it from Degas himself.”

  “The black kid says it’s worth millions. You think he’s right?”

  Rivera lit a cigarette. “If it’s authentic, yeah. So what do we do with it?”

  “I’ve only got a couple of years before I retire. I’ve always wanted to own a rare-book shop.”

  Rivera smiled at the thought. “The wife wants to see Europe. I wouldn’t mind having a little business of my own. Maybe learn to play golf.”

  “We could turn it in and just finish our time. They’re going to move us out of homicide after this, you know that? We’re too o
ld for narcotics. Probably vice—night after night of screaming hookers.”

  Rivera sighed. “I’ll miss homicide.”

  “Yeah, it was quiet.”

  “I’ve always wanted to learn about rare books,” Rivera said.

  “No golf,” Cavuto said. “Golf is for pussies.”

  Tommy moved the futon so he could sit facing the two statues, then sat down to admire his handiwork. He’d worked all day in the foundry below, covering Jody and the Vampire with the thin coat of conductive paint and putting them into the bronzing vats. The two biker sculptors had been more than happy to help, especially when Tommy pulled a handful of cash out of the grocery bag that the Emperor had delivered.

  The statues looked very lifelike. They should, they were still alive under the bronze coating, except for Zelda, who stood next to the two vampires. Tommy had put Jody in a leotard before he applied the paint. He’d dressed the vampire in a pair of his own jockey shorts. It was amazing how fast the vampire had healed after drinking Jody’s blood. The worst part had been waiting—waiting outside the bedroom where Jody had carried the vampire, waiting for them to go out at sunrise, listening to the soft murmur of their voices. What had they been talking about?

  Overall, the vampire looked pretty good. Almost all the damage to his body had healed by morning. Jody, even bronzed, looked beautiful. The finishing touch had been to drill ear holes through the thick bronze coating so he could talk to her.

  “Jody, I know that you’re probably really, really mad. I don’t blame you. But I didn’t have a choice. It’s not forever, it’s just until I can figure out what to do. I didn’t want to lose you. I know you wanted to just go away and I think you would have, but he wouldn’t have. He would never have let me live.”

  Tommy waited, as if he would get some response from the statue. He picked up the grocery bag of money from the floor and held it up.

  “By the way, we’re rich! Cool, huh? I’ll never make fun of Lash for studying business again. In less than a day he fenced the art from the yacht and got us ten cents on the dollar. Our cut’s over a hundred thousand. The guys flew to Vegas. We tried to give a share to the Emperor, but he would only take enough to buy a meal for Bummer and Lazarus. He said that money would distract him from his responsibilities. Great, huh?”