by Nick James
‘Well, we have two days, then I need to get the hell out of the country, and quick,’ she replied.
The bald man nodded.
The Meeting, Notting Hill
The tall redhead arrived at the coven house looking high-class as ever. Wearing head-to-toe Chanel, a calf-length dress, which mirrored the outfits that Chanel thought Egyptian women would wear, with low strappy heels and a large shiny black bag along with her gift for the coven.
Tony, bless him, had a car waiting around the corner to take her straight to Dover, then France before making her way to America to find Albert. Not only that, he had a group of men in a removal van to clean out the house. If it all worked out as it should, Tony would sell all the items from the coven’s house and send Tracey’s half of the profits to Albert’s address. Obviously, if it didn’t go well and Tracey didn’t make it, there would be a lot of ash, and he would have it all.
‘Ah, good evening, Miss Andrews. Please come in,’ Alfred Masterson said and moved away from the door. ‘I hope you are well?’
‘I’ve been better, especially after seeing what Albert is up to,’ she said and saw a twitch of a smile on the man’s face. ‘But I am here to give you my answer.’
The old man smiled. ‘Perfect. My apologies for the way things were handled, but your Mr Morris is causing a lot of waves in our old colonies and they aren’t happy,’ he explained as he took her coat but left her with her bag.
‘What will they do to Albert? I wouldn’t want him hurt,’ she said meekly, playing the concerned jilted ex-lover and friend.
The old man turned to her. ‘That, I’m afraid, is out of our hands,’ he said and continued down the corridor. ‘He has a corrupting influence on all those around him. Mr Sebastian will have to take steps soon, whether he wants to or not.’
They entered the dark room again and she saw the same familiar faces again, all stuck back in the centuries when they were turned. Tracey hated them with a passion.
‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for welcoming me back,’ she said with a humble smile, putting on a false front for all to see as Alfred made her comfy on her chair.
There were both smiles and sneers from the coven, the latter from the rotten carcasses called women.
‘Hmm… We’ll see if you are good fit, girl. Your boyfriend in the States will be ash if he’s not too careful,’ one of the females cackled.
Tracey bit her lip. ‘And you are?’ she asked politely.
The old woman smiled. ‘Emily DeWitt, and to my left is Edith Grey, and to my right is Jeremiah Heaver.’ The named people nodded and grimaced.
Alfred then stood up. ‘My apologies. Let me make the introductions, especially as you may be making our coven up to a baker’s dozen.’ He laughed.
In turn each person stood up as they were introduced: Albert Andrews; Tarn Walker, who had a nose that pointed to the ceiling; Esme Whitworth, who allowed her cleavage to be on show, which was vast enough to conceal a watermelon; Maude Guppy; Jesse Turner; Jack Sanderson; Arthur Honeybottom, which nearly made Tracey giggle like she did at school years ago; and finally Isaiah Faulks.
‘Jesus, looks like the world’s worst football team,’ Tracey muttered, chuckling at her own wit.
Albert settled down in his chair whilst shaking his head. Clearly, she was failing to win them over. Oh well.
‘I have a gift. It’s a bottle of rum from Nelson’s ship,’ Tracey announced, retrieving the bottle from her bag and placing it in the middle of the large polished wooden table. All eyes were locked on it.
‘Oh goodness, that is very gracious,’ said Jeremiah. ‘Forgive me for asking, but how did you come to have ownership of this?’
Tracey placed her bag on the ground and smiled. ‘Albert Morris,’ she replied and then saw their stunned faces. ‘I have a corkscrew somewhere.’ She knelt down under the table as if to search in her bag. Instead, she pressed a car alarm fob. With a soft beep it activated the surprise.
The explosion was a dull thump sending wood and death into the air; ash filled the atmosphere making the redhead cough. She pulled two silenced .22 pistols out of her bag and stood up. Amongst the smoke and ash she could see that the majority of the coven had already gone to hell.
There were only three left: Edith, whose eyes were gone; the bitch DeWitt; and, of course, Alfred. He must have been reaching for the bottle and was thrown backwards, missing what was inside the bottle, but he was hit by something, maybe the glass because he had no lower jaw and only one arm.
DeWitt stared at Tracey angrily although she was peppered with wood fragments from the previously pristine table. Without losing the staring contest, Tracey levelled the gun at Alfred’s head. With a gentle squeeze of the trigger she sent a silver-tipped bullet into his brain, and then a second shot into the man’s heart, causing him to turn to ash.
‘You fucking bitch,’ DeWitt cursed and then flinched as her long-term friend and confidant Edith followed Alfred in the long-awaited afterlife.
Tracey moved her pistol to DeWitt’s face. ‘Takes one to know one,’ she said happily.
‘Why? We are vampires. We welcomed you in,’ Emily DeWitt said, who had been turned by her young lover, although she was sixty, but she did love the strong, young boys. He was bitten by a noble after coming back from France with Henry V’s army, and she was to be ended by this bitch.
‘Simple, you threatened me and the man I care about – and for that alone I would torch the world,’ Tracey said and squeezed the trigger so Emily could follow the young lover that she herself had killed after finding him with her friend Edith. Ironically, they as then would turn to each other for company and torment for the rest of their unnaturally long lives.
With that she placed the gun in her bag, dusted herself down and walked out, opening the door wide to let in the large men and Tony. No words were exchanged, just a kiss on his bald head, and she made her exit to the car heading for France and then America. She drove off with a smile on her face and hope for a better future alongside Albert as he chased love once more. This time she would be there to help him pick up the pieces when his love undoubtedly passed into memory, again.
Chapter 19
The apartment was silent after Tracey had finished her tale. ‘Jesus, Tracey, you wiped out the whole coven! What was in that bomb?’ I asked, looking at the now relaxed woman.
‘Ah yes, I had a bit of luck there. One of Tony’s boys used to be in bomb disposal for the army. He was in Iraq and Afghanistan taking apart IEDs. What that man didn’t know about bombs could be written on the head of a pin,’ she said excitedly. ‘He caught the man who had killed a few of his friends with a bomb. Simon was caught with his hand on a detonator switch and a shaped charge of C-4 rammed up the terrorist’s ass. He was arrested and kicked out of the army. They hushed it all up, of course, but they never found all the bits of the man.’ She gave a dark chuckle. ‘But I digress…lead in the bottom, a small amount of C-4 and a shitload of silver – boom.’
I just shook my head in amazement. I knew she mixed in some shady circles, but this was crazy. ‘So why did it take you so long to get here?’
Tracey took another drink. ‘I wasn’t sure what forces they might have watching for me, so I went to Calais, then was bundled in a container for a long, lonely trip across the Atlantic – my clothes were ruined.’ Her eyes went black.
‘I’ll buy you some new clothes. Just promise not to bankrupt me.’
She raised her hand. ‘I can promise nothing, Albert, but now, I will use your shower,’ she announced, to which I pointed to the main bathroom and watched as she undressed on the way letting her red dress fall to the floor. ‘Care to wash my back?’ she shouted back at me, giggling to herself.
An hour later I was nervously playing with my phone. Rose hadn’t texted to say she was home, and that worried me. But then again Sharon, her roommate, could sometimes make her forget with some drama or another.
Tracey walked in wearing silk pyjamas that she had
brought in her case. Her wet red hair draped over her shoulder as she lazily rubbed it with a towel. I handed her the last of my blood/alcohol mix, which brought a smile to her face.
‘So, where’s your hotty? You told her yet?’
I shook my head. ‘She went home earlier, but she hasn’t answered any of my texts,’ I replied, and we looked at each other. ‘It might be nothing, unless the coven had been tipped off that you were coming here.’
‘It’s possible, but why take a human? It doesn’t make sense,’ she stated.
‘What about any of their decisions making sense? They are all in their own little worlds,’ I growled, my phone creaking as I gripped it too tightly. ‘And no, I haven’t told her.’
There was a bang on the door, making us both jump.
I threw open the door. ‘Jasper, what are you doing here? You’re not meant to be working tonight?’
The tall doorman’s dark skin shone with sweat. ‘Bert, can I come in?’ he asked with wide eyes and a look of worry. He walked in and stopped suddenly when he saw Tracey. ‘Damn, it’s raining beautiful women.’ He looked me up and down. ‘I dunno how you do it, my man.’
I pushed him to a chair while Tracey laughed and drank up the compliments as she always did. ‘This is my friend Tracey from England. This is Jasper, he’s a good man and works on the door of this building,’ I explained. They greeted each other kindly. ‘So, what’s up?’ I asked the panic-stricken man.
‘I had a call from my buddy Stefan who’s working on the door downstairs tonight. He was contacted by the taxi company that took your guest home. They told him they couldn’t make contact with the cab driver, so they were concerned. They asked Stefan what time the cab picked up the fare and left, but while Stefan was answering them, they had a call from the cab driver’s wife. It turns out that he was arrested and only released an hour ago,’ Jasper explained, and then he saw my face go paler than it had ever done before. ‘The charge was bullshit, and the passenger was taken away by a plain-clothes cop.’
My head dropped. ‘Did they get the name of this cop?’ I asked sternly.
‘Captain Hughes. Isn’t that the prick you’d said about before?’ Jasper asked, to which I gave a curt nod in response.
Tracey was bored as Jasper and I had our important discussion. She just took all the information on board as our emotions started to rise. My eyes flicked to her, and she held a smirk as she deemed this an appropriate moment to play Candy Crush on my phone.
I then stood up and started to pace before stopping to look out of my window as I made my decision. I lifted my phone, scanned the texts and found the one I wanted. I tapped to call the recipient, lifted the phone to my ear and waited for it to connect, which it did in five rings.
‘Mr Morris, I was expecting your call. It seems as though the coven may have acted rashly, yes?’ Graves the butler said calmly, answering questions before I had even asked them.
‘What are they playing at? Where is Rose? Is she safe?’ I demanded to know and started to pace while my friends watched on.
‘Calm yourself, sir, they have received some disturbing news from London. A week ago the coven in London went dark just after they had met with a person of your acquaintance. Then your red-headed friend was seen entering America via a sea port, and they panicked as they thought you were together and planning their destruction,’ he explained in his matter-of-fact tone. ‘And yes, she is safe. I put her with Miss Romanov and they are getting on well.’
I sighed with relief because at least she was safe, but God knows what they were talking to each other about. I knew how playful the girls were, and it didn’t bode well for me at any rate. ‘May I ask why you are being so open with me, Graves?’
‘Simple, I am the butler of the house, not of the people here. They merely have a long-term rental agreement with the owners. But they have asked that I be the mediator between yourself and the coven,’ he said, and then I could hear some whispering at his end. ‘Would you come for a meeting, Mr Morris? I promise your safety.’
So much for the master of the coven’s family being there for centuries, then, I thought. ‘Yes, I will, and I know you believe that. But the coven cannot be trusted, especially the captain,’ I answered.
‘Indeed, sir. I shall send the car for you, but you will notice that we have armed guards, on the front gates only, for your safety as well as theirs,’ he clarified and clicked off the phone.
Tracey stood up and walked over to me. ‘What did they say, Berty?’ she asked, then she seemed to realise that her choice of name was only used by those who held a special place in my heart. A look of worry attacked her perfect features.
There was a tug on my dead heart. I shrugged it off and gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I couldn’t blame her as our emotions were running high. ‘It was the butler of the coven house – they have Rose, but she’s safe. As we thought, one of their people saw you at the port, and they’re scared you’re here to destroy them with my help,’ I explained, making her shake her head and laugh, her arms still draped over my shoulders. ‘Graves, he put Rose with Anastasia in the cellar. So she is safe, for now.’
A cough came from the chair. ‘So, what’s the plan, Bert, and what can I do to help?’ Jasper asked pointedly, his army training and conditioning coming to the forefront – protect the weak and help your friends.
‘I don’t think you can. This isn’t your fight. There are things at play here that you don’t know, and I won’t risk you!’ I replied firmly.
All he did was smile in reaction, which made me frown. ‘Now, put each other down for a moment and sit your asses down,’ he instructed, pointing to the sofa.
We both sat down like two naughty children and looked at a new side to this ordinarily quiet man.
‘I have seen some shit during my time in the marines, but nothing has compared to you, Bert. You only appear when the sun goes down, and you come back in the a.m. with jet-black eyes and blood spots on your clothing. Then the thing with my cousin – his friend hits you with an iron bar, which he said was hard enough to kill you, but you get up and snap your zip ties. Then my cousin tries to shoot you, and he said you moved quicker than light,’ he finished, taking a breath as if to continue.
‘I’ve never known you talk so much, unless it has to do with food,’ I replied. We all laughed nervously. I was still astounded at how observant he had been. Damn you, Marine Corps. ‘So, what is it you think you know, Jasper?’ I asked wearily.
He shrugged. ‘Well, you and Red over there are vampires, or something like that. But you’re a good one. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that a lot of gang activity in the Bronx and other shady areas has dwindled to almost nothing. You have the gangbangers running scared, and they are calling you the Shadow of Death,’ Jasper said with a laugh.
‘Shit, so much for being stealthy. I was always crap at it.’ I chuckled and looked across at Tracey, who was clearly enthralled with the story being told.
He focused a glare at me. ‘Were you ever in the armed forces or was that a lie?’ he asked with a look of hurt and betrayal etched on his face.
I smiled at him. ‘I was in the London regiment for some years in Ireland, then I was with the British SOE, spy hunting, plus other not so fun stuff against Hitler. So, I was in the forces, just a different time and place than I could admit to,’ I explained.
Tracey and Jasper looked upon me in awe. I had never really talked about that with her. Only the closest of people were told, but I just stopped after Suzie passed.
‘You’re right about the rest. I went through some dark times when I was first turned, and killed some innocents, but I conquered my demon and focused on those who broke the law. I made some friends with the coppers that way,’ I continued.
Jasper frowned at my terminology.
‘Police, Jasper. I made friends in law enforcement.’
Tracey jumped in, ‘When you first get bitten, you can be feral and feed on anything. Some vampires never change and just kill for the
sheer pleasure of it. But Berty and I managed to adjust.’ A dark shadow came over her face. ‘When my boyfriend bit me, I killed my whole family that night. If I close my eyes, I can still see their faces as I tore them apart. I didn’t know I was doing it. I just woke up bathed in my loved ones’ blood,’ she recalled sadly with tears rolling down her pale cheeks. She moved closer to me. ‘It physically and mentally broke me.’
Jasper looked at me. ‘So, who bit you, then?’ He looked surprised when I smiled.
‘He was bitten by Jack the fucking Ripper,’ Tracey cut in excitedly, pulling herself from her haunting thoughts.
‘Oi, that was my story,’ I barked and gave the redhead a sour look. ‘But, yes, and I killed the fucker too.’ I saw Jasper’s eyes go wide and his mouth fall open.
The doorman was shaking his head. ‘Nah, I can’t believe it. You were bitten by the one and only Jack the motherfucking Ripper?’ He had come to terms with his guesses about us, but for it all to be true, along with the back stories, his mind was blown. ‘Fuck!’ he exclaimed, still shaking his head. ‘What we gonna do about Rose?’ he asked, dragging us back on topic.
I rubbed my face. ‘Graves knew he was being listened to. But what he did say was that there are only armed guards on the front gates, but we can’t necessarily trust that,’ I advised, watching Tracey walk off and come back with her bag. ‘What have you got?’ I asked.
The redhead flicked her long hair over her shoulder as she delved into her bag and pulled out three small padded bags. ‘A gift from my friend: Ruger SR22, semi-auto, small calibre, which means less noise and kick. And ten rounds of magazines, all silver-tipped – one in the head stops them and gives them something to worry about, then one in the pumper turns them to dust,’ she said with excitement.
And that’s why Tracey is a wanderer, I thought. Life was just too boring for her after a while.
Jasper checked them over with a practiced eye and hand, pulling back the action to check the workings. ‘I thought you Brits didn’t like guns?’ he asked.
