“Hey, Grace,” Kevin said, “those bags under your eyes look pretty full. What, has someone been shopping?”
“Fuck you, douchebag.”
“Dude! Seriously. Have you been getting any sleep lately?”
Grace’s brow furrowed as she glared across the desk at Kevin. She did not need to respond.
“Okay, gee whiz,” Kevin said. “Forgive me for caring. Look, Grace, I don’t care what you’re doing. Who you’re seeing…are you seeing someone? Come on, you can tell me.”
“No, I’m not seeing anyone. Frankly speaking, it’s none of your goddamn business. So drop it, all right?”
“Geez, sorry, forget it, okay?” Kevin went back to reviewing case reports as Grace checked her e-mails.
They both failed to notice a thin bespectacled middle-aged white female in a brown pantsuit heading to Mason’s office. She did not look particularly interesting, and as she was already in the squad room, it was assumed that she belonged there. Grace and Kevin continued their routine as the lady knocked on the door to the sergeant’s office and was allowed in. Just a few seconds later, Mason opened his office door.
“Grace!” he called. “My office. Now.”
“Oh, you’re in trouble now,” Kevin teased.
Grace did not respond but rose from the desk and entered the office. There, both Mason and the stranger were leaning against the sergeant’s desk.
“Shut the door, and take a seat,” Mason ordered. Grace did as she was told.
“This is Detective Zahersky with the Internal Affairs Division,” he said. “She has a few questions for you. It shouldn’t take long.”
“Good morning, Detective,” Zahersky said.
“IA?” Grace asked. “Should I have a union rep present?”
“Not necessarily, Detective. This isn’t a formal hearing. I just wanted to let you know that there has been a complaint made against you, and it’s incumbent on IA to follow up on these things.”
“What kind of complaint?” Grace asked.
“The caller alleges that you’ve been stalking him at his place of residence. Now, this was a telephonic complaint, and the complainant did not seem interested at this time to formalize the complaint, but still, we would like to get a statement from you as to whether or not you think this complaint has some validity.”
“No, of course, it’s not valid.”
Zahersky nodded. “Very well. That’s all we need. Unless the complainant decides to pursue the issue, that’s all you’ll hear from us. Sergeant, Detective, thank you.”
Zahersky then left the office. Grace remained seated as Mason glared at her. “Scott Campbell, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah. Campbell.”
“Goddamn it, Grace, I told you to leave him alone. Didn’t I tell you, here, in my office, to leave Scott Campbell alone?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.”
“And did you listen when I told you not to bother the guy?”
Grace did not answer.
“Oh, Jesus, what the hell are you thinking?”
“Scott Campbell is wrong. I know he’s wrong.”
“Wrong about what, Grace? Tell me what Scott Campbell is supposedly wrong about.”
Grace heaved a sigh. “I…I am not able to tell you, Mason. And you would not believe me if I tried.”
“Seriously, Grace? Give me a try. Go on.”
“No, Sarge, I can’t. You’ll think I’m crazy. Hell, maybe I am crazy.”
“Crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy: pissing away your career on some vague version of a snipe hunt. Whatever your reasoning is, it’s not worth it. This pursuit of Scott Campbell is a game of political hot potato, and you’re the one who’s gonna get burned. It’s got to end, Grace. It’s got to end right now. So what is it? Are you going to drop this foolhardy quest, or do we have to take this to the next level?”
Damn. Grace did not want to jeopardize her job. She was a deputy sheriff, a law enforcement officer, a protector and servant of the people. She was sure of the threat Scott Campbell posed to the people she was trying to protect. That she could not express that threat to her supervisor, or to anyone, frustrated her immensely. How could anyone believe her? She realized that she was the only one who could stop Campbell. And the only way she could do that was to go outside of the law. She decided to respond to her superior the only way she could: by lying.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Mason. I’ll be a good girl and leave Campbell alone. There. Is that better?”
“Much better. You’re a good cop, Grace. Don’t mess it up over this obsession you seem to have. It’s not worth it. Now get out of here.”
Grace returned to her desk. Kevin prodded her about the visit to Mason’s office, but she would not reveal the true nature of what had just transpired. Of course, the dressing-down she’d received would not dissuade her from appearing at Scott’s house again that night.
Scott was good to his word, buying pints of ale for Jeremiah and Sinner at one of his favorite watering holes, a British-style pub in southeast Portland. Besides being an old favorite, Scott felt the place was appropriate, both for his own ethnic heritage and to honor the Inquisitor. Besides, the wood-floored, wood-beamed pub was usually fairly dark, a pretty obvious hangout for discriminating vampires.
The conversation was as light as vampiric conversations could be. Sinner eventually had to excuse himself, as he had another early-morning deposition to perform. He thanked Scott and then told him that if he ever had any legal problems to feel free to call on him. However, he hoped that his services would not be needed anytime soon.
“Actually, there is something,” Scott said. “I may need to file a restraining order.”
“Here, in Multnomah County?”
“No, Clackamas County.”
“Who against?”
“Against a cop. Clackamas sheriff’s detective.”
“Cool, a restraining order against a cop. I’m in. I know a guy in the DA’s office and a couple Clackamas County Circuit Court judges, one of whom owes me a favor. Tell you what: give me a call when you want it, and it’s done. Pro bono as well; what you just went through was hard. Restraining orders are easy in comparison.”
Scott thanked Sinner as he left. Jeremiah and Scott remained, still downing their pints of ale. “I guess I can give you a night off of training, after what you’ve been through,” Jeremiah said. “You deserve it.”
“Thanks,” Scott replied. “Yeah, after that ordeal, I sure could use a break. Wow, I’m official. I don’t even know what that means, other than I get to live.”
“It means that you are under the protection of the House and shall receive aid. But it also means you are to obey the rules and regulations. No turning anyone without permission, and no feeding on unwilling humans. Those are the main things.”
Scott laughed. “Believe me, those are not problems for me. Hey, Jeremiah, can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, you may.”
“What was your relationship to the Inquisitor? You guys seem to know each other.”
Jeremiah had been smiling. The smile faded from his face. “You truly wish to know?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I was his sire.”
“No shit?”
“It is true. It was many years ago, of course. He was in a bad way, and I was all too willing. He became like my own son; I was to him as I am to you, in a way. Except there was no House to restrain our deeper urges. Anyway, eventually, we parted ways. Then I changed. I became unwilling to raise my hand against humanity, and I eventually joined with Ministry. Allan opposed that, of course. And so, we had not spoken in over a hundred years.”
“Wow, a hundred years…long time not to talk to someone. What was it that caused you to go with Ministry? Why did you come to choose the side of humanity?”
“I do not speak of it, and I hope you are able to respect my reticence.”
“Ouch, sorry, I didn’t know it was such a touchy subject. I’ll leave it alone.”
Once again, the conversation became light and friendly. Scott reminded Jeremiah of the Halloween party at Tim’s, to which Jeremiah said he’d be interested in going. Scott then told Jeremiah he would meet him again the next night after work for their usual nightly training session, or “beat up on Scott” session, as Scott phrased it. Eventually, they parted, and Scott headed home after settling the tab.
As Scott approached his home, he noticed the silver Camry once again parked at the end of the dead-end street.
Okay, fine, he snarled to himself, that’s how you wanna play? Then fine. We’ll just see how tough you are once you get a restraining order drawn out on your ass. Then we’ll see just how much of a psycho stalker you are!
Scott decided it was best right then to ignore her annoying presence and go inside. However, Grace did not want to be ignored. She stepped out of the Camry and walked purposefully toward Scott as the hard rain continued, water drops pelting her hooded jacket. “Scott Campbell!” she said.
“What do you want, Detective? Look, this is harassment. It’s also stalking. I’ve got a lawyer, and he’s itching for the chance to sue a governmental agency.”
Grace did not answer but instead reached under her hooded jacket and yanked out a wooden stake. She then lunged at Scott. Although shocked by the attack, he reacted quickly, as only a vampire could. He blocked her downward stab, holding her arm upright with his left hand. With his right, he easily pulled the stake from her grasp and tossed it away and then released her. She quickly backed up, pulled out her Glock, and pointed it at Scott.
“You just don’t give up, do you, Detective?”
“Not by a damn sight. I know what you are, Campbell; I told you I did. And I am here to stop you.”
“Yeah, and you’re doing such a good job of it. Pulling a gun on an unarmed citizen who isn’t even a threat?”
“You are a threat, Campbell. You know it, and I know it.”
“Yeah, well, if I’m the threat you think I am, then that gun won’t work. I don’t know if you remember, but guns don’t tend to bother me much.”
Grace lowered the pistol and slowly holstered it. “What are you up to, Campbell? What’s your game?”
“Right now, I plan on going inside, watching some lame TV show, and then going to bed. I mean, if you’re so interested in my itinerary.”
“I know your kind, Campbell.”
“‘My kind’? That sounds a bit racist. Are you a racist, Detective?”
“Stop it, Campbell. I’m going to find out what you are doing here and why. Until then, I will be watching you.”
“I’m not the threat. If I am what you think I am, then why haven’t I killed you yet?”
It was a simple question, but the logic was solid. It did cause Grace to stop. Think, Grace, she told herself. So he hasn’t tried to kill you yet. So what? It doesn’t mean he won’t try later. Or maybe he doesn’t like hard targets. Maybe he wants an easy kill. And that isn’t you. So he’s up to something else. But what? What is he planning? In my brief time investigating and, I admit, stalking Scott Campbell, I’ve found that he’s not quite the kind of guy who thinks up sophisticated schemes or even unsophisticated schemes. But then, maybe that’s a deception! Maybe he’s just playing dumb! Yeah, that’s it. He’s just playing dumb. He’s not really dumb. Whatever it is, though, I’m the only person who knows what he is, and I’m the only person who can stop him. Whatever he’s up to, it can’t be good!
“I don’t know,” she answered. “But whatever your plans are, I’ll be watching.”
“No, Detective, you’re not.” Scott approached her. Grace backed up against her car, keeping her eyes on him. “Because I am going to do something about it.”
“W-what are you…going to do?”
“I am having my lawyer file a restraining order against you. I will also be calling the sheriff’s department and filing a formal complaint. And I will be following this one up. I don’t want to do it, but you’ve left me no choice. Now get in your car and leave, before I call the police.”
Grace got in her car, eyes still on Scott. She kept watching him standing there in the rain as she pulled away and drove off into the wet night.
Damn, Scott said to himself, that’s more crap I gotta take care of. As if I needed more crap.
“So, Campbell is safe?” Alice asked Jack as they both stood in the spacious lobby of the Amalgamated Cast Parts Plant.
“Yeah, he is,” Jack responded. “Of course, I’ve been banished, and my boy won’t even talk to me anymore, but hey, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
“So that’s it? He may be safe, but he’s not with us? Jack, that wasn’t the deal.”
“Shit happens, Alice. Get used to it. Look, I tried—”
“Not hard enough. We’re all tired of your empty promises. You told us you’d give us our deliverer, that you’d help us build popular support among the local vampire population. You have failed.”
“Little harsh, there, Alice.”
“You. Have. Failed. Jack, it’s done. It’s over. Without popular support, we cannot overthrow the current system. And we cannot get that support without Campbell.”
“Screw him. I’ll make another messiah for you.”
“Oh no, you don’t. No more illegal conversions.”
“No more illegal conversions? Is this the revolution or a football game? Hell, Alice, this revolution is just starting. I’ve got plans in place. I’ll get you your chosen one and an army to back him up. If you’ll just back off.”
“No! You will take no further action without the consent of the Improver Council. Am I clear on this, Jack?”
“No, Alice, you’re not. Because there’s one thing you’re missing, and that is I don’t take orders from you. The House will fall. Even if I have to do it myself.”
Jack stormed off into the night as Alice called after him. Eventually, she gave up when it was obvious that he wasn’t listening anymore.
CHAPTER 30
Scott arose the next morning, as he usually did. But this morning, he felt both relieved and rested. He considered how crazy his life (or, unlife, as it were) had been during the past few days and how grateful he was to be back in a routine: an everyday, normal, boring routine. He was even grateful to be waking up, and he thanked God for it, not necessarily caring if God even accepted thanks from a soulless vampire. As far as he knew, only one person was still out to kill him just because he was a vampire, but even she seemed hesitant. Scott wondered about Detective Montoya, how she realized that he was what he was, and why she felt she needed to kill him. Okay, sure, he was a vampire, but he wasn’t interested in doing anything vampire-like. However, she didn’t know that. Then again, she shouldn’t have known Scott was a vampire, either. But today, in his world, a world that had gone all kinds of wrong and sideways as well, all seemed fine—which was an indicator that it probably wasn’t.
Scott called Pastor Larry and advised him that the trial had gone well. Larry congratulated him and offered to pray for Scott. Of course, Scott did not refuse the offer; he figured he could use all the friends with connections he could get. Larry offered to buy him lunch some time, and Scott reminded Larry that he was on a liquid diet. (“Vampire, remember? I don’t really eat much nowadays. Except human blood. I don’t know any place that serves that, except the hospital. And they’re kind of stingy.”) Still, Scott did promise that he would resume their old counseling sessions later that week. Larry told him he still wasn’t sure exactly how to give spiritual guidance to a vampire, but he’d give it the old seminary try anyway.
Scott then contacted Sinner, who had already set up the paperwork and could meet with him to help him file a restraining order. Sinner was, as he had previously stated, completely willing to perform this task free of charge, which pleased Scott greatly. (He blamed his frugal nature on his Scottish heritage, when, in fact, he was just cheap.) Sinn
er agreed to get the preliminary paperwork over to the Clackamas County district attorney that afternoon, following lunch. “I’m having a client for lunch,” Sinner told Scott. He did not explore the meaning behind that vague statement, nor did he care to.
The rest of his morning went normally. Scott knew his mother had made plans to go out that morning and meet some of her old lady friends for lunch. He planned on some of his normal activities: light reading and net surfing. He opted for the latter and was criticizing Wikipedia’s wildly inaccurate entry on vampires when he heard the knock on his front door. Irene answered it. Scott hoped they weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses; Irene enjoyed debating them for hours over the doctrines of salvation and the divinity of Christ, making them actually regret ever knocking on the door in the first place. But the voice on the other side of the door was not that of some wacky cultist; no, it was the last voice Scott ever expected to hear at his house.
“Good afternoon, madam,” Father said. “I take it you are Scott’s mother?”
“Oh, I am! And you are?”
“My name is Samuel, and this is Elizabeth. We are coworkers with your son.”
“Oh, that’s lovely! Why don’t you come in and make yourselves at home? I’ll get Scotty. He’s probably playing a video game or something silly like that.”
Oh great. Inviting more vampires into the house. Nice job, Mom. Scott did not need to be gotten, though. He rounded the corner into the entryway just as his mother turned to retrieve him.
“Oh!” Irene said. “There you are. Don’t scare me like that, young man!”
“Uh, sorry.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right. You have such polite friends.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Campbell,” Father said. “You have a lovely home. Now, if you don’t mind, we would like to speak with Scott in private.”
“Oh, work stuff! Okay. I’m leaving anyway. There’s some coffee in the pot, and some water we can heat up for tea. If you would like any, Scott could get you some.”
Suburban Vampire: A Tale of the Human Condition—With Vampires Page 28
