Now was not the time to argue the finer points of Mirabelle’s discorporate existence. I hold onto the child’s hand, and move toward another door at the opposite end of the room.
I marvel momentarily at the coincidence of my being here just as this orphanage has been attacked and transformed into a playpen for toddler toothiness of the most unholy sort. I do not try to sort through rational explanations, because one ghastly thought leaps to mind: The Grand Master is operating in the daytime!
But Dracula said that was not possible. Any outside, daytime exposure –
Wait a minute.
He could have come up through the drainage system, or the sewers. Within these walls, protected from the sunlight, he could still do damage. And I realize this is exactly what has happened, as I come to an open warehouse platform, Jennifer in tow behind me, and see a huge grate in the floor. The grating has been removed, and a gigantic, gaping maw of a trap-door can now be clearly seen.
I had to get to my car. Fine time to leave the Walkie on the seat. Shit on a stick.
Jennifer was silent, as I did a full 360 of the loading platform. Nothing moved, nothing hissed. The vampire kiddies must not have cared much for the pursuit, or they were simply getting adjusted to the “changeover.”
There is an exit, a half-open cargo door directly to my right.
“Let’s go,” I whisper to Jennifer.
We slip through the exit, Jennifer easily, me, older and fatter, with some difficulty, as the door seems locked into this marginalized position for comfy exiting.
Outside, there is no movement whatsoever.
I grab Jennifer’s hand and bee-line for my car. As I open the passenger side of the vehicle for Jennifer, I look up and stare at the parking area near the front entrance. I can see a figure – a huge hulking creature. He stands, motionless, and his face is indistinct to me for a few moments. Small children exit from the orphanage, and huddle around the creature like a retinue of weaving planets.
And then the face comes into focus.
Along with those eyes.
I look at the Grand Master, who smiles at me. And then he taunts me with a small wave, as to say “Hi, jerk-off. Surprise, surprise.”
I am almost about to panic uncontrollably, remembering that it is still daylight out, and that if this is the case and the Grand Master is happily traipsing about non-nocturnally, then we’re all fucked from here to Botswana. But then I come to my senses and note the sky. The sun has dipped over the Hollywood Hills, north and west from my position. There is no direct sunlight, polarized light only … and thus the Grand Master suffers no direct exposure. Further, he is in the shadows, reinforcing his position of safety.
I almost do something stupid – like rush madly for the Grand Master, attacking him in a frontal tackle. But little Jennifer, seated in the car already, tilts her head and looks out to me, tears in her eyes.
“That’s him, mister. Can we go, please? Please, can we go?”
I glance at Jennifer, and more than pity, I feel that Jennifer has more sense in her than in the dumb goose of a police officer now contemplating a direct assault on a Grand Master, alone, without backup, and by the way, supported by over a dozen little vampires all hungry and ready to feed.
“Yeah, good idea, honey,” I nod to her, and force a comforting smile. Jennifer even smiles back, wiping away a tear. The child has something about her that melts my heart. Her eyes, perhaps. Eyes like her mother, I think distantly.
I get into my car, and start the engine.
The Grand Master remains where he is standing, merely watching me from his comfortable distance.
I punch in a few buttons on my dashboard.”
“Monster Vice, this is Pitts, 340, on station. I have multiple fangs in my vicinity. Location, Daughters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul at the corner of Alameda and Macy. I count a Master, and a dozen plus children, all turnovers. Request back-up and full tactical.”
A momentary hiss, and Zelig is on the line. “Dick, what the hell are you doing down there?”
I look to Jennifer.
“I’m doing a favor for a friend, Zelig. And I can’t stick around for the party.”
“I have units heading your way now,” Zelig replies. “What do you have that’s more important than Fang Detail at an orphanage?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Alright, I know you had a helluva stink last night. When are you back full time?”
“Tonight.”
“Doing what?”
“Killing the greatest threat ever to Mankind and trying to stay alive in the process,” I say easily.
There is silence for a moment, then Zelig clears his throat.
“Okay, sounds good. Fill me in later.”
“That’s a 10-4, boss,” I say, then disengage my com-link to Monster Vice.
As I pull out of the orphanage parking lot, I see MV helicopters move in formation above, and I hear sirens from all directions. I sigh, realizing that the Grand Master and his new brood of baby fangs will have disappeared from here by the time Monster Vice arrives in force.
It is clear to me that the Grand Master wants to choose his own battlefield, and with his own combatants. Those combatants being Dracula, Samantha … and yours truly.
It is still only late afternoon, but the sky seems much darker to me, ominous, foreboding and filled with the promise of bleak things to come.
I look to Jennifer, who stares at me with large, brown, weepy eyes.
“You’re okay now, Jennifer,” I say. “You’re safe.”
“You’re wrong,” she says softly. “Where are we going?
“A place where no one can hurt you.”
Jennifer considers this in silence for a moment, then looks to me, an eerie wisdom in her expression.
“Do you really believe that?”
I don’t, and decide to simply shut the fuck up and drive.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I arrive at my brother’s house in twenty minutes. I have called ahead, and Mindy is home, though the twins are out with friends. Mindy meets me at the door, as Jennifer stands beside me. We hug, and hold each other for a long moment.
“You okay?” I ask.
“As okay as possible under the circumstances,” she says, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Come inside, Dick. You, too, sweetheart.”
Mindy excuses herself for a moment, moving into a nearby bathroom for some Kleenex. I look around the house, and feel myself instantly wilt, the adrenalin of the past half an hour neutralized into nothingness.
“And who is this?” Mindy returns and blows her nose in a tissue, looking at Jennifer.
“This is my new, best friend,” I say. “Jennifer, this is Mindy. Mindy, Jennifer.”
Mindy smiles, holds out her hand to Jennifer, who takes it and shakes. Mindy then looks to me.
“And who is Jennifer?”
“She’s … someone who needs a home, Mindy,” I say. “Her mother is … she’s not around these parts lately, and I was hoping that she could stay with you for awhile.”
“Here? With me and the boys?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“Dick, really,” she says, clearly annoyed. She then looks to Jennifer, as she takes my arm and leads me out of the foyer. “Honey, Jennifer, why don’t you help yourself to something in the kitchen while I talk to your new best friend in private, okay?”
Jennifer is easy. “Okay,” she says, and heads into the kitchen off and to the right.
Mindy backs me against a wall, smiling, shrugging. “Dick, who is she?”
“She’s an orphan. She’s the daughter of someone I knew – someone who recently died. I’m trying to help the family out by –“
“By bringing her here to live with us?”
“Well … I mean, she can’t live with me,” I say, and feel this is a fairly obvious statement.
“Why not? Little Prick would feel jealous?”
“Now don’t pick on my cat.”
<
br /> “Why can’t she stay with you, if you want to help out so badly?”
“Because I’m in the middle of a few things, Mindy. I’m investigating Bill’s death, I’m kind of focused on this very special and very dangerous project, and I’m not really what one would consider to be a strong, healthy father figure.”
Mindy stares at me uncompromisingly. “I’m sorry, Dick. I’m not up for this.”
“Mindy, please.”
“No. The boys and I are barely hanging on, and can I remind you that Bill has only been dead for a few days?”
I suddenly realize how unfair I’m being with my sister-in-law. To inflict a stranger on her, another child, to infringe on her grief, the boys …
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like a piece of navel lint. “I’m not thinking too straight.”
Mindy puts a hand on my shoulder. “None of us are.”
I look to Jennifer, chewing on a cookie, seated on a high seat up against a counter-bar.
“Why don’t you take her to a friend?”
“All my friends are dead, Mindy,” I say, withering.
“Well, there are child-care facilities –“
“I don’t want to subject her to that,” I say. “Something happened today, something pretty traumatic.”
“What, Dick? You mean, to the child?”
“To both of us.”
She waits for an explanation. I do not want to get into a discussion over this.
“Jennifer,” I call out, “we’re leaving, okay?”
“Okay,” Jennifer says, still munching the cookie.
I look back to Mindy. “I didn’t just stop by to burden a strange child on you. I wanted to check in, see if you needed anything.”
“I need Bill back,” Mindy says. “But you can’t help me with that, can you, Dick?”
I clam up, feeling tears in my eyes, and fighting back the urge to drop to the ground, curl up in a ball and sob. I turn quickly, and walk into the little kitchen area where Jennifer sits. I take her hand, and we walk to the door. Mindy follows until both Jennifer and I are standing on the stoop.
“I’ll check up on you,” Mindy says. “Keep your cell handy, alright?”
“Sure. You do the same. I’ll keep you up to date on things,” I say.
We hug again, and Mindy touches my cheek. “Maybe if I was feeling stronger, Dick, I could … you know.” She looks to Jennifer, then to me.
I nod. “Of course. I’m going to go home and stab myself to death for my insensitivity.”
“Don’t do that. It would scare your cat and your new best friend.”
I look around the doorway, at the garlic hanging from ropes, not only around the door-frame, but on the patio perimeter and the gates, and of course, nearby, the church. At least I know that Bill’s family is as safe as can be from vampires and werewolves.
“And the boys will be back home by dark,” Mindy says, as if anticipating my next question.
I nod again. “Doors locked, crosses handy, and my cell. Deal?”
“Deal, silly,” she says and kisses me again. She looks to Jennifer, smiles. “Bye, sweety. You’re going to like living with Dick.”
“Stop it,” I mutter.
I then turn and head back to the car with Jennifer.
“She’s nice,” Jennifer says. “But real sad, right?”
“Right.”
“Sadder than you?”
I can’t answer that.
I really can’t.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Okay, so I guess you can all call me Pappy.
I check my watch as I open the door to my apartment. Now close to seven o’clock. I expect that Dracula and Samantha will be dropping by shortly.
Jennifer sees Little Prick, and jogs over to the sofa where the lazy old fatty-cat lounges, blinking sleepily.
“Kitty!” Jennifer whispers.
She sits down and begins to pet my cat. I am stunned fuck-less. Little Prick doesn’t let anyone pet him. He barely gives me the time of day, and half the time only that when I’m opening a can of Purina. Now he sits there and let’s little Jennifer paw at him without complaint, without a hiss, without even a warning nip.
“He’s nice,” Jennifer says.
“He’s faking it,” I say, closing the door behind me and already wondering on the Big Question Of The Day: How am I going to keep a child here for any length of time? I realize I’m crazy. What am I doing? I can simply take this kid down to Child Services, and drop her off there. There are records down at the orphanage, I’m sure there is due process to be followed, some kind of child protocol to address.
I had forgotten about the orphanage. I wonder how that went this afternoon.
I check in with Monster Vice. Zelig is out in the field, but I am told that when my backup arrived at the orphanage … all that was found were the corpses of every employee in the facility. However, many of the children were listed as missing. The investigation was still ongoing. I disengage my phone, staring out the window. Exactly as I surmised. The Grand Master has other plans, ones that don’t involve a tail-tangle with Monster Vice Tactical.
I turn to look at Jennifer, and see that Mirabelle is hovering above her, close to the ceiling. She is staring down at her daughter, and she is crying. Jennifer is oblivious to her dead mother’s ghost. She continues to pet Little Prick who continues to amaze and annoy me by purring loudly.
Mirabelle catches my eye, and points to my front door. She then floats quickly toward and through it. She wishes to speak to me in private.
“Jennifer, I’ll be right back,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, as she begins to tackle the scratching of my cat’s receptive ears.
I head into the hall, closing the door behind me.
Mirabelle stands there, smiling at me.
“She’s so beautiful,” Mirabelle says.
I smile. “Cute as a bug.”
She nods.
“I know what happened at the orphanage today,” Mirabelle said. “I was able to get some help to protect Jennifer long enough for you to get to her.”
“Help?” I ask, shocked.
“Other ghosts. And a few other things floating around that I’ve made friends with. Enough helping hands to distract the child vampires from hurting Jennifer.”
I don’t pursue this line of questioning. And the main reason for this is what Mirabelle says to me next.
“I won’t be seeing you anymore, Dick.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s time for me to leave here.”
“Just like that?”
“No,” she says, and approaches me. “Because you’ve set me free, Dick. Jennifer is here, safe with you now. That’s all I really needed to know – that she was taken care of.”
“Mirabelle – I don’t know how long I can keep her. I’m not a parent, there are laws, I’m sure there must be rules of guardianship and –“
“You’ll make it all work,” Mirabelle says, and leans in to kiss me.
“But –“
“Good bye, my friend,” Mirabelle says. “Remember, I really do love you. Take care of yourself.”
I try to find the energy to protest, to say something further – perhaps even to beg her not to leave just yet. I have grown accustomed to her company. I’ve grown fond of my little ghost.
But it is too late.
She dematerializes instantly.
“Mirabelle,” I whisper, reaching out to where she was standing seconds ago. “I love you, too,” I say softly, and then open the door to my apartment and return to the land of the living.
* * *
I lean against the door, and stare at Jennifer, who is now finished petting Little Prick and taking in the surroundings of my apartment. I stare for a moment, then am mindful that I have a tear running down my cheek.
Mirabelle is gone.
I shall see her no more.
There is a pain in my chest which is unmistakable in terms of identification.
I am somewhat heartbroken.
I take a breath, blow out with a weariness not even Methuselah would be able to match. I nod to myself and say that magic word – that word that keeps me going.
Onward.
I have a new responsibility.
“Want something to drink?” I ask Jennifer.
“No.”
“Eat?”
“No.”
I’ve run out of hospitable things to offer. “Look, kid –“
“You can call me Jennifer,” she says and smiles at me.
“Okay. Sure. You can call me …” I trail off, not having given this whole name thing a lot of thought.
I’m suddenly irritated. What in the name of sweet, bleeding baby ducklings am I doing with a kid in my house?
I grumble. “Well, I’m not daddy. And you don’t need to call me Mr. Pitts. How about just Dick?”
“Okay, Dick,” Jennifer says.
I look at my watch, then out the window.
“Wanna play a game?” Jennifer asks with typical child-like perkiness.
“I’d rather eat glass,” I mutter.
It’s dark out. Later than I thought.
And that’s when the phone rings.
I flip out my cell, and speak.
“Pitts here.”
The voice is low, clear, hurried – and one I do not recognize.
“Get out of the house.”
“What?”
“You have Fangs coming through some drainpipes. The sun is over the horizon. Get out of the house. Now!”
I rush to the window, and indeed … the sun has set.
“Shit.”
The voice speaks again.
“Hurry.”
I hang up the phone, and grab Jennifer’s wrist. I notice Little Prick has already scurried for his favorite hole in my kitchen wall, sensing the worst, and determined to survive. I’m not worried about my cat. If I were dead in the house, he wouldn’t hesitate to eat me within a few hours. Little fucker.
“Come on, kid. Don’t ask questions.”
Jennifer is a great kid. She holds on to my hand as I race to the front door.
* * *
I open the front door in time to see one vampire, huge, tear through the floorboards of my hall. I take out my .357 and fire. I miss high, wide and handy, though if I were aiming for something in Phoenix, I would be golden.
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