Chance in Hell

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  “Renfield, sir.”

  “Are you serious?” It came out before I could stop myself.

  “No, sir; it’s Meriwether.” He turned and left, never once having cracked a smile.

  Lacey shrugged apologetically. “It’s his one joke.”

  “Now what do I do?” I stood there lamely, holding Megan and three plastic bags full of blood.

  Lacey looked at me with less sympathy than I would have liked. Maybe because I was responsible for getting her house busted up, her friend shot and burnt, and really, their whole life thrown upside down these past few days. “She’s your vamp now, mister—you should probably feed her. I suggest using the bags.”

  Bryan paused his nosing through the cupboards and looked at what I was holding, “Shit! Seriously? She’s going to drink that?”

  “That or your brother, if he doesn’t hurry it up.”

  I gave Lacey a look. “Here?”

  “If you want, or you can use her room. I don’t think she’s in any shape to care.”

  “Her bedroom?” That was like an hour and a half back the way we had just come.

  “Yeah, she stayed here most of her life. Or her…ah…un-life, anyway. She just moved in with me a few years ago.”

  “Oh.” Okay, I got it.

  “They still keep the room for her. Here, follow me. Then we should eat. We’re all going to need our strength when Donovan wakes up.”

  “He’s not awake yet?” Vampire schedules confused me.

  “No, or we would have met him by now. Fortunately, like most vampires, he sleeps late. Megan’s the vamp version of a morning person.”

  “Fortunately?” I said, “Is he going to um, have an issue with us?”

  “Probably. He’s kind of a control freak. Plus he’s a little paranoid and very protective of Megan. He didn’t want to let her move out on her own. There were some epic battles between them about that. And, well, let’s face it—you’re not going to make a good first impression holding her dying in your arms like that.”

  I figured Lacey was exaggerating the dying part a little, or I hoped she was, anyway, but I told her to lead the way. Bryan elected to stay back, having found a box of prepackaged Rice Krispie treats, but then he opened the fridge. He stared in a second or two, then closed it and said he’d come with us.

  Chapter 26

  I followed Lacey into an oversized foyer. Everything in this house seemed oversized. We went up an impressive wooden staircase with a fancy runner down its center. I felt the cold hit me seconds before we were passed halfway up by a couple coming down. It was the Euro-trash-looking guy in the Armani suit (okay, if I were a girl, I probably would have called him dark and sexy, but I’m a guy, so it was Eurotrash) and the leggy redhead from the bar where I met the girls that first night in California.

  Unlike that night, they noticed me this time, probably because of what I was carrying. They looked down at Megan in my arms, then up at me, then down at her again; then, finally, over at Lacey. My brother, it seemed, didn’t yet warrant noticing.

  “Lacey!” said the redhead. “I’d say it was a pleasure, but then, well, I’d be lying.”

  “Yeah, fuck you too, Amanda.”

  “Damn!” said Bryan. I wasn’t sure if he was referring to what Lacey said, or the body on the redhead. It was probably both.

  As we passed them, Amanda gave me a look and said, “You’re supposed to carry the trash out to the curb, not into the house.”

  I ignored her and continued up the stairs. I risked a last glance backward. Amanda had her back to me as she walked down the stairs. The man was staring back up, right at Megan and me, and the look he gave me told me we weren’t going to be friends.

  We went down a hall. Lacey pushed open a door, reached in around the wall, and flicked on a light. Then she motioned me in. Bryan tried to follow but Lacey grabbed the back of his collar and hauled him back out, closing the door on us.

  It was kind of like déjà vu. The room was a little bigger than the one at her house, but not by much. There was a closed door that I assumed led to a closet, and an open one that I could see led to a bathroom. The room had a door that must have led to the wraparound porch and two windows, but all were heavily shuttered and locked from the inside. The room was the same pale blue as her other one, and the furniture was a similar style, like someone had tried to replace her antiques the best they could.

  I set her down on the king-sized bed, trying to think of what to do next. I pulled out Robert’s KA-BAR knife from its sheath under my shirt and slit open one of the blood bags. I held it for her and said, “Drink this.”

  Her eyelids opened again and she took a little breath, smelling the air. I held the bag, placing it to her lips, and watched her drink in fascination. It was slow at first, but she was drinking it quickly by the time she finished the bag.

  She lay there for maybe half a minute and then slowly sat up. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She nodded, swinging her feet slowly over the bed and getting herself into a sitting position. She was slightly hunched over, and still looked like she was going to pass out at any second.

  “Here,” I said. “There’s two more bags.” I held them out to her.

  She looked at them. I could see the hunger, and something else. She was embarrassed at what she had to do. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, placing the bags in her lap. I was going to leave the knife with her, too, but then I remembered her nails. She didn’t need a knife.

  “I have to use the bathroom,” I said, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind me to give her some privacy.

  I spent a few minutes washing my face and generally cleaning myself up as best I could. My clothes were a lost cause. Well, maybe I could salvage the jeans, but the grey t-shirt was a mess; it was soaked through with Megan’s blood. I took it off, rinsed it out as best I could, and hung it over the shower door.

  I went back into the bedroom and saw that the other two bags were empty and lying on top of the first. Megan had gotten up and walked over to a full-length floor mirror held in a wooden frame. She was trying to reach back behind her with her burned hand, but it must have been too difficult. She tried again with her left.

  “Can you help me?”

  I came up behind her, about to ask “With what?” until I saw the zipper. I think I gulped. My fingers trembled, but I managed to finally grab hold of the little thing. I slowly ran the zipper down her back. She dropped a shoulder, then the other, and the dress fell to the floor.

  I swallowed again as I looked into the mirror. My eyes couldn’t help it—it was one of the most perfect sights they had ever seen—but eventually even they found the two bullet holes in her stomach, and I winced. They had sealed up, for the most part, but each still seeped a little. The entire front side of her body, from just above the two bullet holes to below her panties, was covered in drying blood. I was standing right behind her, and she crossed her arms and slowly leaned back until she rested against me.

  I instinctively put my arms around her. She shut her eyes and we stood there for maybe a minute. I leaned down a little and inhaled close to her neck, wanting to smell her familiar scent, and maybe to just be a little closer to her. I never had figured out if it was perfume, soap, lotion or whatever, but it was comforting. I still felt her chill as I held her, but I discovered that now it didn’t bother me at all. I had missed it when it was gone.

  I kept forgetting how good vampire senses were. I think she heard me sniffing her. It was kind of embarrassing. She opened her eyes and looked at mine in the mirror. “You like it?”

  I nodded. The sense of smell had strong associations, and I would forever associate this one with her.

  “Good,” she said, then looked at herself in the mirror. “I need to get cleaned up.” She turned in my arms and put her non-burnt hand on my chest. I looked down into her eyes, and it was all I could do to control myself. She got a mischievous grin, looked down and slowly pushed me away with her hand. “Don’t
worry; I won’t be long.”

  She walked over to her dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out a fresh set of underwear. I couldn’t help but just stand there and watch her. The lack of clothes was distracting. I think she noticed, because she started moving even slinkier than normal, if that was actually possible.

  Then she went over to her closet and chose one from the never-ending series of designer cocktail dresses she seemed to have. By the time she shut the bathroom door behind her, I was in need of a very cold shower.

  I thought about going to find Bryan and Lacey while I waited for Megan, but upon a quick examination of my own clothes and body, I doubted the intelligence of wandering around a vampire nest half naked and covered in blood. Someone might mistake me for room service.

  Then it sank in. I was half naked, covered in blood, right smack dab in the middle of a vampire nest. I could feel them. I had since we’d gotten close to the house. At least one of them had an aura almost as strong as that vampire back in Texas that killed Robert. And there were probably close to ten others.

  So I did the smart thing, or what passed for it at that moment. I stayed in the room and tried to resist the urge to go snooping through Megan’s things. I found myself wanting to know more about her. Her past, her family. Did she have any relatives still alive? Did she ever see them?

  On the one hand, I told myself, this wasn’t really her room anymore, so going through it would be okay. She lived in the house back down in the subdivision against the base of the mountains. The house that was in shambles, that more than likely had police crawling all over it right now.

  On the other hand, I knew that was bullshit. This was still her room. Going through someone’s stuff was an invasion of privacy, rude, and more than just a little tacky. So I compromised and settled for just going through her underwear drawer. I was pleasantly surprised. Everything matched, and there was far more silk and lace than cotton. What can I say—I liked my women sexy more than practical. Most of the time. I was shallow that way.

  I think I managed to slam the door shut, whirl around and look innocent before she saw me. She had exited the bathroom and stood there looking at me with raised brows. I leaned back against the dresser and tried to play it off. “Just checking out your dresser to see what it is you wore.”

  She managed to raise her brows even higher.

  “Perfume, I mean! The lavender! I mean, I saw some bottles on the dresser and wanted to know which one it was. You know, that you wore,” I said, lamely.

  “It’s body spray, and it’s in the bathroom if you’d care to try some.”

  “No thanks. I think I like the way it smells on you better.”

  She smiled. “Well, you can try some if you like. Seriously, you should. Sorry, but you kind of stink.”

  “Hey!” She was right—I did—but it wasn’t my fault. It had been a sweaty kind of day.

  “Not a perfume-y kind of guy, huh? Well, then, let me at least go find you some clean clothes. Wait here.”

  She came back a minute later with a stack of clothes. I had moved away from her dresser so she wouldn’t get the right idea. “They should fit. Go get washed up.”

  I tried not to think about whose they were. It was either a vampire or a victim. I wasn’t sure which was better. I was at the point where I was willing to give some vampires the benefit of the doubt; I just didn’t want to meet one for the first time wearing its clothes. I hoped that she’d at least asked whoever it was if she could borrow them.

  I went into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and undressed. I was debating tossing my shirt in the trash atop yet another one of Megan’s ruined dresses when there was a knock on the door. Megan called in, “Give me your clothes—I’ll have them washed.” I grabbed them, stood behind the door, and opened it enough to stick my hand out. She grabbed the wad of clothes and I shut the door.

  I emerged from the steamy bathroom, feeling ten times better, to see Megan sitting on her bed looking at a photo album. Her burnt hand had been bandaged in white gauze.

  “Ready?” she said, closing the album and laying it on the nightstand.

  I nodded, and we headed out to find the others. We only passed one vampire on the way. Either the rest all slept late, or they were off somewhere else in the house. The one we saw was a little unsettling, though. He looked about twelve, and had a backpack over his shoulder. He saw Megan and looked a little startled; then he smiled and said, “Hey, Megan! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Hi, Paul. Is Donovan up yet?”

  The boy shook his head. “Nah, won’t be for probably another hour or so. It was a late morning.” He gave me a brief look. We exchanged nods, and he headed off wherever he was going. I wondered briefly about how vampire kids went to school, and hoped that there weren’t enough of them to warrant a whole school to themselves.

  We found Bryan first. He had his back to the wall next to a doorway for the second time that day. This time he appeared to be listening in on someone’s conversation. When he saw us, he put his fingers to his lips. His smile told me something was up.

  As we neared, we could hear voices coming from the next room. It was Lacey, the redhead, and Euro-Trash. Megan just walked right in, so I followed. Bryan brought up the rear.

  “Just because Donovan lets her keep you around like some skanky little pet doesn’t mean he’s going to let the two blood bags live,” said the redhead. I had to give Euro-Trash credit. He looked vaguely uncomfortable with the conversation, and had stood away from the two girls, trying to distance himself. The redhead and Lacey stood toe to toe. She had about three inches on Lacey, who, regardless, wasn’t backing down.

  “Hey, Amanda; Gregory,” Megan said, the cheeriness seeming a bit forced.

  Everyone turned. “Hello, Megan,” said the redhead, not bothering to fake a smile.

  “Hi, Megan,” said Euro-Trash. He seemed to perk up a little at the sight of her, which pissed me off for some reason. Then I remembered something Lacey had told me: this was Gregory, Megan’s ex. The one guy Lacey said Megan really had a thing with. I hated him.

  “C’mon, Lacey,” said Megan. “Sun’s down and I want to head over to the Sip.”

  “Uh, you’re not leaving,” said Amanda. “Not until you talk to Donovan and explain why you’re here, with them.” She nodded at the rest of us.

  “Relax; we’ll be back,” Megan said. She beckoned to us, and we followed her out to the garage. It was open, and Meriwether was cleaning out Megan’s trunk with wet towels and bleach. She frowned, walking up to the trunk and examining the holes punched into it. She stuck a finger through one and pouted.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “A body shop will take care of those, no problem.” I stopped, looking at them more closely. “But I don’t know about driving around in a car with bullet holes in it any more than we absolutely have to.”

  “I agree, Miss,” said Meriwether. “If you insist on going out, I might suggest that you take the Benz. However, I would recommend that you stay, at least until after you have had a chance to talk with Donovan. He will want to talk to you immediately upon waking, in light of recent events.”

  “We’re just going to the Sip to get some dinner.” I assume she meant dinner for the rest of us, though I wasn’t sure. Maybe they tapped people behind closed doors or something. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Very well, miss. I will let Donovan know.”

  It was at that point that I remembered the urn. “Where’s the bag?” I asked everyone in general, seeing that it was no longer in the back seat of the Mustang.

  “If you are referring to the large black bag full of weapons, I took the liberty of placing it in the back parlor.”

  “I’ll go grab it while you guys get the car out,” I said. It was probably safer in this house than anywhere else, but I didn’t need a nosy vamp opening it to see what was inside.

  Meriwether showed me into the rear parlor, where I found the young vampire we had passed, Paul, play
ing video games on an enormous flat-screen TV.

  I went over to the bag and removed the urn. “You’re not going to start trying to kill everyone, are you?” asked Paul. “‘Cause I’m almost finished with this level and I’d rather you waited. It’s taken me two days to get this far.”

  “Huh?” I said, then remembered what else was in the bag, “No, I was just getting this.” I held up the urn.

  “Okay. Cool.” He never took his eyes off the screen.

  I looked around for something to put it in and shrugged. I would just have to carry it like this. People would probably think I was really attached to whoever’s ashes I was carrying.

  “You can use my backpack. Just leave the laptop,” said Paul. “It’s over on the blue chair, I think.”

  I saw it. I removed his laptop and power brick and set them on a side table.

  “Thanks!” I said. “I’ll have it back in a couple of hours.”

  “Uh huh; whatever,” came the response.

  Chapter 27

  I found my way outside. A large black Mercedes sedan was idling, waiting for me. The passenger seat was empty, so I got in. Megan pulled the car out and down the drive. It turned out we were less than fifteen minutes from The Last Sip.

  We entered the bar and went right to the same table where I had first seen Megan and Lacey. The waitress was at our table in a flash, taking our order. They didn’t card Bryan, or any of us for that matter. I guessed this was a vamp bar. I didn’t know if the staff were under some mind control or compulsion, or if they were just trained not to mess with the potential food that came in with the vampires.

  I ordered the same thing I had when I came in the first time, telling myself that no matter what it took, tonight I was going to finish my burger and fries. By myself.

  As we waited for our food, Bryan, who had been unusually quiet on the ride over, said, “So you guys are for real, huh? I mean, like, you’re not just playing vampire and shit?”

  Lacey nodded. “We’re real.”