He pulled back his shiv and then he tried to slide it between my ribs. Except that he couldn’t, because before he got off the barstool, I took out one of my Colts and planted the handle in his face, breaking his sunglasses. He went down like a sack of hammers and I kicked the knife from his hand, slamming my boot into his midsection. He gurgled and coughed and did nothing else.
I started walking to the door. One of the Bike Bats moved to stop me, and I slugged him the chest and left him wailing on the floor. “Great thing about you bloodsuckers,” I said, kicking open the door. “You always forget how easy it is to bust you up.”
I made it to the Packard and slid in behind the driver’s seat as the Bike Bats started charging out of the Oasis Saloon. I got behind the wheel, and nodded to Weatherby. He handed me the trench gun, and the first Bike Bat out of the saloon doors got his left leg torn off by a load of buckshot for his trouble. I handed the trench gun back to Weatherby. “This is gonna be fast and nasty,” I said, starting the engine. “A boiler against a couple of two-wheeled toys. But I think we’ll be okay.” I sped away from Cold Springs, and out into the open plains.
Behind me, I could hear the rumble of the Bike Bats’ Harleys. They were coming fast, driving like hell to get some revenge and composure in equal measure. I slammed down the gas pedal of the Packard, and it roared like a tiger ready to pounce. I could hear the Bike Bats speed up behind me, gobbling down that asphalt like it wasn’t even there. I gave them some time, letting them get angrier with each passing seconds.
“Mr. Candle?” Weatherby asked, panic burning away his usual aristocratic indifference. “M-Morton? They are going to catch up with us, very shortly!”
“I know,” I said. “I’m counting on it.” Then I slammed on the breaks.
I like the Packard for a number of reasons. It gets good miles to the gallon, it’s reliable as a cowboy’s horse in the moving pictures, and most importantly, it’s very good for banging some poor bastard around. I slammed on the breaks and let the Packard come to a screeching halt. The Bike Bats didn’t have the same luxury.
They smashed into the rear of the car, mangling their bikes and themselves. Some of them managed to steer out of the way, off the street and into the ditches on the sides of the road. Their motorcycles weren’t used to handling Nebraska dirt, and they hit the ground soon enough. I gave it a few seconds as the second batch of bikers crashed into their fallen friends.
I took the trench gun from Weatherby and stepped out. I stepped over the fallen Bike Bats, looking for their leader. One of the Bike Bats, lying on the ground with his leg twisted the wrong way, came up at me with a sawed-off shotgun. I fired first, taking off the hand holding the gun at the wrist.
I found Nails Kenzie lying on the ground, wincing as he tried to pull himself up. First I hit him under his chin, knocking him back to the pavement. Then I swung the butt of the shotgun into his hand and he yelled as I heard his fingers break. “Listen up, Nails,” I said. “I suggest you find yourself something else to dream about instead of the baron’s gold. It’s protected, and so is he. You understand?”
“Go to Hell!” Kenzie whined.
“You sure are spirited.” I swung the length of the trench gun into his chest. I heard one of his ribs go. “Do you understand?”
“Y-yes!” Kenzie bellowed. “For Christ’s sake!”
“I knew we could work something out. Gotta dangle now. See you later.” I walked back to the Packard and got inside, then started driving back to Ravenwood Manor.
“It’s finished?” Weatherby asked.
“Yup. Just gotta drive on back and get paid. Then we move on.”
“Excellent.” Weatherby smiled as he rolled back to Ravenwood. “I have no desire to linger here.”
I thought about Lenora Exham. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to move on just yet.
It turns out I didn’t get the chance. When we got back to the manor, we found Bruno standing outside, his arms folded. “The Baron ain’t awake yet,” he said. “But you’ll get your payment soon enough, right out of his coffers.” He looked down at me and Weatherby. “If you done the job, that is.”
“The Bike Bats are currently heading out of town with their tails firmly between their legs,” Weatherby explained. “We’ve accomplished the task with no trouble. And it’s more than you have done to ensure your master’s safety, I might add.”
Bruno didn’t even look at Weatherby, but at me. “Your little friend’s got a lot of lip,” he said. He towered over the boy, and he could have broken him in half without trouble. “He’s a Stein, right? I heard about them. Heard they’re all dead.”
“Well, then Weatherby’s awful talkative for a corpse,” I replied evenly. “But that’s nothing new, not around here.” I stepped past Bruno, and Weatherby followed me. “Wake me up when your master wakes up. Then we can get paid and get out of your hair. You do seem to have a lot of that.”
We went inside and Bruno escorted us back to our rooms. Clearly, they didn’t want us sniffing around, and I didn’t blame them. But my detective’s instincts had flared to life, like my boot was poised above an anti-personnel mine. Why hadn’t Baron Exham paid us right after the job was done? Why was he making us hang around, like guests who had overstayed our welcome? It certainly wasn’t for our charming personalities.
I told my suspicions to Weatherby. He dismissed them with a shake of his head. “Poppycock. The Baron cannot rise without danger or discomfort until the sun has set. He’ll give us our payment then.”
“Makes sense,” I said. “Except he could easily have Bruno pay us without even getting out of his coffin. No, there’s some other reason and it stinks.”
“Do you think we should flee?” For all his bluster, Weatherby still relied on me for advice.
“Nah. I rough some mug up, I expect to be paid for it. Let’s wait until the sun goes down and we can ask the baron to his ugly face.”
So we did just that, returning to our rooms and letting the hours tick by. I had half a dozen cigarettes and a few sips from the flask in my trench coat, and even managed to take a nap – all before darkness fell over Ravenwood Manor. I kept the door to my room locked, though that seemed as effective as a flannel vest against bullets, and I was careful to keep my cannons in my shoulder-holsters.
In the early evening, just as the shadows were growing long, there was a knock at my door. It was soft as a panther’s footsteps, and I had a feeling who it was. I pulled back the door. There she was, in a dark red nightgown that shone in the moonlight. She stepped inside without saying a word, and then closed the door behind her.
“Good evening, sister,” I said. “Where’s your hubby at? In case he forgot, he owes me a little bit of money.”
“My husband is not a very nice man,” Lenora said. “He has a bad habit of betraying trusts.”
“What do you mean?”
“He told me it wouldn’t hurt – when he bit me. But it did, Morton, it burned like fire, like frost-burn, and it still burns, every second of every day!” She threw her arms around my neck. I didn’t pull away. I didn’t call her a lying tramp or sock her in the mouth or get the hell of that damn haunted manor and run for the state line. I didn’t do anything smart. I kept listening. “And now we sit together, alone in all this darkness, and I can’t take it anymore!”
“Slow down, sister,” I told her. “You’re driving a buck twenty towards a big drop and you’ve got me riding shotgun.” I took a step backwards and she clung to me. I couldn’t feel the warmth of her body, or her chest rising and falling. I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around her. “But I guess we’re still riding together.”
“So you’ll help me? You must help me! We have to get away from here!”
“I don’t know. I don’t know if my partner would approve.”
“You’re right, Mr. Candle.” Weatherby Stein looked in from the doorway. He stepped into the room, wearing a dark velvet smoking robe with wide sleeves. “I understand the, well, q-quite strong attr
action to the baroness, but I doubt our host would—”
“He’s a bastard.” Lenora pulled away from me and faced Weatherby. She took a step towards him and I saw a tremor run through his body. For all his jargon and fancy pants ways, he was still an adolescent boy, and she was a beautiful woman. Lenora cocked her head. “Your family, your mom and pop – they were killed in the war, right?”
“Y-yes,” Weatherby agreed. “The Fascists executed them.”
Lenora nodded comfortingly. “That’s just awful. But follow me, boys. There’s something you ought to see.”
She started walking down the hall, making less noise than a cat. Weatherby and I exchanged a look. “She is trying to seduce you!” Weatherby hissed at a whisper as we followed her. “This will only lead to ruin, mark my words!”
“What about you?” I asked. “You didn’t look so aloof when she fixed you with her peepers.”
Weatherby stammered to respond. “Well, that does not really—Mr. Candle, I am a–”
“And another thing,” I pointed out. “We’re both following her right now.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Sure.” I patted his shoulder. “And so am I. Now keep your voice down.”
We followed Lenora to the grand dining hall of the Ravenwood Manor. The roof swept upwards, revealing a room like a cavern. A rickety table stood under the moonlight, and Baron Edwin Exham sat at the head of the table, looking kind of pathetic, like a king on a dilapidated throne of dust. We stayed in the passageway, keeping to the shadows with Lenora. Baron Exham wasn’t alone.
Bruno stood behind him, solid as a marble gargoyle and twice as ugly. But there were five other men, all wearing black leather trench coats and fedoras. Their leader had a thin dueling scar, zigzagging like a bolt of lightning from his forehead to his chin. As soon as Weatherby saw him, he stifled a gasp and stepped away into the darkness of the hall, nearly turning to run.
I grabbed his arm and held him. “You know that fellow?” I asked.
Weatherby nodded. “Merciful heavens!” he whispered, his eyes going wide. “I-it’s him, Morton! Good God, its Colonel Vessler! Rudolf Vessler, of the SS!”
“A Kraut?”
“He was second-in-command of the SS troops occupying Castle Stein. My mother tried to escape with me once, and we were caught. He…he used his cane on me, as punishment. Broke one of my ribs.” Weatherby blinked several times. “And he took my mother and—” He broke off and fell silent as a tomb.
I glared up at Lenora as I patted the boy’s shoulder. “Your husband does deals with Nazis, is that right?”
Lenora put her finger to her lips and pointed at the table. Weatherby leaned against the wall and sank down, shivering slightly in the twilight. I looked out at the little palaver of the Nazis and the vampire, and tried my best to listen in. A night wind rustled through the manor, and I struggled to hear their words.
“And you see, your blood – the blood of vampires — does not merely have properties of immortality, Baron Exham, but also certain qualities of resurrection.” Colonel Vessler had a soft voice, utterly calm and in control. He stood up as he talked, looking down at Baron Exham. The vampire sank back in his seat, nodding dutifully. “As such, it could prove to be invaluable to our cause.”
Baron Exham leaned forward. “But I was under the impression the Reich was defeated.”
“A momentary setback.” Colonel Vessler had the conviction of the true believer. “I have numerous associates who survived the regrettable events of Berlin’s fall and Nuremburg. Many are in South America, awaiting the opportunity to rise again. And with the abilities of vampirism, there will be no stopping us.”
“I see.” Baron Exham rested his hands on the table. “I really don’t care about politics. But there exist certain laws and traditions amongst my kind. We don’t draw attention to ourselves, if we can help it. And we avoid creating too many other vampires. There’s a worry that there won’t be enough blood to go around. To bypass all of that, I’ll need a substantial reward.”
“And we have brought you one.” Colonel Vessler nodded to his men, and they pulled out several suitcases, slamming onto the table. They opened them, one after the other. I couldn’t see what was inside. “The spoils of Europe,” Vessler explained. “Will this be sufficient?”
Exham nodded. “Oh yes,” he agreed. “That should be quite sufficient.”
“And when will the ceremony take place?”
“Midnight. It works best then. There’s a mausoleum out on the grounds. We’ll do it there.”
I had seen enough. I grabbed Weatherby’s arm and helped him to his feet, then turned and started heading down the hall. Even without knowing the whole story, something didn’t make sense. Baron Exham was breaking vampire law to bring back the Nazis, and he wouldn’t do that for cheap. But he already had a fortune in his ancestral treasury that he had brought from England. What the hell could Vessler and his Nazi goons offer him?
We got down the hall and back to our rooms before Weatherby’s fear turned into rage. “Baron Exham is going to transform high-ranking Nazis in immortal vampires, and give them the means to resurrect their most feared soldiers as similar creatures!” He turned to face me. “Mr. Candle, I don’t care about the payment any more. This will not stand. I demand that we attack and destroy Baron Exham and the SS operatives immediately.”
“Cool your jets, kiddo,” I said, raising a hand. “This the baron’s house, if you don’t remember, and I bet those Krauts are armed to the teeth and—”
“My name is Weatherby Ignatius Stein, Morton!” Weatherby cried. “Not ‘kiddo.’ And please, do not tell me to calm down. Not when those fiends are walking around.” He put his hands in his pockets and looked at his shoes. “I have to avenge my family’s honor. I have to avenge my own honor.”
“Let’s talk this over.” I looked up at Lenora. “You knew about this?”
She shrugged her thin shoulders. “I had hints.” She ran a hand through her blond hair. “But I didn’t realize the full truth, not until tonight.” She suddenly wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled herself close to me. I didn’t mind it. “We’ve got to stop them, Morton. We can do it, you and me. Edwin deserves it, and we could take the treasure once he and the Nazis are gone.”
“And what about the Nazis?” I said. “There’s five of them, remember, and they might have back-up somewhere along the grounds. And there’s Bruno.” I turned away. “We should go to the police. Nazi spies probably rate pretty high on the state’s department list of most wanted.”
“No.” Lenora flatly refused. “Then we couldn’t get the gold, Morton. We couldn’t get the treasure, and get away together, to start a new life. Think of it – you and me and a fortune. You could fulfill your every desire.”
“You and me and the kid,” I said. I looked up at Weatherby. “I ain’t leaving him behind.”
“Yes, of course.” She spoke too quickly. I realized I didn’t trust the vampire dame, no matter how much I wanted to. “But you think the two of you can’t overcome my husband, and his bodyguard, and the Nazis?”
“Nope.” I looked up at Weatherby. “Come with me,” I said. “We’ll get to the car. We’re going into town.”
Weatherby nodded. “What do you hope to find there?” he asked.
I pulled away from Lenora. “A couple of brainless greasers, hopefully with more greed than sense,” I said. “And who won’t kill us before hearing us out.”
Weatherby and I rode into Cold Springs. It was the early night, the time when the air was still warm with possibilities and the moonlight hadn’t quite settled on the dirt. It was a good time to pick a fight. We took the Packard down the hill, hoping that Baron Exham and his Nazi pals were too busy preparing their ritual to notice us. Lenora saw off. She stood on the porch of Ravenwood Manor, looking down at us as we rolled across the slope.
I saw her in the rear view. “She’s playing her own game,” I said. “Dames always are, but Lenora there’s using
the both of us.”
“You think so?” Weatherby asked.
“Come off it, kiddo. She knew just what buttons to press to get us both on her side. She played jungle cat with me and showed you that her husband was in league with Hitler’s pals.” We drove into Cold Springs. Most of the lights in the houses were off, shrouding the whole town in darkness. “And I got a feeling it’s not for our own good.”
“I don’t know. She’s risking her life to warn us.”
“Before she revealed the Nazis, you were just as suspicious as I am now. You’re seeing red, kiddo, and that means you’re blind to what’s right in front of your face.” I turned to look at him. “Try and work on that, will you?”
“I’ll try,” Weatherby agreed. I knew it would be difficult for him. Those Nazi bastards had him and his parents trapped in their castle for four long, miserable years, and I could only imagine what that was like. But I hoped he could overcome his rage, because the night wasn’t over yet and I had a feeling things were gonna get bloody.
When we were driving to the Oasis Saloon, I stopped the auto and rolled down the window. I could feel a little cold shiver running down my spine. I had felt it in the C-47 as I stepped up to parachute down into France. I had felt it in the snowy fields of Belgium before a Panzer came roaring at us from around the bend. I listened to it, and killed the motor, then opened the door and stepped outside.
I looked around at the dark alleys between the houses. One by one, the Bike Bats stepped out. Many of them had makeshift bandages and rips in their leather jackets and jeans. I held up my hands and spread my fingers. “Hello there, gents,” I said. “I was wondering if I could have a little chat.”
Nails Kenzie stepped into the street, a sawed-off shotgun held in each hand. “You got a lot of nerve,” he said. “But you’re not gonna last much longer, daddy-o.”
“Look, I know I knocked you around a little bit, but I think I’ve had a change of heart. See, Baron Exham’s making a deal with some Nazi bigwigs up at his manor, and that just rubs me the wrong way. The way I see it, his gold is still there in his castle, and if we work together, maybe we can take it.”
The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 1: American Nightmares (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #1) Page 2
