Bill The Vampire (The Tome of Bill Book 1)

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Unbelievable,” she whispered and then added in a louder voice, “Jesus Christ. James knew!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember how I told you I had started spreading those rumors about you, including the one about feeding off of other vampires?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that came from James. I thought it was all just wild bullshit, but now I'm wondering if he knew more than he was letting on.”

  “It would seem so,” agreed Ed.

  “That would probably explain why the other coven backed down from wanting revenge, too.” She stood and poked a well-manicured finger into my shoulder. “James had nothing to do with it. It was all you ... as incredible as that sounds. The two who attacked you must have reported back to Samuel. You probably scared the shit out of them.”

  Ed added, “The only thing a predator fears is a bigger predator.”

  “Exactly. Especially when the first predator is used to being at the top of the food chain.”

  “So then where is James in all of this?” I asked.

  “I don't know.” She sounded exasperated. “I told you, I haven't been able to get in touch with him. That's part of the reason I'm here right now at this ungodly hour.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was coming to get you so we could go and look for him. After hearing what you just told me, I'd say our reasons for finding him have easily doubled.”

  “I thought he wasn't normally in the city.”

  “He's not. He's usually stationed up in Boston.”

  “So, if I'm hearing you correctly, that sounds to me like only one thing...”

  I looked to my roommates and, after a second, we all simultaneously shouted, “ROAD TRIP!”

  The Road Trip of the Damned

  “Not so fast,” said Sally. “We're not heading up to tour micro-breweries. This is business. Vampire business.”

  “That's a great idea,” Tom piped in. “Once you guys are done with whatever it is you need to do, we can stop at a few microbrews.”

  “You're not listening, meatsack,” she replied. “This is business, not pleasure. I came over to get Bill. You two are staying here.”

  “We're already involved in vampire business,” Ed pointed out. “The cat's obviously out of the bag. Bill can't keep a secret for shit, so you might as well bring us along. Besides, you might need someone to help keep an eye on you...” He paused as she began to glare at him. “...and by ‘you,’ I mean you two, as in plural, as in keep an eye on you and Bill...”

  She kept glaring. “...But mostly Bill.”

  “He does have a point,” I said, trying to save Ed from the hole he had just dug.

  She shot me a venomous look. “I don't need three sets of eyes glued to my ass.”

  “No, I don't mean that,” I replied, quickly trying to backpedal. “They could be helpful. It'll be daylight soon. In weekend traffic, it'll take us at least half a day to get up there. They can drive, pump gas, make snack runs...”

  “I suppose we could bring them along as the snacks,” she mused, causing both of my roommates to turn a shade paler.

  “C'mon,” I pleaded. “If you let them come along, I guarantee they won't be too annoying ... well, okay, I can't guarantee that, but I know they'll try. And they can definitely prove useful to us.”

  All three of us beamed hopeful smiles at her and, at last, she let out a sigh. “Fine,” she said. “I'm tired of arguing. You can all come, but I want to be on the road before daybreak. So get moving. If I get even mild sunburn because you guys were busy dicking around, I swear I'll kill all three of you myself.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sally sat on the couch, patiently sipping on one of my blood packs while the three of us raced to get cleaned up and dressed. I knew she wanted to get on the road quickly, but even she had to admit it wasn't a big enough emergency to warrant six hours stuck in a car with three guys who hadn’t showered. I was the last one in and of course there was no hot water left by then. Figures. Maybe I should’ve just let her chow down on my roommates and been done with it. Tempting.

  I came out to find all three of them waiting for me. Tom was hanging back while Ed was attempting to say something clever to Sally. His wit was having about the effect I would have guessed, as she was right in the middle of an eye-roll when I joined them. It was still a few minutes shy of sunrise, so she suggested we get a move on.

  “Okay, ramblers, let's get rambling,” Tom merrily chimed, but I stopped after a step or two.

  “Quick question – exactly how are we getting rambling?” Of the three of us, only Ed had a car, and to say it was a small piece of shit with barely enough room for Ed would be an insult to small pieces of shit with barely enough room for Ed. Unless he was planning on strapping us to the roof, not a pleasant prospect during any hours, much less daylight, that wasn't really going to be an option.

  “I’ve got it covered,” Sally answered. “I'm parked right outside.”

  She was good to her word and definitely did have it covered. Stepping out into the early morning air, Sally directed us toward a huge Cadillac Escalade with double-tinted windows on all sides.

  Ed whistled. “Sweet. We are definitely riding in style.”

  Tom added, “Yeah. If this truck is a-rockin’...”

  Sally cut him off. “It won't be!” She tossed Ed the keys and pointed her fingers toward my two roommates. “You two, up front. Bill and I will be in the back. The tank’s full, so let's get going.”

  Ed opened the driver’s side door and got in. As he put on his seatbelt, he asked, “Registration in the glove compartment, just in case?”

  “No idea,” Sally casually answered, climbing into the back.

  “What do you mean, ‘no idea?’ Where is it, then?”

  “Which part of no idea was hard to understand?” she shot back.

  “This is your truck, right?” I asked.

  “Nope,” she replied in a chipper tone, making herself comfortable.

  “Then whose is it?”

  “No idea on that one either,” she said. “Didn't catch his name. In the end, he wasn't very talkative.”

  I started to get into the Escalade and noticed a series of stains on the back seat. Dark stains, like ... yep, you guessed it ... dried blood.

  Ed noticed them, too. He tried and failed to stifle a gulp. “So, this car...”

  “Was conveniently just what I needed for today,” Sally stated. “So if I were you, I'd drive real carefully. If we wind up getting pulled over, it could get messy ... in all sorts of ways.”

  Ed stared at her for a second before turning around and starting the engine. He muttered something under his breath, but my acute vampire hearing picked it up. “Hot and scary, just how I like them.”

  Considering the smirk that appeared on her face, I had little doubt she’d heard it, too.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The ride up was slow thanks to the droves of weekend warriors out on the road, but fairly uneventful. The heavily tinted windows kept the sun at bay and, bloodstains aside, it was a roomy and comfortable ride. I could get used to it. I used to wonder why celebrities drove these behemoths, figuring it was because they had more money than sense, but now I kind of got it. It was one thing to be out driving, but this was driving in style.

  We stopped twice for gas (this thing drank like a thirsty camel), and once for a bucket of fried chicken (Popeyes, in case you cared). Finally, around mid-afternoon, we arrived at the address Sally had given us. It was a car wash. To say it wasn't exactly screaming mountain of power for a coalition of evil entities would be a bit of an understatement. My friends were apparently of the same mindset.

  “This is it?” asked Tom.

  “Yes, we're here,” Sally replied. “Let me guess: you were expecting maybe a high-rise office building populated by euro-trash goons dressed in black all the way up to their mirrored shades?”

  “Actually, yeah.”

  “Don't worry, I said
the same thing the first time I came here,” she replied with a smile. “It actually all depends on the city. In some places, subtlety is more prized than image.”

  “Well, this is definitely subtle,” said Ed.

  “It's actually perfect. It allows us to enter during daylight hours without requiring us to step outside. Drive up to the attendant in the back. He'll let us in. Sorry,” she said to my friends, “but you two will need to stay with the car. No junk food allowed on the premises, I'm afraid.”

  “It's okay,” Ed replied.

  “Yeah,” agreed Tom. “If we get bored, we can always get a hot wax and chassis bath.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Sally flashed her fangs at the attendant and told him we were here to see James. He directed our vehicle into the wash itself. Halfway through, the water stopped flowing and the brushes to our right parted to reveal a ramp downward. We took it and found ourselves in a small subterranean parking garage. She directed Ed to park, which he did.

  “You two stay here. Keep the doors locked and don't talk to anyone who isn't us,” she told my friends as she stepped from the Escalade. “Trust me, it's for your own protection.”

  Ed nodded as Tom reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Optimus.

  Upon seeing it, Sally nodded her approval. “Good idea. See, Bill? Your buddies aren't as dumb as you said they were.” She grinned at me and started walking away. My roommates, on the other hand, were staring at me with much less amused looks on their faces.

  “What?” I held up my hands. “I didn't say anything. Really!” I closed the door and quietly muttered, “Bitch!” before following Sally into the gloominess of the garage.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  To human eyes, the place might have looked dark and foreboding, but to my vampire-powered vision, it looked pretty damn dull. Think of your basic vanilla office with its sea of cubicles surrounded by a few middle management offices. Well, throw in some shitty lighting, and you'd have this place. Here I was hoping for a dark cavern lit by torches and perhaps lined with skulls ... maybe culminating in a chamber filled with ominous robed figures. Instead, I got an office park underneath a car wash. It looked like the greatest danger this place had to offer was the possibility of hanging oneself with bureaucratic red tape. A trip to the DMV was immeasurably scarier.

  On initial glance, the only thing that seemed odd were the inhabitants of the various desks. Typing away within the cubes, looking even more lifeless than the denizens of a typical corporate office, were persons in various stages of decay.

  Holy shit, zombies! Okay, so they were performing clerical duties as opposed to trying to eat our brains, but zombies nevertheless. Cool.

  I couldn't help myself. I put my hands together in the shape of a pistol. Walking past the various cubicles, I started pointing my “gun” at the inhabitants and whispering, “Pew! Headshot! Pew! Pew! Die, zombie bastards!”

  Yeah, subtle, I am not.

  After a few seconds, Sally stopped short. She turned toward me and growled, “What exactly is fucking wrong with you?”

  “What?”

  “Were you dropped on your head repeatedly as a child?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe fell into the pool and were underwater a little too long?”

  “I don't think so...”

  “Then why, pray tell,” she hissed, “are you insistent on embarrassing the ever-living shit out of me?”

  “But they're zombies,” I sheepishly offered.

  “Yes,” she continued her tirade. “They are disgusting, putrefying corpses. But you know what? They are keeping their fucking mouths shut and not walking around looking like a goddamned retard, unlike you.”

  “Can I help you?” a voice from behind her asked. Startled, Sally whirled around to face the newcomer. Standing there was a tall, thin woman wearing a business suit, her hair done up in a tight bun. She was good looking (of course! I was beginning to think I was the sole vampire on the planet who couldn’t pass as a swimsuit model), but had a severe, no-nonsense attitude about her. Whoever she was, she was good. Neither of us had sensed her approaching.

  “Let me repeat myself,” she said when we didn’t answer. “Can I help you, or would you prefer to continue disrupting our workplace?”

  Before Sally could say a word, I jumped in with my most sincere voice. “We're sorry. No offense was intended. My friend here has a terrible case of Tourette's and thus can't help the potty mouth.”

  Sally glared daggers at me in response. I had little doubt she was contemplating exactly how far up my ass she could stuff my head once she had ripped it off. After a second or two of mentally killing and dismembering me, she turned to the newcomer. “We're from Village Coven in New York. We need to see James.”

  “I don't think James is in. Did you call ahead for an appointment?”

  Sally seemed to pause at this question. “No,” she finally answered.

  “So, you came all the way up from New York, but you didn't think to take two minutes to call first to see if he was around?” asked the woman, raising one eyebrow.

  Sally actually blushed, which one would think was fairly difficult for a dead person to do. I didn’t know who this woman was, but if she could verbally slap Sally down so easily, then I liked her style. “Listen. It's been a stressful week, and you're really not helping,” Sally shot back. “Is Colin around instead?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, then kindly point us toward him and I'll stop disrupting your workplace.”

  The woman’s lips tightened and she appeared to be contemplating some sort of comment, but instead hooked a thumb and pointed it down the hall. “End of the corridor, through the double doors. And please go quietly. The beings in this building actually work for a living.” She looked Sally up and down for a moment. “Not that I'd expect you to understand.”

  I can't stress this enough – it’s always fun to watch a battle between alpha bitches.

  I followed Sally in the direction which our gracious hostess pointed us. I could practically see steam blowing out of her ears. Logic dictated I change the subject, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I actually heeded its warning. Maybe I was mellowing out in my old age.

  “Who's Colin?” I asked, as it seemed a neutral enough topic.

  “He's James's assistant. We go way back, so let me handle this.”

  “Ex boyfriend?”

  “Not quite,” was all the answer I got.

  Arriving at a set of double doors, a quick buzzing noise told us they were unlocked. We walked in and stepped from the sea of cubicles into some serious style. This was more like it. It was kind of like what I might imagine Kenneth Lay's executive suite in Hell might look like.

  The floor was made of what looked to be obsidian, and the walls were exquisitely shaped grey stone, quite possibly carved from the very earth around us. Dozens of candles illuminated the area. It would have made for a convincing evil overlord throne room except for a series of leather chairs set off in a little waiting area. At the far end of the room, in front of another set of doors, a rich mahogany desk sat, illuminated by the glow of a monitor. Who'd a thunk it? The undead preferred Macs.