by Rob Cornell
Jessie shaded her eyes with a hand and watched him head over.
“Get in,” Lockman said.
“Maybe that’s one of your people.”
“It isn’t.”
“How do you know? Isn’t this supposed to be your contact place?”
“Not anymore.” He grabbed her and pulled her into the van, lifting her over his lap and tossing her into the passenger seat. He threw the van in gear and stamped on the gas pedal.
The man in the suit froze.
Lockman drove the car right into him.
Jessie threw her hands over her eyes. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”
The man clung to the hood even after impact.
Lockman kept on the gas and smashed into the back wall of the chapel, pinning the man in the suit between the front of the van and the building.
The man jerked and spat blood across the van’s dirty white hood.
Lockman kept his eyes locked on the man’s. They stared at each other for a handful of seconds. Then the man gave Lockman a bloody smile and reached forward. His hands bubbled and morphed. Hair the color of steel wool grew over his knuckles and the backs of his arms. His fingertips drew into long talons.
“Great.” Lockman threw the van in park and cut the engine. “Out.”
He flung open his door and dragged Jessie out behind him. She must have caught a glimpse on her way of the shifting creature because she screamed and came along a lot more easily.
“What’s that?” she asked as they crossed the parking lot to the Ferrari.
“No interest in hanging around to find out.”
This time he didn’t have to tell her to get in the car. She hopped into the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt without further comment.
It took a little longer to get the Ferrari started, but he liked the sound of its engine a lot better than the van’s. Of course, a Ferrari wasn’t the low profile kind of vehicle he would prefer. Beggars, in this case, couldn’t be choosers.
The van started to shimmy and shake on its axles from the beast’s efforts to work its way free.
Lockman peeled out of the lot and didn’t look back. But he heard the squeal of twisting metal echo behind them.
They blew by the parked SUV belonging to their pursuer. Lockman felt tempted to stop and look for some weapon or clue he might use for a counter attack. He wasn’t sure the shape shifting monster couldn’t get free, though. He had no desire to see the thing fully transformed. Sharp teeth probably played some role.
“How did they find us?” Jessie asked again.
He resisted flooring the Ferrari. Last thing they needed was to get pulled over for speeding. But he pushed the speed limit, wanting to get as far away from the chapel as possible.
“Either they somehow knew that address used to be a safe haven—”
“Used to be?”
“Yes. We’re on our own.”
She whispered something under her breath and chewed on a thumbnail.
“They could be tracking us as well. Can’t be the cars. Can’t be anything on me or they would have come long ago.”
“You think it’s me.”
“It’s the only explanation.”
“Like, what? They somehow planted a tracking device on me? How would they even know I exist if you didn’t?”
“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now.”
“What are we going to do?”
“You have to tell me how you found me. No more screwing around.”
She nodded. When she spoke, her voice shook. “Okay, yeah. I hired a private detective. He tracked you down.”
“Tracked me down how?” Lockman took the next right, a random decision, and checked the rearview for any sign they were being followed.
“He wouldn’t say. I had money saved that I’d been planning to use to hire someone to find you. The guy I picked found you after a few days.”
“How did you find this guy?”
“Yellow pages. I chose the place with the office closest to home since I had to walk there.”
None of it made sense. “And he wouldn’t tell you how he found me?”
“He said not to ask because he couldn’t tell me. I figured he might have done something less than legal, so I didn’t push the issue. Whatever he did, obviously it worked.”
“We have to go see this PI.”
“What? Why?”
“I have to know how he found me.”
“Why is that so important?”
Lockman didn’t answer for a moment, troubled by what it meant. He took a few more random turns, always making sure to put more distance between them and the chapel, and always weary of any sign they had a tail.
“Because it means someone gave me up. Someone I know. Someone I trusted.”
He could feel Jessie’s gaze on him, smell the fear in her sweat.
“I have to know who.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vampires. Filthy fucking things.
Dolan stood in the middle of the abandoned factory they had commandeered as headquarters in Detroit—thanks to the good mayor. The place used to produce auto parts for one of the Big Three. But the Big Three weren’t so big anymore, and this once glorious monument of industry had turned into another shell hollowed by a failing economy. Times had grown so deplorable, only a visionary such as Dolan, willing to tap into power others feared so much they denied its existence, could save this Nation from itself. One city at a time.
The vampire that called itself Harper stood with its two surviving companions, recently returned from Los Angeles. Their wrinkled, flaking skin. Their yellow eyes. Crooked mouths full of jagged fangs. Ugly enough to turn the strongest of stomachs.
“One man and a little girl,” Dolan said. “Mortals.”
“He knew our weaknesses. He was prepared for our attack.”
Dolan shook his head. “Excuses. You are supposed to be strong. Vampire. Craig Lockman is a mere mortal. But you let him kill more than half your unit. And then you broke protocol and nearly killed him.”
“I won’t feel shame over my bloodlust. It is a sacred state of mind for my people.”
“It’s sloppy and animalistic. Your kind may walk on two legs like mortals, but you’re nothing more than beasts.”
One of Harper’s companions bared its fangs and growled. The irony of that response was clearly lost on the thing.
Dolan sighed through his nose. This setback would cost them. He turned to Father Eberly, who stood fully dressed for Mass with a large golden cross on a staff in one hand and a bible in the other. Several ampoules of holy water hung on a band wrapped around one of the priest’s arms.
If you worked with vampires, you needed a holy bodyguard. Just good business.
“Father, please lead these men to their payment, as promised. I’m done with their services.”
Harper stepped forward. “Give me another chance. We won’t let him get away again.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I am still paying you for your trouble. There’s no need for you to worry about the matter further.”
“I cannot accept payment for a job I didn’t complete.”
Dolan smiled. “A prideful vampire? I never thought I’d see the day.”
“There is much of my kind you don’t understand. Don’t assume you know us.”
“I assumed no such thing.” He twisted his lips to one side as if thinking over the vampire’s offer. “Very well. But you must feed first. The promised virgins await you. Consider it a retainer.”
The one that had growled at Dolan rubbed at its crotch and licked its lips.
Dolan averted his gaze before his contempt showed too plainly on his face. “Father. Take them to their meal.”
Father Eberly nodded and strode away without a word, his robes whispering across the concrete floor.
Dolan stepped aside and gestured for them to follow the priest. The three vampires filed in behind Father Eberly and Dolan took up the rear.
Th
ey went through a locker room filled with rusted and dusty lockers. Some still held tattered jumpsuits left behind by the men and woman forced out of employment when the plant closed.
Once through the locker room they entered an open shower with several faucets spaced along the tiled walls. The floor had years of grit corroding the tiles. A series of round drains ran down the center of the room.
At the far end, handcuffed to the showerheads above them, stood a pair of naked girls barely over eighteen. All three vampires made a purring sound at the sight of the women.
The women had rubber ball gags, but at the sight of the vampires they screamed with their eyes. They thrashed and twisted like a pair of hooked bass.
The growler gave Dolan a nasty over-the-shoulder glare. “Only two? But there are three of us.”
“Are you telling me you can drain a single human by yourself?”
“I’m just saying.”
Harper inhaled deeply through his flattened nose. “Don’t mind Parish. He likes to complain. This will be most adequate.”
The third vampire toed one of the drains in the floor. “Smart having them in here. Easy clean up.”
“Of course,” Dolan said and nodded to the priest. “We’ll leave you to your meal.”
Dolan and the priest left the showers. Dolan closed and bolted the door on the way out. The two men walked through the shadows of the quiet factory until they came to the boiler room. A cross painted in gold adorned the main water tank.
“The blessing is complete?” Dolan asked as he stepped up to the shut-off valve to the building’s water.
Father Eberly nodded.
Dolan wrenched the shut-off from the closed to open position. Beforehand, all of the faucets in the showers had been turned to full blast.
It took but a second before the inhuman screams echoed through the empty factory.
Dolan tilted his head and listened. He mentally thanked Hitler for inspiring such an ingenious way to exterminate vampires.
When the screaming stopped, Dolan turned to Father Eberly. “Have one of our mortals check on the women. If they’re untainted, we can use them for a future sacrifice.”
The priest bowed and left the boiler room.
Dolan drew his new cell phone and dialed. Two rings before the voice on the other end said, “Now’s not good.”
“I’m sure I don’t care. Your information was accurate, but I’ve met with some complications.”
“What you get for using supernaturals.”
“We’ll see. I think it’s time to bring the dog home.”
A moment of silence. “You sure?”
“Yes. Everything is coming together. Lockman’s the only missing piece. We have no reason to hold back now.”
“I’ll arrange the pickup myself.”
“You sound worried.”
“Not at all.”
“Don’t give up on me now. You’ve come a long way.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“Good.” Dolan ended the call and started for the showers. He was curious to see what remained of a vampire after a long shower in holy water.
Chapter Fourteen
Lockman used an emergency credit card to purchase two tickets from McCarran International to Detroit Metro Airport. He let Jessie take the window seat. He’d rather have easy access to the aisle, not sure when or how they might run into Dolan’s men again.
The four-hour flight went by without incident. Lockman felt the smallest twinge in his gut as they descended. He had no issues with flying. The nervousness came from something else. He tucked the feeling aside. Compartmentalizing emotions was another trait of the survivor. A trait, he’d painfully learned, Jessie did not posses in equal amounts as her good instincts. Probably all those teenager hormones roiling inside of her. It meant Lockman would have to take extra care to control his own emotions in order to make up for her lack.
No problem.
Lockman rented a compact car from the desk at the airport. Just as he had when he bought the plane tickets, he used the credentials under his assumed identity. Even if he wanted to, he possessed nothing showing him as Craig Lockman. As far as all the paperwork went, Lockman no longer existed. But already he found himself comfortable with the old name. Almost missed it.
He closed down that thought, smiled at the woman behind the rental counter as she handed him the keys, then left the airport with Jessie.
She didn’t know how to get to the PI’s office from the airport, but she had an address and the rental came with a GPS guidance device. He had her type the information into the device and they soon headed toward the outer suburbs.
“You live in the burbs?” he asked.
“Where else would we live?”
“Never took Kate for a square lawn and shrubbery type. Figured she’d stay in the city.”
“In Detroit? Yuck. No one lives in Detroit unless they have to.”
“She had an apartment on the Cass corridor while she was going to Wayne State. Studying fine art.”
“Dude, every time you talk about her, I’m sure I knocked on the wrong door.”
By the time they reached the office, night had fallen. They pulled into the parking lot of a strip mall with most of the storefronts empty except for the “Now Leasing” signs. One storefront had the window blacked out and the name of the agency printed in white lettering—Walkowitz Discreet Investigations.
Fluorescent lights looming over the lot hummed, their phosphorescent glow giving things a dreamlike quality. The humid air felt thick against Lockman’s skin, which had long ago adjusted to Southern California’s dry warmth. A mosquito buzzed in his ear. He swatted it away.
“I forgot about the time change,” Jessie said. “He’s probably not open.”
“No harm in trying.”
“What if he’s not there?”
“No point in dealing with what ifs.”
“Just, what will you do? Stay until morning?” She looked at him funny.
He couldn’t read what she was getting at. Hell, the only time he could read her was when she was lying. Or scared. Anything more subtle seemed to get lost in the torrent of her unpredictable temperament.
He would have made a terrible father. Maybe the way things went down was for the best.
“I’ll stay only as long as I need to find out who gave me up.”
“Then what?”
“Then you won’t have to worry about it, because you get to go home tonight.”
“You’re just going to drop me off on the way to wherever? After all I’ve been through to find you, and you’re going to leave again?”
Lockman reminded himself to compartmentalize. Still, something tickled deep in his chest. “I don’t know what you expected to find, but it obviously wasn’t...” He threw his arms out at his sides. “This. As long as you’re near me, you’re in danger. I can’t have that.”
“What about my interrogation? Don’t I need to get debriefed?”
Lockman had never heard such a perfect mix of sarcasm and sincerity. The girl was something else. “The circumstance has changed. I don’t know what’s going on. Until I do, I can’t trust anyone I used to know. Besides, Kate’s probably worried about you.”
She looked away, wiping her face with the back of a hand. “You dick. I just wanted to get to know you.”
That tickle fluttered a little harder. He imagined ice water pouring down his throat and freezing whatever stirred inside of him. “It’s not a good time.”
She glared at him, defiant despite the tears poised on the rims of her eyes. “You had fifteen years before now. When would have been a good time?”
A black feeling bubbled up inside of him. Something too slick to get a hold of and shove away. Something that defied compartments. His only recourse was to leave it unnamed. A lie of omission that did not fool any part of him.
“I’m sorry I left. If I’d known about you, maybe I could have done differently.”
She sniffed and blin
ked the tears out of her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with so I can go home and get grounded for the next ten years.”
He wanted to say more. But what he wanted didn’t matter. He turned and approached the investigator’s office. He tried the door, found it locked. He rapped on the glass. When the lock clicked and the door swung open, Lockman blew out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
A short, round man wearing a sweater vest over a dress shirt and tie stood in the doorway, blinking at Lockman through round spectacles. He had a dark mustache with flecks of gray. Most of the hair down the center of his head had given way to baldness, but he fought the good fight with the old standby comb over. Somehow it didn’t look as ridiculous on the short fellow, even gave him a disarming appearance.
Lockman would have wondered why the man wore a sweater vest in the middle of summer if he hadn’t felt the rush of cold air coming through the door. He shivered. Guy must have had the air-conditioning set to meat locker.
The man surveyed Lockman then shifted his gaze to Jessie. Light of recognition dawned in his eyes. “Oh.”
Lockman almost laughed. “Yeah. Oh.”
The man Lockman presumed was Walkowitz licked his lips. He frowned at Jessie like a disappointed parent. “I thought we had an understanding.”
Jessie hooked a thumb at Lockman. “He’s got bigger muscles.”
Walkowitz’s attention returned to Lockman. He looked Lockman up and down, spent several seconds studying Lockman’s arms. “I see.”
Lockman stood a little straighter, maximizing his height advantage over the PI. “I’d say we need to talk. But you already know that.”
“Come in.” Walkowitz held the door open for Lockman and Jessie. He pushed it closed once they were in and turned the lock. “After hours I prefer to keep the door bolted. You understand?”
The office had little in the way of style or décor. White drywall with a few generic black-and-white landscape photographs. A metal desk that looked like something borrowed from a teacher’s classroom sat facing the entrance. Behind the desk an open door led into what looked like a similarly undecorated office. “Anyone specific you think might visit after hours?”
